I was on a plane the other day, returning to Las Vegas from a weekend trip to see family. I was seated between an old man and a younger one. From the moment I put my bag in the overhead compartment and squeezed into my seat, the older man couldn’t take his eyes off my thighs exposed by my mini skirt. The younger man was intent on his computer and seemingly couldn’t be bothered.
After about half an hour of nervous fidgeting, furtive glances, and a few mini bottles the older man turned and asked what I did for a living. I’m good at what I do and proud of it, so when I leaned close and told him I was a Las Vegas escort, he looked stunned. I don’t know what he expected, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my answer. I smiled at him and crossed my legs to make my skirt hike up a bit higher.
Red faced, but not tongue tied, the man blurted, “You mean you fuck for a living?” The sound of magazines ruffling could be heard in front and behind us, but the younger man kept pecking away at his keyboard unfazed.
“No,” I replied. “I provide gentlemen with private entertainment by performing striptease.”
The old man continued, “You mean you work in a strip club?”
Once again I said, “No, a Las Vegas escort performs by request in a gentlemen’s hotel room.”
His questions continued, “That sounds expensive. Why on earth would I want to pay for that when I can see a girl strip in a strip club for twenty bucks?”
Leaning toward him once again so he could catch a glimpse of my perfect C-cups down the front of my blouse, I explained, “In a strip club you have to share the girl with everyone else. In most clubs, she only goes topless. At twenty dollars a dance, the money adds up fast.”
“I’ve been around the block before, honey. I can take a girl into a private room at the strip club,” he said.
“Sure,” I replied, “but those rooms aren’t really private. Somebody is always watching. Plus you’ll end up paying more than you would if you had me naked all to yourself in your own hotel room where nobody could see how much fun we were having.”
This gave him pause for a moment. Then he said, “Aw come on, honey, you’re just putting me on aren’t you? A girl as pretty as you doesn’t work as a Las Vegas escort.”
“Actually,” I said, “all the girls I work with are beautiful. The agency I work for, Girls Direct To You, hires only the most beautiful Las Vegas escorts otherwise men wouldn’t invite us into their rooms.”
“Well I never!” said the old man, pushing himself away toward the aisle.
“But I would,” said a voice from my other side. I turned to see the younger man looking me square in the eyes. It was only then that I realized how handsome he was. But my revelry was broken by the announcement to turn off all electronic devices.
It was then that he turned his computer toward me, revealing my page on the Girls Direct To You website. With a click and a smile he said, “I guess we’re landing. I can\’t wait to see you take off tonight.”
On the cab ride back to my condo, I was dripping – and it wasn’t because of the Las Vegas heat. All I could think about was getting my date for the evening firmly into the upright position.