So here’s the deal, kids: I’ve been crazy busy living in the so-called “real world”, as well as being the happy-go-lucky, snarky bellman many a hotel guest has come to know and love/loathe, and so something has had to be put on the back burner.
And to top it all off, my mortal form has been under attack by an offshoot of a viral army that is currently laying waste to my wife’s lovely body, something that has made my spouse feel less desperate about her own situation. Misery really does love company, folks. Personally, I could do without my current role as the world’s only zombie bellman, but I don’t time to sit around and lament my fate while there are guests to serve, comic cons to attend, a family to steer towards domestic oblivion and a million other crises to attend to.
(Niagara Falls Comic Con is this weekend folks. Be there or… go outside and live your life. Your choice.)
And so that’s why I’ve been slightly absent on my own blog. And now that summer has finally arrived the situation isn’t going to improve, my friends. In my industry, in my town, summer is GO TIME, BABY!!!
That having been said, here’s a little something to chew on until a larger course is ready.
I recently served two young ladies who appeared to be hatched from the same American Southwestern sorority pod. Girl #1, we’ll call her Mandy (although, as you’ll soon see, “Randy” would have been more appropriate), was definitely in the driver’s seat, in more ways than one.
- Towering, but not freakish.
- Endowed, but not well. Still, her $600 bra (I couldn’t help but notice she had a plastic bag of ‘em, price tags intact), was working wonders for her image.
- A Peroxide Princess, but not to a ghastly extreme.
- Dressed to the tens in a “How’d she get into that?” black top, painted-on crimson leather pants and high-class hooker boots. (This girl came from old money that she was burning in the new world.)
- Traveling with a miniscule canine companion, although, this “little darling” was forced to walk around on its own rather than hitch a ride in a brand-name purse, something it seemed quite content to do.
- Not interested in the attention every male in her orbit attempted to lavish upon her.
- Angular in the facial region. And lean. Like a gazelle. She was a lezelle.
Mandy wasn’t content with her doggie traveling companion, though, so she brought along a human roommate. Meet Sandy, as in Sandy Olsson, Olivia Newton-John’s character in my generation’s classic musical, Grease.
Here’s the breakdown on Sandy:
- She was short but not tiny.
- Nature had bestowed blonde locks upon her.
- Nature had also been generous to her in the chesteral area. (An expression from my youth, “Built like a brick shit house”, came to mind.)
- She was dressed to the nines in a high-cut floral sundress. (Her parents obviously worked for their money but they appeared to have plenty of it to spare for their daughter’s clothing allowance.)
- Based on the phone conversation with her boyfriend that took place in my vicinity as I unloaded Mandy’s luxury sports car, she wasn’t a lesbian… but she was about to play with one.
And that’s where it got interesting, kiddies.
As a self-trained observer of human behavior, I was able to discern a few facts from Mandy and Sandy’s body language.
- Mandy was a gay woman who was proud of her life choices.
- Sandy had sold her boyfriend a bill of goods where her “weekend getaway with her BFF” was concerned. “Enjoy your time with the guys, dear,” she nervously cooed, “I’ll be fine with Mandy. We’ll find something to do here in Niagara.”
- Mandy knew exactly what they were going to do – and when they were going to start: “Here’s a good tip for you, Mr. Bellman.” she handed me a nice set of bills and laid out the situation for me, “Can you drop the bags off quick for us when we get to the room? We want to be alone right away, if catch my drift?” (I sure did.)
- Sandy was willing to allow Mandy to pet her gently in public – but not before assuring herself no one was paying too much attention to their antics.
Once we were shielded from prying and judgmental eyes Sandy loosened up, and so Mandy turned up the heat. It’s an interesting thing, being a bellman; people are aware of your presence but they don’t take notice of you. They simply carry on with their lives, completely oblivious to your presence. It may be that they assume a bellman is sworn to secrecy when it comes to all he observes.
Not so, my friends. I try to treat every guest with the respect they deserve – unless they deserve to be treated otherwise, of course – but when it comes to their privacy there are a few ground rules.
- I create new identities for guests.
- Ethnic background and point of origin are only mentioned if the story demands it.
- Everything else is fair game.
But let’s return to the girls and their softcore late-night cable antics in the elevator, shall we?
I stood off to the extreme right, flanked by a full luggage cart; this allowed the ladies to snuggle against the wall of the left corner. Being a tall man, I was able to (discreetly) peer over the cart and take stock of the scene as it played out – minus the cheesy music, of course.
- The ladies stood side-by-side – until Mandy slowly eased Sandy against the corner and began running her fingers up and down her leg…
- Content they were “alone”, Sandy turned her head to one side, the better to allow her BBF access to her shapely neck.
- Mandy took full advantage of this offering… by fusing her lips to Sandy’s neck like she was devouring a stick of corn on the cob.
- The dog just stood there panting – or maybe that was me – no doubt used to the scene playing out above.
- Idle hands are are the devil’s playground, so Mandy’s hands took a full tour of Sandy’s real estate, spending a good deal of time on her… “dual mountains”, of course.
- The entire sorted affair came to a climax -but not the one you’re expecting – when Mandy reached Sandy’s not-so-secret garden and her nubile prey let out a porn-worthy moan.
- The silver handrail Sandy has been leaning/grinding against wasn’t very strong to begin with and so it was no match for the wrasslin’ grip of a reluctant-but-getting-over-it college-age-lesbian. It broke free in union with Sandy’s silence-shattering moan.
Fortunately, it was at that moment that the elevator-turned-adult-film-set had reached its destination so the girls had a literal out to spare them further embarrassment. Almost.
Bucking protocol, I rolled my cart out first in order to allow the ladies an opportunity to adjust themselves. Mandy exited first and with no shame, simply flashed me a smile that asked the question, “Did you enjoy the show?” Sandy, however, remained motionless in the elevator clutching a section of broken silver handrail in one hand while the other adjusted her skirt over and over. Mandy turned to me for assistance and so I reassured Sandy that Maintenance could reattach the rail as they had many times before.
It did not help.
She was a red-faced deer caught in headlights and so Mandy took control once more.
“Drop it, sweetie. NOW!”
And so she did. The rail landed with a sharp metallic thud and Sandy narrowly avoided being smucked by the closing elevator doors. As for yours truly, I wasn’t about to let such a golden opportunity go to waste.
“Well, I certainly hope the bed in the room fares better than the elevator.”
For the record, my track record remains intact; the girls appreciated my patented brand of humor. I got paid. The ladies got laid. Everyone won.
Here is a suitable, “clean” image to accompany this post…
And a not-so-clean one for those who have come to expect a certain standard from me…
And now, a list inspired by the preceding events.
For my female readers, I present to you now, ten signs that you too may be considering the many benefits (girls smell nice, they tend to take their time and they’re more familiar with the equipment you use), of embarking upon a same-sex affair with another female.
Before we begin, however, I want to issue the following disclaimer: I’m not picking on lesbians. In fact, I love lesbians – and not just those of the lipstick variety, either. Directing my unique brand of humor towards those who are connoisseurs of the sapphic arts is a sign of affection. A twisted sign, but sign nonetheless. And let’s face it, any segment of society that finds itself excluded from “being got” never gets the opportunity to develop a thick skin. And trust me, folks, you need a thick skin to survive in this world.
If we can’t laugh at ourselves we have no business laughing at others. This notion has been swirling around in my head for some time now. As writers/bloggers we’re constantly offering our opinions on the world around us, but we often temper those opinions out of fear of public reaction. I have a few good blogging friends who are gay and while I would hate to see those friendships suffer, my fear of holding back is greater.
And so I refuse to hold back. Ever. Make no mistake, my friends, I’m out to get everyone.
And so should you.
As a bellman, I deal with every segment of society imaginable. The following individuals passed by my desk this week alone:
- A black female dwarf and her lanky Asian Emo boyfriend.
- Two Asian hookers who catered exclusively to a group of Asian diplomats.
- A Native American Stephen Hawking clone in a wheelchair that looked like it served three tours of duty in Iraq.
- A Pakistani Michael Jackson – pre-plastic surgery.
- The whitest family in North America. (They made Brooke Shields look ghetto.)
Since I’m in a position to observe everyone, I feel it is my duty to get everyone. And now, on with the show.
Top Ten Signs That You May Be Considering The Many Benefits Of Embarking Upon A Same-sex Affair With Another Female.
(Or If You Prefer, The Worst Title For A Top Ten List – Ever.)
1) During sex, you scream “Surrender. Dorothy!”
2) You insist on the following conditions before you allow your man to attempt to pleasure you:
- He must go by the name “Jolene”.
- Various ladies’ wigs must come into play.
- His sack must be tucked back.
3) Your personal all-time favorite television shows are The L Word, Lost Girl, Orange is the New Black, and Lip Service.
4) For some strange reason, you find Bruce Jenner attractive.
5) You have a shrine to Jennifer Lawrence – in every room in your house.
6) Suddenly, every Tegan and Sara song makes sense to you.
7) You find yourself preferring the smell of CHANEL No.5 on your thighs rather than Old Spice.
8) You schedule a week of threesomes with various girlfriends, and then you “forget” to notify your boyfriend – every time.
9) You begin to desire more from your romantic encounters than an evening of beer and pizza, flowery declarations like, “I love ya, babe… Let’s do it!”, and fifteen minutes of your partner watching the game – over your shoulder before screaming, “Wow, that was a big one! I must be down a quart! Which I guess would mean you’re up a quart, right?”
10) You recently became engaged to Jodie Foster.
Before we part ways yet again, my devoted readers, I have an announcement: This little piece of literary greatness was my 500th post!
See you in the lobby, kids…