You are a sweet, sexy guy who just happens to know the owner of the brothel (perhaps you are a regular, I don't know) You want something different, and the madam asks if you would do her a "big favor."
What favor might that be, you ask? The madam tells you how she has a new girl, who has never been paid for sex. The madam feels the new girl is smart and sexy, but she does not wish to throw the new girl to any of the other "johns," fearing they might "mishandle" her. You are so kind, so sweet, so respectful-- the madam says-- would you mind introducing this new girl to sex for hire?
No problem you say, getting ready to pay. The madam tells you your money is no good, this one would be "on the house." You put your wallet away, and sit on the couch. The madam brings you a Chivas Regal, neat, telling you the new girl would be down in a few moments to meet you.
The New Girl-- known to me as ME, walks gracefully down the stairs. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin-- wearing a silky blue long nightgown-- you are for certain (or you hope) she is wearing nothing underneath. You stand up, finish your drink, ready to meet the woman whom you will introduce to forbidden pleasures.
The madam introduces you to me, telling you a bit about my education, and background. Thank heavens, I think, she neglected to mention I was not wanting to play "call girl" for the money, but for the "experience." I am nervous as I take your hand, asking you if you like what you see? You answer affirmatively, then tell me you are ready to go to my room. I ask you if you would like for me to fix you another drink to take with you. . .you say no.
We climb the stairs to my room. What a fancy brothel-- each girl has a gigantic room, with a large bathroom attached. I tell you the rooms are all soundproof, and we can play the stereo as loud as you like. . .I ask you what you would like to listen to, showing you the selection of cd's. I am trying very hard to remember to "service" the man- you are paying for your orgasm, not any silly chick stuff. I am there to please you!
You politely tell me to relax, and just be myself. I smile, as I say thank you. You pick out a cd, something unknown to me. As the first selection starts to play, I realize it is smooth music, something perfect to suck and fuck to! Cool, I think, as I ask you if you would like to get more comfortable. You tell me you are okay for right now. I ask if you would like for me to get more comfortable-- you tell me you are enjoying the sight of me, as well as the company.
We make small talk. You tell me a bit about what you do, where you are from, etc. -- all those general nice things people make conversation over. I was still nervous, not wanting to waste your time with conversation-- I kept thinking surely you could find a beautiful woman to just "talk" with-- you paid money to fuck me. And I wanted you to get your money's worth!
You could read my thoughts, telling me how sexy I was-- how you could tell I was new to this-- I didn't have the "jaded, hard-worn" look. I thank you. You then tell me you are really enjoying the line of my nipples as they poke through the silk.
I ask you what you would like for me to do-- I am here for your pleasure. Yes, you politely say you know that. You just haven't figured out yet exactly what you wanted to do with me.
I offer up a few selections I think I am good at-- would you like for me to suck your hard cock? Do you want to see me play with myself? Do you want to fuck me missionary style, or would you like to do something a bit more avant-garde? Would you like to see me play with "toys?" Just tell me what I can do to make you happy, I say. Tell me how you would like to take pleasure in my body. . .
You make a little bit more small talk, telling me a good girl always takes the time to listen to the man. Some guys want a woman's undivided attention, without the worry of mortgage, who's doing the laundry-- etc. The fantasy is the woman who is there for him, ready to be devoted only to his needs. Yes, I say-- that is me. What do you want to do with me?
