Second Honeymoon Goes Wrong

For an introduction to Mollie's brothel, please read

Mollie Buys a Brothel

, by Jim Grinsted. But this story can be read independently.

All characters are over 18 years of age.

Chapter One

Mrs. Sarah Prendergast had no choice but to make the travel arrangements. She and Edward had agreed to celebrate their seventh anniversary as a second honeymoon. Money was no object -- Edward earned in the high six figures and had saved most of it. For multi-millionaires they lived frugally.

"But don't scrimp on this," he'd instructed her. "Go for it."

That was the problem. Edward worked very hard for his money -- typically 7 day weeks and 10-12 hour days. Getting him to take a week off was hard enough. Asking him to take time to plan the trip and book the tickets was not gonna happen. That was Sarah's responsibility, and it now weighed on her.

She knew what she wanted. Not for her was some package cruise or generic resort somewhere. Too common and too predictable, so out was anything in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean. And then she wasn't into mountains or forests or stuff like that -- way too arduous. So that eliminated the Serengeti or the Galapagos. Antarctica was too cold.

She was looking for a peaceful, restful, romantic resort in a completely out of the way place where nobody went. But those places are really hard to find.

"May I help you?" offered the chatbot.

She described her requirements. Chatbots are getting pretty smart these days -- it got right to the task.

"What about this hotel 150 miles outside of Kathmandu with a view of Mt. Everest?"

"No, that sounds too primitive," answered Sarah, after learning it had no electricity.

"Here is a resort on the beach in southern Burma. Would you like that?"

Sarah recalled the terrorist attack recently in the news. "I think that might be too dangerous."

The chatbot retreated into deep memory. It played muzak while working on new suggestions.

"How about the

Hôtel Lagard et Spa

in Putaville, Povera. It's a 'sensual resort'."

Sarah imagined beauty treatments, handsome and attentive masseurs, mud baths and hot tubs.

"Do they have a pool?" she asked.

"No. No pool. But they have a fitness room, including hot tubs, a massage center, a dance studio, including lessons, and some nice restaurants. They also offer dining tours in Putaville, which apparently has a good restaurant scene, and also birdwatching excursions in the nearby countryside. And they have a school."

"A school?"

"Yes," answered the chatbot, knowledgeably. "Povera is a very poor country, so their employees have had little opportunity to get an education. As a perk the Hotel runs a school that they can attend on their days off. While the school has a small professional staff, most of the teachers are hotel guests who volunteer."

"That sounds like fun," answered Sarah. "How much is a double room."

The chatbot went silent for what seemed like a very long time. Sarah thought the line had gone dead.

"There doesn't seem to be a price for a double room," it finally said, sounding as confused as a computer can ever sound. "The package cost is $4995 per person for five days, all-inclusive. And then for some reason they have an offer that for $99 you can spend the first night at the International Hotel to recover from jetlag before you go to the resort. All transport from and to the airport, hotel, and spa is included in that price."

"Why would you want to spend a night in a regular hotel when you can go straight to the resort?"

"I have no idea," answered the chatbot, obviously ashamed of itself. "But that's what they recommend."

"OK. I guess I'll take their advice. Please book a room for two." She gave her credit card information to the chatbot, also asking for two business-class air tickets. The total came to $21,254.47 for six nights in Putaville. Sarah gasped.

Sarah, born Sarah Tischler, was the daughter of German immigrants to the USA. She wore her ethnic heritage proudly -- blonde hair cut in a girly bob, and blue eyes. She stood 5'2" in stockings, and thought she was overweight. But the extra pounds were on her boobs and thighs, where they flattered. She looked voluptuous while still having a very feminine figure.

She was Edward's second wife, 27 years his junior, and she also celebrated her 30th birthday this year. Which, in addition to the seven year itch, was another reason for the splurge.

That evening, In the five minutes of free time he had between answering emails and working on tomorrow's presentation, she told him about the travel arrangements, including the price. The latter didn't faze him, and neither did anything else. "That sounds like fun, dear. I can't wait. But I gotta close this deal tomorrow so you'll have to tell me more later."

Chapter Two

Later

never came, at least not until they were already on the plane bound for London. Edward still had some last minute work to do before he could relax, and they were already three hours into the flight before he could think about his honeymoon. By that time Sarah had fallen asleep.

He took a few minutes to google

Hôtel Lagard et Spa

, advertised as a sensual resort, and discovered that it was a brothel.

He laughed out loud (though not loud enough to wake her). So what to do? Should he tell her now? Should they change their itinerary in London? They'd lose all the money, but that wasn't really the issue. The main problem was that it'd be nearly impossible to come up with new vacation plans in the three hours during their layover.

He decided he wouldn't tell her at all. And he'd pretend not to know himself.

This might be kind of fun

, he thought.

So they spent the night at the dowdy, supposedly-four-star International Hotel, resting up so they could fuck like rabbits the next morning. Not that Sarah knew anything about that. But Edward got horny just at the thought. His wife got a hard, anticipatory screw. She fell asleep in love, with her arm around her husband and dreaming about the romantic holiday they were about to enjoy.

The next morning they were driven to the nondescript entrance of the

Hôtel Lagard et Spa.

The front door led into an equally unimpressive entryway, featuring only an elevator and two chairs for the security guards. Sarah thought they treated her weirdly. Not impolitely, mind you, but they seemed to think it really strange that she was even there. Hadn't they ever seen a woman before?

Nevertheless, they solicitously took their luggage and escorted them to the fifth floor lobby. That, also, didn't inspire, looking like something you'd find in a cheap motel.

What have I done?

thought Sarah. The only furniture in the room was a large counter that served as the front desk. Behind it stood a woman, somewhat older than Sarah and nowhere near as attractive, dressed much more suggestively than Sarah thought appropriate.

She looks like a prostitute

.

"I am so happy to meet you, Mr. Edward and Miss Sarah." She smiled at them both. "My name is Miss Priscilla, and I'll be happy to serve you in any way you need." That comment was directed mostly to Edward. "I see you've reserved two rooms. They'll be right next to each other."

Sarah objected. "Two rooms!? I wanted a double room, not two rooms," now remembering the chatbot's confusion. "We don't need two rooms."

"I see," said Priscilla, realizing the mistake. "Let me go get Miss Mollie to help you out." She left the room and returned a few minutes later, followed by a short, plump, Jewish-looking woman, probably in her mid-fifties, fashionably dressed with lots of jewelry.

Miss Mollie did not look like a prostitute.

"Hello. My name is Mollie Grossman. I'm the owner of this resort. I can see there's been a misunderstanding, so I think I need to fill you in on what this place really is." She looked at them both for assent.

Don't do it,

thought Edward.

It'll take the fun out of it.

But he didn't say anything.

Miss Mollie looked at Sarah. "This place is actually a brothel. I bought it from Mr. Lagarde about four years ago. I've never changed the name, but locally it's become known as 'Mollie's brothel.' "

Sarah looked shocked. Edward pretended to look shocked. Mollie continued sympathetically.

"So I'm happy to refund your entire money if you want. I'm not interested in cheating people. But I will say that, if you can ignore the brothel part, there will be plenty for you to do here for the next five days. We have good restaurants. We have a fully staffed fitness center. We offer outings to the city and surroundings. There is an excellent dance studio -- if you like dancing you'll love it here. And then we teach school here. Our hostesses all come from very poor families and have never had a chance at an education. We give our guests an opportunity to help teach them. They love doing it: one day the girls are school pupils, and the next day you can..." She didn't finish her sentence, realizing it probably wouldn't make the sale. "I think the girls would be flattered if you were their teacher," she concluded, looking at Sarah.

Then speaking to Edward: "if you do decide to stay, I will refund $3000 and you can share a room. Or, if you'd rather not stay I can refund everything, and my driver can take you back to the International Hotel."

"I think we should stay," said Edward to his wife. "What other choice do we really have? And it will be an adventure."

"Oh, alright," said Sarah. "But you have to promise that you will do nothing to humiliate me."

"I won't humiliate you," proclaimed Edward, probably with fingers crossed. "We'll try hard to have fun." And then addressing Mollie: "We'll stay."

"Good. Priscilla, could you please get Mr. Edward's things in order, and I'll work on appropriate arrangements for Mrs. Sarah. She is, by the way, always to be addressed as Missus. Understood?"

Priscilla nodded.

Chapter Three

Their room, at least, was very nice. The furnishings were new, clean, and modern. A sign in the bathroom advertised potable water. There was a balcony with magnificent city views -- or at least they would've been were Putaville magnificent.

"I've put a lot of money into these rooms," said Miss Mollie, who'd come upstairs with them. "It's very hard to keep things looking nice in this hot, humid climate. And then I have to fly in repair people from Europe to fix anything."

"You've done a good job," replied Edward, genuinely impressed. "Do you live in Putaville?"

"No. I'm Canadian. I live in Toronto. I don't usually spend much time here, but my general manager, Elizabeth, has taken ill. I've had to cover for her at the last minute."

"I think that makes us lucky," said Sarah. "I'm glad you're here."

"Thank you," answered Mollie, smiling. "Mr. Edward, your uniform is on the bed. You don't have to wear it, but it will probably be easier for you if you do. The hostesses can't touch you unless you give them your card. If you make clear you're not interested they will leave you alone."

Edward nodded, pretending he wasn't interested.

"I don't have a uniform for you, Mrs. Sarah," Mollie continued. "You're our very first lady guest. So you'll have to wear your own clothes. Try not to dress like a prostitute, and wear your card the way the men do. Also, I have this button for you." It was a circle with a slash through it, symbolizing No!

"But you still need your card. It will pay for any food or services at the hotel. If you want a masseuse (and you do -- some of them are excellent) you will need to give her your card. Finally, you can use your cards to invite hostesses to eat in the restaurants (they'll appreciate that), or to take them with you on field outings (they'll enjoy that, too).

"Think of it this way -- any time you give your card to a hostess she is earning money. Otherwise all the money goes to me!" They all laughed at that. Edward couldn't think of a nicer, more fun way to distribute charity.

After they had changed clothes they took the elevator back down to the lobby, where Miss Mollie was already waiting for them. Pointing to the door by next to the desk: "that door leads to the hotel. Your card will trigger the turnstile, and as you walk through your stay at

Hôtel Lagard et Spa

will begin. After that please use the guest elevators on the other side of the building. And please enjoy your stay."

Mr. Edward walked first through the turnstile, and then around the corner. As he did so he entered the real lobby of the hotel -- a large, elegantly decorated room. The concierge's desk stood to their left. Across the room was the bank of elevators they were supposed to use. There was a gift shop, and beyond it was a coffee shop.

And then he was beset by a bevy of hostesses, all pleading for his attention. By rule they couldn't touch him, nor could they be naked. But they tried to make themselves as sexy as possible. Successfully, too, he thought.

But his wife followed him through the turnstile. To make it clear he wasn't shopping he took her by the arm and walked away from the disappointed girls. Sarah was shocked. It wasn't that anybody bothered her, but the whole scene made her really uncomfortable.

"Let's go get a cup of coffee," suggested Edward, looking to find a place of refuge for Sarah. He escorted her over there. The hostesses left them alone.

The coffee was actually pretty good. The customer at the neighboring table was "Mr. Bill." (Everybody had a nametag.) From his accent Sarah thought he was British. He'd bought a drink for his hostess, labelled "Miss Adele." For a few minutes they sat together talking, in the way that people sit in coffee shops.

But then it got nasty. Sarah watched as Bill invited Adele to come and stand between his legs. He lifted up her skirt and removed her pantie. Or not really a pantie, thought Sarah, but rather just a thong. Either way it fell to her ankles and then got put in her handbag.

He then placed her on his lap with her legs spread. Sarah could see her vagina. She didn't really want to look, but couldn't resist. Bill's hands slipped under the blouse and massaged her boobs. He unfastened her bra. She took it off and put that in her handbag.

It took another a minute before Adele was completely naked. Mr. Bill groped her relentlessly, even sticking his finger up her love hole. At one point he had her bend over -- her ass toward him while she faced Sarah. Adele had words for her: "S'il vous plaît ne pas me regarder comme ça. C'est gênant." ("Please don't stare at me like that. It's embarrassing.")

As it turned out, Sarah was fluent in French, having spent a year in Lyon as an exchange student. "Je m'excuse," ("I apologize") she answered, and quickly looked away.

Looking around she saw that many of the women -- most of those entertaining male guests -- were naked.

All of this made Edward really horny. "Hurry up and finish your coffee." She needed no encouragement. Soon he escorted her to the elevator, which they shared with another guest and his naked hostess.

When they got back to the room Edward fucked his bride again. Which presumably is what a second honeymoon is all about.

Chapter Four

They spent the afternoon exploring the hotel. Sarah thought she might enjoy a massage, but didn't want to take her clothes off. She'd get up the courage for that later. They had an excellent dinner at the Indian restaurant. The other guests had invited hostesses, who were required to be dressed in the dining rooms. "We need to do that, too," said Sarah. "No reason not to share some money with them." She felt very sorry for them.

In the evening they went dancing. The nightclub was on the seventh floor, with Maxine the DJ spinning the tunes. She had a taste for big band music, but whatever the guests wanted that's what she played.

Both Sarah and Edward loved dancing. Sarah was very good at it. Though even she was impressed by the skill of one of the hostesses: Miss Rose. When her customer abandoned her, Sarah walked over and gave her her card. Now she had a sex servant for the evening. Actually, what she wanted was a dance teacher.

They practiced the charleston. something Maxine had music for. Sarah liked the sexy footwork. Rose danced first with Missus Sarah, offering instruction along the way, and then with Mr. Edward. Sarah thought she was an excellent dance teacher, while Edward lusted after the little whore's frickin body. They both admired her grace and charm.

The other women in the room danced either naked or without underwear. Often their guests had them do a striptease. That was fun. Though Sarah got so involved in the charleston that she pretty much ignored whatever else was happening. The nudity didn't bother her anymore.

Come midnight, when they finally got back to their room, Edward, tired though he was, made love to Sarah again.

The next morning Sarah wanted to teach school. Edward had no choice but to accompany her. At 9am they showed up at the concierge's desk, and along with three other guests were escorted across the "Red Line" that marked off employee-only spaces. They were taken to a classroom consisting of round tables surrounded by chairs. Seven students showed up: the ones assigned to Sarah and Edward's table were Janine and Yvonne. Sarah taught them reading and writing (in French), while Edward's task was to school them in mathematics. The staff teacher knew precisely where they had left off from their previous lessons.

Yvonne was a beautiful girl! She wasn't dressed like a prostitute, but instead wore the ankle length skirt typical of her country.

"How long have you worked here?" inquired Edward between long division problems.

"About three months," she said, before settling on the correct answer: "23."

"Do you like working here?"

"Yes, if the guests are nice," she said, smiling at him. "I make lots of money."

"Will you be working tomorrow?"

"If I make cast, yes. But what is the next problem?"

"Workers are supposed to be paid $15. The foreman has $105 in his pocket. How many workers can he pay what they're owed?" After she answered that he could ask her some more questions.

"Seven," she finally said.

"Good! So what do you have to do to make cast?"

"Anybody who wants to work for the day has to show up here before 10:30. We all swipe our cards to enter our name in. Then a computer decides who will actually get to work. If I get chosen then I will have made the cast. I then have until noon to get on stage, and I have to work until 11 am the next morning."

" 'On stage' means working in the hotel?" he inquired.

"Yes. When we're on stage we're supposed to be willing, happy and cheerful. Let's work on the next problem?"

Edward realized she wasn't on stage now and she was more interested in her lessons than in talking to him. So he got down to business and didn't interrupt her anymore. No sexual harassment permitted in school!

Still, when they were done, he said "I'll see if I can meet you tomorrow." That earned him another big smile.

Chapter Five

Sarah really enjoyed teaching school, and not just because it gave her a chance to use her French. She liked the students, they really appreciated her help, and it was lots of fun.

Edward wasn't too keen on it. "I'd rather go to the gym and get some exercise, and then come back to the room and read. But we can meet for lunch."

"No, that won't work. School starts at 9 and goes to 3. I want to be there the whole time. So I'll meet you back here around 3."

Edward might have been sincere about his plans for the day. He did indeed go down to the gym on the third floor and had a good workout. The fitness instructor, an older, sexy woman named Gloria, was very knowledgeable, and he actually learned something from her.