I love staying at business hotels.
The places with the concierge and staff that will do anything for you. The places where the press of the men’s suits is exact and so pricey you can smell it in the lobby. The places that scream high end.
Pretentious, uppity… Expensive. The taste of that word in my mouth is just as delicious as the rich wine in the bar and the cum of the executive of that Fortune 500 I stayed with last night.
I love the four hundred count Egyptian sheets, perfumed with a mint on the pillow. My body feels rich and sexy just by slipping between. My head sinks into the goose feather filled pillows as I fall into dreamless sleep each night.
I feel richer still as I hold the cocktail offered to me, my lips alternating between sipping the amber colored drink and whispering the ways I’d perform for my businessman later. I’ll slip from the dress that clings like a lover to my body and worship his with tongue and hands.
These hotels offer a way to be pampered and pleasured for the fiscally important. I make myself important, too. Elevating my body to CEO status just by being present and available. That cock worth over a quarter of a million dollars seems to thrust that much harder and go that much deeper when it happens on the king bed of a five hundred to a thousand dollar a night room.
I stay because it’s expensive, and I like the best as much as I like to give the best. No one deserves the best more than the president of the company after a full day of take over meetings. Here I am, ready and at hand to give him rest.
Welcome to the hotel, sir, I’m here to serve.