The Las Vegas Courtesan

So one of the largest conventions of the season is in town, though you’d never know it: the National Association Of Broadcasters convention. It has always been a weird one since people seem to go to bed super early. I thought I had written about it before, but apparently I hadn’t said much about it but it tends to mark the end of the spring convention festivity. This spring has been more of a roller coaster than before and February was awesome (and even the casinos were up then for the first time in a few years), but the conventions have been noticeably absent and even the bachelor parties have gone down in number. What’s the reason for all of this? Some blame the economy, some blame Obama’s comments about Las Vegas several times in the media, and some blame Vegas for not offering enough to the tourists on a budget since not everyone can buy a $400 bottle of Skyy vodka and a Gucci purse.

Usually during the spring it’s nothing but bachelor parties on the weekends and conventioneers Sunday-Thursday. I’m not a huge fan of the bachelor parties since the return on your time is quite low (and a lot of parties just don’t work out) but I like to at least have the option of going to a call to try to work something out. Starting this Sunday, the Rehab pool party reopens at Hard Rock and the level of calls tend to go up on Sunday nights when the pool season starts. Sunday turns from a relaxed night to see clients to wilder than Friday night. It’s quite amusing.

Last year I was waiting for a client to answer his phone so I could go upstairs on a Sunday Rehab party night. I was watching all of the people sunkissed and having fun in the hallways as the party was winding down, but within 5 minutes of sitting down to wait I had a drink spilled on me by one drunk guy, another guy tried yanking my arm like I was his property, and one guy yelled at me like a kid because I wouldn’t let him use my cell phone. I couldn’t help but laugh at the circus show.

Oh by the way, thanks for all of your votes on the fetish poll! I’ll see about a new schoolgirl uniform and maybe work down my list

I hardly think so, but apparently to one girl it was her claim last night.

Had an appointment at a hotel with two other girls last night, one of which I’ve known for over a year and the other one I recognized from several years ago but don’t know as well. We arrived, collected a referral fee, and started talking about what they wanted to do. All three were international visitors and kept going on and on about how American girls are so surgical. How we don’t kiss and have so many rules we might as well be nurses with surgical gloves. I giggled at the statement and the main guy in charge then exclaimed, “So that’s why… we are going out to PARTY! It’s much better.. you girls like shopping? We can do that too!” The girl I know well, Corinne, started practically squeeling, “Oh please! I want to shop! Let’s figure things out before we go” and so the negotiations began…. and went on and on. I think the main guy used to sell used cars 30 years ago because he negotiated like one. Finally a cash advance is done and things are settled.

We go down to valet and look at the clock, it’s 10:40 and the Forum Shops close at 11. We some how grab a chartered SUV to take us quickly and the head guy says once we are in gridlock traffic on the Strip, “Aww sorry ladies looks like we wont make it.” Corinne squeels from the back of the Escalade, “No! We HAVE to go shopping! Oh it makes my pussy wet! I mean, as soon as I walk into Louis Vuitton I am DRIPPING.” Wow. I try to hold back my laughter since I have never heard her talk so frankly before, but deep down I know she has her items picked out in her head to get. The customer paused, “Well then we need to get moving!” and we hop out on the Strip and practically run to keep up with Corinne plowing down the sidewalk to the shop entrance. Somehow we made it in time, 2 minutes to spare for a quick shopping spree.

I always love calls that make me go, “Oh well that was an inventive idea” and is outside of the normal, frank request of “I just want to have sex”. It was early on Friday when a girl and I get a call to Mandalay Bay for a group of three men in their 40′s. I walk in and see golf balls all over the floor, the coffee table is moved and the desk is pushed up against the wall. A putter is standing up next to the TV stand and a wooden practice hole exactly like in the picture is in the middle of the room. I make a joke about, “Round of golf anyone?” and they chuckled back nervously. I sit down on the couch and start explaining how things work and trying to get the company fee out of the way. Neither one of us were explained what the group originally had in mind for the hour, but he had explained in detail to the girl on the phone. By the way, I hate how we don’t get explained things sometimes before arriving to the room. Sometimes the girl forgets to tell us, plus a lot of times they are just to busy to take the time or remember to explain, but either way it makes us unprepared and the guys always seem slightly frustrated when they have to explain their story a second or third time.

Anyway… the guys explain to us that they had been thinking and dreaming about this sexy putting golf tournament for a while and decided to execute their plans on their next annual trip to Las Vegas during March Madness. They said, “We wanted some naked ball girls to bend over and pick up the balls for us while we played our little tournament here.” I added, “Oh and how about we can be sitting with our legs spread while you make your shot to distract!” They laughed and thought that was an even better idea. The major problem, though? They had little to no tipping money over the company fee for the hour. A stripper would have made more dancing two 3-minute songs at the Spearmint Rhino than we would have hosting the mini-tournament. I was kind of bummed because I like new and different ways to spend my time on a call, but alas it didn’t work out. The guys were disappointed too and gave the “But you’re not doing much” line so we should be happy with the small tip. Wish I could oblige but companions still get paid for their time. Even if it’s being paid to be a ball girl.

I mentioned in my Twitter a hint to planning a bachelor party: don’t book your party to stay on the same floor as your future wife’s bachelorette party. Seems like pretty common sense right? Well apparently some people aren’t born with such gifts! I got a call around 2AM to go to Circus Circus from an agency that usually books from referrals only. I pull in, the phone girl verifies the client is in the room, and I get the room number to go up. As I get into the elevator, two girls dressed up for the night (yet minus their heels as so many Vegas girls end up doing from walking all night in new heels and have untrained feet) pushes their way into the elevator as the doors closed. One was drunkenly babbling about being mad at her boyfriend, and I really wasn’t paying attention until I heard one of the drunken girls say, “What room is he in? I’m gonna KILL him if there is someone in there!!” and proceeds to ramble out the exact room number I am going to. Oh lord. I double-check my phone to make sure that the long room number matches, and it definitely does. I’m stuck and can’t hit another floor number since I was first on, so I had to think of some sort of plan to not seem obvious.

The doors open and the girls barge their way out first and go towards the room but are met in the hall by two guys. I didn’t even really look down to that end of the hall, but I turned the other direction going towards some random room while fake fumbling through my purse. After fumbling for a minute I pick up my phone and call the service as I hear one of the girls at the end yelling, “I HATE YOU. I can’t trust you for anything! I wanna go in there… I know you got some hooker in your room!” I explained to the phone girl what was going on and she called the room. Yelling was still going on but the guy who answered the phone explained it was just him in the room and the argument was with his brother outside. I kept fumbling for an imaginary room key while talking and noticed the two drunken girls were now stomping towards me. Oh crap. They were still a ways off but had definitely passed their turn off to the elevator. I spoke a little louder on the phone, “Really, I have NO idea where the hell I put my key. I’m looking everywhere!”

The girls got about 5-10 feet away and I heard the more sober one mumble, “You don’t know if she is…” but pulled the angry drunken friend back when she heard me blabbing about my lost key. I looked up just in time to give some confused look, still babbling on the phone, and watch them head back to the elevators. Whew!

The girls eventually get on the elevators after yelling a few more incoherent things to the two guys, and I wander back down the hall towards the two guys and elevators (come to find out was the bachelor and father of the groom-to-be). I met them in the middle and said, “Wow I don’t know what that was but who called?” and they explain the entertainment is for the brother in the room, who apparently has been single for years and spent too much at the club for dances. This was a surprise for him, but since the bachelor and brother share a room the bride-to-be thought there was some hanky panky going on with the bachelor, not the future brother-in-law.
In the end? The call worked out fine with the brother (no angry drunken girl interruptions), and he made the whole mess clear to me. Come to find out the bachelorette party and bachelor party were doing their activities separately, but some smart member of the family had booked everything on the same floor in the hotel. So the bachelor was going to strip clubs, while the bachelorette was getting drunk and creating conspiracies that had her believing her fiancé was banging hookers back in the room.  I wonder how that marriage will turn out!