The Slutty Congresswoman Joins the Bimbo Team
Keone "Ken" Kekoa - Owner of Bimbo Paradise Inn
I drew in a deep breath. This was the final level of my inn. My thumb trembled over the
UPGRADE INN
button. This was it.
I pressed the button. A warning flashed up that this would cost 5 million dollars.
The amount was so much, but I had 8.4 million saved up in the app. I hit the
YES
button.
My phone vibrated and some animations played, sparkles flashing across my screen. My balance dropped down to $3.4 million. My inn cost so much to run every day, but I also made so much of the guests and amenities. It was worth it. I would be able to have even more people stay as my inn had finally hit its full potential.
A full resort.
It prompted me to pick two more amenities. Of course, they were the last two left to pick.
Island Tour: Comes with a sexy Bimbo-Guide. Gain 1 Bimbo-Guide per level of Inn after Level 1.
And...
Ballroom: Comes with sexy Bimbo-MC. Gain an additional ballroom and Bimbo-MC at Inn Level 3 and at Inn Level 6.
I chose them both. With ballrooms, I could hold conventions and parties. Even weddings. Fuck, I would love to host a wedding. To fuck the bride before her husband and all her guests. Why the shit did I not pick this up earlier?
Saving the best for last?
Idiot.
Now I had to remodel my inn. I had to add the three ballrooms to my inn layout plus I had gained twenty-four more rooms. That brought me up to fifty-three plus two honeymoon suites. It was exciting. I put the honeymoon suites on the top floor. I would have six floors of rooms with nine each save for one floor which would have eight rooms. I'd have two ballrooms on the first floor along with the bar, shift the restaurant and kitchen to the second floor with the other ballroom. The pool would become a roof pool accessed from the second floor. The masseuses and sauna would be on that floor, too. The beach would still have the kayak rentals. The tour guides would work out of an office on the first floor.
That sounded like the best way to do it.
It took me hours of finagling to get it all to work. And once I was done, I saw the list of bimbos I had to hire: three bimbo-MCs (Mistresses of Ceremonies) for the ballrooms, five bimbo-guides for the island tours, eight bimbo-maids to handle the twenty-four new rooms, one bimbo-concierge for check-ins, and one more cook to provide food, an additional bimbo-masseuse, bimbo-instructor, bimbo-barista, bimbo-sunbather, and bimbo-waitress.
Twenty-three new bimbos that I had to add to the staff.
I was in for a lot of interviews.
I was too beat for that after spending all night setting it up. I was going to get some rest. I yawned and closed my eyes. I rested my head on the bed and closed my eyes. I was out like a light. When I woke up, I was alone in bed. The bimbos were going about their day and I was eager to get the interviews underway.
I was so ready to enjoy the day. I stretched and checked my phone. Immediately—as if the App knew that I was ready to start interviewing—a prompt appeared on my screen that read,
The next interviewee has arrived! Do you wish to interview her? If so, sit down on your chair and hit the Interview Candidate Button.
I whistled and headed to my office. I sat in my chair at it, naked and ready to hire whoever I wanted. I tapped the
INTERVIEW CANDIDATE
and waited to see who would walk inside to accept the position.
The door opened and a young, attractive Hispanic woman in a light-gray business skirt suit. Her legs had beige nylons on, her blouse fitting tight to her perky breasts. No bra, her nipples poking at the material. Her boobs jiggled as she sat, her black hair sweeping around her shoulders. She adjusted herself in the chair, a dazzling smile on her face, her teeth white and bright. Her golden-brown cheeks looked adorable with her dimples.
There was something so familiar about her.
"Welcome, welcome," I said as she thrust out her resume. "Let's see, Alexandra Serrano-Martinez..." My brow furrowed. It couldn't be. "You were a barista in New Jersey and now... you're a congresswoman for that state?" I glanced up. It was her. The famous congresswoman who was young and hot and practically an airhead. "You want to work here?"
"I do," she said, her smile bright. "I think I can bring big changes here to you and the workforce."
"And you aren't needed in Congress?" I asked.
She waved her hand. "It's a part-time job, right?"
"Congress or working here, because this is a full-time job."
"Congress," she said. "I just vote however my party tells me to. You know, stop the bad guys and help America and get my boyfriend cushy jobs where he makes lots and lots of money."
"Right," I said, my cock hard. "And do you know what the job entails?"
"Um..." She looked up. "I mean, I'm a hard worker. I was a barista."
"For like a week," I said, looking at it. "How good are you at sucking cock!"
"So good! How do you think I got my party to support me running for Congress? I mean, I was a barista." She giggled. "I had to suck so many old White guy's cocks. And I had to eat out this dried-up crone's cunt. She was like an ex-president's wife or something."
"Right," I said. "Well, I'll need to see how good you are at sucking cocks."
"Sure!" she said brightly. Christ, Congresswoman Alexandra was practically a bimbo as it was. She rose to her feet, those perky breasts jiggling. She had great legs and a great ass, too. She was way to hot to be wasting her time in politics. She needed to be a stripper or a porn star.
Or a bimbo-MC.
I swiveled my chair to the right as she strode around my desk, my cock aching. She licked her lips at the sight of me. The Hispanic hottie dropped to her knees before me and grabbed my cock. Our skin was almost the same hue though I was an Islander and she was a Latina slut.
"I have to blow the House Majority leader every day to keep my position," she whimpered.
