I've done a lot of nasty shit since I started escorting on the side last year. I'm proud of it all. But some of my very favourite bookings have been bachelorette parties. I've done three so far - two set up through my web site, and the last one by word of mouth. There's nothing like getting to showcase my sleazy, exhibitionistic side in front of a group of other women - at least some of whom are completely unsuspecting.
Let me tell you how the last one back in June went down.
I have an arrangement with this lovely upscale spa in Bellevue, Washington, where I started going for my pedicures and leg massages last year. The owner, Melinda, is a 50-something former occupational therapist who knows about my kinky secret life. She's married to a man but her biggest fantasy is to be with a bisexual woman like me. She really gets off on hearing my stories: who I fucked, where I did it, how much I got paid.
Melinda has a great body: long red hair curling down to her shoulders, huge tits with nipples that stand out, and an ass that demands to be squeezed, just like mine. I told her from the very start that she had an open invitation to play with me - or even come on an outcall to perform in a duo with me.
Now, the spa closes at six daily. And sometimes, I pay Melinda to use the spa after hours for my bookings. It's the perfect setting for one of my special bachelorette parties.
My June booking was done in person at a downtown coffee shop with two women, Suzanne and Carmen. Suzanne had heard about the show I put on at a friend's niece's bachelorette party over Christmas, on a ski getaway in Aspen.
"Wow," said Suzanne, staring at me with fascination. She adjusted her fashion-forward black spectacles and pushed her dark hair off one ear. She was in her mid-40's and reminded me of the actress Robin Weigert from Concussion. "That sounds fantastic, Frederika. Did they manage to get the stains out of the carpet?"
"It was a rental," I said with a smirk. "No one really gave a fuck. Least of all me."
I sipped my cappuccino as traffic whizzed past the window. If there's a preliminary meeting, I always dress very professionally so that no one walking by could tell what I like to do in my spare time. But hinting at my secret job is so much fun. Along with my professional black pantsuit, I wore silver eyeshadow and huge, gold hoop earrings. My white blouse was unbuttoned just a little lower than necessary, giving both Suzanne and Carmen a great look at my ample cleavage.
Carmen exchanged a glance with Suzanne and they smiled. Blonde and efferverscent, Carmen was a little younger and a little taller than Suzanne, very slender but curvy. I used to go to a drum circle at a local beach, and there was always this very attractive Eastern European dancer there. Something about Carmen's face reminded me of her.
"I really love your attitude," said Carmen. "It's really exciting - actually, empowering - to hear about another woman acting and talking this way. Rochelle and I are always reading these erotic novels where, you know, the women are highly sexual, but to see it in person...wow."
"The more I fuck, the more I exhibit myself for my own pleasure and everyone else's, the more confident I become," I replied. A woman at the next table caught a snatch of what I said and glanced over in shock. I met her gaze openly.
My cunt was soaked just from this conversation. I reached across the table and put my hand on Suzanne's. "Now, let's talk terms."
Suzanne smiled at my touch. "Well, we're looking at a party of five total, because our bride said to keep it small," she said. "Carmen, me, Rochelle (that's the bride), Nancy, and Lavinia."
"A little more background would be lovely," I said. "I always want to get to know my audience better. Of course, this is all strictly confidential."
"Rochelle works with me at my legal firm," said Suzanne. "We went to Oregon State together and have been close friends for more than 20 years. Carmen and I met at my gym - we both go to Curves. I introduced her to Rochelle, and we all go out most weekends. We've been talking about training for one of those Tough Mudder-type races together. Nancy I've only met once. She's a winemaker in the Napa Valley and is flying up here for the party. Just got divorced. A high school friend of Rochelle's. And Lavinia is Rochelle's friend from the book club: she moved out here from Montreal to do her graduate work at the University of Washington."
"Who else knows about your plans for the party?"
"We told Rochelle we were going to do something 'girly,'" said Suzanne. "That's all she knows, and that's what she told her fiance. Nancy, like Carmen and I, is so bi-curious she's about to explode. Lavinia doesn't know anything about our plans."
"Oh, I like the sound of this," I said, showing my tongue between my teeth. "And you're going to mail me some photos."
"I'm on top of it," said Carmen.
"Are you sure you're on top?" I said flirtatiously. "Well, give me the envelope, and I'll confirm next Saturday with Melinda."
Suzanne took a cream-colored envelope out of her Gucci handbag and slid it over to me. I peeked inside to confirm. Fifty percent up front. Fifteen hundred bucks in crisp new hundred-dollar bills. My standard hourly rate is 600 an hour, but I charge more for a party like this.
