Where were we?
Buzzing bags, group sex (sorta), simultaneous orgasms, well-timed Hook humor… Oh yeah, I got it.
All caught up? Good. Let’s continue, shall we?
The gals had their room assignment and keys already, so we made our way inside the hotel to continue our highbrow discussion of cabbages and kings. Just to refresh your collective memory, gang, Girl #1 looked like this. (Pretty much.)
And her partner-in-naughty-crime was a reasonable, taller, stand-in for Buffy’s old pal, Willow.
We now return to our regularly scheduled bell call from Vivid Video Hell.
GIRL #1: So, Mr. Bellguy, do you handle many vibrators?
GIRL #2: JENNIFER!
GIRL #1: He already knows what’s in the bag, Chrissy! We’re in the rabbit’s hole now!
ME: That’s “down the rabbit hole.” But I get it. And to answer your question, professionally, I handle plenty of luggage that contains all known varieties of pleasuring devices, self-administered and otherwise.
GIRL #1: Yeah, I let my man handle mine sometimes, too!
Girl #2 opened her mouth, but quickly realized it was better to simply go with the dirty flow. That having been said, she did try to steer things in a different direction.
GIRL #2: So, Mr. Bellguy, what’s new?
ME: Well, most recently, I learned two young ladies who travel with buzzing bags and who are so close they synchronize their orgasms, have decided to refer to me as “Mr. Bellguy”.
GIRL #2: You don’t like it, Mr. Bellguy?
ME: No offense, ladies, but I already have a nickname. You can call me “The Hook”.
We rounded the corner to the hotel’s north tower elevators, and even though I knew full well what was coming, but I figured I’d let the gals have their fun.
GIRL #1: The Hook?
GIRL #2: But you have both hands. (Gasping.) Is one a prosthetic?
GIRL #1: Don’t be stupid, Chrissy! I bet it’s cause his dong is curved!
ME: (Chuckling. I never get tired of that assumption.) Actually… no. My last name is Hookey. A colleague just started calling me “Hook” one day and the name eventually evolved to “The Hook”.
[TRAVEL NOTE: If you’re ever in a crowded hotel lobby awaiting an elevator and you’re surrounded by a dozen seniors and several families with small children, just use the word “dong” in a sentence. Loudly. The crowd will part like the Red Sea and you’ll get first dibs on the next available elevator.]
Fortunately, our “carriage” arrived almost immediately. We boarded the elevator. Girl #1 turned her head and stared at my crotch as she moved. (I’ll never get used to that reaction to my name, even though it happens more often than you’d imagine.) Girl #2 was about to join her when her phone chimed, announcing a text message. She quickly donned a puzzled expression as the doors closed.
(Wisely, the crowd allowed us to have an elevator to ourselves.)
GIRL #1: Is it Mr. X, Chrissy?
I couldn’t let that one go.
ME: Forgive me for intruding ladies, but Mr. X?
GIRL #2: My new boyfriend. He’s…
GIRL #1: Married and a hundred years old!
GIRL #2: He’s not that old, Jennifer!
GIRL #1: He takes Cialis!
ME: Let’s just say he’s “mature”?
GIRL #1: Fine. Anyway, what’s he want now? You know this is supposed to be a “girls-only” trip! Besides, you’re meeting him in Toronto after this, right? Or did his wife finally get wise and cut his hundred-year-old penis off?
GIRL #2: Jenn-
ME: (Motioning to #2.) I’ve got this, miss. (Looking at #1.) JENNIFER!
On cue, the elevator opened at our destination. The girls nearly doubled over with laughter and I rolled my cart out and directed my hysterical guests to their room. Needless to say, the hi-jinks continued.
Both ladies stopped to read the message – several times, slowly – as we arrived at their door. Finally, they began to ponder the contents of the cellular transmission.
GIRL #1: What is that, exactly?
GIRL #2: I figured you’d know for sure!
GIRL #1: Why? Are you saying I’m a slut?
GIRL #2: Are you saying you’re not? I’ve seen you do three guys on a pool table!
Part of me wanted to interject – though not too badly – but they were on verbal fire, so the blogger in me took over and stood by taking mental notes. If #1 was bothered by my presence, she sure didn’t show it.
GIRL #1: (Lowering her head somewhat while catching my gaze.) I didn’t actually do all three!
ME: I figured that. (No, I didn’t.)
GIRL #1: I just did Tom and Greg on the pool table at our friend’s house. Billy just stood there and masturbated.
ME: Well, that’s different then.
GIRL #1: (In a super high pitch.) I KNOW, RIGHT?
ME: Well, this has been more fun than I can articulate, but should we go inside now, ladies?
GIRL #2: I still don’t understand this message!
GIRL #1: Ask The Hook. He’ll know!
ME: I’m not the Wizard of Oz, ladies. There are limits to my knowledge.
They looked at me like lost puppies. Horny, dumb puppies. In tight clothes. What choice did I have?
ME: What do you need to know?
Once again, the gleeful gals pulled a synchronous explosion. But you know, a non-sexual one this time.
“What exactly is reverse cowgirl, Mr. Bellguy?”
Admittedly, it took me a moment to stop laughing – though my smile lasted hours – and another moment to ponder an appropriate response that would A) keep me out of the HR office and B) keep me in the girl’s good graces.
ME: (To #2 while pointing at #1) Let me get this straight: You hang out with this young lady and you don’t know what reverse cowgirl is?
GIRL #1: HEY! I’m not that bad!
ME: If pool tables could talk…
Both girls broke up, thus reinforcing my faith in my ability to select “targets” that appreciate my “gifts”.
GIRL #2: (In a loud, giggly voice.) Hello! Mr. Bellguy, I mean, Mr. Hook! Over here! Reverse cowgirl, remember?
Sure enough, two older guests just happened to be dragging their withered forms by at that exact moment (of course, right?).
ME: Okay, ladies, we really need to get inside now!
GIRL #1: So you can show us reverse cowgirl?
Stereophonic giggles erupted, naturally.
ME: So I can tell you what reverse cowgirl is. (Even that sounded like something that would land my name in another HR file, but I went with it anyway.)
Finally, we made our way inside (#1 even snickered as she inserted the key in the door) and I did my best to wrap this verbally naughty little encounter in a bow and get the hell out of there.
GIRL #2: (As I was busy fulfilling my actual role as a bellman, as opposed to being a sex ed teacher.) Okay, so my boyfriend sent me a message saying he wants to experiment more. So what is reverse cowgirl, Hook?
I looked at #1 again.
GIRL #1: I SWEAR I DON’T KNOW! (Her voice was as smooth as a broken bottle being dragged against against a pane of scratched glass covered in sand.) I DO ALL THE POSITIONS, BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE CALLED!
ME: (Sighing. Internally, of course. never let the guest see you sigh, kids.) All right, girls, let’s get right to it, shall we?
GIRL #1: Oh yeah!
ME: Easy there, tiger. Let’s all pretend we’re mature, shall we? Listen carefully, girls… (Directing my attention to #2 specifically.) Have your guy lay back on the bed – or if you prefer, the pool table – and, facing away from his face, straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.
( I realize my explanation was ridiculously cold, but remember, if I was walking a thin line. One misstep and I could have landed in a heap of trouble. No to mention what the wife would have done to me.)
GIRL #1: That’s it? All she has to do is ride him backwards?
GIRL #2: What do you mean, ‘That’s it?’ I could get hurt! What if I fall off? Or worse, what if I fall back? That could wreck a man!
ME: That’s for you and your man to work out. Look at it this way, if he gets hurt, his wife will have to be th eone to nurse him back to health.
GIRL #1: Not if she finds out how he got hurt! She’ll finish the job! And by “finish”, I mean she’ll rip his nuts off!
We all laughed at that one.
ME: All right ladies, this has been… I’m not sure what this has been, but I’m out of here.
GIRL #1: Hang on, Hook! I think my friend here needs more instruction! She’s a slow learner! (#2 just giggled – of course – and nodded.)
ME: See where you’re going with this. Love the moxie… not gonna happen.
I’ve got to hand it to #1, she was a trooper, through and through. Rather than let my refusal damper her spirits, she hopped up on the bed and laid on her back.
GIRL #1: Hop up here, Chrissy!
And so she did, with lightning speed, I might add. Their height differential made the resulting image a little awkward, which actually worked for me. (The last thing I wanted was to find that coupling appealing.)
ME: That’s my cue, girls. I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.
BOTH GIRLS: YOU’RE ACTUALLY LEAVING?
ME: (Holding up my wedding ring.) I’m married, bound by professional ethics… and terrified of my wife. have a great stay girls. And good luck with the reverse cowgirl… and the married boyfriend.
I headed out, grabbed my cart and started down the hall when I heard a door open behind me.
GIRL #2: Hang on, Hook! We forgot to tip you!
ME: Trust me, miss, I’ve been duly compensated for my time.
GIRL #2: (In a sultry purr while slowly rocking side-to-side.) So you don’t want it?
ME: My tip, you mean?
GIRL #2: Okay, we’ll go with that! (Naturally, I accepted my gratuity. But #2 wasn’t quite finished.) Thanks for being such a good sport. Do all your guests talk to you like we did?
ME: You’d be surprised.
But I know you’re not, my friends. By the way, thanks for hanging in there through this rather lengthy tale. I hope you found it enjoyable. If you’re reading this, VampirerLover… I love you.
See you in the lobby, kids…