The Hots for a Hooker 2.

 

Sunday morning. I called Laura. There was no answer.
Maybe she was at church.
I was too late for the buffet, so I was sitting in the
coffee shop, reading the paper and eating a cinnamon bun when she
walked in.
“Hi, Mike.”
She was radiant. She had washed the “punk” color out of her
hair, and it was back to the chestnut color and she had a bright
red Polo shirt on with a pair of sharply-creased khakis, red
belt, purse, and shoes. Class.
“Hi, Tiffany.”
“So, you were too late for the buffet, too?”
“Yeah, I slept in, today.”
“Me, too. I was up until after four!”
“Wow. With the guy you were dancing with?”
“No, the horn-player in the band playing across the street.
Fuckin’ musicians are nocturnal. I shouda known. Say, you’re
keeping a pretty close eye on me, aren’t you?”
I could feel myself blush. “Well, ah… you’re the best
thing to look at around here, and I don’t have much else to do at
night.”
“Thanks. ‘Nother coffee?”
“I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Mike. Cream, no sugar.”
She was so casual. I knew what she was and she knew I knew,
and she was absolutely casual about how she was earning her
living. No sign of shame, embarrassment, or pain. No expression
of guilt. Nothing. I couldn’t believe it. If she showed
anything about being a whore, it was enthusiasm.
After we finished coffee, Tiffany wiped her mouth and
reapplied her red lipstick. Then she smiled brightly at me and
asked, “So, what are we going to do today, Mike?”
We had another great day. We walked in the bright, clear
air. We went to the movies and shared a popcorn and a soda. We
shopped for CDs. We had an early dinner in a restaurant
overlooking the river. And then the day was over and she left.

* * * * *

As usual, I was the first customer in the lounge. I took a
seat at the empty bar and waited for her. I watched the two
bartenders disappear one at a time behind the door in the back of
the bar. Then I watched Tiffany walk into the bar in her emerald
dress. By now, I had a pretty good guess what was going on
behind that door.
The Sunday night crowd was light. People drifted in and
out. The tourists and doctors were gone. A few engineers were
checking-in a day early. New hotel guests stood at the doorway
and stepped in or turned away. There was a D-J, but he kept it
mostly to mellow oldies and nobody was dancing.
Tiffany sat at the bar. Men came and went. A man lit her
cigarette and bought her a drink before he left. Finally, she
was surrounded — a guy on each side and one behind her. There
was a lot of laughing and flirting. One of the men wrote
something on a napkin and then each of the other two did the
same. Tiffany tore the napkin into pieces. She cupped the
pieces and then pulled them out, one at a time. The men were
joking back and forth as she did it, and then she left with one
of the men. After another round, the other two left. I went up
to my room at midnight. I hadn’t seen Tiffany again.

* * * * *

MONDAY, JUNE 24, 1996

Monday morning. I felt like hell. I had switched from beer
to scotch waiting for Tiffany to re-appear, but she never did and
I drank too much. Hungover, already away from home for a week
and another week to go, another week of classes to teach — no
wonder I was depressed.
Bullshit! I was depressed because of Tiffany. I was
depressed because I had such strong feelings for a whore, a
hooker, a slut. In my life, I had never felt the excitement, the
lust I felt for Tiffany. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to
tell her, “Stop this! Quit right now! I’ll take care of you!”
But she would laugh at me. And what would I tell Laura — that
Tiffany excites me more than her? There goes my marriage.
I showered, dressed and dragged myself to work.
The lounge was already open when I got there. Brian was
behind the bar, but Tiffany was not in sight. Probably on her
first fuck of the evening!
After one drink, I went into the restaurant for dinner.
When I got back to the lounge, Tiffany was at a table with a
couple. They were acting like they were life-long friends. They
talked and drank and smoked for almost an hour. I was wondering
why Tiffany was taking herself off the market for so long,
especially with all the new conventioneers in town. Finally, the
three of them stood and made their way out of the lounge
together. Was something kinky going to happen, or was it my
overactive imagination?
It was almost midnight when Tiffany returned to the bar.
There were only a few open seats and she sat next to me, but
didn’t acknowledge me. Brian walked over with her drink.
“I think I want a real drink, Brian.”
He poured orange juice over cubes and vodka. “Extra tough
duty?”
She exhaled a large plume of smoke, “Get this… I was his
birthday present! He’s always wanted two women at the same
time.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “How did it go?”
“Well the first twenty minutes were swell, but after that, I
was doing things I haven’t done since I was twelve at an
all-girls summer camp. I began to wonder whose idea it really
was. I can tell you which of them got their money’s worth, and
it wasn’t him!”
Brian laughed along with Tiffany. My boner was threatening
to rip my trousers.
“You done for the night?” Brian asked.
Tiffany took a sip of her screwdriver, “Why? You gonna take
me away from all this?”
“I made you that offer last week, Tiff. It’s still on the
table, whenever you want to take me up on it.”
“I know, Brian. You’re sweet and I’m givin’ you a hard
time. Well, it’s late, but I wouldn’t mine catching a nightcap.”
Brian nodded. “Well, the guy in the blue suit on the other
side of the bar asked me if I knew any girls that he didn’t have
to impress all night.”
Tiffany looked across the bar. “He doesn’t look like a cop.
Bring me another screwdriver over there, Brian. Thanks.”
Within ten minutes, Tiffany and the blue suit were going up
in the elevator. I went to my room and fell asleep still
dressed.

* * * * *

TUESDAY, JUNE 25, 1996

Tuesday afternoon. The happy hour crowd was filling the
lounge when I got there. Tiffany was at the bar in a deep
conversation with “Brian the Bartender.” She looked upset. I
couldn’t tell if she was angry or scared. Brian stopped talking
and looked toward the doorway. I turned around and saw a large,
older man standing there in a dark shirt and suit. Brian nodded
to him and Tiffany looked at him and stubbed out her cigarette.
She made her way through the crowd and walked up to the dark man.
Was Brian pimping for Tiffany, I wondered. Last week he had
introduced Tiffany to the little geeky guy, and last night to the
blue suit, so maybe he was.
At the doorway, the dark man grabbed Tiffany by the arm and
quickly led her away. It was obvious he wasn’t a client. I
followed as fast as I could, but by the time I reached the lobby,
they were gone. Strange. Had she been arrested?
Back in my room, with a bottle of scotch and a local college
ballgame on the tv, I fell asleep before the fourth inning.

* * * * *

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 26, 1996

Wednesday afternoon. Everything looked normal in the
lounge. I was the first customer, Brian was behind the bar and
soon after he returned from a short disappearance, Tiffany made
her entrance. She was wearing the blue-pinstripe suit with that
half-blouse thing under it. To my surprise, she sat down next to
me.
“Hi, Mike. How’s it hangin’?”
“Hi, Tiffany. I’m fine, but it doesn’t do too much
‘hangin” when you’re around.”
“You’re a sweet guy, Mike. Are you saving your pennies for
me?”
“Yeah, I have enough for an hour. I’d like to make it later
in the week.”
“Whenever you want. Hey, how about this? You hang around
late and if you’re my last… ah… date of the evening, I can
stay longer — off the clock, of course.”
“Gee, that’s really nice of you.”
“Hey, anything for a buddy.”
We sat and drank our drinks. The bar was still empty. It
was nice sitting with her, being quiet.
“Tiffany, can I ask you something?”
“As long as I don’t have to answer, if I don’t wanna.”
“Sure, of course. I was just wondering what the whole
routine with the bartenders is everyday.”
She looked at me and smiled, then leaned close and whispered
into my ear, “And what do you think the routine is?”
I moved my head around and whispered in her ear, “I think
you ‘service’ the bartenders before you work the lounge. I hope
it’s for more than free drinks.”
“It better be for more than a couple a’ club sodas. You
have to spend money to make money, Mike. Brian gets a blow-job
and a hundred dollar bill, every day, so I can work the lounge.
On the weekends, the extra bartender gets a b-j, too. It was a
good deal, even with the money. Sometimes, bartenders will go
for just the head or just the money, but Brian’s smart and he’s
been around too long. My problems started last night. I was
busted by hotel security.”
“The guy in black?”
“You saw? Yeah, he’s the head man and he was on vacation
last week, but Brian warned me he’s sharp and knows his job.
Apparently, he was doing a routine review of some security tapes
and saw me enough times here in the lounge and with some clients
up in the halls and knew what I was up to.”
“But you’re back here, working.”
“Yeah, Brian’s right, he is smart. What’s the benefit to
him if he calls the cops? I’m not hurtin’ his business in here
— I look good and I act discretely. He just wanted a piece of
the action, too. I’m not the only girl working this hotel, and
they pay, too.”
I was having trouble taking deep breaths. “Sex?”
She exhaled her smoke and shook her head. “I wish just sex.
He got a thousand for the week and then he and his night manager
buddy bent me over his desk and… um… had their way with me.
Nasty bastards.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No, not hurt. They just liked manhandling and humiliating
me, to let me know who was in charge. Now, I have to be in his
office every night at seven for a repeat performance, before he
goes home to the wife and kids. You know… for a girl that
makes her living the way I do, I sure seem to be the one paying a
lot of money to men to have sex with them.”
“Can you afford it, Tiffany?”
“Well, I’ve worked cheaper places than this lounge, but the
action is good and there’s a pretty high level of clients, here.
Tips have been good. Yeah, it’s been worth it.”
“But Brian and the Security guy, it sounds like extortion —
blackmail — to me.”
Tiffany patted my upper arm, “Relax, Mike, it’s just
business.”
People were beginning to come into the lounge. Someone
plugged in the juke box. The seats at the bar were beginning to
fill up.
Tiffany stood up. “No offense, Mike, but I’d like to get a
session in before seven. That bastard’s messing up my evening
routine. See ya soon, Sweetie.”
And off she went.
I stayed for a while, watching Tiffany and wondering how
many miles of cock she had sucked and fucked.
It took a while — I don’t think the engineers were as
aggressive as the doctors — but Tiffany finally paired off with
a guy. I saw him order another drink as Tiffany shook her head
as she glanced at her watch — it was 6:30, already. They sat
there and talked a few minutes, and then Tiffany leaned in close
and whispered in his ear. He reacted to what she said with a
shocked look and then a nod. The two of them rose and made their
way to the restroom corridor. I waited a few minutes and
followed.
As I washed my hands in the men’s room, I saw that the happy
couple was in the handicap stall. Tiffany was sitting and the
client was standing facing her. No doubt from the sound being
made by both of them, she was sucking his brains out through his
dick. I was still drying my hands under the air dryer when the
stall opened and Tiffany casually walked out, flashing me a
hundred and two twenties. The client was now parked on the
throne trying to catch his breath, and Tiffany would be in time
for her seven o’clock appointment.
I left the hotel and had a great meal at a little Italian
restaurant. I think I had had my fill of the lounge — I knew
what went on there with Tiffany. I went back to my room and fell
asleep early.

* * * * *

THURSDAY, JUNE 27, 1996

Thursday evening. I had kept the class a little later that
day, to make sure we could get out early on Friday. By the time
I had eaten, showered and dressed, it was almost nine o’clock
when I walked into the lounge.
Brian brought me a scotch and said, “She told me to tell you
to have a drink on her and wait. She’s been upstairs for a
while. She’ll probably be back down, soon.”
I thanked him and wondered what he was thinking about
Tiffany. She was obviously a whore, yet he had invited her back
to his place more than once.
A little before ten, Tiffany appeared at my shoulder.
“Well, hello, Mike. Where have you been?”
“I might ask you the same thing.”
She laughed. She was wearing a short, tight skirt, low
heels, nude stockings and a silky white blouse — as usual, she
looked fresh and terrific. “Big deal, you know where I’ve been
and what I’ve been doing. With whom and in what room number are
unnecessary facts. Are we on for later tonight?”
“I’m game if you’re game.”
“Okay, it’s a date. Let me sit down here for a while and if
nothing happens, we’ll go up to your room. If something does
come up — oops, did I say that? — I’ll come to your room after
I’m done. Deal?”
“It’s a plan.”
She took a seat across the bar from me and lit a cigarette.
She hadn’t finished her club soda before she was approached by a
guy who looked like he was in his fifties. They conducted their
business quickly and started for the door. As she passed me,
Tiffany pointed up with her finger. I went to my room to wait
for her.

* * * * *

It seemed to take forever, but eventually, there was a soft
knock on the door.
“Hi, Tiffany. I was beginning to think you forgot me.”
“Busy, busy night, Mike. Sorry to keep you waiting. Do you
have any booze here?”
“Scotch, and I can call room service for anything else.”
“No, scotch is fine. On the rocks.”
We sat and had a drank. We didn’t talk. Tiffany would sway
one of her legs to the side, and her tight little skirt would
rise farther up her thigh, each time. In no time, the tops of
her stockings were exposed, then the white flesh above that. I
was getting hot, and I knew from the smile on her face, she knew
it.
“Mike, don’t you think it’s a shame that pantyhose are so
damned practical? From my own unscientific research, I would say
about one hundred percent of men prefer stockings!”
She spread her leg, again. “How about you, Mike?”
“Ahem… I think I’d like to start, Tiffany.”
She started to unbutton her blouse, exposing a black lace
bra. Her skirt was under her butt and I could see she had
matching panties on. “All right, but I haven’t finished my drink
and we have all night.” Her fingers played with the bra clasp
before it popped open. She stood up and walked towards me, the
bra cups moving and almost — but not quite — exposing her
breasts.
I was gone! I grabbed her and threw her on the bed. I
dropped my slacks and underwear. My cock was engorged and
throbbing. I pulled her panties aside enough to let me penetrate
her, and then I was in to my balls. I was fucking her like some
kind of animal, and she was fucking me right back. I moved the
bra cups aside and attacked her breasts with my hands and my
mouth. Her cunt was tight and warm and wet and I could feel her
muscles squeezing my dick. She was too much!
I came with a loud moan and spurted my cum into her over and
over and over again. It was over too soon!
After a while, Tiffany stood up and undressed and went into
the bathroom. When she came out she freshened our drinks and
then got into bed with me.
“You were hot, Mike.”
“You make me that way.”
“It’s funny. Last time you wanted me naked as a jay-bird,
and, tonight, we did it almost fully clothed. You were horny.”
“Yeah, I was.” I paused. I told myself to keep my mouth
closed, but I couldn’t do it. “Do you get horny, Tiffany?”
“Sure I do. I’m human. I usually like what I’m doin’.”
We laid there side-by-side, quietly, cuddling and drinking.
Tiffany had a couple of cigarettes — I didn’t bother telling her
it was a ‘no smoking’ room. It was a nice, warm moment. But
instead of focusing on keeping us in that mood, I had to open my
trap, again.
“How busy was your ‘busy night,’ Tiffany?”
“You just love talkin’ ’bout my career, don’t you, Mike?”
“I guess I’m just curious. I told you, I’ve never done this
kind of stuff before.”
“Okay, Mike, I’ll tell you, but it better give you the
desired effect — I’m not through with you, yet.
“Okay, you want to know how many guys I fucked and sucked
tonight, right? How many guys? Or how many times? Oh, hell,
I’ll just tell you everything that happened.”
I think I was blushing as I nodded. Her hand slipped under
the blanket and cradled my soft dick.
“Well, first there was Brian. I thought he’d give me the
day off because I spent the night with him at his place, but he
wanted his b-j in the backroom as soon as he got here, this
afternoon.
“Then I picked-up an engineer in the bar. A fuck in his
room. Then I rushed down to the security office for their
‘nightly’ d-p.”
“A d-p, Tiffany? What’s a d-p?”
“Double penetration, Mike. Two guys, two holes filled. Any
combo of ass, mouth or pussy. Tonight was mouth and pussy. Then
Mr. Security felt energetic, so I had to suck him hard again, so
he could fuck my ass as the other guy watched.
“Back in the lounge, I met another engineer who wanted head.
Then another quick head-only date. Then the older guy you saw
with me — he ate me like a man who loved it and gave me a very
nice fuck. And now you.”
Her hand was gripping my now hard cock. “Ooo… I think we
have company, Mike.” She threw the covers off and knelt on the
bed in front of me. “Wanna do it doggie-style? C’mon, let’s do
it this way.”
I knelt behind her and inched my cock forward. She reached
under her tummy and gently grasped the head of my penis, guiding
it to her warm slit.
“Wait!” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Does my ass look good from back there?”
“Sure. It looks terrific.”
“Then fuck me in the ass, Mike. Have you ever butt-fucked a
woman?”
“No… I… I never tried it before.”
“You’ve never fucked your wife in the ass?”
“No.”
“Then fuck me there, Mike. I want to be your first
butt-fuck!”
I didn’t have to be asked twice. Tiffany put some lubricant
on the head of my cock and I adjusted my aim and pressed my head
against her anus. It was tight. I pressed harder and I could
see her anus begin to open and my penis start to go in. My god!
I thought her pussy was tight!
I was soon in all the way and almost out of control. She
was so tight and hot and her muscles gripped and loosened around
me. She reached under herself and grasped my balls. She always
got me to where I didn’t care about lasting long, or worry about
her pleasure. I guess that’s what she did — she was a whore!
I don’t think I had cum twice in an hour in years, but I did
that night. But it took its toll — I collapsed on the bed,
exhausted.
Tiffany got up and went into the bathroom. After a few
minutes, she returned with a warm washcloth and a towel, and
gently cleaned me.
“Is this TLC in the job description?” I asked.
“Sure, and it beats lickin’ it clean.”
I looked at her, “You do that?”
“Well, it’s not my favorite thing, but some guys who like to
fuck me in the ass are in it to humiliate the woman and, so, they
like me to clean them up with my mouth. It’s not a taste you
ever get used to, but you can do it once in a while. Only the
real pigs ask for it.”
“Have you had to do it this week?”
“Hmmm… Let me think… Yeah, there was a little nerdy
guy, earlier in the week, I think. He was into me giving head,
spanking me, butt-fucking, and calling me disgusting names for
doin’ what he was tellin’ and payin’ me to do. He wasn’t the
easiest buck I ever made. Oh, yeah, when I was leavin’, he asked
me if I had a little girl’s school uniform for the next time.
What a creep. I think two, maybe three, others tried it. It’s
hard to keep track.”
What was strange was that I wasn’t tired, anymore. We laid
in bed and talked. We called room service and ordered ice cream
sundaes. We kissed and cuddled and touched each other’s bodies.
“Tiffany, how do you get the stamina to work the schedule
you do? This week, you must have had at least three clients a
night — not counting the bartender and the security guy.”
“And the night manager — what a weasel!
“You’re right, Mike. Four or five clients a night is about
average. Guys who want head are usually pretty quick tricks.
Most of the guys who pay for an hour or more want more than sex.”
I was surprised to hear that. “What is there more than
sex?”
She laughed. “I think, most of all, they want another
person’s intimate company. Somebody to touch and will touch them
and someone to talk to. I spend a lot more time talking than I
do fuckin’. Of course, everybody wants the sex, too. That’s
what they’re paying for. Some want what they like, but a lot of
men want what their wives don’t (or won’t) give them — oral and
anal, mostly. I have a lot of men tell me their wives of ten or
twenty or thirty years will only do it in the missionary position
in the dark. That’s sad. Wouldn’t these wives rather indulge
their husbands than have them blowing good money, and good sex,
on a hooker?”
“You would think,” I said, remembering I had just enjoyed
anal sex for the first time in my life. “I know what I wanted to
ask you… one night this week, you met three guys at the bar.
It looked like you drew straws to decide who to leave with.”
“Well, sort of. I made it with all three. What they were
determining was in what order. That was a late night! Tell me
about your sexlife, Mike. Is it good?”
“I thought it was terrific until I met you. We both have a
good, healthy attitude. My wife is certainly not a prude. We’ve
experimented, played little games.”
“Like what?”
“Well, we’ve tried a little light bondage. Not bad if
you’re in the mood, but definitely not a steady diet. We’ve done
some role-playing — cop and speeder, teacher/student,
boss/secretary. Some were fun. What I really like is that Laura
can really flirt, and at parties, that really turns me on. I
watch her and we fuck like minks when we get home.”
“Any rape fantasy?”
“Sure.”
“How ’bout a hooker fantasy?”
“Oh, yeah, we do do that. Mostly at home, but we have done
it at bars. It turns both of us on.”
“Since you were married, she ever do anybody besides you?”
“If she has, she never told me about it. Until last
Wednesday, I hadn’t.”
“Well, that sounds like a nice sexlife, Mike. What are you
doing in a hotel room with a prostitute?”
“I wish I knew, Tiffany.”
There was a knock at the door — room service. I got out of
bed and put on a robe. When I opened the door and the bellhop
wheeled the cart in, Tiffany walked out of the bathroom and stood
in the bedroom — stark ass naked! The bellboy was fumbling with
the cart and couldn’t take his eyes off her. (Shit, I couldn’t
either!) I signed for the service and then ushered the boy out
of the room.
We started out, eating our sundaes with gusto, but we were
soon on the bed, laughing and eating the mess from each other’s
body. I licked ice cream and syrup from Tiffany’s nipples. I
sucked the maraschino cherries out of her cunt. She licked the
syrup off my dick. We showered and fucked again.
Drowsy, we cuddled in bed. I wasn’t sure I could get
another erection, I was so wasted. I must have drifted off,
because I woke up to the wonderful feeling of someone sucking and
licking my dick. I was wrong — I could get another erection!

* * * * *

FRIDAY, JUNE 28, 1996
Friday morning. Of course, I overslept in the morning. I
told Tiffany she could stay as long as she liked, even order room
service if she wanted. I rushed through a shave and shower and
as I was getting dressed, Tiffany made a big production of
getting out of bed, finally bending over the side and wiggling
her butt at me.
She looked over her shoulder and asked, coyly, “You’re
already late. Want a goodbye fuck, Mike?”
Of course I did!

* * * * *

Class was over at noon. The only thing left was the diploma
and award ceremony on Saturday, when the bigwigs came into town
to see the operation. I would fly home on Sunday morning.
Normally, I couldn’t wait to get home, but this trip was
different. I had risked the happiness of my marriage enjoying
the stellar pleasures of a whore. I didn’t want the week to end,
yet. I couldn’t really believe the last ten days and nights. I
knew I’d have to return to my real life. But, at the same time,
I didn’t want Tiffany to disappear out of my life! What was I
going to do? I didn’t know.

* * * * *

Friday evening. After a long nap, I had dinner in the cafe
and made my way into the lounge. Brian nodded ‘hi,’ as I ordered
a drink. Tiffany wasn’t in sight. There were two bartenders and
it was after seven, so my guess was that she was already in the
midst of a busy night.
As I scanned the room, it was obvious that the engineers
were out having their last blast of the week. No wonder Tiffany
was so busy, there didn’t seem to be too many female engineers (I
hoped, as the father of two girls who are very good in math, that
that would change by the time they were getting out of college.).
There were some couples and in a corner, a group of young
guys, obviously starting (or continuing) a bachelor party in the
lounge. They looked in their mid- to late-twenties, and several
were already loaded. The groom-to-be was wearing a red t-shirt
with “Yes, Dear” stenciled on the front.
Tiffany appeared at my elbow. She looked gorgeous. She was
wearing a very classy black cocktail dress with dark stockings
and black high heels.
“So, how’s it hangin’, Mike?”
“Doesn’t hang too well when you’re in the same room,
Tiffany. How are you doing?”
“Great,” She nodded thanks to Brain as he brought her a
club soda. “Good crowd in here, tonight — a lot of
horny-lookin’ engineers.”
A man approached her from the other side and she turned to
talk to him. They soon left and I went back to watching the
room. People came and went. Couples danced, groups laughed.
Everyone seemed in a good mood, no one sitting morosely nursing
their drinks. It was Friday night!
The bachelor party had gotten loud, but they soon settled up
and made their way out of the lounge.
Brian refilled my beer and I commented, “I hope those boys
are using a limo. They all looked a little plastered.”
Brian nodded. “They have suites, upstairs. I would have
stopped serving a few of them if they didn’t. They’ve been
partying all over town since noon. There’s going to be a few
hurtin’ heads, tomorrow.”
“The wedding here?”
“Yeah, the reception, anyway. I’m working one of the bars.
All top-notch booze.” He walked away to service the other
customers.
A little while later, I saw the concierge come in and talk
to Brian. Brian shook his head, ‘no,’ but the concierge wasn’t
taking that for an answer. Finally, Brian nodded and looked at
his watch. He nodded again and the concierge walked back to the
lobby.
When Tiffany walked into the lounge and came over to the
bar, Brian motioned her to follow him to the back end of the bar.
Brian talked and then Tiffany shook her head, ‘no.’ They talked
some more. Brian picked up the house phone and the concierge
soon joined them, and Brian went back to work. After another
discussion, the concierge used the phone, again. He spoke to the
person on the other end and then handed the phone to Tiffany.
They talked. Tiffany hung up and nodded to the concierge. The
concierge headed back to the lobby and Tiffany looked around the
bar — stopping when she saw me.
She walked around the bar and stopped at my shoulder. “Hi,
Mike, I need a favor.”
“Sure. If I can, you got it.”
“I’ve just been invited to be the entertainment at a
bachelor party, upstairs.”
“Yeah, I saw them down here, just a little while ago. Most
of them were pretty shit-faced.”
“Yeah, that’s what I picked up from Brian and the concierge.
That’s why I need you, Mike. I don’t want to walk into a room
full of drunk good ol’ buddies and frat brothers all by myself.
I just need you to go with me, to let them know I’m not alone.
It’ll help keep things in control. But, I have to warn you,
you’ll probably see me get pretty raunchy. You can say no, if
that’s not your bag.”
I wasn’t all that sure I wanted to see Tiffany as the
“entertainment” at a bachelor party with a gang of plastered
assholes, but I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to see her as the
raunchy “entertainment” at a bachelor party, either. “No
problem, Tiffany. I’ll do it.”
“Great! Thanks, Mike. Listen, I’m gonna run back to my
place and change. Give me about a half hour and then I’ll meet
you in the lobby. Oh, yeah, these guys are payin’ through the
nose, so I can pay you cash or…” She smiled and winked at me,
“give you a freebie for helping me out — your choice.”
I know I was blushing when I answered. “That’s no choice,
Tiffany. But you don’t owe me anything.”
“Okay. We’ll work something out — or in! I gotta run.
See you in about a half-hour.”