by Avery, T. C.
"I actually said, 'I think' we need a charter. That's why I'm asking everyone what they think about it. Can we get away with a formal list of all the things we can fine them for? I'm not sure. We all know a little bit of slap and tickle is acceptable, and the odd grope even helps the money spending along nicely, but you must have had a few unwelcome advances of an evening. There's always one or two 'pricks' out there who seem hell bent on spoiling the mood. And even though they might be pissed, they just think they can get away with anything. Well I think we're a damn sight better judges than they are on what's appropriate and what's taking the biscuit, don't you?"
"Well, now you put it like that, I suppose you're right. So what does this charter say? Or is it just a list of unapproved activities?"
Jody thought for a moment. "Some of the others say we just need a 'Good Behaviour or Else' poster at the door, but we already have one of those. It's a legal requirement stating we have the right to turn anyone away. But I think what we need is something in the club rules that actually details the amounts we can fine people."
"So a slap on the bum is ten quid, then."
Jody drew in some highly unsure breath through exposed and clenched teeth, in the same way your average mechanic does when he's looking under your car bonnet.
"It doesn't sound right, does it? Bugger! Maybe it'd be better if we used some lingo about the club being able to use our discretion regarding fines for indiscretions, and if they continue to misbehave then we just throw them out. Minus even more money."
"I dunno," said Grace.
Clearly, she didn't know! Along with half the other dancers and staff.
Jody concluded it wasn't that easy to formalize such subjective and 'arbitrary' incidents. In the end she wrote a statement into the almost illegible club rules, just inside the door for everyone to miss on their way in, rather than publishing a potentially silly list of misdemeanors and charges. After all, the old practice of cleaning the punters out of their club money, or taking a good slice at least, always seemed to work before. Especially when she had hold of their nuts in anything other than a passionate embrace. She did want to instill a sense of them all being in it together though. So the collection of these gratuities or 'penalty monies', as she called them, was asked to be done, 'by the club, for the club.'
And it soon mounted up. Luckily most of the contributors saw the errors of their ways in suitably gracious, embarrassing and apologetic fashion, so no real harm was done. But occasionally there were some prize plonkers involved that required swift and unceremonious attentions involving shirt collars, seats of pants and large boots. These folk were not encouraged to return.
At the end of every month Jody would hand out a fair share of all the tips collected to everyone at the club, once a decent contribution to her highly select 'charity' had been siphoned off and very purposefully invested.
The money changers, or rather Bureau De Change booths, scattered around various cities came in very handy for keeping things as impersonal as possible when changing sterling or Euros into dollars. Over the years Jody would utilize a few of her solid comrades to exchange, deposit and transfer lump sums in a multitude of banks around the globe. They were always for the same account and in the name of W.A.I.F.A.
They'd also take the 'special' W.A.I.F.A mobile phone away with them sometimes so they could make one or two important and strategically logged calls back to 'Blighty' when transactions had occurred. It was important to get the money mounting in the account without any positive, or rather provable identification of Jody or her handlers, but also to get a definitive secondary log of events and locations through the call logging on the mobile phone bills.
Coincidentally (sarcasm) the timing of these activities also gave a perfect match up for Charlie's flight patterns and Carmel's international ports of call. Jody's tracking of their itineraries, work schedules and whereabouts was quite impressive. As mentioned much earlier in the piece, her many close, and sometimes, personal contacts within the trade certainly helped make this kind of activity less laborious and it would all be done with a complementary smile. It really does help to 'know people' in high (and low) places.
Rachael was returning on the 'red eye' from yet another idyllic palm tree paradise in the tropics and Jody had volunteered to pick her up from Heathrow. She'd managed to not only check out a few hotels and activities in pursuit of some special packages for their clients, but also change and deposit a few thousand Euros for good measure.
"Bloody credit ran out before I could call you," she said, after the usual greetings, hugs and niceties were over and they'd clambered into the car, ready to deal with the early morning rush hour entering London. A daunting task for any sane person. Though, why any sane person would even try it remains a mystery.
"I had to get a local card."
"You do mean for your company phone, don't you? Not the other one?" Replied Jody, now seriously concerned and trying hard to contemplate the ramifications of this potential fuck up.
"Yes, yes, it was the 'T double A' phone, not the other one. Duh! I'm not that stupid. And I paid cash. And I need to claim it on me expenses."
"Thank God for that," sighed Jody. "Anyway did you have a good time, or a 'Good' time?"
"Nosey cow. You always want to know the dirt first."
"Naturally, and since I paid, you can spill," she ordered in her most demanding girly nature.
"Actually this time it was just a good time. The local talent wasn't up to much and the guests were a pretty boring bunch. Well, not boring really, just, well, too old for my liking. There were a couple of guys running the jet skis and diving that were alright but they were never around in the evening, and you know me, I was far too hard at work during the day."
"Bullshit," chirped Jody as she sneaked through yet another orange light. "Half way between amber and red." She'd say to anyone questioning her integrity or driving skills.
"It's true! I had to try out all sorts of tours and swimming pools and spa treatments. It was knackering!"
"Poor thing!" The sarcasm oozed. So you must have burnt out 'Black Beauty' then?" This was Rachael's pet name for her favourite vibrator and she wasn't ashamed to share the secrets of his travels.
"Only got a couple of rides in this time. Too many Piña Coladas, if you know what I mean? Hey, tell you what though, the customs guy didn't know where to look when he opened me suitcase. You'd think they'd have seen everything, wouldn't you?"
"You would indeed," said Jody, smiling to herself, thinking and knowing this just backed up and sweetened her planning all over again.
"Anyway," she started on another seemingly huge and exciting conversational tack. "You remember I told you about the 'Presentation Case' from heaven. Well it's arrived. It came via Xanadu, Valhalla, Zion, Utopia, and Shangri-La. And I haven't shown it to anyone yet."
"Bloody hell!" Exclaimed Rachael. "You'd better step on it then."
The package, addressed to Jody at The Adventurer's Accomplice Travel Agency, had a letter included which had been handwritten by Vincente himself.
"Let me see too," said Rachael trying desperately to read past Jody's shielding arms.
"It's personal."
"I know it is. That's why I want to read it. You ask me all my personal shit every time I do something. It’s your turn to spill the beans and the dirt."
Jody gave in to the mounting pressure and read aloud,
"My dearest Jody,"
"That's a good start" interrupted Rachael.
"Listen" snapped Jody and she re-gripped the letter with both hands and gave Rachael her best 'Paddington Bear' hard stare.
"Since our intimate and passionate time together aboard ship, I have tried to rekindle the feelings I have for you in my loins, but alas, I have not the same soft touch and grip as you."
Jody could hardly contain herself and by now Rachael had burst out laughing.
Struggling, but managing, to straighten her face she continued.
"Luckily I hav
e my work, my toys and my staff to immerse myself in and to remind me of your inner moist feelings. But they cannot begin to compare with your beauty, your agility and your screams for that matter.
The pleasure, it was all mine, though I do remember you gave your will, your underwear (I still have it) and your sincerest determination fighting for my little beasties and my own manhood when it came time to part. Respect where it is due.
As a gesture of my gratitude and so we can make a shit load of hoolah, of course, as discussed, please find enclosed a personalized presentation case from all of us here at Placeres Privados.
You have my full blessings for your own private pleasures and I just know you will think of me always when putting them to good use. Especially the big one!"
Yours sincerely,
Vincente."
The pair of them were nearly wetting themselves. This hunk of a guy could not only run a business, he could also write a letter, and he was funny. Seriously funny.
Regaining her composure Jody added, "He's a pretty good shag too. And, where does a Mexican Americano get all that charm and sarcasm."
"Smooth talking, dirty bastard, eh?" Rachael joined in. "When you've finished with him, you can pass him over. I rather like the cut of his Gib."
"He's actually a decent bloke, you know. Shame there aren't more of them over here."
"Right, lets have a look inside, then. This better be good after everything you've said."
Jody opened the case, and just like the first time she discovered the wondrous and incredible present, her jaw dropped.
Rachael nearly fell over. She swooned, sighed, gawped and then offered up her thoughts.
"Dear God, Jody. Holy shit, Sacre bleu and I'll go t' foot of our stairs! I'm coming over all moist. Me hands are shaking and me knees are wobbling. This 'as got to be the Holy Grail for the whole o' womankind."
"I know, I told you."
"How come we haven't seen anything like this over here, or before even?"
"I don't know. Maybe I was meant to meet him, and these. Maybe there is a God after all. And she’s female."
"I think your right. I'll just take these home with me then and look after them tonight. Keep 'em safe, eh?" said Rachael, tugging at the case.
Jody had a firm grip on it though and they burst out laughing again after she replied in her best northern accent, "Not bloody likely."
They looked at the box of toys like six year olds with a massive haul of Christmas presents. Then they looked at each other, and back again, over and over again.
Rachael finally broke the loop and asked, "Well, what do we do with them, then? Besides the obvious, that is."
"I have a cunning plan," replied Jody. "We're going to start selling them. We're gonna go to market with them, but were gonna be smart about it."
"That's good coz I don't think I'm that good at sales."
"Actually you're a lot better than you give yourself credit for and you know a lot more than you think."
Out came the soap box......
"Everything in life's about sales. Take the travel trade, or stripping for that matter. You know it's all about giving customers what they want. In business it's an improvement to productivity and bottom line (sounds like she's been on a few sales improvement classes, doesn't it?), but in travel and stripping its all about a bloody good time and value for money, whatever end of the spectrum your at. Having said that we're going to hit this from both ends, and I don't mean that big pink double ended dong." She said pointing into the case.
"Okay you've just lost me. What are you on about?" said Rachael.
"What I mean is we're going to sell the benefits of this highly marketable product offering to both the suppliers and the punters."
"Hang on, I thought we, or you, were the supplier."
"No, I'm going to be partnered with the manufacturer, Vincente, but no one's gonna know that. We will provide bulk product for the wholesaler, which will be Luke, but he doesn't know that yet, and you and Lucy, and maybe some others, I haven't decided yet, are going to introduce the product to some 'sex party' planners, on the quiet, and insist that they source it and sell it on the grounds that everyone wants to buy it."
"So the next big question is...."
"Yes.....?"
"What's in it for me and Lucy?"
"Don't I always look after you? Don't I always make sure there's enough in the pot for us all?"
"I suppose."
"You'll get a cut of the action from all the sales."
"How?"
"Okay, well you know how the party host..... Hang on, you have been to one of these parties, haven't you?"
"I've only done Tupperware and jewellery," she sniggered.
"Yeah, an' I'm still a virgin."
"You're not, are you?" came back Rachael with added sarcasm.
"Right, well anyway, the party host, not the seller, the one who's home its in, always gets a cut of the action even if its just a gift or whatever. But if you hit the seller up first for coming up with the goods, they'll happily give you a proper share of the takings. Now you don't want to be doing the actual parties or the selling coz that ties you in. You just want a bona fide reward for your part in proceedings. And guess what? As you can see from this little lot, it’s gonna sell well. In fact the planners will be biting your hands off."
"Sounds fantastic. When can we start?"
Jody brought her down from 'ecstatica' and back to planet earth with a few reality checks that revolved around timing and logistics and organization. They now needed to line up a number of party plan companies and get themselves invited along. A whole heap of photos were produced that they could take with them so they could impress the planners sufficiently enough to get their interest and inquisitive juices flowing. Get them begging, gagging even to see the real thing. And some of the guests too, since many of them were regulars on the circuit. It is a party-come-get-together, after all, and they're very often used as an excuse for social gathering, a good laugh and a piss up. Why not?
Whilst all this was going on, Jody was warming up Vincente in the Americas for a direct approach to Banner Products Limited (not Luke by name) on the premise that he was looking for a UK and maybe European distributor. BPL stood out to him as an ideal choice owing to their position and reputation, and it was well known that their brand of condoms sold well in the 'adult products world'.
So whilst Rachael and Lucy and the girls would be asking the planners to source the products (both the presentation cases and the individual items) from one of their suppliers, Jody simultaneously had the Manufacturer hit potential distributors, namely Luke.
The hardest bit was getting the planners to see past the photos and get excited about viewing the real thing. It did seem a little odd that one of their punters would know about better products than the suppliers themselves. Was it price? Could it be jealousy? Or maybe it was all about someone potentially muscling in on their patch. Anyway our girls are masters of persuasion as we all know by now, and not shy about showing their wares, though there really wasn't any need to get their kits off in these parties. Some did of course. Any excuse to try out a new outfit, and see if it was fit for purpose. Their purpose.
Second and follow up parties were organized and Jody scheduled the loaning out of the 'presentation case' accordingly. She should've had it handcuffed to the girls. On more than one occasion it nearly didn't make it back to HQ. This was a blast. They couldn't believe the stir it was causing. The chatter in the underworld. The excitement in the loins of the Capitol.
Two and half weeks on, Luke was getting call after call from respected entities in the 'toy trade' asking him to source this incredible gear. He couldn't fob off 'Placeres Privados' any longer and finally made proper and professional contact with Vincente to begin serious talks about importing the goods. Goods, which Luke had decided, needed names. Products this good needed catchy, marketable names borne of innuendo, double entendre, and good ol' sleaze. Brainstorming sessions were hel
d and a bloody good laugh was had by almost everyone at BPL (except for the odd prude) whilst they decided on their branding, identity and offering.
The eventual, or rather 'approved' list included the following novelties and more:
• A very small lip stick sized vibrator called The 'Lick Stick'
• A large and bendy double ended dildo named 'Two Chez'
• Ten inches of serious vibrations and swirling hard knobbles known simply as 'Buzz' though everyone thought it should also say 'right hear', (and yes this is somewhat familiar to the rest of us)
• A very ornate and interesting phallic ornament in glass called 'The Sh' hard'
• Five delicate and delightful curvy inches of pink vibrating latex known as 'Sister's Finger'
• Some small and shiny, teeny tiny orbs of vibratory intensity called 'Tourette's Twins'
• And a flexible and formidable, knobbly and gnarly, big black monster nicknamed 'The Devil's Dog'
As expected, things began to fall into place. Orders were placed. Shipments were made. Parties were scheduled. Invitations were sent and salivations abounded.
Some months after introducing "Private Pleasures" to the movers and shakers in the industry, they arrived. On the basis of feedback from the party planners and Luke's own market research he'd ordered a 'ship' load. Half of it would satisfy orders already placed and the rest would be 'on sold' in lots.
There was to be no difficulty finding customers for these weapons of miss distraction. One popular sales ploy was that of selling the collectors box and then getting customers and private pleasure seekers to draw down on their trove weekly, until the treasure chest of usable collectibles was complete. Much in the same way magazine advertisers sell their wares in seemingly affordable stages. They are expensive playthings after all. Lust, greed, coveting and vice was now in play. Any and all methods for satiating the hunger were to be employed and encouraged. Every girl should have what every girl needs.
Another successful 'coup de theatre' was the introduction of DVDs to the party plan evening of events. Girls and women, mothers and aunties, ladies, lovers, nympho’s and M.I.L.F.s. Every female with female bits attends these events at least once in their lives. Some are shy and introverted, but intrigued, and daring enough to be there. Some are bold and up for it, experienced and willing to try anything. Keen to explore the next available product line, whether it’s for themselves or for their partners. But one thing is for sure. There are not many, bold enough, when put on the spot, to try things out in a public gallery, however outrageously fantastic, encouraged or helpful it may be.