The Las Vegas Courtesan

So I’ve seen a bachelor dressed up in an Elvis costume too drunk to know his own name, and a bachelor that was so passed out he woke up swinging at his best friends, but I have never seen this amount of embarrassment or brotherly camaraderie as long as I have lived and worked in Vegas, and for some odd reason two of the three parties were British. All three of these parties by the way, occurred within two weekends:

The first party was at the Hard Rock, the guy who came downstairs to get me and four other girls (yes, 5 of us, and we all were not too pleased about the number of girls) , was a super nice guy from London and took us right upstairs and immediately gave us the crazy expensive company fee. In the next room were 12-14 loud, unruly Brits who apparently were all broke but wanted their friend to have the best time, just don’t embarrass him too much. Since we didn’t get tipped much at all upfront, we did a quick pile up dance on the bachelor and got him down to his boxers like we all normally do on bachelor parties. I noticed his silky boxer briefs had a photo of himself on it with the words, “I’m With Tim” underneath the photo. I laughed and said, “How cute did your friends make you those?” and he said, “Yes, actually…. HEY EVERYBODY DROP TROU AND SHOW THEM!” I turn around to see 12 guys at attention, all simultaneously unbuckling their pants and pulling their pants down. I felt like I was in a movie watching the synchronized pants-dropping, but sure enough all of the guys were wearing matching boxers with their buddy’s picture only 3 inches away from their own package. They must have practiced this moment together back home because they seemed to chime in   “Yea! Cause we’re with Tim!” I almost died laughing.

The second party, and I think the most funny, was also a group of British guys staying on the strip. I show up and due to some misunderstanding by the phone girl and best man, I am the only girl and there are 12 of them. I quickly explain to the best man 4-5 guys can stay but since they were in a bit of a hurry and on a tight budget, I couldn’t get another girl there in time. Since there were only a few guys chipping in they did what I said, paid the fee, and had enough of a tip for me to do a quick show for the bachelor. This is when the best man informs me of what the bachelor was wearing UNDER his pants: remote controlled, vibrating, black thong underwear. I giggled and wanted to see this for myself. Sure enough when I got him undressed in front of his friends, there was a vibrating thong that barely covered anything. The buzzing of the vibrator kept going off as his hysterically laughing friends kept mashing on the buttons of the remote from the couch. The bachelor nervously giggled and tried hiding what he could with his hands. I only kept this public humiliation up for a few minutes since he obviously wasn’t having fun trying to hold himself into the tiny thong. Luckily the best man tipped more so he could have more private time sans thong.

The last party was a tame group of guys staying in a suite. The best man/brother of the groom apparently was a rookie at planning bachelor parties and had gone online to order a bunch of party supplies, but ended up getting all of the items a bachelorETTE party would have. This usually entails of anything and everything with a penis on it. You’ll see these girls parading up and down the Strip with their penis straws and blinking penis necklaces. So I guess the brother went online and didn’t see vagina shaped supplies so he figured the penis shaped items would be okay instead. I almost died laughing when I saw these exact slippers on the floor. In the bathroom was toilet paper with sex positions on it and on the bar were penis shaped cocktail stirrers. The girl with me could not stop giggling which was contagious for me and I couldn’t stop. The best man didn’t get it until we explained what the penis items are REALLY for. He said, “Well, I couldn’t find much else!” I’m sure he’ll be better prepared the next time he helps throw a party.

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!

I was fairly pleased with the outcome of CES this year. It was so slow before then that I was starting to worry about the start of the new year. I know that in years past when I have been here for CES I was quite disappointed, but this year it put a little pep in my step.

I had noticed a ton more girls freelancing in the casinos and the variety that seems sort of out of place for the usual Vegas prostitutes. I had some image in my head of a venturesome group of pimps in Southern California who thought it would be a good idea to pack up their girls in airport shuttle vans and take them all to Las Vegas for the convention weekend and drop them off.  Another thing I wondered as I watched two girls walking around in matching gold hot pants/romper outfits who were definitely porn stars, was “How many of these porn star girls or porn groupies get arrested by vice because they are being overly sexual yet breaking no laws?”  Haven’t heard or read any figures on that one but if I do I will definitely post them.  I am sure there are quite a few mix-ups and the porn girls get mistaken for prostitutes.

So I had posted an update on my Twitter about being amazed at people who are so in the dark about basic sexual education or human interaction. The client was a conventioneer visiting from a New England state but had moved to the US from India 7 years ago.  He first started by replying to my greeting of, “Hi, How are you?” with, “How much are your services”? Since I was there for an agency I had to slow him down, collect the agency fee first, and then move on from there. He reluctantly gave me the fee since he assumed I was having sex for the agencies money. Then after he stripped down and I stripped down he was all over me like a kid in a candy store. I had to calm him down since he was getting way too carried away, grabbing forcefully, and looked like he was about to lick me like a dog.  He calmed down, apologized for being excited (which is okay of course!), got to talking about entertainment and what budget he wanted to work with.  Right off the bat he was asking for almost two hours of full service for barely over what the company was making (which I think was around $100). I said I would be more than happy to please him but his demands were way off. He finally understood why his money wasn’t buying so much but said that was okay, he liked me too much for me to go.

Excellent!

So I excused myself to the restroom and he followed me saying, “Do you have to pee? Can I watch? I want to see!” and was forcing the bathroom door open as I was trying to close it. I explained that would not be included with what he paid, he sighed and went back to the room. After I finished, I told him it was his turn to clean up since his terrible comb over was matted with oil from not washing it and deemed a good rinse off.

So… as for the actual entertainment it went quickly and was minimal, but what got me afterwards were his questions. This poor guy was completely lost. He first asked me about my “vagina”, as he put it politely. He asked, “Where do girls pee from? Is that what the clitoris is for? I have heard about it feeling good”.  I was shocked but didn’t want to make him feel bad for being uneducated and explained what the clitoris was for and how we peed from underneath. His next question was about dating. He asked, “How do I date? What do girls like?”  I had to answer this question carefully because he was in desperate need of a haircut (I say shave it all off don’t mess with what little hair you have left!), had a huge long beard I could tell was tucked like most Indian men who are Sikh (but he claimed he wasn’t), and needed some brow trimming (had one brow, not two!). I told him he should go out, find someone good, and treat himself to a day of pampering. I told him girls like guys who are confident and who take care of themselves so treat yourself well and maybe get a new more confident look. He was happy with my suggestions and went on to ask, “So where do I find dates?”  I kind of giggled at the question but really had no clue.  I only gave him the suggestion of staying away from bars and he thought maybe the internet would be better.

Did I mention this guy was almost 40?

It shocked me at the time that he would be so uneducated and opened my eyes more to how other cultures treat sex education as a sin and avoid it almost completely. Hope my suggestions helped!

This is kind of a funny story to me but may make others cringe. Let’s just say I learned my lesson…

I got a call from an agency last week and the phone girl sent me over to Hooters Hotel and Casino. I get the room information, get the company fee pretty quickly, and find out the guy is working with a small budget along (I think the company was going to make more than me!) but worked out a deal. The guy apologized knowing that he wasn’t going to be in for much but a hand job, but said it was all right since he was so extremely drunk he knew he would have some performance issues if sex was involved anyway. Worked out perfectly.

I put on a condom with lube in it and more lube on the outside and try to work some life back into his drunken dick. It eventually worked and he ended up finishing surprisingly. He kept complimenting me on how nice I was and how hot he thought I was but then when cleaning himself off his eyes got BIG. He yelps, “What WAS that you put on my dick?!?! Warming gel.. oh my god my dick is on FIRE” and hops up towards the bathroom. Suddenly he wasn’t drunk and was speaking in un-slurred English. What is he talking about? I hate warming lube and never use it. Then it dawns on me and my mind rewinds about 2 hours at home…

Earlier I was making myself some food to snack on for the week while I’m out on calls and have no time to stop to grab food. This snack includes me chopping up a fresh hot red fresno pepper finely to spice up my meal. A little forgotten fact is when you chop peppers those oils seep into your skin, hence my now burning client. Oh my what have I done. I totally had killed his buzz and whatever happiness was from ejaculating. When I realized my mistake explained he tried smiling but it was hard to do. Embarrassed, I left in more of a hurry. Lesson learned! Wear gloves when chopping peppers next time on a work night.