The Las Vegas Courtesan

I see people with a wide variety of backgrounds and experiences which includes people with and without disabilities. I’ve seen war veterans who have recovered from severe injuries, people who are physically handicapped, and a even smaller number of deaf or blind clients. People oftentimes ask, “Do any of your clients make an impact on you?” Aside from injured war vets, who always amaze me by what they’ve gone through, one person stands out in my mind. I remembered him the other day: a semi-regular client from a few years ago who has been completely blind since birth.

I saw him a number of times over the course of a year when he would want to come out and gamble (slot machines mostly). Nothing sexual ever happened, and I don’t even think I got naked for dances during these visits. I definitely remember him taking care of me, typically for 3-5 hours blocks over several days to accompany him around town. Normally when people pay just for company, I have to think of transportation; where am I going? how should I dress?, etc. For once I didn’t have to consider hopping in a cab and I actually drove him around in my own car. We usually went to dinner and then I took him shopping wherever he wanted to go. The rest of the time was spent in the room talking about his personal issues — living by himself at home and how he deals with things that we oftentimes take for granted in our everyday lives, like grocery shopping or simply getting around. He really just needed someone to talk to and I felt bad because you could really tell how alone he felt when he was home. Sometimes he got overly emotional during our conversations.

While out shopping or eating, I really started to notice how different life is when you can’t see anything, and particularly if you have never been able to see your whole life. Imagine not knowing what “color” is, what “brightness” is… or darkness. Things that we might use as adjectives to describe something to someone else are limited by only things you can hear or feel. He liked going shopping for nice timepieces because of the way the watches ticked and felt in his hands. I tried describing the faceplates or colors of the armbands or shininess, but this was all unimportant and useless information to him. Most people would be enamored by the way a watch looks, but he liked them for completely different reasons that I would have never noticed before. Even counting cash is impossible if you can’t see. You have to trust that the person who is giving you change is really giving you what is right. I know that in a lot of countries currency has different sized bills or braille to differentiate, but he had a system of folding bills in his wallet six different ways for the six different denominations (I never saw him with a $2 bill). He also liked staying only in hotels that had an elevator that said aloud “going up” and announced each floors. At dinner I often read the menu to him to help him order (and eventually knew what items to skip over that he didn’t like).

And then I had to think of creative ways to “show” him around town. What is something good to hear? Or feel to experience in Vegas? Once I took him to the Bellagio fountains to hear them exploding only to be disappointed that it was a windy day. The more explosive shows were replaced with soft, swaying water sounds. He still enjoyed it.

Though I don’t see him anymore and his numbers have all changed, I used to check in with him every so often to see how he was doing. I couldn’t imagine a world where I couldn’t see or hadn’t experienced color or light before. And what he showed me in his world definitely made me more aware of what I experience in mine.

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.