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Description
I was on the phone with the escort agency even before the plane left the ground in Oakland. I wanted to ensure my new friend would be at the hotel as soon after my arrival as possible and they operate smoothly enough that I knew there would be no entanglements. That agency is expensive, but worth it.

After checking into the hotel, I ordered two bottles of cognac, showered, dolled, primped, and tipped the gentleman who delivered the booze. I offered him a cocktail and requested a few minutes of conversation. He asked what I wanted of him, and I inquired as to his knowledge of horizontal entertainment therapists. Tim replied that he had none but could give me the number of a behind-the-scenes concierge who knew all. He turned down the drink and shook my hand (while gazing at me as if I were Satan there to take his soul) and then trotted off toward the door. As the door swung open, Jasmine appeared on the other side and said hello. I thought he was going to blow a gasket. He looked at her, back at me, then to the floor before darting out. What a moment.

Jasmine and I spoke for more than an hour in my room before heading downstairs to Red Square. During that period I took notice of her appearance. She is lovely, exotic, extremely well-spoken and articulate. As escorts run she is classy, to be honest. She was dressed loyally in pants and a red silk blouse (as I had requested) and appeared affluent with all of the platinum accents. Her dark hair flowed well past shoulder length and nearly covered a beautifully tapered back. She wore black suede strapped pumps and her toenails were blood red. I just loved it. As Jasmine is such a gorgeous example of a young and healthy Filipino girl, you can probably imagine the attention she can garner when dressed to the nines. With introductory chit chat and our first exchange of cash out of the way, we headed to the bar (big surprise).

Red Square was peaceful and alluring. It is a Russian bar/restaurant and is known for copius amounts of stylish vodkas. Wonderful. We did not wish to eat there, so just a couple of martinis later we were out the door hand in hand. Her warmth and friendliness was driving me nuts. I longed to snuggle.

We headed across the bridge to Aurora in the Luxor and along the way we browsed a few shops and took notice of the House Of Blues on the right as a possible dinner choice. They have the most wonderful calamari and shark dishes, and as a southern-themed establishment you just know there are umpteen fucking bourbons behind the bar waiting to be slurped. That place is really well operated, in my opinion.

Anyway, after yet another drinkie in Aurora and a dozen appraising glances from every traveling salesman and single guy in the room, we decided to go back to the Bay and sit in the tub. By that hour I was dying to caress her. Of course, she was mine and would affirm anything I wished. We ventured back through the Luxor arm-in-arm to our warm and bubbly destination.

We showered separately to avoid staying in there all evening. I wanted the tub and all of the warm relaxation that comes with it (and the fucking cognac!). Once in the bubbly water we immediatly drew together and stayed as such for the next half hour. Her skin had been calling for my lips since the first moment we touched and so I pulled her in front of me - facing away - and held on tight while burying my face in her fragrant hair. That was very nice! She smelled wonderful. I let her slip down a bit until looking just over her head. We sat and talked about the town, the resorts, and tourism at this stumbling economic time. The conversation was stifled when the timed bubbles ceased, leaving the room quiet and calm. At that point I gazed toward her legs as they rested between mine and saw one of the most enticingly beautiful sights imaginable. Her knees were together which created a tapered gap leading up the thighs. This is a picture which I have sought vigorously over the last few years - just a picture. To have that vision in person and in front of me was nearly too much for my delicate senses (it is almost too much to sit here and fucking put it to the screen without battery-powered help!). Needless to say, I gazed and drooled as long as I could hold out from completely swallowing all of her. Jasmine was pleasantly aware of my need to be silent at times. She allowed for the quiet in the room to be replaced by our breathing and the mood felt as if she knew just what I needed from her. What a girl.

Beyond our initial contact in the tub, the remainder of the early evening was spent as one might expect. Skin, cognac, lips, fingers, tongues, breasts, legs... you know. I need not go into much detail, but suffice to say one of the most delightful moments of that weekend was spent licking Grand Marnier from the small of her back all the way down to the ends of my desire. Yummy. Just absolutely satisfying, she was.

Jasmine and I napped for a bit before showering together. Shower led us into hunger. Time for dinner.

After re-dolling myself, the ideas for dinner began to flow and eventually led us back to the House Of Blues. That was nice. Some fish, 1792 bourbon, spinach salad and a bit of B&B for dessert added up to quite the rich experience. I then decided that Jas was spending far too much time clothed, so back to the room we trotted. Once there, she became my toy yet again and for the next few hours I proceeded to explore her every inch. She was delicious, warm, soft, and every bit the caressing dear that I had craved.

The night melted away and flowed into a soothing and comfortable embrace within our bed. I thanked her profusely for her time and she replied that I would no longer have need to call anyone else for my future visits to the Promised Land. Mercy.

After that evening I was physically satisfied and sufficiently pickled enough to realize the gravity of my errors. I knew all too well that the real world would soon capture and confine me once again. That is all the more reason to drown deeper and that is precisely what I did on Sunday. A heaping helping of damaging behavior was on tap for yours truly.

Sunday morning brought me to my knees. The realization of the effects of running away were then deep in my psyche. I knew going home and facing that which I was avoiding would be difficult in the extreme. Time to delude further.

I ordered a few pastries for Jas and I along with coffee and Bailey's (let me also add that they really jam you when ordering full bottles of alcohol via room service). Just a light breakfast was all we needed after the excess dinner the previous night. We showered together (of course) and then headed downstairs for a drink before taking a walk to Caesars. Aurora was empty and inviting. We sat and talked for a bit and then took off for the street. The walk was calm and peaceful.

Shopping within the Forum was uneventful. I made no purchases other than coffee and booze and Jasmine did the same. We merely wanted to be within the fold of the wealthy for a period of time. That is always a fun process to watch. Walking back toward the south and through the casino I noticed Cleopatra's Barge was all lit up for maintenance and it reminded me of my trip in 2003. That was painful. During that trip I sat in that bar and contemplated killing myself at any moment. I was so fucking down that it seemed nothing could bring me out of such a low. For whatever reason, my comfort level within the club was not exactly blowing up my skirt, so I ventured out of the bar and all the way to the street. That is quite a long walk and an even longer trip back to the Luxor (my resort of choice back then). Along the way my head cleared a bit and upon my arrival at my room I noticed a message from a friend informing me she would be flying down in the morning. That boosted me enough to remain in this world a while longer. Let us turn our attention back to the Sunday in question.

As Jasmine and I walked by the barge that memory flooded into my head very quickly and I had need to take a pause. We turned back toward the Forum and sunk into the Seahorse for a break. That lounge is absolutely cozy. One drink coupled with some flirty chit chat with the server and we returned to our walk. Upon reaching the south exit from Caesars I remembered the Palm and just had to have some lobster. As that legendary restaurant is located within the Forum, we once again tramped through the casino. Lunch was yummy but oh so heavy. That required a midday cardiovascular workout. To the gym we went...

Of course, by 'gym' I was referring to some afternoon pool and spa time. We limped to the hotel by way of an enchanting little lounge in the Monte Carlo that was just asking for attention. No women were apparent when we arrived, so the two of us helped to drum up business for the alluring Thai bartender. Jesus, she was a fucking food group and had the typical melange of traveling males attached to her every word. Post drink, we darted back to the Mandalay and changed for the pool. Jasmine wore the most gorgeous yellow bikini, string-tied top and 3/4-cut bottom and just looking every bit the high-maintenance chick that I love attached to my hip. I wore a body glove of the purple and black variety, all zippers and thin spandex apparent. We swam and drank, leading once again to the feeling that Jas was clothed for far too long that day. To the room and hot tub we went...

...and arrived to find hors d'oeuvres and champagne awaiting our drippiness. Jennifer (the concierge of the day) had outdone herself at making us feel welcomed and appreciated. (If only I could have returned the favor in kind.) We showered for an hour before flopping in for a nap. we never made it to the hot tub. All of that caressing and soapy behavior just took my wind away as it can. Jasmine had a knack for sending me into the fucking clouds. The nap and associated snuggle brought on the need for decadent and expensive cuisine (no shit, huh?). This time however, she picked the menu.

We took to the street and walked all the way to the Venetian.

The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. As it was my second visit, I already was aware of the experience ahead of us. That restaurant is simply one of the finest dining establishments in Las Vegas. Every aspect of the operation is fantastic. From classic mint juleps to the caesar dressing manufactured tableside to the fucking epic service, that place is tip top. In Vegas, stating one restaurant as head and shoulders above the rest is quite a feat. In this case, however, the task is easy. Dinner was 4 hours long and worth every second. I cannot get enough of that place. Jasmine had some sort of a foodgasm after sampling a combination of prime beef and the luscious sweetness of an old fashioned on ice. I could see in her eyes that such a level of dining was not the norm for her. I just wanted to keep her forever and show her just how rewarding some parts of life could be.

After dinner (12am by that point), we strolled through the Venetian and across the street to the beautiful Mirage for a bit of scenery. The members of the cocktail staff there are always lovely and worth a glance or three. Just one more glass of cognac over ice and we left the waterfall-laden lounge for the street yet again and returned to the coziness and welcoming embrace of the Mandalay Bay - my dream home, as it were.

Once back in the room, I peeled Jasmine's attire from her beautiful body and proceeded to paint her skin with my soft tongue. She was delicious and all mine.

We slept as two halves of a human pretzel.

Monday morning was far too short in terms of the clock. Things always tend to become rushed and businesslike when checkout time is apparent. I do not like that at all. The atmosphere changes dramatically and the idea of exiting my favorite place and returning to the world is not something that affects me in any positive way. The entire process needs to be removed from my way of life. The fit is not there at all.

On this particular occasion, I knew of the seriousness of my choices. Common sense had been left at the gate in Oakland and after the weekend my mind was once again invaded violently with responsibility and the future. The moments were mounting. I also needed to say goodbye to Jasmine's beauty, warmth, and security, and that was not something I felt could be accomplished easily. The cut had to be quick and sharp. She had become my friend and lover for the entire visit and watching her leave my room and disappear into the dim hallway was almost too much for me to take. That difficulty sits within me now as a harsh reminder of the dramatic gradient between my life and my dreams.

I drank to her departure, to my unhappiness, and to the road ahead. I drank in my room, in the elevator, and in the lobby for the last time. I then proceeded out of the hotel with flask in hand and tears in my eyes. All I had left was the mix of pain and fear through which I enabled my flight from home in the first place. Everything returned so quickly that I seemed to blink and the calendar disappeared before me as it had on so many occasions before.

The soft beauty, grace, and charm that is the Mandalay Bay had exited my consciousness and was replaced with life once again. Just bad. All bad.

The numbers as I have noted.

Flight and associated airport drinking: 353
Drinks around the Mandalay Bay, Luxor, Caesars, and the Monte Carlo: 744
Dinner at HoB: 131
Lunch at the Palm: 128
Dinner at the Delmonico: 240
My room and associated charges and tabs: 1730
Jasmine: 3650

My weekend, 6976 dollars.

My sister's reaction? Not pretty in the least. I am still hearing it days later.

Description
I was on the phone with the escort agency even before the plane left the ground in Oakland. I wanted to ensure my new friend would be at the hotel as soon after my arrival as possible and they operate smoothly enough that I knew there would be no entanglements. That agency is expensive, but worth it.

After checking into the hotel, I ordered two bottles of cognac, showered, dolled, primped, and tipped the gentleman who delivered the booze. I offered him a cocktail and requested a few minutes of conversation. He asked what I wanted of him, and I inquired as to his knowledge of horizontal entertainment therapists. Tim replied that he had none but could give me the number of a behind-the-scenes concierge who knew all. He turned down the drink and shook my hand (while gazing at me as if I were Satan there to take his soul) and then trotted off toward the door. As the door swung open, Jasmine appeared on the other side and said hello. I thought he was going to blow a gasket. He looked at her, back at me, then to the floor before darting out. What a moment.

Jasmine and I spoke for more than an hour in my room before heading downstairs to Red Square. During that period I took notice of her appearance. She is lovely, exotic, extremely well-spoken and articulate. As escorts run she is classy, to be honest. She was dressed loyally in pants and a red silk blouse (as I had requested) and appeared affluent with all of the platinum accents. Her dark hair flowed well past shoulder length and nearly covered a beautifully tapered back. She wore black suede strapped pumps and her toenails were blood red. I just loved it. As Jasmine is such a gorgeous example of a young and healthy Filipino girl, you can probably imagine the attention she can garner when dressed to the nines. With introductory chit chat and our first exchange of cash out of the way, we headed to the bar (big surprise).

Red Square was peaceful and alluring. It is a Russian bar/restaurant and is known for copius amounts of stylish vodkas. Wonderful. We did not wish to eat there, so just a couple of martinis later we were out the door hand in hand. Her warmth and friendliness was driving me nuts. I longed to snuggle.

We headed across the bridge to Aurora in the Luxor and along the way we browsed a few shops and took notice of the House Of Blues on the right as a possible dinner choice. They have the most wonderful calamari and shark dishes, and as a southern-themed establishment you just know there are umpteen fucking bourbons behind the bar waiting to be slurped. That place is really well operated, in my opinion.

Anyway, after yet another drinkie in Aurora and a dozen appraising glances from every traveling salesman and single guy in the room, we decided to go back to the Bay and sit in the tub. By that hour I was dying to caress her. Of course, she was mine and would affirm anything I wished. We ventured back through the Luxor arm-in-arm to our warm and bubbly destination.

We showered separately to avoid staying in there all evening. I wanted the tub and all of the warm relaxation that comes with it (and the fucking cognac!). Once in the bubbly water we immediatly drew together and stayed as such for the next half hour. Her skin had been calling for my lips since the first moment we touched and so I pulled her in front of me - facing away - and held on tight while burying my face in her fragrant hair. That was very nice! She smelled wonderful. I let her slip down a bit until looking just over her head. We sat and talked about the town, the resorts, and tourism at this stumbling economic time. The conversation was stifled when the timed bubbles ceased, leaving the room quiet and calm. At that point I gazed toward her legs as they rested between mine and saw one of the most enticingly beautiful sights imaginable. Her knees were together which created a tapered gap leading up the thighs. This is a picture which I have sought vigorously over the last few years - just a picture. To have that vision in person and in front of me was nearly too much for my delicate senses (it is almost too much to sit here and fucking put it to the screen without battery-powered help!). Needless to say, I gazed and drooled as long as I could hold out from completely swallowing all of her. Jasmine was pleasantly aware of my need to be silent at times. She allowed for the quiet in the room to be replaced by our breathing and the mood felt as if she knew just what I needed from her. What a girl.

Beyond our initial contact in the tub, the remainder of the early evening was spent as one might expect. Skin, cognac, lips, fingers, tongues, breasts, legs... you know. I need not go into much detail, but suffice to say one of the most delightful moments of that weekend was spent licking Grand Marnier from the small of her back all the way down to the ends of my desire. Yummy. Just absolutely satisfying, she was.

Jasmine and I napped for a bit before showering together. Shower led us into hunger. Time for dinner.

After re-dolling myself, the ideas for dinner began to flow and eventually led us back to the House Of Blues. That was nice. Some fish, 1792 bourbon, spinach salad and a bit of B&B for dessert added up to quite the rich experience. I then decided that Jas was spending far too much time clothed, so back to the room we trotted. Once there, she became my toy yet again and for the next few hours I proceeded to explore her every inch. She was delicious, warm, soft, and every bit the caressing dear that I had craved.

The night melted away and flowed into a soothing and comfortable embrace within our bed. I thanked her profusely for her time and she replied that I would no longer have need to call anyone else for my future visits to the Promised Land. Mercy.

After that evening I was physically satisfied and sufficiently pickled enough to realize the gravity of my errors. I knew all too well that the real world would soon capture and confine me once again. That is all the more reason to drown deeper and that is precisely what I did on Sunday. A heaping helping of damaging behavior was on tap for yours truly.

Sunday morning brought me to my knees. The realization of the effects of running away were then deep in my psyche. I knew going home and facing that which I was avoiding would be difficult in the extreme. Time to delude further.

I ordered a few pastries for Jas and I along with coffee and Bailey's (let me also add that they really jam you when ordering full bottles of alcohol via room service). Just a light breakfast was all we needed after the excess dinner the previous night. We showered together (of course) and then headed downstairs for a drink before taking a walk to Caesars. Aurora was empty and inviting. We sat and talked for a bit and then took off for the street. The walk was calm and peaceful.

Shopping within the Forum was uneventful. I made no purchases other than coffee and booze and Jasmine did the same. We merely wanted to be within the fold of the wealthy for a period of time. That is always a fun process to watch. Walking back toward the south and through the casino I noticed Cleopatra's Barge was all lit up for maintenance and it reminded me of my trip in 2003. That was painful. During that trip I sat in that bar and contemplated killing myself at any moment. I was so fucking down that it seemed nothing could bring me out of such a low. For whatever reason, my comfort level within the club was not exactly blowing up my skirt, so I ventured out of the bar and all the way to the street. That is quite a long walk and an even longer trip back to the Luxor (my resort of choice back then). Along the way my head cleared a bit and upon my arrival at my room I noticed a message from a friend informing me she would be flying down in the morning. That boosted me enough to remain in this world a while longer. Let us turn our attention back to the Sunday in question.

As Jasmine and I walked by the barge that memory flooded into my head very quickly and I had need to take a pause. We turned back toward the Forum and sunk into the Seahorse for a break. That lounge is absolutely cozy. One drink coupled with some flirty chit chat with the server and we returned to our walk. Upon reaching the south exit from Caesars I remembered the Palm and just had to have some lobster. As that legendary restaurant is located within the Forum, we once again tramped through the casino. Lunch was yummy but oh so heavy. That required a midday cardiovascular workout. To the gym we went...

Of course, by 'gym' I was referring to some afternoon pool and spa time. We limped to the hotel by way of an enchanting little lounge in the Monte Carlo that was just asking for attention. No women were apparent when we arrived, so the two of us helped to drum up business for the alluring Thai bartender. Jesus, she was a fucking food group and had the typical melange of traveling males attached to her every word. Post drink, we darted back to the Mandalay and changed for the pool. Jasmine wore the most gorgeous yellow bikini, string-tied top and 3/4-cut bottom and just looking every bit the high-maintenance chick that I love attached to my hip. I wore a body glove of the purple and black variety, all zippers and thin spandex apparent. We swam and drank, leading once again to the feeling that Jas was clothed for far too long that day. To the room and hot tub we went...

...and arrived to find hors d'oeuvres and champagne awaiting our drippiness. Jennifer (the concierge of the day) had outdone herself at making us feel welcomed and appreciated. (If only I could have returned the favor in kind.) We showered for an hour before flopping in for a nap. we never made it to the hot tub. All of that caressing and soapy behavior just took my wind away as it can. Jasmine had a knack for sending me into the fucking clouds. The nap and associated snuggle brought on the need for decadent and expensive cuisine (no shit, huh?). This time however, she picked the menu.

We took to the street and walked all the way to the Venetian.

The fucking Delmonico Steakhouse. As it was my second visit, I already was aware of the experience ahead of us. That restaurant is simply one of the finest dining establishments in Las Vegas. Every aspect of the operation is fantastic. From classic mint juleps to the caesar dressing manufactured tableside to the fucking epic service, that place is tip top. In Vegas, stating one restaurant as head and shoulders above the rest is quite a feat. In this case, however, the task is easy. Dinner was 4 hours long and worth every second. I cannot get enough of that place. Jasmine had some sort of a foodgasm after sampling a combination of prime beef and the luscious sweetness of an old fashioned on ice. I could see in her eyes that such a level of dining was not the norm for her. I just wanted to keep her forever and show her just how rewarding some parts of life could be.

After dinner (12am by that point), we strolled through the Venetian and across the street to the beautiful Mirage for a bit of scenery. The members of the cocktail staff there are always lovely and worth a glance or three. Just one more glass of cognac over ice and we left the waterfall-laden lounge for the street yet again and returned to the coziness and welcoming embrace of the Mandalay Bay - my dream home, as it were.

Once back in the room, I peeled Jasmine's attire from her beautiful body and proceeded to paint her skin with my soft tongue. She was delicious and all mine.

We slept as two halves of a human pretzel.

Monday morning was far too short in terms of the clock. Things always tend to become rushed and businesslike when checkout time is apparent. I do not like that at all. The atmosphere changes dramatically and the idea of exiting my favorite place and returning to the world is not something that affects me in any positive way. The entire process needs to be removed from my way of life. The fit is not there at all.

On this particular occasion, I knew of the seriousness of my choices. Common sense had been left at the gate in Oakland and after the weekend my mind was once again invaded violently with responsibility and the future. The moments were mounting. I also needed to say goodbye to Jasmine's beauty, warmth, and security, and that was not something I felt could be accomplished easily. The cut had to be quick and sharp. She had become my friend and lover for the entire visit and watching her leave my room and disappear into the dim hallway was almost too much for me to take. That difficulty sits within me now as a harsh reminder of the dramatic gradient between my life and my dreams.

I drank to her departure, to my unhappiness, and to the road ahead. I drank in my room, in the elevator, and in the lobby for the last time. I then proceeded out of the hotel with flask in hand and tears in my eyes. All I had left was the mix of pain and fear through which I enabled my flight from home in the first place. Everything returned so quickly that I seemed to blink and the calendar disappeared before me as it had on so many occasions before.

The soft beauty, grace, and charm that is the Mandalay Bay had exited my consciousness and was replaced with life once again. Just bad. All bad.

The numbers as I have noted.

Flight and associated airport drinking: 353
Drinks around the Mandalay Bay, Luxor, Caesars, and the Monte Carlo: 744
Dinner at HoB: 131
Lunch at the Palm: 128
Dinner at the Delmonico: 240
My room and associated charges and tabs: 1730
Jasmine: 3650

My weekend, 6976 dollars.

My sister's reaction? Not pretty in the least. I am still hearing it days later.