guest services
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Working In Guest Services free porn video
I work in an upscale hotel in Dallas, Texas and there is no shortage of good looking women who stay at and visit our hotel. Since I am a part of the guest service team, I have a lot of interaction with our guests and visitors.
One of my myriad of work assignments is to make sure our guests are well cared for. We have a full time concierge who tends to the personal whelms and desires of our uber-wealthy clientele.
One evening not too long ago, one of our frequent guests, an international banker, arrived at the hotel late in the evening- actually it was more like 1am in the morning- with a bevy of beautiful women accompanying him. I was about to get off work and had been alerted by the overnight manager that this particular guest had a habit of throwing wild “after hours” parties in his guest room.
“Stick around for a few,” Blaine, the night manager told me. “I just want to make sure there are no issues.”
The women, about seven of them, piled out of one limo with the banker, a portly fellow in his late sixties. The ladies were dressed in cocktail dresses and six inch stilettos. One girl had on designer blue jeans and a bikini top, with cleavage spilling everywhere. There wasn’t a bad looking lady in the group.
“They are all strippers,” Blaine remarked from the guest services desk. I looked to see if I knew any of them. Fortunately, I didn’t.
About ten minutes later, a room service waiter paged Guest Services and asked for some assistance in taking a room service cart and six bottles of Dom Perignon Champagne up to room seven hundred, our penthouse suite, our VIP suite with a ceiling to floor window view of the downtown Dallas skyline. Guest Services, and one of the Concierge staff members responded to the call for assistance.
About ten minutes later, the security dispatcher asked me to go by room seven hundred and check on the room service waiter, and a bell hop, since they had not returned back to his work station. This was pretty much a security protocol to insure hotel staff was never in any danger.
When I got off the elevator on the seventh floor, I could immediately smell the party coming room seven hundred. The smell of marijuana wafted through the hallway. I looked at my guest manifest and there were no other rooms booked on the seventh floor, which made me happy, because I didn’t like having to curtail a private party or respond to guest complaints.
I tapped on the room door. The door swung open and a totally naked young lady stood in front of me. She wore six inch high black stilettos and nothing else but a smile. Rap music filled the hallway.
“Hotel Security,” I announced, “I’m just checking on the Party and our staff.”
“Are we too loud?” the nubile young lady asked as the ‘boom-boom-boom” base beat blasted away.
“No, ma’am,” I responded. “I’m just making sure everything is OK with our room service…”
Before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed the lapels of my suit and pulled me into the room, slamming the door behind me.
Three half-naked, topless ladies sat on a couch, passing around a joint. Two others stood at a bar were also topless. One of them wore the white jacket from our room service waiter, who was sitting between two of the three ladies on the couch. Raul simply smiled and waved when I looked in his direction. His shirt was unbuttoned and the hand of one of his couch companions was on his lap.
The young lady who had pulled me into the Party, stripped me of my suit jacket.
“Get comfortable,” she remarked, taking my jacket from me. Seeing my handcuffs, she asked,
“Are you a cop?”
“No,” I replied, “Hotel Security.”
She slipped my suit jacket on and then loosened my tie.
“You’re cute,” she remarked, slipping my tie out from my collar.
The door from the bedroom opened and our senior concierge, Bob, stepped out, with a leggy blonde on each arm, each wearing nothing but a g-string. One of the hotel bellhops, a jovial short fellow named Cliff, was seated in a high back chair in the corner, a beer in hand.
“Party time,” Cliff announced.
“Where is our hotel guest?” I asked Cliff.
“He’s taking a shower,” Cliff responded. “But don’t worry, he is not alone.”
I was shocked. I had worked in this hotel for years and had never been pulled into a guest’s private party.
Bob pulled me aside.
“Look,” Bob remarked, “This guest comes here once a year and has, for five or six years. He keeps coming back, because we make him feel welcome. He once told me, he didn’t like to Party alone and that if he had to find another hotel to Party in, he would. So we Party with him. We do what we have to do, to keep our guest happy and coming back.”
I stepped into the kitchen area and used the guest phone to call the security desk. I told the desk security guard I would be hanging out on the seventh floor for a while, since there was a wild party going on- and I needed to keep an eye on things.
I stepped back into the main room and the two blondes that had previously been the escort for Bob, were on the floor, totally naked and eating each other out. I looked at Bob, who had his shirt tail out and was tossing one dollar bills on the ladies, like confetti. Cliff too, had his shirt tail out and was blessing the show with dollar bills of his own. Even Raul was tossing out dollar bills. I felt like the odd man out, not having anything to give.
I felt a hand on my butt. I turned and a small, dark-skinned angel, all of about 5 foot 2 inches tall, and with curly black hair that fell gingerly on her shoulders, was standing right beside me. She had on the white room service waiter’s jacket and not much else, except a day glow orange g-string and high heels, boosting her height only marginally.
“Do you like the show?” she asked as we stood and watched the two ladies on the floor doing unspeakable things to each other.
“I’m not complaining,” I responded.
“What do you do here?” my angel-amongst-angels asked.
“Hotel Security,” I replied.
“Oh . . Cool,” she remarked, bending over, picking up a wayward dollar bill. Tossing it on to the girl withering on the floor in front of us, I slipped my hand on to her ass and squeezed.
“Did I say you could do that?” she remarked, looking at me. “You have to tip to touch.”
I apologized and took a step back.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Danisha,” she responded, “But you can call me Cindy. Danisha is my stage name.”
“Is Danisha- I mean Cindy- making some good money tonight?” I asked.
“After the split, no,” she replied, “Not much, but the night is young.”
“Split?” I inquired.
“There are seven of us splitting two thousand,” she replied.
“That’s less than $300 a piece,” I responded.
“Yeah, and we have to pay our own cab ride home,” she replied, “Unless I blow the cabbie.”
I was astonished. Our hotel guest was a big time international banker and he couldn’t fork over more than a few thousand bucks for a few strippers. His room alone was $2000 a night and each bottle of Champagne was about $300.
“No,” Cindy replied, “Two is our cut after a negotiated deal with the club manager. “I could easily make double this staying at the club, but I wasn’t given a choice. Fucking strip club!”
I was freaking horny. I had to admit it. It was close to 2am. I was supposed to get off at 2am. I looked at my watch. I didn’t want to go, but I knew that overtime had to be approved.
“Grab your clothes,” I remarked.
“Why?” she asked.
“I’ll make it worth your time,” I replied.
I stepped over to where Bob was setting on the couch between two topless strippers.
“Bob,” I remarked, “I need a favor.”
I motioned for him to follow me. The three of us went into the kitchen area of the suite.
“She needs her cut,” I remarked to Bob.
“That’s up to the guest,” Bob replied.
“Well, tell him this young lady needs to go,” I remarked, looking in Cindy’s direction. Bob told us to wait while he found out who was in charge of things. I told Cindy to gather her things. She disappeared back into the main party room. She returned, dressed in her black cocktail dress, just as Bob re-entered the kitchenette. Bob held out three $100 bills and handed them to her.
Cindy followed me to the entry door to the suite.
“Where are we going?” she inquired, as we walked down the pastel colored hallway of the hotel.
“My place,” I replied, “if you want to.”
“Sure,” she replied.
Cindy accompanied me to the hotel lobby. The night manager was nowhere to be found. I had her take a seat and told her I would be back in a few minutes. I turned in my hotel keys and the portable two-way radio at the security desk, and then raced back to the lobby.
Cindy followed me down to the parking garage located under the hotel. I opened the passenger side door to my small pickup truck and she slid in, her cocktail dress scrunching up to reveal plenty of leg. As I slid in to the driver’s seat, Cindy put her hand directly on my crotch.
“Mmmm-mmmm,” she hummed.
She leaned over and whispered,
“Someone has a huge party tool.”
I smiled, as Cindy fumbled with the top button and my trouser zipper. Pulling my cock free from the confines of my pants and boxer shorts, she exclaimed,
“Oh wow!”
She bent over and pretended to be heading for my cock, holding my manhood in her hand. She stopped and looked up at me.
“Don’t cum in my mouth” she remarked.
She put her lips around the end of my cock and shoved it into her mouth. I thought for sure I was going to explode. After a few minutes of incredible cock sucking, she stopped and asked,
“How far to your place?”
“Thirty minutes,” I replied.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting on?” she shot back.
I put my truck in reverse, even as Cindy returned to sucking on my cock.
I made it to my apartment in about twenty minutes. It was 4:45am when we walked into my apartment.
I had never taken a stripper home before, so this was a first. I felt like the luckiest dude on earth. I don’t know who was more horny, Cindy or myself. We fucked our brains out and then sat on my third floor patio porch, sipping on coffee, wrapped in oversized cotton robes I had managed to sneak out of the hotel. The sun peaked over the tree tops and bathed each of us in sunlight.
We retired back to my bed around seven. We had another wild fuck session and I dozed off with her head resting in the nape of my shoulder, my arm around her.
I woke up and it was close to noon. My goddess was sprawled naked beside me, partially covered in my bed sheets. I kissed her on her check and slipped out of the bed and into my shower. The shower was a welcome relief to my sore body. I was about to step out, when Cindy slipped open the shower door and stepped in.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she inquired.
“Nowhere,” I replied.
Cindy dropped to her knees and slipped my semi-erect cock into her mouth, the hot water cascading off of her well-toned body. It didn’t take much and I was shooting my load down the back of throat, as the steam from the shower encircled us. I took a sponge and lathered it up. I worked it slowly over her body, paying special attentions to her breasts and magical crevices.
We finished up our fun time on my bed. I dropped Cindy off at her work, about an hour before I went to work.
I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her check.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m not a whore, I’m a stripper.”
I apologized for the unintentional insult.
“It happens all the time,” Cindy remarked. It was an awkward moment. Cindy smiled and remarked,
“But, if you want to pick me up when you get off from work, I’ll be glad to spend another evening with you.”
2:30am couldn’t come fast enough.
One of my myriad of work assignments is to make sure our guests are well cared for. We have a full time concierge who tends to the personal whelms and desires of our uber-wealthy clientele.
One evening not too long ago, one of our frequent guests, an international banker, arrived at the hotel late in the evening- actually it was more like 1am in the morning- with a bevy of beautiful women accompanying him. I was about to get off work and had been alerted by the overnight manager that this particular guest had a habit of throwing wild “after hours” parties in his guest room.
“Stick around for a few,” Blaine, the night manager told me. “I just want to make sure there are no issues.”
The women, about seven of them, piled out of one limo with the banker, a portly fellow in his late sixties. The ladies were dressed in cocktail dresses and six inch stilettos. One girl had on designer blue jeans and a bikini top, with cleavage spilling everywhere. There wasn’t a bad looking lady in the group.
“They are all strippers,” Blaine remarked from the guest services desk. I looked to see if I knew any of them. Fortunately, I didn’t.
About ten minutes later, a room service waiter paged Guest Services and asked for some assistance in taking a room service cart and six bottles of Dom Perignon Champagne up to room seven hundred, our penthouse suite, our VIP suite with a ceiling to floor window view of the downtown Dallas skyline. Guest Services, and one of the Concierge staff members responded to the call for assistance.
About ten minutes later, the security dispatcher asked me to go by room seven hundred and check on the room service waiter, and a bell hop, since they had not returned back to his work station. This was pretty much a security protocol to insure hotel staff was never in any danger.
When I got off the elevator on the seventh floor, I could immediately smell the party coming room seven hundred. The smell of marijuana wafted through the hallway. I looked at my guest manifest and there were no other rooms booked on the seventh floor, which made me happy, because I didn’t like having to curtail a private party or respond to guest complaints.
I tapped on the room door. The door swung open and a totally naked young lady stood in front of me. She wore six inch high black stilettos and nothing else but a smile. Rap music filled the hallway.
“Hotel Security,” I announced, “I’m just checking on the Party and our staff.”
“Are we too loud?” the nubile young lady asked as the ‘boom-boom-boom” base beat blasted away.
“No, ma’am,” I responded. “I’m just making sure everything is OK with our room service…”
Before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed the lapels of my suit and pulled me into the room, slamming the door behind me.
Three half-naked, topless ladies sat on a couch, passing around a joint. Two others stood at a bar were also topless. One of them wore the white jacket from our room service waiter, who was sitting between two of the three ladies on the couch. Raul simply smiled and waved when I looked in his direction. His shirt was unbuttoned and the hand of one of his couch companions was on his lap.
The young lady who had pulled me into the Party, stripped me of my suit jacket.
“Get comfortable,” she remarked, taking my jacket from me. Seeing my handcuffs, she asked,
“Are you a cop?”
“No,” I replied, “Hotel Security.”
She slipped my suit jacket on and then loosened my tie.
“You’re cute,” she remarked, slipping my tie out from my collar.
The door from the bedroom opened and our senior concierge, Bob, stepped out, with a leggy blonde on each arm, each wearing nothing but a g-string. One of the hotel bellhops, a jovial short fellow named Cliff, was seated in a high back chair in the corner, a beer in hand.
“Party time,” Cliff announced.
“Where is our hotel guest?” I asked Cliff.
“He’s taking a shower,” Cliff responded. “But don’t worry, he is not alone.”
I was shocked. I had worked in this hotel for years and had never been pulled into a guest’s private party.
Bob pulled me aside.
“Look,” Bob remarked, “This guest comes here once a year and has, for five or six years. He keeps coming back, because we make him feel welcome. He once told me, he didn’t like to Party alone and that if he had to find another hotel to Party in, he would. So we Party with him. We do what we have to do, to keep our guest happy and coming back.”
I stepped into the kitchen area and used the guest phone to call the security desk. I told the desk security guard I would be hanging out on the seventh floor for a while, since there was a wild party going on- and I needed to keep an eye on things.
I stepped back into the main room and the two blondes that had previously been the escort for Bob, were on the floor, totally naked and eating each other out. I looked at Bob, who had his shirt tail out and was tossing one dollar bills on the ladies, like confetti. Cliff too, had his shirt tail out and was blessing the show with dollar bills of his own. Even Raul was tossing out dollar bills. I felt like the odd man out, not having anything to give.
I felt a hand on my butt. I turned and a small, dark-skinned angel, all of about 5 foot 2 inches tall, and with curly black hair that fell gingerly on her shoulders, was standing right beside me. She had on the white room service waiter’s jacket and not much else, except a day glow orange g-string and high heels, boosting her height only marginally.
“Do you like the show?” she asked as we stood and watched the two ladies on the floor doing unspeakable things to each other.
“I’m not complaining,” I responded.
“What do you do here?” my angel-amongst-angels asked.
“Hotel Security,” I replied.
“Oh . . Cool,” she remarked, bending over, picking up a wayward dollar bill. Tossing it on to the girl withering on the floor in front of us, I slipped my hand on to her ass and squeezed.
“Did I say you could do that?” she remarked, looking at me. “You have to tip to touch.”
I apologized and took a step back.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Danisha,” she responded, “But you can call me Cindy. Danisha is my stage name.”
“Is Danisha- I mean Cindy- making some good money tonight?” I asked.
“After the split, no,” she replied, “Not much, but the night is young.”
“Split?” I inquired.
“There are seven of us splitting two thousand,” she replied.
“That’s less than $300 a piece,” I responded.
“Yeah, and we have to pay our own cab ride home,” she replied, “Unless I blow the cabbie.”
I was astonished. Our hotel guest was a big time international banker and he couldn’t fork over more than a few thousand bucks for a few strippers. His room alone was $2000 a night and each bottle of Champagne was about $300.
“No,” Cindy replied, “Two is our cut after a negotiated deal with the club manager. “I could easily make double this staying at the club, but I wasn’t given a choice. Fucking strip club!”
I was freaking horny. I had to admit it. It was close to 2am. I was supposed to get off at 2am. I looked at my watch. I didn’t want to go, but I knew that overtime had to be approved.
“Grab your clothes,” I remarked.
“Why?” she asked.
“I’ll make it worth your time,” I replied.
I stepped over to where Bob was setting on the couch between two topless strippers.
“Bob,” I remarked, “I need a favor.”
I motioned for him to follow me. The three of us went into the kitchen area of the suite.
“She needs her cut,” I remarked to Bob.
“That’s up to the guest,” Bob replied.
“Well, tell him this young lady needs to go,” I remarked, looking in Cindy’s direction. Bob told us to wait while he found out who was in charge of things. I told Cindy to gather her things. She disappeared back into the main party room. She returned, dressed in her black cocktail dress, just as Bob re-entered the kitchenette. Bob held out three $100 bills and handed them to her.
Cindy followed me to the entry door to the suite.
“Where are we going?” she inquired, as we walked down the pastel colored hallway of the hotel.
“My place,” I replied, “if you want to.”
“Sure,” she replied.
Cindy accompanied me to the hotel lobby. The night manager was nowhere to be found. I had her take a seat and told her I would be back in a few minutes. I turned in my hotel keys and the portable two-way radio at the security desk, and then raced back to the lobby.
Cindy followed me down to the parking garage located under the hotel. I opened the passenger side door to my small pickup truck and she slid in, her cocktail dress scrunching up to reveal plenty of leg. As I slid in to the driver’s seat, Cindy put her hand directly on my crotch.
“Mmmm-mmmm,” she hummed.
She leaned over and whispered,
“Someone has a huge party tool.”
I smiled, as Cindy fumbled with the top button and my trouser zipper. Pulling my cock free from the confines of my pants and boxer shorts, she exclaimed,
“Oh wow!”
She bent over and pretended to be heading for my cock, holding my manhood in her hand. She stopped and looked up at me.
“Don’t cum in my mouth” she remarked.
She put her lips around the end of my cock and shoved it into her mouth. I thought for sure I was going to explode. After a few minutes of incredible cock sucking, she stopped and asked,
“How far to your place?”
“Thirty minutes,” I replied.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting on?” she shot back.
I put my truck in reverse, even as Cindy returned to sucking on my cock.
I made it to my apartment in about twenty minutes. It was 4:45am when we walked into my apartment.
I had never taken a stripper home before, so this was a first. I felt like the luckiest dude on earth. I don’t know who was more horny, Cindy or myself. We fucked our brains out and then sat on my third floor patio porch, sipping on coffee, wrapped in oversized cotton robes I had managed to sneak out of the hotel. The sun peaked over the tree tops and bathed each of us in sunlight.
We retired back to my bed around seven. We had another wild fuck session and I dozed off with her head resting in the nape of my shoulder, my arm around her.
I woke up and it was close to noon. My goddess was sprawled naked beside me, partially covered in my bed sheets. I kissed her on her check and slipped out of the bed and into my shower. The shower was a welcome relief to my sore body. I was about to step out, when Cindy slipped open the shower door and stepped in.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she inquired.
“Nowhere,” I replied.
Cindy dropped to her knees and slipped my semi-erect cock into her mouth, the hot water cascading off of her well-toned body. It didn’t take much and I was shooting my load down the back of throat, as the steam from the shower encircled us. I took a sponge and lathered it up. I worked it slowly over her body, paying special attentions to her breasts and magical crevices.
We finished up our fun time on my bed. I dropped Cindy off at her work, about an hour before I went to work.
I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her check.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m not a whore, I’m a stripper.”
I apologized for the unintentional insult.
“It happens all the time,” Cindy remarked. It was an awkward moment. Cindy smiled and remarked,
“But, if you want to pick me up when you get off from work, I’ll be glad to spend another evening with you.”
2:30am couldn’t come fast enough.
Mikayla
- 12.07.2022
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