Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Amanda realizes she's not in Kansas anymore

"This is Amanda... she works at sex parties."

I don't think I realized what I was getting myself into when I started all of this. I've always been a supporter of alternative lifestyles, but never really took part in one, myself. At least, not by normal standards. (I'm sure my mother would beg to differ, if she had any idea.) But now I'm here, facilitating orgies.

Did they happen without me before, and will they continue when I'm done? Absolutely. However, for now at least, I happen to be placing myself in the thick of it. If a person is shy, I introduce them around. If a woman is uncomfortable, I entice her. If a party is slow and getting going, I try to get things riled up. I've held condom-covered-ass-dildos, I flirt, I pass the condoms, I set the lighting, and I pull people over to watch with me so that they feel as if they've gotten something for their dollar.

I did enter this with a loose set of boundaries, but my boss constantly tries to blur them. He tells me who to flirt with, reminds me that I can partake, shows me pictures of his wife sucking his dick ("What? We're not on that level? I thought we were.") I have generally brushed it all off. ("No, no we are not at all on that level." or "I'm just really not interested in joining in with anyone right now, but good to know.") But there was one request of his that struck me.

"Hey, if this doesn't start getting going, I'm going to need your help. If you could just loosen everyone up by stripping down a bit and showing your breasts, that'd be great."

Mere suggestion, but it felt wrong. When people ask me about the money that gets exchanged at these parties, I always explain that it's clean. Everyone pays for the hotel room and the coordination of the parties, but no one is paid for sex. Suddenly, it felt as if a little of that money was going to be going towards me degrading myself. I didn't have to do it, and didn't, but the assumption that I would if asked struck a chord.

I think that there is definitely a part of me that enjoys the "me" versus "them" mentality in this work. When asked, I stick up for these people wholeheartedly. I believe that they are consenting adults taking part in something they enjoy while fully accepting the consequences. In other words, they deserve respect. However, ask me if I participate, and I will do everything in my power to convince you that I don't.

Even with Paul Bunyan, I made a few attempts at deluding myself into believing that I could sleep with him and have it not be "participating." Perhaps if we slept together before anyone arrived, or maybe if he stayed after everyone left, and I made him scrub down in the shower and gargle with mouthwash. He could literally scrub the party away, right? Then it would just be a one-night-stand. (We won't even get started with my thoughts about one-night-stands.) Obviously, that would not truly be the case.

The reality of it all is that I am participating. I don't jump on the bed and take 3 men like Tinkerbell, but I lick whipped cream off of womens' chests. That's more than I can say for my man Edan. He pays, and doesn't touch a darn thing! I also watch. I'm not lying when I say that I don't find it arousing, but I certainly pick up pointers if I think someone does a better job than I would. I get my ass slapped, I slap asses, and I've even pinched a nipple or two.

And every time that I go to a party, I find myself more and more comfortable with what's happening. I'm still horrified by the total lack of discussion regarding STIs (It appears to be assumed that the people coming are clean, but with the regulars, there's no way they could get tested often enough.), but there's nothing inherently wrong. I've even started building friendships with party-goers, inviting them into my life outside of the parties. In other words, it's getting increasingly difficult to separate myself out as an observer.

And this is good and bad. It's good because the deeper one goes into a group, the better they can understand the emotional qualities of what they are observing. One can only truly understand motivation, role, value, and the transfer of that information when they take an active part. However, it is bad in that I did not enter this project with the hopes of becoming a sex party participant. After my most recent party (posts to come), it has become clear that I need to set up some boundaries. What am I comfortable with? What can others expect of me? How do I say no without compromising my place in the group?

That last part is the real doozy. Needing to say no is much more prevalent than I initially thought it would be. Regulars know for a fact that I'm allowed to participate, and newbies have a hard time believing me when I say I can't. I've had it suggested to me that I just take my top off. People have asked if I'd make out with them, fluff them, put on a show, and a whole host of other things. I'm there, I'm allowed, and therefore there should be no hold up.

Because really, being a sex party hostess that doesn't want to participate is... unheard of. Why would I take the job? It's not a predictable schedule, the wages depend on the turnout, and there are naked bodies all over the place. If I was strapped for cash, I'd be better off working at a restaurant. And, seeing as I am not strapped for cash, the only explanation could be that I get something out of it. Right now, the assumption is that I'm turned on, or I'm building up the courage to really go at it. Fascination with human behavior is surely reason enough for me, but I don't know if my compatriots will agree.

In other words, what I'm struggling with is the realization that I have to keep some level of participation in order to maintain my position as a trusted (and hired) hostess. It can't be black and white, me v. them.  There's a dance that has to be danced, and I just have to figure out the most basic footwork to survive.I thought I had it at the first couple parties, but I'm starting to believe that it's much more involved than I could have predicted. Hopefully, this is just me being paranoid due to being in foreign territory, and Amanda will remain uncompromised.

On a completely different note, I had a funny learning: Underwear with attachable garters is hopeless if the underwear is too big.

Up next...Guest post!!!! 
(Unless she takes forever... at which point I will post something in the interim.)


Friday, April 15, 2011

The Rest of the Motley Crew - Party 2

Some little tidbits about the rest of the party-goers -

Daddy W(arbucks) and Alice in Chains
Apparently I didn't get the full show from these two, which makes me sad. Mark says that Daddy W has quite the kit of whips, paddles, and chains that he often likes to bring out for a show. Our night was not quite as spectacularly entertained.

Daddy W has some sort of job in the entertainment business. "I never pay for tickets to anything," he says. He's got what I can only assume to be a $100 bottles of bourbon/whiskey belly. It's... omnipresent almost. I actually don't remember much about his face, just that it was pale. He also seemed too old for our parties (not the only violator that night), but if you average his age with Alice, I guess they're somewhere in their early 30's. Maybe that's how it works.

While I didn't pay much attention to Daddy W, except when he was talking to Derek and knocking him down a peg (Derek uses a ticket broker... for shame), I payed a whole lot of attention to Alice. Alice is... beautiful. She was pulling me way over to the other side of the Kinsey Scale, if you know what I mean. She's probably about 5'6" with just enough meat on her bones to give her a stately hourglass. She was wearing a garter and stockings, and happens to be the only woman that took of her top besides Tinkerbell. In each nipple she had 14g nipple rings. I'm guessing as to their gauge, because she told me that Daddy W just picked them out for her and had her get it done. She spent the night stroking Daddy W and lying across the bed in a seductive manner, taking about 5 minutes for him to poke her quickly with his small penis. I get this feeling she didn't cum, which I find quite unacceptable. (Amanda to the rescue? I'm pretty sure I would have gotten scolded.)

Carlos and Silent Roberta
So, there's actually a bit of a story I forgot to tell previously. Carlos happened to walk into the suite while I was receiving my back massage. Apparently he thought I had finally joined the party, because I felt a hand on my back shortly after Paul had moved to work on my hands. Carlos... skeeves me out. His hair was greasy, his looks were creepy, and he got his girlfriend all sorts of plastered before sending her upstairs with Paul. Something just didn't feel right. So, when he put his hand on me, my hand immediately shot up, my finger went to wagging, and I loudly stated. "Carlos! The only hands that touch me are experts." He whimpered and moved over to shoot the shit the remaining guys. Phew.

Roberta... I know nothing about her. She was very pretty. She was so drunk that her body was floppy as she tried to screw guys. I was told it was quite the workout having to holder her up. Apparently things got better upstairs, so... I guess she's alright.

Peter Pan and Tinkerbell

Peter Pan and Tinkerbell were an adorable little (I mean little, as they were both very short) couple that had apparently decided to graduate from foursomes to full-on group sex. Peter didn't do much besides hang out next to his girlfriend and make sure no one put their P in her V (P in the A was A-Okay). Tinkerbell though... wow. She managed to handle 3 men at once - hand, mouth, ass. I'd say she made the rounds to about 6 of the men that night. (Go Tinkerbell!) She also happened to be quite enthusiastic about Derek's dildos. When a man wasn't preoccupying her attention, she would hop on her boyfriend and have Derek stick one of his dildos in her backside.

Now, this... this was something where I should have been paying more attention. Why? Because then I would have known not to stick my hand out without looking when Derek said: "Hey Amanda, will you hold this for a second?"

Right, So! I put my hand out and felt a handle put into it. The instant sensation was that I was holding a whip of some sort, until I felt it move. When I looked to my left, I realize that I was holding a leather extender on a dildo shoved in between Tinkerbell's cheeks. The movement was her riding it. When I wigged out a little bit, she turned her head backwards and said: "Just hold it still and I can do it." At that point I looked at Paul's random friend, yanked on his arm, and handed it off. May I never have that experience ever again.

Charlie and the Great White Cougar
For anonymity reasons, I will not talk about Charlie. The Cougar was hot, though. She also LOVED our alcoholic chocolate whipped cream. Perhaps too much...

(Tiny) Tim
Bless Tiny Tim. He wasn't tiny. Actually, I don't know much about his size, since he wouldn't take off his underwear. Tiny Tim is a dog trainer for Petco, who is so incredibly shy. He hung out on the sidelines the whole night, and quietly answered my questions when I tried to bring him out of his shell. When he did strip down to his grey underwear (although I'm still unclear as to why), his backside was drenched in sweat.

He came back! He still didn't get laid.

Lily and Billy
So, Billy is actually the guy who found me on the internet. He's in his early 30's, and was introduced to me as Lily's fuck buddy. From what I can remember, he works in programming, and fits the profile very well. Our interactions where fairly limited, except for his extremely awkward come-ons when I would pass by. Oh yes, and I did tell him when a spot had become available in Tinkerbell, for which he was very appreciative.

Lily... OH LILY!!! She was my favorite person the whole night. Lily was the only woman at the party that wasn't drinking, and was just the funniest little peach of a gal. We chit-chatted and gossiped and giggled on the side for the majority of the night, because she was very anxious. Most of her anxiety, I came to realize, was due to her size. Lily was a thick broad... I'm not going to lie. (Then again, being a mildly thick broad myself, I don't see why that should stop her.) When I first pulled her over to the bed, she stared at the action through her fingers like a kid in a horror film, so we just giggled and I tried little things here and there to loosen her up. First attempt was the whip cream, which I licked off of her chest while the unattended bachelors watched. She chuckled and blushed a bit, but then took her spot back on the sideline. After chatting a bit more, and trying a few more little things here and there, I finally realized we'd have to be a little drastic if I wanted to get my girl some. So... I came up with an idea. "Lily, I'll take my shirt off if you take yours off." She looked up at me with some bright eyes, and off it went! Next thing I knew, she and her bright red bra had hopped on Derek and the rest of the night was history!

Lily actually gave me a big hug at the end of the night, and thanked me for making the night more comfortable for her. My response: "What's a partner in crime for?!"

Old Man River
River could not have been under 40. His hair was already silver (and we're not talking about an Anderson Cooper scenario), and despite being in immaculate shape, he had obvious signs of aging. I believe the only action he saw all night was some that he snuck in with Silent Roberta.

The Disappearing Act
No joke, 8 people arrived and left our party within about 30 minutes. It was a set of 4 couples that came in, grabbed each other, and headed out for drinks and possibly a private party. I'm pretty sure we had already taken their money, though. (Suckers!)

Up next... Amanda realizes she's not in Kansas Anymore


Monday, April 11, 2011

Quick side note - How internet dating can make hostessing even more awkward

I'm on an internet dating site, like most people I know (that's right... I've seen you!). Recently, it became a little more awkward than it is even on a normal day. See, one of the party guys found me, and apparently didn't recognize me 100%.

So...I've checked out your profile a couple times, why haven't we talked yet? What do you do for work? It sounds like you're always on the go. I like a girl that can keep busy and play hard when she's got a few hours free. Why don't you drop me a line and we'll talk :)

This created an interesting situation. First of all, he was at the party with Lily, whom I loved. Second of all, I really wasn't interested. Of course I couldn't ignore him, so I decided to keep it professional.

So, I guess you don't recognize me. I think it's best we keep it professional. Tell Lily I say hello, and perhaps I'll see you at a future party.


Luckily, I apparently made a good call. For this morning I received:

Hah, I knew you looked familiar! I couldn't make the connection! I kept saying to myself 'now here's a pretty girl, how haven't I talked to her before...'

Too funny.

Further awkwardness avoided? Probably not.

(Next post will come as soon as possible!!! Real work is keeping me busy 12-16 hours a day, so I'm running a bit behind.)

- Amanda

Friday, March 25, 2011

Paul Bunyan... Shiver Me Timbers!!!! - Party 2

Yes, I do realize that I just referenced two totally different tales. Paul Bunyan is the lumberjack with the axe and the blue cow, "shiver me timbers" comes from Long John Silver (although was attributed to pirate stories as early as 1835). Hopefully, you get the double entendre. We set? Good!

Paul........... (shakes head out of stupor) PAUL! Yes, Paul.

In order to picture Paul, I'm going to show two photos. If you could overlay the tattoos and hair of the anonymous male over Mark Wahlberg, add a little scruff, and pack on about another 10-15 lbs of muscle, we'll be set:

I mean, yum, right? It's the kind of guy that I'd never go for in the bar (Mark Wahlberg + more muscle, to clarify, as I definitely love a good sleeve... or two), but I surely didn't mind the view. Paul is the kind of guy that makes a Hanes T-Shirt look as good as a tailored suit.

Paul was actually in the hotel room before I got there. As a trusty regular, Mark apparently has him host parties sometimes, and let's him sleep in the room after the party's conclusion if he needs to sober up before going home. Which, he almost always does. In fact, as I introduce myself (accidentally my real self... I need to get better at remembering that I'm Amanda) and apologize for arriving after him, he says: "Hey, no worries. I've been here for a while. See, if it's a Saturday and I don't get here early, I end up drinking too much by 9 o'clock to drive myself to the parties." And with that, he pops the tab on another beer. "Want one?" I decline.

So, I set to changing my rainboots into python platform pumps, switching out regular light bulbs for red ones, setting up the snacks and mixers that I brought along. (This time, we will be prepared.) All the while I listen to the banter between the boys.

"So, it's going to be a big party tonight?"

"Oh yeah," Mark smiles, "It's gonna be huge. I've got a lot of couples coming, a couple single guys. Derek is going to be here tonight."

"Really? Ah man I love that guy." As I found out, Derek and Paul get along splendidly. They have the luck of being the most attractive men in the room at just about any party that Mark throws, and so the bouncing back and forth of ladies is not that uncommon.

"Yeah, do you remember that one time? The tall skinny Asian hostess? He was all, 'You a sub?' and she was all, 'Yes,' and then BAM!!! She's on his dick like it's her job. She left me to host the whole party by myself! Fucking crazy!" Mark looks at me, "I'm going to need to you stay professional tonight." (Oh, yes sir, of course!)

"Any girls?" Valid question fielded by Paul, in my opinion, seeing as some couples are territorial.

"Ummm... yeah. I know we got one chick, Alicia. Then this other chick Lily might be coming too." Mark's voice makes me wonder if it's a stretch."Hey! How's your girlfriend doing?"

"She's good." I'm guessing he caught my double-take, as he then turned to me and said, "See, my girlfriend used to come to these things, but it's really not her scene. So, now she just let's me go on Saturday nights. What I really need is a Saturday night girlfriend. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper."

The boys kept their blah, blah, who will be here? - blah - it's all about chemistry - blah - Daddy W's girlfriend is really hot - blah - Amanda, remember to be a professional, but if things are slow, feel free to do something provocative. (I'll do a post about my personal feelings during the party. There was one point in time in which I was quite unsettled by one of Mark's suggestions.)

Finally, the party gets started, and I quickly realize that Paul is quite a little star in his own right. Particularly due to his variety of involvements. I saw him with a couple 1, 2, 3... 5 different ways (all including the girl, but he didn't seem perturbed by the proximity of the boyfriend's genitals either - more power to him). For the majority of the time, he flowed easily from one position to the other. However, at one point Paul and the Boyfriend were attempting to do double penetration, which made me giggle, as it is quite possibly the most ungainly cumbersome position I have ever witnessed. From what I can tell, you either have to get the two guys moving in concert (highly difficult), or you have to get the girl to do all the work while the guys are stationary. In this situation, however, the girl was drunk. Very drunk. So what they ended up with was this rabbit-like see-saw. Given the awkwardness, that was dropped fairly quickly.

No worries for Paul though, because every time I thought I knew where he was, I'd look up and see him elsewhere. On the bed, on the couch, on his knees on the floor, back to the bed, and then cracking open another beer. Before I knew it, he was putting on his shirt and shoes and giving Derek a high-five. "Where are you going?" I asked, only slightly anxious at his departure.

"Carlos over there has a room, and wants me to do his girlfriend. I'll be back in like... eh... an hour?"

I'm not going to lie, the hour went very slowly for yours truly. Although Derek was entertaining from a distance, Paul had made a habit of coming to talk to me during all of his beer breaks. We talked about his previous job as a massage therapist, how things were going with his current girlfriend, his most recent romp on the bed, and the like. He gave an intense description of his favorite part of hooking up with a girl - eating her out. And, as the night went on, he moved on to a topic of unending entertainment for me, which was whether or not we were going to hook up.

"What are your nipples like?"

"What?!" Insert shocked/playful face. "I'd be super surprised if one of my friends hadn't just asked me that the other day. Why are you all so interested?"

"I just want to know. I bet yours are like silver dollars, and practically clear." He had that little smirk like he had just uncovered something.(Paul's random friend in the background: "I think they're small and brown!")

"False." Take that, Paul."The both of you."

"Well then, lemme see them."

"No! In case you couldn't tell, I'm working here." (Teeheehee, wink, playful shove.)

"Alright, after." That's when I got the puppy dog eyes. "Will you stay after the party with me?"

"Nope. Can't. I have a rental car that charges by the hour, and I've got to get it back by 4am." This is absolutely true, although most people don't start their car reservations in the middle of the night, so grabbing a couple extra hours wouldn't have been too hard to do.

"What happens if you don't bring it back?"

"I get charged a late fee." I remember hearing something awful about the late fee, but the truth of the matter is that my legs were bruised from a recent stint of pole dancing classes, and I had showed up at this party with no below-the-belt preparation. My bra was cute, for sure, since you could see it through my top, but the rest of me was not at the standard that I generally employ. (This was mostly on purpose, but also because I honestly did not think there would be anyone attractive at these parties.)

"Problem solved, I'll pay the late fee."

"Great! Now I'm a prostitute. No. We'll just have to do it some other time." (Tilted head with upturned eyes and side smile... I would say it's my signature move, except that I look hideous when I actually try to do it. Paul had actually gotten me seriously teasing.)

Anyway, this conversation was sorely missed while he was gone, and so his return brought quite a lift to my spirits. He reappeared sans couple with a big grin on his face.

"She let me cum in her mouth!!!!!!!!" It was like Christmas Day for little Paulie.

According to Paul, it had been quite a splendid hour. Carlos just sat back and watched while Paul had his way with his very attractive Brazilian girlfriend. His only interaction was to tell Paul where he wanted him to put it and to do her harder.

So, I did what any sex party hostess would do, I gave him a high five and asked for all the details. While Derek scrambled to call Carlos and head up to the room, Paul and I chit-chatted about whether or not she was a good lay.

Shortly after his return, the party slowed down to it's closing. Derek, Tim (Tiny Tim), Paul, and I reviewed our night by the bar. Mark sauntered out of the bathroom and sat himself at Paul's massage chair (Oh! Right! Paul brought his massage chair.), to which act I quickly piped up: "I'M NEXT!!!"

Nicely for me, Paul gave Mark about a 2 minute massage before beckoning me over to the chair. I stripped my top for the second time that night (first time was in encouragement and support of Lily), and commenced a beautiful 20 minute massage. All the while hearing things that girls love to hear:

"You do realize I'm trying to seduce you, right?" He'd moved onto my hands so that he could face me.

"Of course I do, and I appreciate every minute of it."

"So, you gonna stay? Are we gonna hit it?"

"Nope! I already told you, I have to get my car back."

"You heard me talking about eating a girl out. You know I'd do that for you, right? I'd have you orgasm multiple times before we even got started."

Ahem. "I heard you. It sounds lovely, but I still can't."

Finally, I guess he decided he wanted some consolation prize. To which he asked my least favorite euphemistic question of all time: "Will you kiss it?"

"Your face? Of course!"

Up next... The Rest of the Motley Crew


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Five Dollar Foot Long - Party 2

Five Dollar Foot Long, or Derek, is an exotic dancer, part-time dom, and personal trainer - not exactly in that order. Is he really a foot-long? No, but the level of pride and attention that he gives his penis would make you think it must be. To his credit, it is about 8 inches (pull out a ruler, as I am not inflating to fit the normal scale used in everyday reporting) and has a hefty girth. For that, I applaud him.

Now that I think about it, I'm not positive as to how tall he is. I was standing at about 5'10" in my heels, and he never once took off his custom cowboy boots. There's no way he hits 6 feet, but I can't be much more accurate than that as of now. He's heavily muscled, and that is no exaggeration. His body ripples in all the right places, and his presence, along with the equally impressive Paul, led to another man saying, "I didn't realize that workout regimens were part of the requirements for these parties." They were all visibly uncomfortable with his presence at first. Well, except for Daddy W, who's 27-year-old girlfriend only has eyes for him.

Eventually, if you keep looking, you hit the face. Just like the rest of his body, it has been primped and preened to the fullest extent - including the dying of his soul patch and eyebrows to match his unnaturally jet black hair. Hair that is blown straight up to slightly resemble Derek Zoolander (not kidding, as it's part of his act, and the reason for his name).

Now Derek is one of the only regulars that I had actually been told about beforehand. At a previous party, he happened to have the hostess sucking him off within 15 minutes of the start. She happened to be the only hostess that night, and never quite got herself back to her post. Mark mentions this story often to me and everyone else. It's supposed to be a lesson in "what not to do," but it happens to just be one of many stories that he repeatedly tells about Derek. There's something about the way that Mark talks about the exploits of his customers. I haven't quite figured out whether he takes pride in their conquests, or if he's propagandizing, or simply filling space. Perhaps it's all of those things.

And these parties are not the only connection that Derek and Mark have. Turns out that they work together to put on private BDSM shows. Derek finds the client interested in voyeurism and Mark finds the girl (sub) to join Derek as part of the act. Derek actually saves head shots of the girls he's worked with, and Paul and I got a flip-through of his iPhone collection after the party. The majority of them are referred to as, "sweet girls" or "sexy little things." From what I can tell, they're all in their 20's and tend to look Eastern European. I actually catch myself thinking about how I'm probably not a candidate for his shows. Not quite sure whether that hurts my pride or not.

If Derek is anything, though, he is the party ring-leader. He brings his own music, supplies his own dildos, and directs women and men alike around the bed with quite the facility. He also serves as a motivator, both through encouragement and praise. "That's hot. You're doing great, girl," he says as he watches a girl sucking off her boyfriend. He encourages Paul to go harder with Alicia, tells Lily that she's doing an amazing job on Billy's dick, and gets Tim to take his shirt off rather than just stand in the corner. With his direction, the party is a bit like a well-oiled machine. The parts move, rotate, switch - all as he stands at the side of the bed.

And the side of the bed was really where he liked to stay. As I run through my mental pictures of his night, not a single one contains him actually having penis-in-vagina sex. He almost always had a mouth suction cupped to himself or a dildo in hand, but there is not one moment I can remember in which he stuck it in. Even with the dildos, they were always inserted in the ass (covered with a condom). I wonder what it is about sex that halts him. Is it the fact that he has to be active in that scenario? That he's giving pleasure? Is it a personal hangup? Were the girls not attractive enough? Was tonight just not the night?

But, like I said, he had no problem with blow jobs, and with blow jobs he was once again the man with the plan. Women sat cross-legged next to the bed, turned towards him, and he took over from there. With his hands placed at the back of their head, he guided it back and forth, side-to-side. When he needed a change, he often pulled his dick out of their mouth and tapped it multiple times across their face. Otherwise he'd pull his dick to the side, turn the girl's head, and sit his balls on her lips until she took them into her mouth. "You like that?" he would often say, or, "That's right, take it." And take it, they did. Alicia in particular was a repeat offender.

When the party started to come to a close, the regulars stuck around to chit-chat and help clean up. For Derek, this meant a summary of all of the other people at the party.

"You see Daddy W and his chick? Goes to show what money will get you. She's beautiful, and he's got a 2 inch dick. That's what girls are like though, they want the attention, or they want the mind fuck. I just don't get it."

"That Lily could suck a dick."

"What was up with that couple? 'You can stick it in her, but only in her butt?' That's about the opposite of what I would do."

"Those two on the bench? Man they were boring, and his dick was tiny as fuck."

"You did that Brazilian chick? Dude, she was good to go! Hot thing. She still upstairs? Would she do me too? You said her guy likes to watch. Call him."

"I told Tim he needs to buy different underwear."

Before he left, I got my 10th ass slap of the night and a wink, and then got to watch those boots walk out the door.

What struck me the most throughout the night was just how much I wasn't attracted to Derek. When he said sexy things to the women of the party, I generally laughed. When he made advances, I didn't find it hard at all to play hard to get. (Paul, on the other hand, was much harder to fend off.) I was overwhelmed and turned off by this constant impression of false bravado. It was if I was watching a play that he had convinced himself was reality, despite all evidence to the contrary. I've since wondered if sex parties are really the perfect venue for men that have this quality. Those men that spend hours in the gym, hours on their hair, and buy tattoo-laden t-shirts and custom boots. The men that keep their exterior perfect, perhaps in hopes that you don't scratch the surface. A sex party, the gym, Derek's gig as a dancer - these are all areas in which he's valued for the presentation of himself, as opposed to anything more substantial.

Whatever the case, I hope to see him again, and I'm almost positive I won't be disappointed.

Up next... Paul Bunyan, Shiver Me Timbers!

- Amanda

Sunday, March 6, 2011

We interrupt the scheduled blog post due to CRAZY circumstances


I was faced with an interesting situation tonight that I frankly never thought I'd run into. And yet, run into it... or him, rather... I did. Tonight, as I was sitting at a bar with some friends (old and new), I happened to glance up at a newcomer, only to see a customer.

He knows. I know. My eyes are bugging out before I can muster the brain power to try and keep them in my head. This is a guy that I was planning on writing a whole post about, entitled "Can you smell what the Cougar is cooking?" And now he's right in front of me! He's going hear my real name, see me with my friends, and we might actually have a conversation.

Not to mention, I'm sure he is not so happy about the possible havoc I could have on him. My hostessing is not exactly a secret amongst me and my friends, and if I relax too much about it, people could easily put two-and-two together. I'm sure he's wondering if I'm just going to blurt out: "Hey, --- inch dick! How's your whipped cream loving lady?!"

To be honest, I always thought that having my a friend come to a party was way more likely than having a party goer show up in my real life would ever be. I was prepared to see my friends in compromising positions, if they so choose. Trying to have someone I've seen in a compromising position become a friend, though... leaves me more than a little lost.

So what do I do? I ignore the man the whole night. He's at the table, but he's not anywhere near me. I'm not glaring, but I'm surely not starting up conversation. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best scenario for now. Attempting anything while I'm this shocked is a horrible idea, and showing discretion is the name of the game that I'm playing.

What do you think? Will he ever come back to the parties, knowing that I might be there AND here?


Friday, March 4, 2011

Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't. - Party 1

It’s 10:00 at night, and I’m standing in a hotel room with Mark. He’s in his early 40’s, or a very rough late-30’s. He’s probably 5’9” and the first thing you notice is his eyes – Chihuahua eyes. His hair is a dark auburn and has retreated as far as possible from his now-imposing forehead. Lines dance around his face, and although he isn’t fat, his posture gives him the illusion of a paunch. He seems harmless, but I can already tell that there’s something a-creep about him. Luckily for my nerves, another hostess has vouched for him.

Well, another hostess who has ditched tonight’s party to go out with her friends after driving me to the hotel. Another hostess who was my ride home. Another hostess that is currently not my favorite person. Seeing as I’m stranded lest I grab myself a very expensive cab ride, I decide to ride out the evening and see how it goes. I know where the exits are, I have a stiletto to puncture a temple if need be, and I want to see this sex party, dangit!

Amazingly, despite having done run parties for two years, Mark seems highly unprepared. He has two red light bulbs in a room with 5 lamps, a six pack of beer, an adorable bottle of Jack Daniels, and no music or speakers.

“You got an iPod with you? Does it get loud enough to play on its own?”I hear from the other corner of the suite. He’s lucky, as I do have an iPod with me, and apparently tonight our partiers will be serenaded by my workout mix. After wandering around the room a little bit, I see that the alarm clock has an mp3 dock, plug it in, and cross my fingers that what little battery I have left will last the night.

And then… we wait. And… wait.

“Tonight will be a slow night. We’ll only have about 4 couples and one single guy.” Mark and I suck at small talk so far, so we talk business.

“Oh, okay. How many people are there normally?”

“Well, normally 15-20, but we’ve had as many as 30 people before. That night was crazy.” There’s a fair measure of pride as he tosses out the size of his parties. “But then you get some nights like tonight, where the driving conditions are crap, and things are slow. It could be good though. It’s all about the chemistry of the group.”

“Got it. And what do you need me to do? Do I take coats? We don’t seem to have drinks to give.”

“You just need to interact with people. Make them comfortable, give them someone to talk to. If this single guy tonight isn’t getting any, I need you to talk to him and make him comfortable. Keep him company so that he still has a good time at the end of the night.”He seems to be thinking about something, and follows up with, “And, I mean, if it’s a really slow night and you think the guy is hot, you can totally fuck him.”

Huh. I guess this is the equivalent of a sex party hostess’ benefits package? It’s a no on the dental insurance, but we’ve got plenty of dudes willing to fuck!

“Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but thanks!”
“I mean, don’t skirt your responsibilities, but if you want to join, you can.” Seeing as I’m still confused as to my exact ‘responsibilities,’ I decide that I’ll keep on the safe side. I don’t think being professional is necessarily the biggest deal here, but there’s got to be some level of structure to my position.

-20 Minutes of Awkward Chat Later-

“Looks like we’ve got our first couple at the bar!” Mark is up and out of his chair and heading towards the door. “I need you to come with me to get them, and tonight your name is Amanda.”

Amanda. I’m not big on the name, but I can be Amanda for one night. Maybe he’ll let me pick my own name next time.

As we walk down the hall I realize just how much of an odd couple we appear to be. He’s dressed almost all in black and appears as if he’s suffering from chronic hangover, and I’m dressed to the nines, towering over him in my heals, and rocking quite the mane of blonde hair. I wonder how much the hotel staff has figured out about us. If they don’t know something is up already, they’ll surely know on our fourth trip to the lobby to meet partiers and escort them downstairs. If they know, they don’t appear to be worried about it.

Sitting at a table in the lounge is Sheila and Greg. I’m immediately confused. Sheila has the hair of a 5-year-old girl whose mother told the hairdresser to give her child “the mop.” Her attire has a hint of not-so-sexy librarian. Greg reminds me of a previous winner of Project Runway, had poverty not been keeping him skinny. But hey, they came for sex… we’ll let them have it!

Five minutes later we’re back in the lobby grabbing Susan and Dave. Susan is adorable, and rocking a leopard print pushup bra under her low-cut black top. She’s looking jittery, but it appears that her Dave is a portly Brit that’s gone almost completely gray, and has his hand super-glued to Susan.

After making our way back into the room, all six of us take our places in the various sofas and chairs in our suite. The next thing I know, we’re talking about carpool to elementary school. As it turns out, both of our couples have children under 8, and one of the couples met at the front of their children’s school by commiserating over recent divorces.

And the communication stays vanilla, except for a quick discussion of the clubs available in a college town the next state over. I make a mental note to hit the regional rail sometime soon to check out what other venues happen to look like. From Susan and Dave’s descriptions, it would appear that they are multi-level, with dancing up top and “mingling” below.

Mark assures me we’ll have two more couples on their way, and hops up and leaves me with the couples when he gets a text message. As I talk to them about sports to look into for their kids once they get to middle school, I get psyched about the idea of more people. But… as the door opens there is only one new face – Edan. He’s somewhere in his early 30’s with circles under his eyes that make you question what you’ve always thought was black. He’s Indian, maybe… and his hair is tied back in a small pony tail. There doesn’t appear to be suave. None of these people seem suave. I start to worry about how exactly this party is going to get started.

This worry is only exacerbated when Edan is introduced: “Everyone, this is Edan,” starts Mark.

“And I’m very nervous,” Edan says with a pained smile. Great.

So, I set to work. It’s very clear that there will not be much sex going on tonight, and even if there is, Edan is not going to be in on any of it. So… time for the winning smile and the flirtatious banter in 3… 2…

“Hi! I’m Amanda. It’s so nice to meet you. Here we have Sheila, Greg, Susan, and Dave.” I wait for the shaking of hands and move myself closer to him. “How was your drive?”

And we’re back to Vanilla chit-chat. Everyone’s talking about where they’re from, as both Edan and Dave have accents that could come from England or any of its former colonies. Edan has lived just about everywhere in the world, and as far as his unclear ethnicity, it doesn’t get any clearer. I do learn that his mother is from Bangladesh.

Finally I see a hint of something. Sheila moved to Greg’s lap to make room when Edan joined us, and they appear to have moved from general cuddling to making out. It’s short, but it’s something.

Or nothing…

Still nothing…

Oh God, please let something happen.

Thank you, Sheila. “So, Greg and I are going to go have sex. If anyone wants to watch, just come on over to the other side of the television!”

They disappear to the other side of our partial-divide. Dave’s hand is still glued to Susan, and it doesn’t appear to be wandering any higher up her thigh than the general knee area. Not even with the promise of sex only dozen feet away. Every once in a while they move, but that’s only for Dave to grab a beer out of the mini-cooler that he rolled into the suite shortly after seeing that our reserves were alarmingly dry.

After a few minutes, I decide that this night can’t be a complete loss for Edan. If he’s uncomfortable, I’ll figure out how to make him comfortable. He’ll leave being able to say he made a friend, and that friend will be good old Amanda.

“Hey Edan, want to go watch with me?” I push myself up from the chair and make a sweeping gesture that says: “Come on down, y’all!”

“Uh, sure. Why not?” And he shuffles to meet me.

For the next 30 minutes Edan and I watch what can only be described as very lackluster sex punctuated by one moment of successful cunnilingus. After climax, I turned to Edan and said: “Can we clap? I feel like the man deserves a golf clap, no?”

“I don’t think that’s quite appropriate, but I also have no idea.”

“Well, let’s clap quietly then.” I begin gently clapping, and apparently catch Greg’s attention.

“You like the show?” He smirks.

“Very much so, thank you!” I respond.

Hey, I’m here to build people up, not tell them they’re boring the crap out of me.

Meanwhile, I’m learning a lot of Edan. Turns out he’s a mathematics professor at a local university. He’s just been given tenure and has decided it’s time to live a little. He’s been to California, and has a lot of advice as far as how I should approach my grad school applications in the fall. We’re chummy as the couple slowly fucks on the bed.

And then I get the question I was thinking might eventually pop up: “So, does your position as hostess allow you to participate in these parties?”

“Oh, no. I’m just here to make sure everyone has a good time. It’s strictly professional for me, though.” Again, honesty isn’t in my job description.

Greg finishes with a soft, “Ooouuuh.” I guess it’s time for the viewing party to come to an end.

As I look back to the other side of the room, I see that Susan and Dave have not moved so much as an inch in the past 3 hours.

Worst. Sex Party. Ever.

Coming up… Five Dollar Foot Long


Friday, February 25, 2011

The birth of Amanda Payne

For this story, I think I'd like to go back to the very beginning. This story starts with a semi-blind "date." Derrick and I had faint ideas of what each other looked like, and I already knew (and expressed) that I was not interested in him romantically. All of this he ignored, and finally convinced me to go out for wine with him to get to know him better. I said I'd be more than happy to make a new friend, and he chuckled, said he'd wear me down, and told me he'd pick me up at 7:00.

I knew Derrick was short. He said he was 5'2." What appeared at my doorstep was not 5'2". I'm going to put him at about 5 feet tall in his dress shoes. He wore a goatee (of which I'm not a huge fan), a tight turtleneck sweater that accentuated his belly (for it was... rotund), and when he opened his mouth to speak, I heard a voice that brought me straight back to middle school. Like I said... we were going to be friends. I try to limit my vanity, but I can't date a man that makes me think of a cherub. Apologies. 

Anyway, Derrick and I are sitting down for some pretty fantastic wine, when he pops out with: "So, you know much about dating sites?"

"No," I reply, "I know of a couple, but don't know much."

"Well, have you ever heard of" His cheeks pinked a bit.

"Nope. What is it?"

"It's..." he hesitates a bit. "It's a website for people to meet other people with their same interests."

"Fetlife? So... fetishes?" I can see this is going somewhere interesting. 

"Right! Yes. It's really interesting. You said you studied gender and sexuality, so I thought it would be right up your alley." Obviously we've touched upon a subject that gets him going. 

"So, how did you find out about this?" See, here's an interesting moment. I pride myself on being one of the least judgmental people I know. I've interviewed empowered sex workers before and had a lovely time discussing their job without batting an eyelash. My policy is that as long as all participants are happy, I'm cool with it. So, when I hear that someone is checking out fetish dating sites, my first thought is that I'm the best person to share this with. 

"Well, I just have some things that I find really interesting, and I wanted to see who else out there might feel the same." JACKPOT. Derrick, please continue.

"So, what is it that you're interested in?" I'm thinking bondage, dom/sub, something that is fairly generic in the BDSM world. 

"Oh, no. It's too soon to tell you."

"What?!" I exclaim. "Why not? I mean, you won't be doing it with me, so there's no harm in sharing."

"Maybe you will do it with me sometime. I still think you'll warm up to me eventually." He gives me a coy glance across the table, just highlighting his infantile comportment. 

"Let's not go there, but seriously tell me! I won't judge. I mean, seriously, as long as it's not poop or something, we're golden." Here's Amanda, in all her objective glory!

"Oh..." Pause. "Funny you should say that."

"What?!" Those lines between my eyebrows have squeezed together so tightly in astonishment and disgust that you can see streaks of white where the blood supply has been cut off. "You like people pooping on you?!"

"Well, no. I like them pooping near me. I like to be in the room when they do. There's something about watching. Beyond that, it's really nothing. Just some face farting and such." The nonchalance is staggering.

"I. Wow. I. Interesting." I'm lost for words. My whole idea of myself has been shattered. I'm judging, and I'm judging hard. 

"Yeah. I mean. It may sound weird. I've had girlfriends in the past that ended up being okay with it. I'm sure you'll get comfortable with it, eventually." Cue me having to explain that we're... well, we're not made for each other and trying to get myself out of the bar and away from the little man as quickly as humanly possible. 


Derrick was, alarming to be sure, but he got my mental wheels turning. There were people out there connecting with each other through the internet in order to join together for activities. Sexual or platonic motivations aside for these people, this could be a research goldmine!

I immediately signed up for the website (since it was free). I started messaging around to see what was going on, and then something happened that generally happens with me. I wigged myself out. Observation just wasn't an option in this scenario. If I wanted to join, I'd have to really join. Seeing as caning, knife play, domination, and a few other things were on the menu, rather than playful biting and a set of handcuffs... I was in way over my head. (Not to mention that I got reprimanded by some of my fellow fetlifers for seeming like I was trying to scam for sex. Obviously I had not learned the proper etiquette and had stumbled upon quite the faux pas.)

So, I bowed out. My fetlife liason responded to my false reasons for cancelling my account by saying I could surely stay on and just put myself as "vanilla," but I had reached my limit of solicitation for a subordinate and needed to move on. That's when I decided to look into sex parties. If anyone watches a movie with a sex party, there's always masks, observers sipping champagne, etc. Although it was highly stylized and dramatized, there would surely be a way for me to go and see and talk without really having to have sex. There had to be something...

...And that's how I found City Sex Club. Weekly parties in the area around my city, with women gaining free admission. I sent in an email, and before I knew it I was receiving texts right and left asking if I wanted to attend this party here, that party there. Since I hadn't quite figured out how to situate myself in these parties in a comfortable manner, one excuse followed another, until about a month ago.

“There’s a party tonight in Bedford, if you’re down,” said the text message.

I had to lay my eyes on one of his events, but every time I received a message from him, my body froze with the realization of what a sex party really entails – people having sex around me and expecting me to participate. I would picture the raisin-like quality that I imagine old man testicles have. Perhaps a woman with a large, unkempt bush will attempt to solicit my services. The website says I could just play with myself, but given what I believe to be the general description of swingers – middle-aged crisis-driven couples with a few too many pounds and a whole lot of issues to work out – I was quite positive I would be lacking in inspiration. In other words, I was right back in the same situation as fetlife - up shit creek and desperately trying to not grab someone's paddle.

Given that my initial interest in this whole sexual circus was to get at the people who attend them and see what it’s like for them when all inhibitions are cast off, the aforementioned situation could be seen as nothing less than a pickle. So, I admitted defeat: “You know, Jason, I think I’ve wimped out of enough of these events to know that this just isn’t for me. Thanks for the invite, though!”

Five seconds pass as I’m staring at a necklace that is soon to be mine, despite having just cursed myself for my recent ebay shopping spree, my cell phone beeps. Expecting a text from my shopping buddy that happens to be running quite late, I’m surprised to see: “Keep your clothes on, and I’ll pay you to hostess.”

Can we say jackpot? JACK-FRICKIN-POT! Clothes on, observe all I want, chat up the participants, AND justify purchasing the sparkling necklace in the glass case in front of me. “I’ll take it!” comes out like the teens in episodes created to warn our youth about the dangers of credit cards. While the girl puts the necklace behind the counter, I take myself and my blackberry to the far corner of the store to hash out the details. First, the text back: “Where is it? How will I get there? What time? What do I wear?” and as I wait to hear back, I make a call.


“Hey, Alex. I’ve got a very strange question to ask you,” I let ooze out of my mouth, half expecting to cut myself off and half too excited to speak correctly.

“Uh… shoot.”

“What would you say if I told you that I’ve been offered money to be a hostess at a sex party tonight?”

“I’d say do it, and call me afterwards.”

You’d be amazed how many people gave me this exact response - as if on cue - and each time there was the same explanation. “I know I’d never be able to do it, but if you do it, then I can still hear all of the stories and live vicariously through you.” Given my... special fascination with all things aberrant, I’m sure none of you will be surprised that I often take on this role for my friends. I do so that others may enjoy and learn. Well, and let’s be honest. We all know that everyone gets a kick out of laughing at my expense. 

Five votes of approval later, I’m coordinating a ride with my fellow hostess, picking out my black cocktail dress, messing up my hair and applying a fortnight’s worth of eye shadow to my lids. The plan is to look the part, and hope that gives me enough cred to make some allies. I actually had the perfect dress for it, but seeing as I was going to be meeting my friend Erica’s new boyfriend for the first time in about 15 minutes, she helped me pick out something a little less scandalous. Apparently I was going to need to rely a little bit more on my charm than originally planned. 

Up next... Sex Party #1: Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't


Thursday, February 17, 2011

Wow... Okay, questions post #1

I just got hit with a lot of questions. Although I'm sure many of these will be answered once I start getting into stories, it would appear that some people are worried. So, here goes...

1. Are you having sex at the parties?

No. Absolutely not. I have been told that part of the benefits of my job could be participation on a slow night, since I won't be making as much money, but I will not be taking advantage of that.

2. Are the parties illegal?

Again, no. These parties are for consenting adults. The money that participants pay is to cover the venue as well as the time and effort it takes to put on and run theses parties. NO ONE IS PAID FOR SEX.

3. Are you hosting the parties at your house?

No on two counts. First, sex parties will in no way come near my personal life. They will not be held at my house, ever. Second, I am a hostess. The job is very similar to a hostess at restaurant on speed dating night. Think of it that way.

4. How'd you get into this?

You have to read the blog, silly! "The Birth of Amanda Payne" is all about it, and is already half written.

5. Okay, but you're going to have sex at these parties eventually, right?

NO. On top of many other valid reasons, doing that while being in the room of my boss would skeeve me out to no end.

6. Can I come?

YES. Girls, you can hostess with me if you'd like (assuming you know me), or participate in the party for free. Boys, you'd have to pay, and I guess you could play the nervous bachelor if you're not going to take part in the activities. I use fake names for everyone on my blog, but we might want to talk about how you'd like to preserve your anonymity when the time comes.

7. How often do you do this?

Good question! I don't have a regular schedule, and I do want to make sure I don't lose all of my Saturday nights. I'll keep you posted. I would say definitely don't expect multiple posts in a week (besides this week, apparently).

8. Are you into this stuff sexually? Like voyeurism?

I'm going to go with no. Given my experience thus far, and my general lackluster enthusiasm for porn and such, voyeurism isn't really my thing. Unlike when my boss says it, I mean it.

9. Are there any rules?

Yes. I am not allowed to date any party goers. I cannot take smoking breaks. I cannot take photos. I think that about covers it.

10. What do you wear?

Black cocktail dress and heels. Simple, sexy, not slutty.


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A bit of context before we begin

 There's something about my curiosity and my willingness to interact with people without judgment that puts me in situations in which most people would never find themselves. EVER.

Let me explain. I am a cultural anthropologist in the truest sense of the word. I am most exhilarated, intrigued, and satisfied by the pursuit of knowledge about people. More specifically, I never tire of learning about how people experience their lives. When someone goes to church, I want to know what they are feeling, what they are thinking, how they understand the experience, why they go, who and what they believe. The religion itself is only of interest to me insomuch as it pertains to the person's individual existence and cognition of that experience.

This can apply to anything. Body modification is a great example of this, and was an interest that particularly scared my parents. Although I have ear piercings and 2 tattoos, I am hardly what would be considered a true body modification "insider." However, I've spent hours doing research online for the sheer fun of it - photos, anecdotes, glossaries of body modification terminology. My father, worried that I was about to show up with a forked tongue and some sort of amputation (yes, those do exist as a more extreme version of body modification), gingerly asked me one day why I was so enthralled. I simply said that I wanted to know why.

Why these people show such whole-hearted and enthusiastic devotion to something that can be seen as destructive to the body. I knew from my limited experience the rush that one can feel, and the strength of knowing what you can survive through, but there were sides of it that I couldn't even begin to understand. How does a person find themselves desperately feeling the need to rid themselves of a body part? What is the personal significance of scars left behind after scarification? What does a person tell themselves as their skin is burning from the red-hot brand?

I don't know how many of you in particular would just say, "Who cares? They're crazy!" I've gotten enough weird looks to realize that my sincere interest is quite out of the ordinary. Particularly since I tend to gravitate towards counter-culture, rather than understanding the ways in which cultural norms are understood and upheld in the general population. Finding ways in which people attempt to justify and normalize out-of-the-ordinary behavior is fascinating to me. The lengths that people will go to in order to make their "atypical" actions mimic the outside norms is extreme and seemingly superfluous, and yet is essential to their ability to comfortably express themselves.

Perhaps the point at which I truly separate myself from the normally curious population comes with my attempts to entrench myself in my studies. Anthropology's foundation is deeply rooted in participant-observation. So when I am fascinated by something, I find ways to observe, talk to the people involved, and and try to understand on a more personal level what is happening around me. Participation is generally my favorite part of anthropology. You can ask questions until your face turns blue, but it is only in putting ourselves in the same situation as those we are researching that we can hope to understand their words fully. Normally this proves no challenge for me. I jump in head-first to almost any situation. However, the work I'm doing now, you will quickly see, creates an intriguing issue when it comes to participation. 

Why? Because I have gotten myself started on research into sex parties.  Not sex toy parties. Sex parties. As one can imagine, participation in these events creates a certain threat to my personal and moral boundaries. Luckily, at least for the time being, I have found a way to participate as much as humanly possible without having to seriously rethink my own sense of self. This way... is Amanda Payne.

Up next: The Birth of Amanda Payne, Plain Jane

- Amanda