Plantation chairs were set in casual little nooks of glass and behind divider screens with opaque panes inside the spacious lobby of the Odalisque Resort reception area.
Paintings of classical nudes and free-standing sculptures chiseled from wood and stone of people engaged in various artful acts of fellatio, cunnilingus, fucking and extremely sexy bondage were placed in strategic areas of the lobby.
All the better to get the guests in the mood right upon arrival,
Charlaine mused.
This is soooo working. My pussy hasn't seen a dry moment since the Siren.
She cocked an eyebrow and looked around at the statues, he bottom lip caught between her teeth and her drenched pussy pulsing for another sweet release. Or two. Or more. Fuck, more. And more.
Even the plants are sexy
, she thought as she gazed at the orchids, anthuriums and cattails sitting in cut crystal vases on side tables and the reception counter.
Charlaine's flip-flops slapped a soft rhythm on the polished terracotta tiles made intricate with erotic artwork beneath clear glaze as she walked to the reception counter.
That structure was a long ironwood, wicker and brushed steel affair behind which stood the concierge and receptionist: A man of fair Nordic stock with ice-blue eyes and a petite woman of Malay ancestry whose glossy black hair was restrained in a tight bun with red, lacquered chopsticks in it.
"Can you check me in, please? My name is Charlaine Caro."
The receptionist introduced herself as Dawn and took down her check-in details (including any allergies she may have and whether she preferred to have sex with caucasians, Latinos, Asians, people of African ancestry or people of mixed race) with a friendly smile after letting her eyes linger on Charlaine's face and body just a touch longer than was businesslike before shooting a curve-ball of a question.
"Do you have any gender preferences, Ms. Caro?" Charlaine did a double take?
"Gender preferences?"
Dawn nodded and explained: "Do you prefer women or men or do you like both?"
Charlaine chewed on her lower lip and thought over the matter for a few seconds before answering. "I am usually heterosexual, but I would be open to new experiences."
Dawn nodded, smiled and went on to the next empty field on her digital form as she finished typing in Charlaine's response. "Are there any hard limits -- sexual activities you definitely will not engage in -- that you want to inform us of? That way we can insulate you from those activities."
"Oh, I don't get -- or do -- the pee or poop things. Nothing involving blood-sucking or cutting. No jail-bait for me and I hate videoke. Oh, and I come with a clean bill of health and am on contraceptives, if that's important," Charlaine answered swiftly, shoving aside her sudden discomfiture at the openness with which they spoke of such things and the lull in conversation.
Dawn swiftly and unerringly entered her responses into the resort database before assuring her that the resort staff were all healthy and had regular checkups to ensure the status quo remained constant for "safety as well as pleasure."
Well, I have to hand it to them, these people can be very professional and composed when talking of things usually seen as dirty, depraved, even,
Charlaine thought to herself as she observed Dawn's brisk efficiency and the way the woman kept a straight face through this most unusual registration process.
I wonder what standard I'll use for assessing this place and all it offers? Maybe I'll just have to wing some of the standards bit.
Her job did involve tough calls. This may well be one of them. Or several exquisitely tough calls. Anticipation shot through every firing nerve in Charlaine's body.
Oh, yes, I love my job.
Again, Dawn got busy with the touchscreen display at the counter as a few other resort guests began coming in the doors. She then shot Charlaine another question: "Do you have any fetishes or sexual activities -- fellatio, cunnilingus, that sort of thing -- that you particularly enjoy and would like to have made available and customized for you?"
Charlaine's body began to heat up under that question and she pressed her thighs together to keep the wetness of her now-bald sex from dripping down her legs.
"Okay, I don't know how to answer that. Would you have a sampler?" Soft gasps and groans began to reach her from the foyer, where the planter's' chairs sat before low ottomans and wicker coffee tables.
"Very well, you shall have the suite with a little of everything. You are billeted in Villa Erotique and Andre here will serve at your pleasure," Dawn waved a graceful hand toward a wiry man of medium height wearing a linen shirt with a Mandarin collar trimmed in black and gold and loose black chinos, with a black and gold bellhop's cap on his head.
+++
Andre guided Charlaine to a side door of the plantation house, passing a group of six guests, two men and four women, who were receiving very oral greetings from some of the resort staff clad in white linen tops and black chinos. Obviously, these fresh-off-the-boat guests were regulars.
The women were spread over the chairs, their legs dangling from the long wooden arms, their heads thrown back, and their skirts bunched up to the waist as their hips bucked wildly up and down upon the curves of the wicker seats.
The men were standing in a semi-circle getting deep-throated quite expertly as they sipped drinks on the rocks from cut crystal scotch glasses, watching the women writhing and vocalizing with wild abandon before them with intense eyes.
"We serve aphrodisiacs on order, Ms. Caro," Andre said in a deep voice that matched his dark East Indies looks and accent as he walked slightly ahead of her.
"You may choose to dine at our restaurants if you wish to mingle and you may also order any sexual activity you desire to have with your meal from our restaurant menus while you await your food."
Andre waved a burnished and well-shaped hand toward the glass doors behind the concierge after putting Charlaine's carry-on bag on a gilded trolley molded in columns and spreads of a shiny brass orgy.
