I took the job as a maid at the golf resort because, one, I figured I'd be left alone a lot of the time while I cleaned, and two, because what else was I going to do after high school? Work a bar, work a cash register at the feed store, either one I'd have to deal with assholes who poked fun at me for being a fat girl. I didn't consider myself fat, just sturdy. It wasn't because I ate potato chips and candy bars all day, it was just genetics that made me as strong as an ox.
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The Forbidden Fantasies Resort, owned and operated by Jamir Antoine, is located deep in the mountains outside of Denver Colorado.
Jamir, who stands 6 ft 2, is both intimidating and endearing to those who know him. Mocha colored with long flowing locs that hang to the middle of his back upon first glance would not be considered handsome but exudes a sexual charm that is undeniable.
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I was working out of town for a week on my own and staying in a rather seedy four storey hotel. The room was okay and clean enough, but the hallways and front lobby were shabby with old furniture and not very clean looking carpets. I had been there all week and seen some shady looking people around the hallways and in the elevators, but didn't think too much about them and just stayed in my room in the evenings. I had thought that maybe some of the girls I had seen around the hotel could be hookers, but it was hard to be sure.
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The flight had arrived on time, but the luggage was taking ages to arrive. It was already midnight, and I was feeling tired after spending full day at work and then flying to Cyprus. I was just waiting to get to the guesthouse and get in a good night's sleep. Watching the other passengers I could tell this was what other people were thinking as well. Soft bed and hopefully a nice and peaceful hotel. No parties for me tonight!
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It was my birthday and my husband, James, had promised me a surprise I'd never forget. He handed me a box. When I opened it I discovered a beautiful black dress. It was cut low in both the front and back, came just above the knee, and was slit up the thigh. He told me that I was to wear the dress with nothing on underneath it. As I looked at it, I realized I couldn't have worn much underneath it anyway. The dressed hugged every curve of my body. I felt incredibly sensual as I slipped it over my skin.
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When a man comes home to his wife and a houseful of women, it's either really good or really bad, especially when the conversation stops as soon as the door opens. And most especially when the women looking at him have those expressions suggesting they know something he doesn't (and of course they do -- it's always that way). His wife stepped forward and walked toward him.
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I typed it in an IM window. 'Come fuck me' it said. Her reply was simple. 'Yes, Master.' How many times had I typed that to her in role-playing chat when I was on the opposite coast of the country? I've even typed that when I was close enough for us to make it happen. I would be there with my laptop in the king-sized bed at my hotel in D.C., messaging her at her home in New York. Close, but far. 'Come fuck me,' I typed. 'Yes, Master,' she replied. Odd how the same words looked different this time -- that was last night.
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