Hotel Heiress: Nashville

Slowly, I began to shimmy. I moved my shoulders back and forth, and swayed my hips. I knew I had to do it slow. It was all a tease, a dance. This was what turned them on. It was sexual, but subtle. I wanted to keep it subtle too. I suppose every stripper has a motif. Mine was a Marilyn Monroe innocent but sexy woman type of theme. I guess the pink diva furs helped. Gina was raw sex. She was bumping and grinding, simulating a fucking motion as she turned and twisted her sexy black body. She would bend down a lot and show the men her pussy and her ass. It wasn't long before she had stripped everything off. She was fully nude, and animalistic in her gyrations. She then wrapped her legs around the pole.

She was sliding up and down the pole, and as she did this, she was also licking the pole as if it was a penis and she was giving it oral. My God, I thought, is it possible she had stripped before? She was doing this like it was so natural and so easy, like she had had years of experience.

Crystal was giving off a porn star vibe. It was true that some porn stars back in California also did strip shows, which sold out, and was a way to promote themselves. Crystal removed her outfit and covered her breasts with her hands briefly as she walked in a circle, gyrating her hips. She then showed off her breast and threw her neck back. She was so good with her fingers, which she used to simulate female masturbation. She touched her pussy and her breast and ran her own hand down her legs as she turned away from the men to show off her ass. Then she touched her own ass.

The music was helping. It was a very erotic piece of music, like the soundtrack to a porno movie. Again, a strange woman's orgasmic voice blared and that was very instrumental to our successful strip act. Finally, I removed my thong and was fully nude. I had only a little pink pendant on my neck. It matched my blonde hair, which was natural, and it made me look like a little girl doing a grown woman's thing. It aroused the men so completely that they were pounding their fists on the tables and making catcalls and uttering sexual sounds themselves.

We continued to do our strip act for a full twenty minutes and then we each got together and held hands and bowed........

* * * *

"And that's that," said Conrad, who had just finished paying us, "is that just about the money you girls need to get to Nashville?"

We counted it. We had made quite a good deal of money. It was nearly enough. But Crystal and Gina looked somewhat concerned. They whispered to me that we still needed a little more if we wanted to get to Hollywood also.

"Would you let us dance again tomorrow night?" Gina said to him.

"Ladies, I'd have you dance here for as long as you wanted. A full weekend ought to help you out. What do you say?"

"We'll do it."

* * * * *

The weekend turned it into a full week. It was the first time I ever truly worked as a stripper, though one week at a job in the long run is nothing. Because it was a lucrative gig and because I was hot, and a model and actress to boot; I collected the money to get to Nashville. My girlfriends did the same. By the end of the week, we were richer than before we had set off on our road trip. Strangely enough, we were proud of what we had accomplished, too.

On the night of our last strip show, Conrad came to see us in our dressing room personally to congratulate us and to wish us well on our journey. I suspected, however, he had another motive for his visit. He hardly socialized with his strippers, and when he did, it was usually because he wanted them to do something else for him.

"Ladies, you were fantastic," he said to us, giving us a group hug.

He was wearing a gold chain around his neck, his shirt was open almost to his belly, he wore tight white cowboy jeans and he smelt of tobacco and beer. I swore I could almost see the red on his neck. We were smiling and he held us and patted us on the back.

"And you're welcome to do this anytime you want. I've never had as many customers in one night before. You were truly one of a kind."

Darlene, his star stripper, was standing by the door, eavesdropping, fidgeting with the frills on her see-through negligee as she prepared for her next strip show. She didn't look pleased.

"That's nice, Mr. Vickers," I said to him, "but we won't be coming back."

"You know, I have one guy who is V.I.P. and he would love to see you girls in private. How would you like to make extra cash? It would be worth it. "

Gina looked at me with a look of disapproval, though Crystal was clearly ok with the idea. Gina came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder, leaning into me.

"We have all the money we need," she said, "don't say yes. You know what his customer really wants."

"What do you say girls?" Conrad said, "say the word and I'll call him up right away. Where are you girls staying at?"

"We've been staying at a local motel," Crystal answered, "the one just a few blocks away – the North Star Motel."

"Ladies, he's a very important man from Nashville. I thought that would surely interest you. He's a record producer."

Oh, my God. It was unbelievable. What was happening here? It was as if everything was automatically working out in our favor and we had done nothing except stripping. Of course, Crystal was smiling from ear to ear and she was all for the idea. Gina was serious but apparently her mind had changed.

"We'll do it," Gina said, "meet us at our room on the second floor, Room 14."........................

SEX SCENE

We were still in our stripper outfits. Gina in that brazen golden little thong and bra thing, Crystal in her blue, beaded diamond-studded costume and me in frilly pink. We were in our motel room, standing up and walking about the room, waiting for the guy Conrad had told us about.

"It's like to be good to be true," said Crystal, "you think it's a trick? He knows about us wanting to get to Nashville and he might have made up the whole thing about this guy being a record producer."

"And then again, maybe he's telling the truth," Gina said.

"I'm a good sleuth," I said, "I'll find out if this guy is the real thing. He has to be able to take us to Nashville if he is who Conrad said he is. And the rest should be easy."

Ok, ok. Yeah, all of this was really sleazy and wrong. Sleeping with a record producer just to get a recording made. It was probably not anything new, either. The real problem would lie in the possibility of failure. We might not get what we want, we might not get me to sing like the great country singers and we might end up going back home to California with very little progress made. As I thought about the dilemma, including the moral part of it, there was a knock on the door.

"I'm here, ladies, I hope I haven't kept you waiting," said a very countrified voice, with a slow drawl.

Why did they all talk the same?

"Come in," said Crystal.

I opened the door. He was a ruddy-faced, chubby-cheeked, short, stout man with thinning hair. He had a mustache and he wore cowboy attire, naturally. He looked like he came from money and he looked like a bon vivant. He probably did this sort of thing all the time. I didn't give a damn about what he looked like. Sure, he was a little fat but I figured it would be best to just deal with it, do it and finish the job. That must have been what my friends were thinking too.

"You are a garden of beauties," he said, "they sure do raise beautiful women in Californee."

"So what exactly do you want?" Gina said, straight to the point, "you don't want us to do a private dance for you, right?"

"Hell no. I know you girls aren't from around here, but you girls must know that I don't mean that."

Crystal approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We know what you mean."

"Great. Well, let me get myself seated and I would like, as an appetizer, to see you three girls getting it on."

I could have fainted. What the heck? I looked at my girlfriends in the face. I wondered what they thought about all this. They weren't fazed by any of it and they seemed very relaxed. I was the only one being nervous. They began to remove their clothes and they seemed in a hurry to do so. I had no choice but to do the same. I bent down as I removed my pink garments and kept my eyes downcast.

I really didn't wish to be part of a lesbian threesome. I mean, come on. It wasn't my style. I had never done anything remotely lesbian in my life. Well, no. That wasn't entirely true. That criminal Latina, Alma, who had kidnapped my photographer Ron, had licked my pussy. I had also witnessed a lesbian act when I was in prison in New York. But in those occasions, I had not willingly participated in the lesbian acts. I was just a part of them without having any choice in the matter. Well, the same thing was happening now. I had no choice.

When I was completely nude, I looked up. Gina and Crystal were both naked and were in each other's arms, embracing like I had never seen them doing before. Not only that, they were kissing. It was open-mouth kisses, big and hard. They added a little tongue afterward and slowed the pace of their kissing. I could tell they were doing it for a show. And what a show! Even I had never seen them do this. The record producer, who had not bothered to tell us his name, was seated on a chair and watching the whole thing with a big smile.

Gina's black body contrasted with Crystal's white body and truth be told, they looked very beautiful in the nude. Crystal's hands were on Gina's breasts, which were bigger than hers, squeezing and kneading them.

They moaned softly and then they really began to "perform". Crystal leaned into Gina's breasts and began to suckle on them. I realized I was doing nothing. What could I do? I had no idea being inexperienced. Gina held on to Crystal's boobs like handlebars and then began to kneel. She slid her black hands down her stomach and then thighs.

The record producer had begun to unbuckle his belt.

There was a strange sexual aura in the air, powerful and magnetic. I was entranced by Gina and Crystal's performance as well. But I realized I would have to do something soon and join in. I wasn't being paid to watch. I was part of the performance as well. Gina began to insert her tongue inside Crystal's pink pussy.

"Ahh, baby, yeah, fuck, feels so damn good, uhh" Crystal said in between moans.

She threw her head back, her light blonde hair in disarray. Gina expertly fucked her pussy with her tongue, and apparently enjoyed it too. Crystal was in ecstasy and grabbed on to Gina's dark hair. She bucked her hips and gyrated them, offering her pussy to her. It was unbelievable. Her moans mixed with Gina's sucking noises. I soon began to throw some moans of my own, just for the heck of it. I was touching my pussy, but not masturbating. I rubbed my exposed pussy and touched it lightly, feeling it, and at the same time looking at the girls.

When I turned to see the guy, I saw that he was rubbing the shaft of his own cock and beginning to slowly masturbate himself. Because I had turned my gaze away from the girls, I was now examining the guy's body. He was unattractive. He had a fat ugly cock and it was small. But at least he was good at what he was doing.

I threw my head back and ran my fingers through my dirty blonde/light brown hair. Something was coming over me. It was like a staged choreographed dance which I had somehow practiced in my unconscious, in my sleep, in the part of me I didn't even know I had. I walked toward the girls to let them know I had to be part of the fun.

"We're forgetting Valerie," Crystal said.

"Come here, baby," Crystal said to me.

O my God, I had never imagined she'd say those words to me, my own best friend.

She gently lay me down on the bed. I spread my legs and knew what was coming. Crystal grabbed a hold of my legs and put her face between them.

"I know you must taste soooo sweet," she said.

I moaned as she began to lave my pussy with gusto. It was a slow, seductive way of giving oral, and no man I had been with had done it like this. It was just like they said, only a woman knew how to please a woman. Men knew less about it, even when they were at expert level. I was wet and wild, crying out in the pleasure that struck me like ocean waves. I tossed and turned, throwing my head back and grabbing my own breasts. My moans were sincere, too. I looked over my shoulder to see what the guy was doing.

He showed no signs of stopping and continued to jerk himself off. But he was not releasing. Gina was standing next to him and she was looking at him with a look of strong lust. Of course, he noticed.

"Sit on my lap, bitch," he said to her.

Gina complied and sat on his lap. Hungrily, he began to suck on her big black nipples. This made Gina cry out in the sudden pleasure of it and threw her head back. I turned my attention to Crystal again. She was now finishing up. Without saying a word, she turned me on my stomach.

"Ass in the air," she said to me.

I didn't want to but I complied. She then began to lick my ass and insert her fingers into my pussy. Her fast fingers, fucking my pussy, made me wet all over again and made me cry out in sheer sexual pleasure. I closed my eyes and just felt the sensations.

I don't remember what happened next. The fact that I don't always elaborate and give all the details I should must be a bummer, to anyone reading my memoirs. Whether I do it intentionally to keep my private life private or whether I really do forget stuff, it's open to interpretation. I do recall that when I had opened my eyes, the so-called record producer was fucking Gina doggy-style on the carpet. Gina was screaming her head off as she had her orgasms, grabbing on to the bed and looking as if she had never had it that way before. Then again, she might have been faking it.

Had all this been a show? Were Gina and Crystal really into what they had done? I don't think I'll ever know. It did seem as if they had done it before, but I guess they had never told anyone about it.

Crystal was lying on the bed next to me, tired and spent. I was also very tired. It had been a long night. We waited until Gina and the red-neck producer finished their little sexcapade................

* * * * *

We were well paid. But now, it was time to figure out if he truly was a record producer. I had wanted to take a discreet and tactful approach, but after what had just happened, I figured, hell, I'll get right to the point and let him know we mean business.

"Sir, you're card please," I said to him.

"Card? You girls take credit cards?" he said jokingly.

"She means your business card, stupid," Gina said to him.

"Ah, you want to see if I'm really who I say I am," he replied, finally understanding.

He put on his underwear again and walked over to the pile of clothes on the chair. From his jacket he retrieved a card.

"Take a look, girls. My name's Jack Gillis and I'd like more than anything to have you girls sing for me for an album I'm making. I'm actually looking for new talent. Now which of you girls is the one that can sing?"

"It's Valerie," Gina said, "the girl right there."

"Miss Masters, you and I are going to Nashville. Oh, and of course, you girls can come too. I'll pay for your stay at a five-star hotel. I think we can make this happen.".........

* * * *

Nashville, Tennessee, 6pm

That is, Jack Gillis flew us to Nashville. The man acted like he had never enjoyed better sex in his entire life than he had with us. He spoiled us like whores. I suppose we had done just that, whored ourselves, but it was bad form to call attention to it. We didn't see it that way. We had done something to get something in return. Jack paid for the suite where we stayed at a very luxurious hotel. It had three beds, coincidentally, a big bathtub, a hot tub, and a balcony with a fine view of the city. We were in close proximity to all the hot spots, including trendy bars and restaurants as well as nightclubs. It was, just as Crystal had said, a cool city.

Jack was generous and bought us clothes and gifts. Before we even began to record my voice, he had spent quite a lot of money on us. When the time finally came for me to record my voice, I realized I had done very little warming up, except for singing in the shower. I don't think I possessed a voice suited for country music, but Crystal had said that they were looking for girls with different kinds of voices these days.

Before long, everything was ready and I was standing in a room where dozens of recording technology was in view and folks who worked in the business, waiting and ready to see what kind of sounds would come out of my mouth. Jack set up a microphone in front of me and then sat on his chair. Behind him were Gina and Crystal, who had been invited to the recording session.

"Alright, this is just a demo, so sing whatever you want to sing, darling' " Jack said to me.

"Ok" I said.

I paused and breathed. Then I began to sing Madonna's "Material Girl" which was by far my favorite song. I did it using my own voice and didn't want to imitate Madonna. I had taken a few singing lessons as a child, but it was really nothing big. I was told I had a sweet, lyric voice.

After I was finished, I was told by Jack and the other men that I had what they called a "pop" singing voice. I suppose that was not a bad thing. This was before Britney Spears ever got famous, so I suppose my singing voice was somewhat similar. At the same time, it was not a good time (this being the early to mid 90's) for America to enjoy that kind of singing.

"Alright, now next time we'll have you prepare for a song written by this man here, a friend of mine."

He pointed to a lean, dark haired gentleman in a grey suit. He was sitting with his legs in a 4 shape. He looked up at me and smiled.......

I was pissed the next day when Jack suggested I had better chances of making it big in Nashville if I slept with the guy who wrote the song for my debut album.

He had called me to his office in private, ensuring that my girlfriends didn't hear about it. I had been talked into going out for dinner with the songwriter, whose name was Paul Livingston. The man was fifty but looked a lot older, had one gold tooth and looked like he was really mean. Not even the soft, songwriter bit appealed to me. It was as if he was using that only to score with women. He looked like he was a dictator in bed, too.

"No way, Jack, I'm not sleeping with him," I said, "and for that matter, no one else. Not even you. I came her to record my voice and make an album and that was that."

"Darlin', no one is doubting your potential," he said to me, "but if you do a little something for him –"

"No. I'm not a whore. My friends aren't either."

"Well you coulda fooled me. Wasn't that you girls did down in Starkville, Mississippi?"

I could have slapped him but I controlled myself......................

The recording session went well.

It was an easy song, beautiful, light and dance-like. I wondered just how easy it must have been for Paul Livingston to write that song. Every other word was "baby, baby" or "I love you baby". It was the easiest job I had, well, besides the stripping. The deal was done and we had our album. Gina and Crystal were beyond themselves with joy. But we had stayed in Nashville for too long now.

We had to face it. It was a great town, but it wasn't our town. We belonged back in California, sipping lattes at trendy cafes in LA, shopping at Rodeo Drive and visiting our wealthy friends in their pools in Beverly Hills. We belonged to a different world. It was time to return to it. We had quite the adventure. At least, I had that album with me to take back to LA.

But both Jack Gillis and Paul Livingston had other ideas...........