Priceless! Paying for Pleasure

Chapter 2, The Swirl Resort in Puerto Vallarta

Chapter 2, The Swirl Resort in Puerto VallartaDown at the Swirl Resort in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, things were looking swell. Christine and Jerome, the owners of the hotel, were checking out the most recent renovations. Christine Scripps, a beautiful blond young woman from Alabama, had modeled the hotel after her Auntie Stefania's namesake: a luxury resort in an amazing region of Florence that functioned as a brothel for wealthy European women who wanted to mess around with the moors of Venice.

You might wonder how a young girl from Alabama found her way to Stefania's in Florence, Italy (after all, southern belles aren't necessarily known for their foreign travel), but it so happened that Christine was a master piano player. She was born with the skills, a prodigy, she was called. Christine had skipped college, preferring to work part time in the Piggly Wiggly grocery store her mother managed and play the organ at the Baptist church where her father ministered. When she was 27, she was amazed to find herself accepted to one of the world's most prestigious music programs. One of the people at church had recorded her playing and sent in the application on Christine's behalf. One day, Christine opened the mail to find that she had been accepted, and so off she went to Italy to study classical piano.

Of course, Christine's family, being moderately wealthy only by Birmingham standards, wanted to save some money on the tuition, so they had her move in with her auntie to cut down the cost of living. Boy was Christine surprised to find out just what sort of establishment her aunt was running. It wasn't just a brothel; it was sophisticated and cool. All of the women were older, and they weren't just looking for great s*x: they wanted conversation, intellectual stimulation, and companionship. And they were willing to pay for it, up to $10,000 for a single evening, in fact.

Even with free rent, Christine's college expenses began to pile up, so she took to playing the piano, everything from classical to jazz to pop tunes, in her auntie's brothel. She made good money doing it, and she also got to know a lot of people, from the clientele to the staff. Her being the only pretty young white girl there under the age of thirty, she got a lot of attention from the escorts employed by the hotel, and she found herself charging them double their nightly salary for the chance at a tryst with her.

It was the time of her life. You can bet your bottom dollar that the daughter of a Baptist minister from Alabama would love getting railed by black dudes and being paid to do it. She was raking in the cash and she was getting a great education (and some halfway decent orgasms) to boot. But it all came crashing down when Auntie Stefania was mysteriously murdered. Even though her auntie had left her millions of dollars in inheritance money, Christine felt that she just could not stay in Florence with so many bad memories. She sold Stefania's to a wealthy American hotel mogul, who quickly turned the place into a golf resort. Meanwhile, she and Jerome, a handsome, black, young escort who Christine had recruited to work at the hotel, decided to set up a new business elsewhere.

They named the new Stefania's "Swirl Resort," and set it up on a lovely plot of land in Mexico. The two of them had travelled the world looking for the finest hotel with the best view to turn into a luxury brothel, and they found it in Puerto Vallarta.

Before becoming the Swirl, the hotel was known as the Vallarta Vista. It was located right on the beach and it had a rocking poolside bar and a beautiful main ballroom. It also housed a variety of rooms for any budget, from a suite fit for a wealthy real estate attorney to a standard room for a diplomat's daughter to the deluxe suites which were for the old rich or the wives of tech moguls out in Silicon Valley.

Christine and Jerome operated the Swirl out of the old Vallarta Vista for some time, but eventually they became discontent. A remodel was long overdue, and besides, how were they to brand the Swirl as their own if they didn't make any changes to the property?

Today, they were on a tour with the developer, checking out all the changes that had been made over the past 8 months to the Swirl. With them was Robert Lorenzo, head chef of the Swirl and son of Auntie Stefania. Robert was a handsome mulatto. His father had been lynched in Alabama when he was just a boy for engaging in relations with a white woman, and Stefania and Robert had fled to Italy.

With such a sad background, Stefania had promised to give Robert all the best life could offer. He had the finest schooling and upbringing, but rather than turning out selfish and shallow, he was a deep thinker who could relate to people on a personal level and got along well with others.

He was compassionate, and he had trained in medicine and become a doctor in Los Angeles, but he moved back to Italy after being in practice for only a few years. He found that medicine, especially American medicine, wasn't delivering on its promises to help people. Doctors had become little more than salesmen pushing their pharmaceutical and surgical wares, and frankly, it made Robert sad. He also found the people in L.A. to be vapid as hell, and he longed for the sophistication of Europe. Upon returning to Italy, he decided that it was cooking that really made people happy (after all, food is the key to the heart!) and he decided to become a master chef. When he was orphaned, he decided to travel with Jerome and Christine to work in the Swirl.

"Wow, this is amazing," Robert was gawking as he checked out the newly renovated main kitchen, which was packed to the gills with all the latest gizmos and gadgets, beautiful convection ovens, and the finest knives money could buy. He was already dreaming up all the delicious dishes he would make in this fine kitchen.

All of the bars had been renovated as well. Included in each bar room was a beautiful baby grand piano, with a showcase piano in the grand ballroom made by one of the finest and oldest piano makers in all of Europe. Now Christine could play whenever and wherever she wanted to. All of the guest bedrooms had been repainted and refurbished, and new pools had been installed in some of the deluxe suites. It was a real paradise on earth.

"But the best part," Royce Benoit, the gorgeous biracial event planner for the Swirl, announced with glee, "is the Mandingo Room!" He clapped as he guided them to the room he and Jose de Anda, the hunky Mexican tour guide, had been working on for the past two months.

The two men led Robert, Christine, and Jerome straight through the main ballroom without so much as a glance at the twenty gorgeous male strippers dressed in Chippendale style practicing their routine.

"This room is really going to make us money," Jose purred. "The women are going to love it."

Christine believed it because Jose really knew what horny old white women wanted. And what they wanted, deep down inside, was big old beasts of black men to want to ravish them sexually. They wanted to believe in that old stereotype that there is nothing a black man wants more than an old white biddy, that same stereotype that caused the 1906 riots in Atlanta, that same stereotype that had gotten Robert's father killed, the same stereotype that fuels a huge porn industry today. They all wanted to believe it and they wanted it for themselves.

Sure, it was a little offensive to have these hulkish men chained up and dressed in rags, their giant dongs hanging out of their torn clothing like third arms, but that was what made money, and money was what was truly important in this world. To everyone but Robert, at least. And Robert was more than happy to go along with whatever his cousin and Jerome had in mind. He didn't want to be left alone anymore, so he would follow them down whatever path they chose.

The Mandingo Room was to be an auctioning block. The black men would be dressed up like slaves for the market and women would bid on the one they wanted. They highest bidder would get 4 hours with their slave of choice, and he would be responsible for fulfilling all of their most carnal desires. Bidding would start at ten thousand and work its way up from there. The most hung of the men could easily bring in something like fifty or sixty thousand a night once the women got a little liquor and bidding frenzy in them. It was a winning idea for sure.

Christine and Jerome congratulated the contractor on a job well done, and they left Robert to tie up any loose ends. They had more important things to discuss. Mainly, they needed more guys.

"Where is Ashley at?" Jerome asked, referring to the Swirl's main recruiter, Ashley Burton.

Ashley was a gifted, petite young blond who had grown up in California. Raised by extremely liberal Berkeley Birkenstock types, Ashley had been taught that the best thing a pretty little white girl could do is be with a black man, and her parents had encouraged her interracial relationships from a very young age. While traveling in Mexico, Ashley had come across the Swirl Resort. She and Christine found that they had a lot in common, and Christine found reflections of her younger self in this talented polyglot with a degree in accounting from the London School of Economics.

Originally, Christine had hoped to bring her on board to service the escorts at the Swirl, whom she could no longer service herself because of her role as owner and manager, but Ashley quickly rejected the idea. It was too déclassé, she complained, and besides, taking money from prostitutes wasn't the sort of thing her liberal parents had taught her. Perplexed, Christine solved the situation by putting Ashley in charge of recruiting.

The job suited her. From the expensive hotels to the first class flights to getting to critically inspect men from all over the world with the questions: "Is he sophisticated? Can he hold a wonderful conversation? Is he traveled? Is he multilingual? Is he well endowed? Is he great in bed?" It was all a real dream for the young Ashley. Right now she was on a flight to London, headed to evaluate a new prospect.

"Who is he?" Jerome asked.

Christine smiled. "He is a man who is going to blow all of our other escorts out of the water. He came highly recommended by several of our regular clients who are old timers in the escort business. His name is Boo Boo Johnson, and he is going to be a gold mine for us."

The two high-fived playfully.