ravenna
Posts: 121
Joined: 12/22/2004
Status: offline
|
Hi Woodsbunny! Gee, it's great to run into you here! And you always ask such great questions. So one more quick little story of mine, and then i'll stop hogging all the bandwidth here. A sort of a "money play" scene my two masters (Michelangelo and Marco ) and i have indulged in a couple of times, i'm sure we didn't invent this scene, but we certainly played it as if we did...
i'm dressed like an expensive call-girl-escort-trophy-girlfriend, classy but very flashy. Early evening, i enter the hotel bar alone at the expensive hotel where we're staying, a bar where my guys have already spotted girls they suspected were call-girls. (One hotel was in the District, the other was in Paris near Montmartre, and we've played some quieter variations elsewhere.) i make myself at home at the bar and wait, as if i'm early to meet my client. Michelangelo enters as a well-dressed stranger, sits down at the bar, sees me, moves to the stool next to me, makes his move, buys me a drink, soon we're flirting and laughing. Marco enters, also as a stranger, takes the stool on my other side, starts to cut in. i flirt with both, but i'm non-committal, after all i'm waiting for my date. More drinks, more three-way flirting, testosterone fills the air, one steals a kiss, one a squeeze, the other objects, i laugh and kiss them both, people are starting to stare. A lull; maybe i've been stood up? i make a phone call: no answer. i shrug, smile at my new prospects: Guess i'm available after all, fellas. Marco stands, throws money on the bar for our drinks, grabs my wrist, starts to take me away, Michelangelo stops him, grabs my other wrist, raised voices, a little tug of war, bartender can't decide whether he's amused or disgusted, just watches. They make a scene: I was here first, She's leaving with me, Back off, She chose me, Like hell she did, You want a piece of me? etc. Fistfight looks like it's just a breath away when i step in between them and stop it: This is silly, gentlemen! Calm down! i name my price, loud enough to carry. First come, first served. i wink and hop up on the bar, cross my legs and sip my drink coyly. They look at me, everyone in the bar is looking now too, they draw a straight breath, straighten their ties, Michelangelo pulls out his wallet, counts out money on the bar. Marco raises the bid, calls it out: It's a bidding war. Michelangelo sees him and raises, then Marco raises, and so on, until one runs out of cash. A pause. i smile: We have a winner! i scoop up Winner's money, Loser slumps dejectedly, Winner takes my arm triumphantly, kisses me, escorts me toward the door. A few steps and then i stop, whisper something in Winner's ear, turn back to the bar, scoop up Loser's pile of money too, take his arm, give him a kiss, throw a big bill on the bar for drinks and tip. i blow a big kiss to the bar crowd and we all walk out together, arm in arm, laughing. And run up to our room giggling, so my new clients can enjoy what they paid for and worked so hard to win.
When we played this scene in Washington, we got shocked silence at first, then some nervous laughter, a few snorts and grunts of disapproval, finally some real laughter, and along the way several people actually left the bar. i was a little afraid someone would call the manager, or even the cops. In Paris, we got cool indifference at first, after all we're obviously just gauche Americans; then the bartender cracked up when i stated my price in dollars and francs and euros, and suddenly it was funny to everyone, people in the bar were taking sides, a couple of guys were calling out mock bets on the winner, Winner got applause and bravos and laughter, Loser got a big sympathetic awww, or however you spell that in French (along with a few unsympathetic hoots). During the bidding war business several guys made a big show of waving their own money for a laugh, and i caught sight of a couple of very prosperous-looking men pulling out their wallets and quickly counting their bills in earnest. My stomach did a back flip! i was afraid for a minute someone in the bar would actually outbid both of my guys, and i would end up spending the night with Pierre or Jean-Paul unless my two quick-witted heroes had some brilliant improvisation up their sleeves. Fortunately they came prepared with lots of big bills and the other would-be bidders quietly folded their wallets, so i did manage to get safely up the stairs after the show with my real dates.
And yes, i know this was just awful of us, imposing our kinks on innocent bystanders, public indecency, disturbing the peace, soliciting for (phony?) prostitution, inciting a riot, aggravated immorality, selling sex without a permit, fraud, bad acting or just acting bad, crazy kids, mumble grumble, but you can blame me, my bad, it was my idea the first time. Hey, we were free entertainment for the crowd, my buyers got their money's worth, and at least we were a hit in Paris...
|
RE: Does a slave have a price? - 
Profile
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread