1 comments/ 15902 views/ 1 favorites Hotel Heiress: Nashville By: AudreyHepburn The plot and action to this episode follows the episode entitled HOTEL HEIRESS NEW ORLEANS. If you've been following this series, Valerie Masters is a pretty super model and soap actress in her 20's, the daughter of a wealthy hotel mogul family. She is constantly getting herself in and out of sticky situations and dangerous ones, and has many adventures in her search for fame. The series is written as memoirs with her voice as narrator. In Hotel Heiress New Orleans, Valerie sought the dangerous woman who kidnapped her photographer to bring her to justice, risking her life in the process. Now, we return to where the story left off, in New Orleans, where Valerie is waiting for her best female friends to come for her. For those of you who just read these stories for sex scenes, I have marked it as SEX SCENE. New Orleans Louis Armstrong International Airport, 8am. Wearing a tight skirt, dark sunglasses, a pink scarf, and stylish wrap around my head, I looked across the terminal to see if my dearest friends Gina and Crystal were among the group of people who had just dismounted the plane. To my joy, I saw that it was them after all. They were wearing vintage clothes. It was still winter but it was a pleasant, warm Southern winter and in fact, a lot warmer than even California winters I could remember. They were dressed in colorful couture: Gina's black skin showcased in the tint of a tangerine blouse and skirt accessorized by a shiny black belt and black boots and Crystal's fair white legs and arms came out nicely in her little black dress. They definitely stood out from among the crowds. There was no mistaking that they were supermodels and they even walked in a distinctive manner, strutting their stuff as they approached me in the terminal. "Girl, you look like you've seen the Devil," said Gina, surveying my eyes. "What do you mean?" I said to her, trying to look as if I was alright. "Your eyes are so red, have you been able to sleep in this city at all?" Damn, I thought, did it actually show that I had experienced a terrifying near-death ordeal in the swamp that day? I know I would never forget losing Byron to that alligator and having almost lost my life at the hands of Alma's henchmen but I hadn't figured it would show. "I'm alright, Gina," I replied, conjuring up a big smile, "of course it's hard to sleep during Mardis Gras. As if I was the only one. It gets so crazy." "Did you get crazy?" Crystal inquired in her curiosity, her green eyes lighting up. "I guess I did. But let's not talk about it. I'm so glad you came. I was beginning to get lonely. But Mardis Gras is over so we'll have to come up with something else to do to pass the time." "Where are you staying? What hotel?" Gina said. "A small boutique hotel outside the city. Come on, let's go. We have lots to talk about. * * * * They didn't like the hotel. They stared at the little room like it was the smallest thing they had ever seen in their whole life, like they had stepped into a closet instead of a room. I figured they had recently been spoiled by their trip to Europe where they most likely stayed at five-star luxury hotels. I know I was spoiled too, and spoiled since childhood, but truth is I actually liked the little room. It was quaint and pretty. It made me feel like I had slept in a historic room. Gina and Crystal sat on the bed looking at me as I got my things together and packed them into my luggage "So what are we going to do? I don't really want to stay in this town," Crystal remarked, "it has this weird vibe. It's like a city but it's like no other city I've been to. Everyone speaks so slow and with an accent and everyone is so laid back, more so than Californians. And everyone is so polite and yet sneaky." "I haven't had time to socialize with anybody," I said, "but so far I've been treated nicely." "Do they know who you are?" "No, I haven't run into anyone who knows me, not even from my soap opera." "That's gotta suck." "So anyways, what are we going to do?" "Well there is no way of getting out of the South since we're already here," said Gina, finally saying something wise, "so why don't we just make the best of it?" We were silent for what seemed like a long time. Gina and Crystal had bored expressions on their faces, and these faces they made were exactly the same as the faces they used to make as bored little girls. I finished packing and then sat my round, heart-shaped butt on the bed, with my hand under my chin. "I know!" said Crystal, as if a glorious idea had just struck her, "let's go to Nashville." "What's there?" I said. "There's lots to do. It's not redneck central as much anymore. It's like the South's Hollywood. They have lots of nice places. Great restaurants, fine food, fine people, great hotels, great nightlife." "I hear it's where country music singers go to do their work," said Gina, "and they probably do everything in style, too, so yeah it's probably like Hollywood." "It's a very cool place. I haven't told you guys this but my parents are from Nashville. They divorced about three years ago and only my dad lives there now. I could meet him and he can help guide us through the city. Come on what do you girls think?" "Alright." Heck, we had very little choice. * * * * It was Crystal's idea to take a road trip to Nashville and it was Crystal's car that would take us there. Crystal drove a red convertible and because we were traveling light, we managed to fit everything into the car. It was not a car fit for long distance travel but it was all we had. It would be a long way to Nashville from New Orleans. More than likely, we would have to stop to fill up the car with gas often and we would have to stay at whatever inns and motels we could find. Gina and Crystal were on a tight budget. They had spent a lot of their own money on the trip to Europe and although they had modeled and had been paid, they had no desire to spend too much money on a trip to Nashville. It was not worth it. In fact, I suspected Crystal's idea of going to Nashville would involve making money somehow. She had not said anything about her agenda, but I could smell a trick. I often felt like I knew Crystal so well because we were so much alike. We had gone to ballet classes together as little girls; we had fought over boyfriends but had always made peace each time. We were very close, like sisters. And indeed it was just that, because I had no sisters or brothers as an only child. And neither did she. Off we went and we went north toward the Louisiana/Mississippi border. Louisiana was beautiful, I had to admit. I had already seen some of Louisiana when I had been in Cajun Country as prisoner of that criminal Alma. I had seen first-hand the beauty and savage terror of the bayous. But northern Louisiana was breath-taking. We went through miles of country woods and hills. We would find little wonders here and there such as deer and possums, and the occasional bear, just wondering about, seemingly undisturbed by modern civilization. There was always music playing, faintly, in the distance, Cajun music, beyond our eyesight but not beyond our hearing. Fast fingers strummed banjos and fiddles dueled as rowdy dance music floated into the twilight, intoxicating even us California girls. We knew somewhere someone was having a party where they danced barefoot. Not our type of party, but still, the spell of the music had worked its magic on us, and served as a sort of soundtrack to our road trip. And it was just as well because Crystal's car radio was not functional. We drove through numerous towns and met with friendly folks. We stopped at diners where tough-talking but generally sweet waitresses served us coffee and warm meals. It was not long before we were in Mississippi. Although I found Mississippi to be similar to Louisiana, I quickly found that I was wrong. The area was heavily forested and there were time when we were completely isolated in the spaces between towns. It was very frightening at times, especially as it got dark, considering the fact we were three young women all alone. The darkness here was greater, since we were out in the woods, and only the headlights to the car were the only visible lights, with the exception of a few electric lights on tall poles connected by cables that dotted some of the country roads. The interstate was long and dull and soon, just as I suspected would happen, we began to argue. Everyone was tired, everyone was bored, and everyone just wanted the trip to come to an end. We were God knows where in Mississippi. We hardly took notice of the billboards with their advertisements and the road signs with the names of the towns. Well, ok, I did look up at the billboards but only to see if my face was on any of them since I had modeled for billboard ads. I had modeled for Virginia Slims cigarettes and I had been told that some of these shots were to be posted on billboards across the country. I had also modeled for perfume ads wine ads which had also been posted on billboards throughout the U.S. But to my dismay, there were no ads with my face on them. "When are we going to get there, already," said Gina, "this is so frustrating. It's dangerous to drive down these country roads. Suppose the car breaks down and some nut job comes along and –" "Shut up, Gina," I said, "don't even talk about it. It's not going to happen. We are going to make it. Besides, it wasn't my idea to take a damn road trip." "Oh, excuse me for wanting to be economical!" shouted Crystal, "if we want to get famous and really rich, we have to think about saving money too." "It's not like I don't know that," is said, "my dad has always been frugal." "That's a big word for you, frugal, isn't it?" said Crystal, provoking me, at the same time pushing me slightly. "Shut up," I retorted. "Why don't you both shut the hell up," said Gina, "look, why don't we just find a nice motel and spend the night there instead of driving all night." "If only your radio was working." "I don't see any motels around. I hate this. This was the stupidest vacation we ever took. Crystal, just what were you thinking? A road trip, please." "Listen all of you," Crystal said, "my hope is once we get to Nashville we can make some money. We have talked about making money to get into Hollywood movies right?" I knew it, I thought. See, I knew her like I knew myself. "And just how do you propose we do that?" "Well, we can do some modeling in Nashville if we find the right people. If not, well, Valerie, I've heard you sing. You have a beautiful voice. Maybe we can get you to record a country music album." "Are you fucking kidding me? I hate country music." "It will work, trust me. Today's country music scene has changed. You don't have to sing like Dolly Parton or anything. They have a rock influence now or a pop music influence in the songs. You can do it, Valerie. And with the money you make we can go to Hollywood, get ourselves a top agent, get ourselves into many movies and there you go." No one wanted to argue with Crystal's logic so we remained quiet. Truth is, it wasn't such a bad idea. Gina looked tense, however, and worried. "Girl, you know we're out of money," she said, "Europe cost us an arm and a leg. And Valerie, you don't seem to have much money on you. So this is going to be very difficult." We drove into the next town in silence. * * * * We spent the night at an ugly old motel where apparently we were about the only people under fifty there. The elderly men who were still up and walking about stared at us like we were meat. Gina and Crystal were dead tired and ready for sleep, but I was still strangely awake. It must have been just after midnight. I had no idea where we were so I decided I should make some chit-chat with someone who could help us. As the girls retired to bed, I stayed behind and purchased milk and donuts. Yeah, they were donuts, but who cared. It was late anyways and I had the munchies. It was not something I normally did anyways. "You new around here, girlie?" said a haggle-toothed old man offering me a seat next to him. "Yes and I wish I knew where I was," I replied, "can you tell me the name of this town." "This here's Starkville," he replied, "it's a hell of a town. You came to the right place if you're tourists. This is the town where Johnny Cash was famously arrested back in the 60's." He then began to sing to himself, which annoyed me. Again, these people had all the time in the world and time moved far too slowly, day or night. "They're bound to get you, Cause they got a curfew, And you go to the Starkville city jail" "Yeah, this town is wonderful. It's like a lesser known Las Vegas." "My friends and I are trying to get to Nashville. We didn't come to Mississippi to stay here." "You're still quite a long ways from Nashville," he said, "but you should be able to just take the interstate and then upstate in Tennessee." "My friends and I are also out of money," I said, coming to the point, her eyes fixed on him. The old man's eyes moved up and down my body and this made me uncomfortable. He grinned. He then retrieved something from his jacket. It was a tiny card and he gave it to me. It was in tiny but visible print and read: Booberella on Franklin Avenue, open 24 hours, 7 days a week, Conrad Vickers, owner. "I love that place and go there as often as I can," he said, "it's a strip club. Your friends all girls like you?" "Yes." "Then y'all should do fine. You don't need to do it for long. Just for as long as you need to raise the money to get to Nashville." I know, I know. It was wrong. It was sick. It was the last thing I had ever imagined I'd do to raise money. But maybe this hideous old man had a point. We were beautiful, we were exotic (to Southerners) and they would pay top dollar to see us take off our clothes and dance around. We'd have the money we need to get to Nashville sooner than we would expect. It was fast, easy money. Besides, I had heard that even University girls stripped to pay for their tuition. So what was wrong with a little stripping for money? It was only stripping and not sex with customers. I braced myself as I went up to the room in the motel to tell the girls.... * * * * The strip club named Booberella s turned out to be Starkville's most popular strip club. It was pretty small, a building that shared the same street as a warehouse, a 99 cent store and various office buildings. It was late night when we first got to the club. The way we figured, we'd raise the money in a single night. There were three of us and we were ready. I had never stripped before and I was certain Gina and Crystal hadn't stripped before either, but how hard could it be, right? It was just a matter of gyrating the hips provocatively, making "orgasm facial expressions" and writhing and jiggling. I'm sure there was an art to it but I didn't care for that. I just wanted to make money, too. We were escorted into the club by the owner himself, Conrad Vickers. He was a middle-aged guy in a white cowboy hat and jeans. He had a Southern drawl and a big mustache and smelled of beer. The inside of the strip club was designed to look like a spaceship, which I found very odd. Perhaps this was attention-grabbing. It was very dark, and at times it resembled a dark room where photographs were developed. But continuously, dazzling blue, yellow, red, white, green and purple lights would appear. The floor looked metallic, cold and grey, and the waitresses serving drinks were dressed in skimpy "Barbarella" space outfits. The stage was triangular and big, probably mimicking a sci-fi movie starship. Poles were situated at the three corners of the triangle and three girls would simultaneously emerge from beaded curtains to do their dance. "So, ladies, whenever you're ready just give me a buzz, I'll be in my office," said Conrad, "you three girls will come on at the same time after these girls finish up. We have very little space so you three girls will have to share a dressing room, right over there. The only other girl in there is our very own Darlene who does a solo." I imagined that particular girl was the star stripper of the place. We headed down a narrow hallway and into our dressing room. Inside, an assortment of stripper outfits and costumes were lined up in racks against the pastel pink walls. A large mirror with light bulbs on the frame stood directly in sight. The stripper inside was a girl with dyed blonde hair and boobs so big that they were obviously fake. I had no idea that women got their breasts enhanced even small towns like this one. I suppose it figured. She was the star stripper of Starkville. Her outfit was the one Jane Fonda wore for that god awful B movie "Barbarella" in which she played a warrior from outer space trying to save the galaxy. "Who in the hell are you?" Darlene said, surprised and bothered by our presence. She was applying lipstick and straightening her boobs. "I'm Valerie Masters," I said, lifting up my chin, "and these are my friends Gina and Crystal." "Yeah? So fuck off. I wasn't told I'd have company. I dance solo." Her attitude really got on our nerves. "I know, Conrad told us," said Gina, "but girl, we aren't going to be an inconvenience for you or anything. We're here to strip too and we're on right after the three girls that are out there are done." "I'm the big finale," she said, "so you three bitches from out of nowhere better not try anything stupid like trying to be better than me or anything." Poor thing, I thought, to actually believe this line of work was worth fighting for, to think that she was proud of her work and that this was her only claim to fame. I smiled. No, I grinned at her. "Don't worry, sweetheart" I said coolly," I don't especially care to succeed in this business like you do.".......... Anticipation had been built up. Conrad, always the clever businessman, had told his male audience, who were binging on booze, that we were from California, that we were Hollywood supermodels who were treading on virgin territory – stripping. Every man out there was excited with the idea of seeing us. The lights were on again and a hypnotic, pulsating music without any words( except for what sounded like a woman's sexual moans) filled the air. We held hands and took a deep breath. "Ready, set, go," said Gina. There we were, on that campy spaceship stage. Gina was the one with the least amount of clothes on her. It was Conrad's idea. He had said he wanted "the black girl" to do a "jungle girl" bit. I thought it sounded racist, and I'm sure that Gina thought so too, and it was still very fitting for a redneck strip club owner to say that. Gina did not care. The thought of making a lot of money was more important. She was in a golden thong, and her breasts were covered in two little coconuts. She was in golden high heels. Around her neck was a snake. It was a real one too but it had been trained so well and it was harmless. Gina had no problem dancing with it. She headed for the triangle to the far left corner. Crystal took the corner to the left. Crystal was in a "blue diamonds" outfit. It was a skimpy sequin piece of material that looked as if she was actually wearing diamonds. On her neck were pearls. She had on a white thong. As for me, I was in pink, by far my best color. It was a little outfit with pink ostrich feathers. I had no difficulty walking in heels but I was certain I'd have trouble dancing in them. I took center stage, at the tip of the triangular stage. From this stance, I was able to see into the faces of the men. Boy, were some of them ugly – older, big-bellied, hairy, slimy looking men. Some of them didn't even hide the fact they were married and their wedding rings glistened in the intermittent lights. Some of the men looked younger and professional, wearing well-tailored suits and smoking Cuban cigars. These men were a mixed group of white, black and Hispanic men. They ogled me as I began to do my strip act. 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........... Hotel Heiress: Nashville They completely changed their attitudes toward us. On the last day of our stay at the hotel, they did not show up and we had to pay the bill. It was quite a blow. After which, to our surprise, they had also taken Crystal's convertible. There we were, angry and tired, thinking of what to do next. We were just outside the hotel. "Damn those bastards," Gina said, "see, goes to show you, you can't trust anyone." "He must have thought we really were Hollywood hookers," said Crystal. "Look, how hard can it be to get to LA? We just buy plane tickets and that's that. We have the money now. I don't want to believe we spent it all while we stayed in Nashville." "Girl, he took the car; God only knows what else that asshole took." The thought hadn't come to me. Suppose Gina was right. Frantically, we searched for our wallets. You guessed it. The money had been stolen. We also found that some of our panties had been stolen. I knew this was because I had refused to sleep with Paul Livingston, the songwriter. It was retaliation for that. It was also a way to degrade us and make us feel like real whores. "I can't call my parents," said Crystal. "None of us can," Gina said, "if we tell them what's happened, God, would that make us look bad" "Oh? You got your folks thinking you're Miss Perfect too?" Crystal said. We were in despair. We didn't know what else to do. We had no money and no way to get to LA. We were really screwed. On the next episode of Hotel Heiress, Valerie and her girlfriends hitchhike and take bus trips across the country to get to California. On the way, they meet all kinds of crazy people – neo-hippies, bums, Hell's Angels, drag queens, S and M crowds, even a serial killer. Will they get to LA alright? Will their dreams of being big stars come true without costing them anymore than it already cost them? More laughs, more sex and more adventures await the Hotel Heiress.