Archive for September, 2007


September 9, 2007

He turned his head around the room, letting his eyes pass over each girl. His eyes were drawn back to the olive-skinned girl. He stepped over to her and raised his head a bit, as if pointing with his jaw. The girl stood up and opened her robe. She had the long stately nose and large eyes that he liked in her ethnic type. Her breasts were large, and thrust outward, and were a bit pointed so that she had to actually maneuver the flaps of her robe up out and around them. She was a bit thin for Naarka’s taste – thin enough that her ribs and the edges of her pelvis poked out beneath her skin. Her belly was flat. Her navel was attractive: a smooth crescent. Her pubic hair was completely shaved. Naarka pulled his lips in, tucked them into each other, which pushed his cheeks out just a little bit, and he shook his head. The woman opened her mouth slightly and closed it again, in an unconscious gesture of thoughtful resignation. She closed her robe, folding one flap under the other and tied it tightly – but with just one knot.

The olive-skinned woman sat across the room from the blonde, along the wall opposite to the doorway through which Naarka had come. Along the far wall sat the redhead and the other blonde – who had shorter hair than the first.

He turned left to a girl with jet-black page-cut hair sitting two empty chairs to the left of the olive-skinned woman. The pale-skinned brunette turned slightly in her chair to face more closely him where he still stood in front of the olive-skinned woman, and opened her robe. She even put her right leg up on the arm of her chair to give him a better view of her crotch. She leaned back, seeming very non-chalant, relaxed – her attitude said, “Fuck it, I don’t care.”

Her breasts were fairly small. She was not flat chested, but if they were each over a handful it was just barely. After looking at them a minute he decided they did not sag, they were simply small enough to be distinct against the rest of her chest. His perception wanted to shift and interpret them as simply sharp pectoral muscles, but then he would realize that wasn’t right. He leaned to the right a little bit to try and get a side view. She didn’t seem to notice or just ignored it and did not move or adjust her position at all in response. They were rather pointed and pert in their small way, sticking out sharply as if sitting on a shelf. They looked like they would be a lot of fun to suck. His gaze swept downward. she was neither thin nor fat – not plump nor even curvaceous. The definition of her belly or hips was non-existent – she had the body type of a dolphin. She had a large, thick, tangled clump of unshaven public hair. It started just at the beginning of the mons pubis, not spreading higher onto her abdomen. And if it did spread to her thighs, that part was shaved probably as part of shaving her legs. Her labia minora protruded slightly – only slightly – from the labia majora, though perhaps that was just because her labia were slightly spread open with her right leg up on the arm of the chair like that? The edges of the labia majora were very pale, leaving an overall impression of a white gash in the middle of the black hair.

He nodded as he stepped toward her. She took her leg off the arm of the chair and stood up. He started to extend his left arm toward her as he walked forward; she moved forward quickly to position herself at his side and wrapped her right forearm around his upper left arm. She did not bother to close her robe.

She tilted her head up at him and said, “Right this way, handsome.” The features of her face were,like her breasts, small and sharply defined. Her nose was pointed, but delicate and not large. Her nostrils flared a little. Her mouth was a little wide, but not gaping wide – her lower lip was larger and thicker than her upper, which was quite thin. It seemed she put a lot of lip gloss on, but just on her lower lip. Her jaw was somewhat square. She might have had a hint of an underbite. There was the trace of a few freckles on the bridge of her nose, between her large eyes.

They stepped back to the end of the room, and went through a doorway opposite to the one through which he had come. They went down another hallway – one of those endless hotel corridors which seem endless no matter how short they are, with a slight must overlaid with a strong-smelling cleaner. The corridor turned right after only about four meters, then right again after another eight. That the maroon carpeting was shag struck him asĀ  a little weird for a hallway.

Two meters from their second right turn they came to a 2-meter wide stairwell opening off the left side of the hall. Blond wooden barristers were mounted on small brass fixtures on either side of the stair. The stair had the same carpeting, which seemed almost dangerous: “I hope I don’t slip,” he thought.

They went up two floors – two little half flights of stairs for each floor, with wide empty landings between. On the stairs he turned to her and asked, “You know where we’re going?” She looked up at him and smiled. She was probably as tall as his shoulder. “Oh yeah”, elongating the ‘oh’: “Oooh yeah. we have a little schedule of assigned rooms.” Naarka nodded and turned to look forward again, falling silent.

In another moment he spoke again: “Aren’t you cold? a little chilly, maybe? Huh? Anything?”
She looked up at him and smiled again. He was beginning to think of it as an automatic response, almost a reflex. “Oooh no, honey. I’m used to it. besides, haven’t you noticed how it’s nice and toasty in here? I mean, aren’t you a little warm? Don’t you want to get out of these heavy clothes?” And saying this she closed her eyes slightly and wrinkled her nose at him. But of course it didn’t seem sincere. It seemed like more of a finely honed act. Not that he cared. An act would get him through this without wondering as much what he should do. He was more comfortable with an act.

He was grateful for it. He had been to whorehouses before, but mostly with his friends back home. He was a little light headed, staring down at those boobs , and if he moved his head just right the dark tuft of hair down there – it was driving him crazy on this long pointless-seeming walk. “Let’s get into a room already, and fuck!”

Turning left from the starwell, they walked down the hallway several meters, what seemed like several tens of meters, past several dark, paneled wooden doors. Her robe floated behind her as they went down the hall. Finally they stopped in front of one of the doors. There was a small keypad mounted in the wall to the left of the door into which she punched a combination – with her left hand, still keeping her right entwined around his left. She then opened the door’s brushed steel handle.

They stepped into a darkened room. She left his arm to walk over to a panel with which she switched on the lights, at what he guessed was about half-level. The light level was – musky. “Mood lighting,” he thought. “Oh boy.”

“My name’s Mahree, by the way,” she said, turning from the light control panel and stretching out her arms. “What’s yours?”


“So, Naarka, what would you like to do?” She walked over to him, reached up and grabbed his left ear with her right hand, put her left hand on his groin, and rubbed his cock through his pants while she pulled his head down to her and playfully bit the middle of his right jaw. “Are we gonna be together all night, or did you have something specific in mind, something you wanted to get right down to quickly?”

“Well,” he said. “I have time… is there a price list?”

“It’s posted right there next to the light switch. Why don’t you have a look at it while I go freshen up?” She stepped away, turned and walked into the bathroom, which was glass-fronted, with an open doorway – no door.
She wore her robe into the bathroom. He started to watch her get a cloth from a stack next to the sink and start to hold it under the faucet, but he shook his head to clear it and walked over to the posted schedule of prices to examine them.

There was a set fee for spending the night, which was defined by coming in before 4 am and leaving leaving after 6 am. And then besides that there were fees by the hour, and a list of fees for several specific acts.



September 1, 2007

“Citizen, welcome. Did you have a vehicle outside that needs taking care of?”

“Uh, yes, I did.”

The woman turned and spoke to a young man who was seated on a straight-back chair behind her and to her right. This young man – boy, really – was rising to stand just as the woman was turning to speak to him. For Naarka the two movements seemed connected, so that if she turned her head back to face Naarka, the boy would necessarily sit down again. It was as if as it was her turning that summoned him, this boy, to rise autochthonously from the floor to meet the command she had just formulated, the command to fill the need she had never had before, and never having had this need before, there had never been another person, for her, in the world besides her, but when she suddenly realized she had this need, then this boy had been called into existence to meet the need. He was the particle in the quantum-electrico-dynamic virtual pair to the anti-particle of her need, the positive called into being because of the potential created by the formation of the negative in the need – in fact the need could not have come into existence without the boy to meet it, and sadly for the boy his doom might be that in meeting the need and destroying it he would destroy himself, as anti-matter and matter must destroy each other when they meet. And Naarka was the disruptive force that had disturbed the equilibrium, the field, that surrounded this need. With his vehicle, with the parking of his vehicle on the street he had torn the fabric of space and need that floated around this woman, had torn them asunder so that out of a pocket of vacuum or peaceful bubble of zero-energy space he split the field and it became this need and this boy.

She turned to the boy and said, “Cory, could you take care of this gentleman’s vehicle?” The boy rose from a fancy kitchen chair with its back against the wall, just to the right of a hallway opening draped with a half-curtain.

The boy, who only came up to the woman’s shoulder, looked up at her with quivering oily eyes, whose shimmer was spilled all over the top half of a cream-coffee, dark caramel face by the black swirls of hair hanging precariously over them. His hair was composed of dark loops of ink, with one or two flakes of dandruff showing embarrassedly at the back, at the edge, along one of the many parts, and maelstrom folds. The boy look up at the woman out of his oil eyes and with his pouted cherry lower lip said, “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman turned back to Naarka, who had advanced silently and slowly a few steps in to the room, almost reaching the counter. He had crossed the rubber mat which lay just in front of the door, though not abutting it – leaving perhaps two or three centimeters between doorsill to mat edge. The mat had a dark spot on it – either a worn spot, or a stain perhaps from people coming in out of the rain. Perhaps it was merely from fatigue of the rubber. And, mirroring the boys hair, one or two large grains of sand, a small bit of paper, provided a beige accent of a few drops on the matte black mat and the slightly darker gloss black worn or stained area stretching across the middle third of it.

Naarka had almost reached the counter, almost close enough to reach out his arm. If he just brought up his lower arm in a smooth easy arc he could almost touch the edge of the counter, just gently grip the edge of it with his fingers resting on top, almost falling off but not quite, and his thumb just caressing the smooth wood on the bottom lip of the counter’s edge.

The woman turned back to him and asked softly, but projecting so he could hear her, “Could you give me the key for your vehicle sir?” Naarka wondered whether she had learned to project her voice like that in the theater, or whether it came to her naturally, or whether she somehow learned to do it at this job. When she spoke it was again like she was lowering her head to look up at him from under her eyebrows, but her head was fully erect. He couldn’t figure out how she managed to produce this effect, unless perhaps it was with the gleam in the corner of her eye. Perhaps it was the gleam that was looking up at him – it was a shrunken version of something else, a totem, to be representative of the other thing: instead of her eyes looking out from her head it was this gleam looking out from her eye, looking out at him, across the curve of her pupil, conspiratorially, saying, “Let’s cheat.”

He saw the glow of her face again. Or, he felt it, this time. It had come back from past the walls where it had disappeared to. It wasn’t all in her face this time, from where it could easily explode out and dissipate. This time it was more subtle, more careful. Some of it was in her face, but it wasn’t on the surface, it was inside, shining out a little though the cheeks, which he now noticed now were a just a touch rosy. Though that might be make up now that he thought about it, but he didn’t care. The glow was also coming out of her dress – not as a glow he could see, but definitely as something he could feel, almost as something he could smell. He could smell the shape of it, the thing which had no shape but which was careening behind and across the surface of and caressing and jumping off of the shapes of her upper arms and yes her boobs too. It was an invisible plasm jumping across the room and pulling at his nostrils and making him want to put his hand on those curves, and rub his palms over them, her boobs yes but also her smooth biceps tightly wound in the black velour sleeves, and even her cheeks – he wanted to rub them and cup them in his hand as he gnawed at her lips in a long, violent, slow kiss. Oh yes of course oh man did he want to fuck her. His dick wasn’t erect yet – as if it knew it couldn’t get as big as it really wanted to, so it didn’t even try. Man he wanted to leap over the counter and wrestle her down and ram it in her thrusting floor.

He was a little distracted. In fact, he was disarmed. He was out of breath and he took one, slowly, hiding it. Slowly, hiding it again, he said, “Oh, okay. Sure.” He had to duck his head down a little bit to take the key off from around his neck, and in doing so he lost sight of her. He was looking down at the floor, maybe even closing his eyes when the strap passed too close to them, so he wasn’t looking out at the room and its events. For the briefest of moments he couldn’t see what was going on, and he felt this put him at a disadvantage. When he looked up again the woman was smiling a secretly pleased smile at him, and he felt it was because of this momentary weakness, where he had bowed his head to her, and he felt as if she had just seen him naked. He crumpled up the leather strap around the key in the middle of his hand and passed it over to her, trying to suppress a glare, a shocked, surprised betrayed glare.

She took it from his hand. She didn’t caress his hand while taking it – did he really expect her to? She didn’t even touch him, didn’t even brush his fingers when she took it. Had she been careful not to?

And now Naarka revolted against all of it. It all seemed so fake. She handed the key on to Cory – was he still there, hidden in the shadow and back lighting from the hallway beyond. Cory moved from behind the counter and past Naarka and out the door. Naarka turned his head to follow him with his gaze. When the dash-painted glass door had sighed shut again on its hydraulic breaking mechanism, he turned back to look at the woman.

She had on her conspiratorial smile again. Her head was slightly inclined forward. “Well welcome to Bobcat’s” she said, smirking the corner of her mouth just a bit for just an instant at the end of that sentence. “Don’t worry,” she said, dropping her head just a bit further, and shaking her head slightly so that the slight bobs of her hair at the shoulders swung back and forth a little, bouncing at the end of each transit.

Naarka had moved into a state of mild disbelief. He stared mildly at this woman started to note imperfections, the slight blemishes on her skin, large earlobes, teeth that weren’t entirely straight. None of these turned him off – he simply noted them. If anything he recorded them as possible points on which to hang fetishes later on, if he needed to. His mind retreated slightly back into his head.

“Don’t worry,” she had said, shaking her head. Now she nodded with a slight vigor – quickly, but in very small movements. “We’ll bring your key in a moment. To your room if necessary.” And then with a slight lean forward, and the volume dropping a little in just an imitation of a whisper, not the real thing, “But we’ll slip it under the door. We won’t disturb you.”

“Now then”, she said, somehow moving her spine up and down as she stepped away from the counter, just to make her hair bounce up and down again, “Would you like to meet the girls?” She stood just before the curtain to the hallway, and waited for him to step up to her.

He walked around the counter and moved up next to her. She took his arm, and now that she was touching him his nervousness made him pull back reflexively: it gave him a little spasm, not of revulsion but of something in the same key. She tucked his right forearm in the crook of her left and grasped his upper arm firmly with her right. He discreetly sucked in a deep breath, through his nose.

They took one or two steps forward to be flush with the curtain. She took her right arm off of his to push the half curtain aside, and gently pushed him with her left arm so that he went through first. The hallway was short – only about two or three meters long – and ended in another curtain, this one full-length and of a heavier material. It was gray, and carried a purple, abstract floral design running diagonally across it from upper left to lower right. The woman again took her right arm off his to pull the curtain aside from its left edge. She let go of his arm as she nudged him into the next room ahead of her. She stepped in after him and, now on his left, put her right hand on his left shoulder and held his left forearm in her left hand.

“Girls, could you make sure this citizen is welcome?”

The six or seven girls sitting in office waiting room chairs stood up and did a small, subtle salute. They sat up straighter than the relaxed slump they were obviously in before he entered, placed their hands palm down on their thighs, and nodded demurely, closing their eyes briefly as they did so. No one would have expected more in a setting like this.

It was a medium-sized room, stretching lengthwise in its rectangular form off to the left from the doorway through which they had just come. Lengthwise, it was about five or six meters, and it was about three or four meters wide. Black office chairs lined the walls – the kind you might see in any bureaucratic waiting room. They were square, black, with a concave, slightly saddle-shaped seat with a thin layer of cloth cushioning stretched over it, bare black wire arms, the same as the legs, and the low back was again concave with cloth cushioning, with dimensions almost identical to those of the seat. The legs came down in a straight line from the front of the seat to the floor, and then on the floor they went back and formed a ‘U’ shape so that the chair rested in a tensed position, like a spring. In the far corner Naarka could see that several chairs were stacked in two little columns. If they needed to they could add a couple rows of chairs in the middle of the room.

Naarka’s skin was on fire. He looked at each of the women in turn, starting from his left and going around the room clockwise. They all wore silk or probably satin robes, thin robes – the room was toasty come to think of it. In fact with the warmth and his nervousness he could feel his armpits starting to become sopping wet. They looked at him expectantly, some more bored than others. One or two held paper magazines in their hands. They had not put them down when he came in and when they greeted him, but they hadn’t started reading them again. They would wait for him to choose. There were two blondes, one with straight black hair and olive skin, a red head, and a pale-skinned girl with jet black hair in a bob or page boy cut.

Next to him the hostess said, “Citizen, I hope one of these girls will be able to please you.” Though the words were formal, her tone of voice was playful, almost sarcastic. He felt the remark was prod him past any hesitancy.

Naarka stepped forward and stopped in front of the first, nearest girl to him – a blonde with long hair sitting along the left wall two or three seats from the doorway. He stopped there almost out of politeness, and though he quickly realized how absurd was the idea of being polite to these women after they had already been put in this situation, he still felt some tide of embarrassment or shame pushing him into acts that he thought of as polite. He looked at her. She had a well-tanned face, in fact her skin was well-tanned everywhere. For a few moments strung together he kept standing there wondering if he should say something, and she took it as a cue. She pulled the loose knot out of the belt of her robe, and, still sitting, opened her robe (which was already half way open anyway). She leaned back in her chair to give him a better look, even opened her legs.

Naarka grew warmer, almost feverish. He stood still, with a completely blank expression – actually he could feel his expression dropping slowly off his face, so that he wondered if he weren’t scowling or frowning. He looked out of half-lidded eyes up and down the blonde’s body.

She was completely tan, she had fairly large breasts, large enough to have a bit of sag even though she was obviously barely in her twenties if not below twenty. Her breasts spread slightly, hanging a bit to either side so that she had very wide cleavage, a flat area across her sternum. The sag wasn’t in the bottom of her breasts, either – actually it wasn’t a sag, to be fair, they were obviously just heavy breasts which hung a little low, like oranges in a pair of small socks. Her pubic hair was trimmed to a vertical line above her labia – like an exclamation mark or a pharaoh’s beard.

Naarka shook his head slightly and turned toward the center of the room. The blonde simply closed her robe again, tied her belt loosely again, rested her head on her hand and elbow on the wire arm of her chair and stared boredly out into space.

Naarka scanned the girls again and stepped across the room to the olive-skinned woman. He noticed a light go out of the corner of his eye and looked to the wall which was to the right of where he came in. A blue light mounted on the wall had just turned off. The hostess had left the room. That light was probably a signal she turned on from the lobby to indicate that a new guest had just entered the building and would be on his way to the ‘introduction room’ shortly.