Her duties

"Our guests are rather select," you tell Lisa. "Besides serving them drinks, and wearing this uniform, you have to be prepared for a little extra attention from them. A fondle, a squeeze, that sort of thing."

"I get that in the bar sometimes. I can deal with it."

"But here you have to tolerate it, go with it, maybe even encourage it a little. That French accent you put on earlier was very sexy. Play it up."

"How far do I have to tolerate it," she asks, tilting her head.

"Oh pretty much as far as they want to go. That's why the money, and I did mention a bonus for extra effort." She looks bemused, pursing her lips.

"So if one of them wants to fuck me I should let him? Is that where this is going?" She stands looking at you, very pretty in her outfit, her eyes flashing. You rise and face her, running your hand down her body, then lifting her skirt and fondling her pussy lips. She shudders as you feel her wet warmth. You smile and pull her towards you, pushing your fingers into her and kissing her. She responds, kissing you back with eager warmth.

"That's exactly where it's going," you tell her, breaking the embrace and licking the pussy juice off your fingers.

"Zen, oui M'sieur, I will do my very best," she grins.

"Oh she's just perfect, John! Perfect!" Laurel rises and hugs you both. "You'll make some money and have lots of fun."

"Who do you normally get to do this at your parties, Mrs. Chandler?" Lisa asks.

"We've had one or two others, but often it's been me. Oh don't look so shocked sweet bitch. I'm as fond of being groped and used as the next trollop. I just wanted a change this party. Now, come along and we'll show you around. You need to see everything." She links her arm with Lisa and leads her from the room. You follow smiling in their wake.