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Timeshare Tails
Las Vegas - The Strip Off

by Spankmeokc

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 07 Feb 2018

A few weeks ago my wife, Annie, got a call from the promoters of a time-share she had in Hawaii. The time-share company there had been owned by some teacher’s pension fund, which had recently sold the company to a set of private investors. The guys said they were already managing other time-share properties and wanted us to upgrade our membership to take advantage of these additional units. So the come-on was to visit their model unit and property in Las Vegas, at no cost to us, to hear their spiel and enjoy a free show of our choice on the strip.

OK, whatever. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t turn out to be a great deal. But it had been a while since we had been to Sin City and we had a vacation week we could take, so what the hell – As long as we had a tight hold on our wallet we might get away unscathed.

I was careful to take just enough cash that we could afford to lose to the casinos. My recollection is that, along the strip at least, there are lots of signs pointing toward the casino part of the hotel, but once you are in the casino itself, there are no visible signs pointing to the exit. I think that last time I had to show my empty wallet to one of the security guys; and even then he really tried to point me to the ATM machines instead of the exit.

I’m not overly fond of plane flights any more, but it is fun to fly into McCarran International Airport, which is alongside the strip. On the approach you start to see this incredible array of bright lights and flashy signs all around you – always something new to see – as the plane flies lower and lower, the lights and signs get bigger and bigger until you are right in the middle of them, and then suddenly rolling along the runway.

The terminal itself is a big letdown after that entrance. They have rebuilt it over the years, so it’s better than it used to be; but I just can’t stand the slot machines in all the waiting lounges and the cheap flashy neon signs glaring at you from every direction. You could easily lose all your money before you got out of the airport and be forced onto the next flight home even after you cashed in your hotel voucher for more McCarran chips – complete with the LAS airport code on them! What a racket.

Back when I was traveling regularly, the only thing worse than having a layover at McCarran Airport is having that layover at night, with all the bright lights and attractions of the strip just beyond the airport entrance, beckoning at you but you’re unable to get out of security to visit them. Damn that’s rough.

At least this time we planned to stay more than the obligatory three days, enough to see several shows, take in a few of the junky tourist attractions. The hotel had a limousine that picked us up, which saves us a lot of effort and left a good first impression. We smoothly pulled to the entrance where a uniformed bell boy opened the door and welcomed us by name: Mr. and Mrs. Anderson?

So at least we were in the right place, even if the hotel was a couple of block off the strip, a pertinent fact which the promoters failed to disclose – but if a limousine was always available that wouldn’t be a problem.

As we checked in, a manager came up: Mr. Tom Anderson, and Annie, if I may? We’re so pleased you could join us this week!

Somehow I was more convinced he was pleased at the credit check their company had run on us.

Anyway, he confirmed our scheduled stay and we set up the obligatory appointment to meet with our personal representative - a salesman by any other name. Since this guy was responsible for giving us our free show vouchers we were roped into meeting him. I set it for as soon as possible of course. I wanted to get the boring stuff out of the way first or, as I told him: I want to be able to give any offer you make my full consideration. I know how to string salesmen along too.

Annie and I settled into our room easily. It was nice and on an upper floor with a decent view of the strip, although I was hoping the view would look better at night. Las Vegas in the daytime is pretty bland, unless you are enthralled by vast expanse of heat waves off the desert.

We then met our personal representative, Mr. What’s His Name and he shows us over the model unit; then escorted us to lunch together in a top-floor lounge with windows in every direction, while he provided us with the so-called exciting details of their offer.

As we eat and discuss and ask questions, he puts together a trade-up offer from our existing unit.
It seems to be not bad for a time-share deal. Not as expensive as I expected and it gives us access to about a hundred more resorts. The food is really good, better than I expected. This place is going all out.

Surprisingly, the sales pitch is not as high pressure as I expected. He says he expects us to think about it and talk it over; so we just set up another appointment, another lunch, in couple of days to continue the conversation. He mentions all the meals in this hotel are included in our trip package and that this lounge converts to a piano lounge with live entertainment every evening. It’s complimentary this week and included in every time-share package in their Vegas based hotels as well.

I visibly thaw, actually. I know that Las Vegas has a lot of entertainers trying to make it to the strip so there is a really great talent pool to draw from for any hotel, and it’s nice to avoid the crowds.

He does give us our show vouchers, with no restriction except availability and that we have to book through the hotel entertainment desk. OK I can live with that. I can always book on-line if I have to.

Annie gets the latest list of shows from the entertainment desk and we meet in the bar to make our choices. I really wanted to see Celine Dion; and Annie really want to see Phantom, particular in this theater that was constructed specifically for the production, so we pick those and a few alternatives, as well as the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton, I had always wanted to see (and be a part of).

When we get back to the Entertainment Desk, the girl there looks at our list and the voucher and gives us the bad news. It’s late enough in the day that she can’t get any of our picks for this evening but we can get in somewhere the other nights, or maybe squeeze in a matinee show – just depends on what seats we want.

She recommends the top floor piano lounge tonight; promises the guy is really good; and puts us in for a downtown comedy review for tomorrow then Phantom, Celine Dion, and so on. Soon we’re good to go – entertainment wise.

It’s still hot outside, as only afternoon Las Vegas can be, so I vote to adjourn to the room for some rest. Annie goes along with that, as we pull the shades on all the daylight outside and just relax.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I only judge a vacation, not by scenery or sights or bucket list or relatives with open arms, or culture, but purely by how many times I get laid. Everything else is gravy.

Annie and I are great together. But her job has become stressful and it seems harder for her to relax into the sexy girl I have been with for a long time.

I’m still sex obsessed, of course, like I have been since puberty hit, but I’m very married and I don’t want to be with anyone but her, so I go with the flow and do what I can to help her relax into the mood.

I still have my spanking fetish, of course. If I didn’t have that to fall back on, I don’t know what I would do. But a resort hotel seems an unlikely environment for a spanking hookup so my plan is to help Annie relax as much as possible.

Even so, I prepare myself for a somewhat boring week, figuring I would rather be pleasantly surprised than disappointed.

I massage Annie’s shoulders and neck and also her feet and we soon fall asleep together.

We sleep later than expected into the evening and decide to do room service for our dinner so we can get ready for the piano lounge at 9 pm. The meal is decent and I do like the way they serve in the room – on a white linen covered cart with a flourish – more points for the time-share resort.

Annie and I make it to the lounge on the top floor shortly after the reservation time. Lights are already lowered, with quite a different atmosphere from the luncheon. We are quickly seated to a rounded club table near the show area – which has just a piano and a microphone set up.


Who gets a nice round of applause as he comes out and bows.

Roman seems to be a nice looking, olive skinned young man, in a blue tux with white highlights; he bows again, sits down in front of the piano, then jumps up quickly and sweeps his tails back with a flourish, sits again, then pulls the microphone over. As he bows I can’t help but notice that Roman has a nice bulge in the crotch of his tux – most likely a result of extra socks stuffed in his briefs – but I see that Annie notices it as well. Good to get the ladies attentions right away.

Roman practically swallows the microphone as he greets the crowd: Good evening everyone. It’s nice to see a few familiar faces here and some new faces as well. Please let your waiter know if you would like to hear anything in particular, meanwhile relax and let me take you back a few years....

He starts playing some Barry Manilow, softly, and lets it build a bit. He seems to be good at pulling all the emotional stops out of the music. On the second number he starts to sing, which I did not expect. Roman has this amazing baritone voice, low, rich dark, sensual, really thrilling to listen to. He seems to naturally bring a new sound to this stuff I’ve heard all my life. I glance at Annie who can’t take her eyes off him.

I get up and tap on her shoulder as I lean down and whisper in her ear, May I have this dance?

So we move onto the dance floor and stay there most of the evening. It’s really fun.

Roman moves into a series of classic lounge dance numbers, Cha-Cha, Rumba, Foxtrot and Swing. We do all of them.

More couples move onto the floor with us, as Roman leads into some slow free-style numbers.

For these slow dances I pull my Annie close enough that tent in my slacks is putting a dent in her belly. She slides her hands down to my butt and pulls me in closer. It’s a really good sign for the night ahead.

Then he plays a slow Rumba. I feel really good so I move into a Bolero opening. A Bolero is a really sexy dance with big, slow, showy moves, while your partner’s crotch is pressing into yours, pretty often. I start to be even more turned on during this dance which is obvious to Annie right away, of course.

As I listen I hear Roman make a couple of note errors, not often and not glaring, but surprising in this caliber of playing. Oh well, everyone has an off night – and I’m doing great.

Annie is still hanging onto me as close as she can and tugs me that it’s time to go – I know I owe at least part of this mood to the piano player so I leave a big tip in his jar on the piano. He smiles and acknowledges me as Annie and I make our exit.

The evening is a success. Our sex is great and I begin to totally relax, at last.

Next morning, I wake up early, still very relaxed but ready to go. Annie is doing her sleeping beauty imitation so I kiss her all down her back to her beautiful butt. Since she doesn’t move I decide to abandon that effort and feel the breakfast buffet calling me.

I get to the breakfast buffet, which happens to be in the same room as the piano lounge area of the night before.

The tables are pretty crowded, so I pick up a plate and inspect the buffet while waiting for a table to open up.

I’m standing in the buffet line next to a college age boy wearing a tie – very nice one, blue with pink circles. As we discuss the breakfast options side by side, I automatically fill my plate, same as the boy as I move down the buffet with him. When we move off the line together, I realize there still doesn’t seem to be any free place to sit yet.

The boy sees me looking around and says he already has table and invites me to sit with him. I agree and introduce myself as he leads me over.

Nice to meet you Tommy, I’m Paul. He says as we sit down.

When I get a chance to look at him full on, his face is somehow familiar. Then I realize this boy looks just a lot like the piano player from the lounge last night, but about ten years younger and not as dark skinned.

So I have to ask: Do you know the lounge player – that guy Roman? Are you related?

He blushes. Actually, I am Roman, or I should say, Roman is my stage name. I use makeup for the skin tone, and a hairpiece to look a little older – enough to play in the lounge effectively. This state has funny age laws and the hotel has to be careful.

Wow. We really enjoyed your performance last night. How long have you been doing this?

I’ve been the lounge player here for a year or so. My dad is the hotel manager. I started one night when the scheduled player skipped at the last minute. The audience seemed to like it so he started me full time. I’m 19, not yet legal age to be in a bar, so I can only play in a lounge that also serves food. And since I’m too young to play on the strip, an off-the-strip place like this – what my friends in the business like to call The Strip Off is perfect right now.

I compliment him on his playing and his voice.

He blushes again: I’m glad you like it. I have a lot of fun performing like that. I wish my dad liked it better. It’s hard to explain, but I like to add something extra to the music as I’m making it.

I have to ask. Listen I know this is show biz and designed for visual appeal, but I have to ask what you use to get that nice bulge in the crotch of your tux. I know Annie liked it – I’m sure most of the ladies did as well as a lot of the guys. Was it extra socks, like that Dolly Parton movie, or do you use one of those molded crotch enhancers?

Paul face turns beat red all over, even around his ears. Uh, I don’t use anything extra in my crotch sir. I assure you it’s all natural.

I can’t help it: Wow! I’d like to see that.

Then add quickly Sorry, I didn’t really mean that Paul. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

It’s OK sir. You’re not the first one to ask that. Most of my gay friends have asked too. Paul responds.

Then I notice he is sitting a little funny, and moving around like he can’t find a comfortable way to sit. He was sort of like that last night, when he first sat at the piano bench. I know what it reminds me of so have to ask, what the hell!

Listen I hope I’m not going over any line here, but you seem to be sitting funny. It reminds me of how I was after my dad spanked me.

He asks back: You got spanked as a kid? I didn’t think that happened much, any more.

I nod: I grew up in a rural community in the mid-west. Every guy I knew got spanked from time to time. It was pretty normal then. Even my wife got spanked growing up. So I definitely know what it’s like.

Oh, Wow! Well it’s no big deal then. I was late to my performance last night and my dad spanked me before I went on. So I was pretty uncomfortable having to sit there on that hard piano bench without moving, but he knew that I would be, of course. It’s better now, but I’m still a little sore. I expect you remember. As he grins at me.

After we both had paid some attention to our plates, he went on.

Last night, I did mess up on a couple of numbers, with a couple of cords I should have known. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I’m a perfectionist.

I respond, I don’t meant to be a critic, but I noticed, sorry.

Wow! I’m glad my dad wasn’t there to notice or I probably wouldn’t be able to sit down at all now.

Then wistfully: But I kind of wish he had spanked me for my mistakes on the gig. Any more, I can’t feel right about it until I’ve been punished, it seems.

Curious I go: How’s that? Not many boys his age long for a spanking by their dad.

When I was first learning to perform, Dad was my mentor. I tried, really I did, but I would lose the mindset, get distracted and flub up. Time after time. Finally Dad got sick of it, put me over his knee and spanked me hard, just like he did when I screwed up at school or something. But my next practice session was perfect. When he asks me why, I realized I was concentrating really hard, and not letting in any distractions, mainly because I didn’t want to be spanked again.

So For the next few weeks, Dad spanked me before each practice session. And I did great. Now he only spanks me before an audition or if I flub up during a performance.

Then, why doesn’t your dad spank you for last night?

He didn’t stay for the performance. He had to leave on a trip with a promoter and won’t be back for a few days. I’m a little afraid without Dad here the next few nights won’t go well. I hope I don’t get fired. he adds looking worried.

What the Hell! Since your dad’s not here, maybe I can help you with that myself. I offer.

I’m in it now, so continuing my offer I go: Look, I spanked my younger brothers when we were growing up, so I have experience and I’d be happy to help you feel better about yourself and encourage you to stay in your mindset.

Really! Gosh! Would you really? It’s a lot to ask, I know.

Let me be honest here. This could be a win-win for us both. So far Paul, Roman’s music is the quickest path to me getting laid. Your playing last night helped my wife and I to enjoy a very romantic evening.– Basically we fucked like rabbits after – She wants to see you tonight and I’d like to fuck like rabbits after that as well. So I’ll do whatever I can to help you encourage her to get in the mood.

That’s great. I’m glad Roman’s music can help you both. I’ll take you up on your offer and I’ll be ready whenever you are. Paul grins at me, eagerly.

How about right after we leave here? I’m not busy this morning. My wife likes sleeping late and I’m free. Do you have someplace we can be undisturbed?

Sure we can go to my practice room. It’s in a soundproof area in the basement so my practice doesn’t disturb the guests.

I eat enough to satisfy my hunger, but not enough to stuff me. I notice Paul eats light too, mostly pushing his food around. That’s good. It’s better not to be spanked on a full tummy.

I signal for the ticket, but when the waiter brings it over Paul signs for the ticket, I get free meals, so let me. It’s the least I can do for you, Sir.

I noticed the sudden automatic Sir. Paul has been well trained.

So Paul leads us down to the first floor, then to a service elevator and down two levels, definitely below ground level. The elevator opens onto a laundry area. We move through it to a hall with storerooms opening off either side, at the last door in the hall, Paul unlocks and opens the door.

This is my humble abode most of the day now.

I look around, two small connected rooms. It may have been an office at one time. The lack of windows is disguised by lots of framed pseudo-paintings that look like Las Vegas street scenes – the kind of stuff hotels use – inoffensive enough decor.

The outer room is a bit messy with books lying around; open sheet music strewn here and there, a few costume pieces haphazardly spread around.

The inside room has a baby grand piano against the wall for to practice on and is neat, tidy and spotless.

How did you get that baby grand in these rooms?

It wasn’t too bad. There’s a freight elevator to this level. Then we take the legs off and bring it in sideways, it’s barely possible. I know it takes up a lot of the room but the tone and keyboard action is so much better than any upright, and so much like the piano in the lounge, it’s worth it for my career.

I gather that one of these rooms is Paul’s and one is Roman’s?

That’s about the size of it. Roman is a neat nick, I’m not.

So, am I spanking Paul or Roman?

Me sir, Paul. Roman is too much of an uptight prick to make any mistakes. I make the mistakes when I fail to channel him properly.

He opens the closet and rummages around the top shelf.

Tommy, Sir, I’ve got a few things you can use if you want; but it’s up to you of course.

He lays out a hair-brush, paddle, a leather strap and even a small whip – 10 or 12 thin leather straps with a handle, on the coffee table in front of the couch.

That’s a nice collection! – Tell me, which of them do you hate the most?

The child’s whip I don’t know at all. It’s new. I was browsing through one of the BDSM shops off the strip and was fascinated by the live demonstration they were having. I’ve never felt it actually, and I’m a little worried about if I could handle it.

I hate all the rest of them though, but an extended session with the strap is the worst, it really makes me want to climb straight up the walls to get away.

OK, I don’t want you to be worried. We’ll skip the whip for today.

He started at my use of the phrase for today I could tell.

I put my hand on his shoulders, friendly like, then grab him by his neck, and pull him over to the couch
Where I sit down and stand Paul in front of me.

I take it you’ve down this before, sir

You bet, Hands on your head, Paul. I’m in charge now.

As he obeys I start unsnapping his belt.

Wait, what are you doing?

Getting you ready for your spanking, of course. Your spankings are always on your bare butt. Isn’t that right? Mine always were!

But, my dad always spanks me over my pants. Never bare, that would really hurt!

Spankings are supposed to hurt, aren’t they?

Yes sir, I guess so. Paul answers reluctantly.

I think you know so.

Yes sir, I know so. Even more reluctantly.

But your dad never takes your pants down?

All my spankings for my performance were on my performance costume, my tux. I guess a couple of other times, when I was misbehaving – he did spanked my on my underwear. But I’m kind of afraid of being spanked on bare skin, Sir. I really am. He answers anxiously.

Well, I’m acting as your dad while he is away – so how about this. Today you get what you want, and if we do this again, then you get what I think would do you good. That means that this morning – since you don’t have your tux on – I’ll spank you with pants down but with underwear on, like your dad did.

But if you make any musical mistakes at the lounge this evening, I’ll spank you tomorrow morning – like I think you really need – on your bare butt!

I need to confirm our arrangement before we start: Is it a deal Paul?

Yes Tommy, Yes sir, that’s fair. He grins: I’ve always wondered what a bare butt spanking would be like. Maybe I do need it.

So we shook on it.

Paul unbuckles his belt, unsnaps his slacks, pulls down the zipper and lowers his slacks to just below his boxers.

He kneels on the couch to my right, leans forward over my thighs, He puts one hand to my left and lowers himself to lying in position; then moves his left hand forward as well. I adjust my legs apart enough to give room for his genitals to lie between them. I put my right foot on a leg of the coffee table, which raises his butt up a bit and puts it at an upward angle. That places his boxer covered butt in perfect angle for my right hand to have a direct impact as I swing it down.

I can’t help but smile at his careful process – amused because there is no bare skin exposed at all. I’m not sure if Paul is simply overly modest or just concerned about exposing his skin to the view of a relative stranger. Either way is fine for today. – Tomorrow will be a whole different world of course.

I can’t help but notice his blue boxers with pink circles exactly match Paul’s tie, which he is still wearing.

I don’t see a matching tie-boxer short set very often in the men’s s haberdashery stores I frequent, but in Las Vegas it seems normal, somehow; and I’m sure I’ve never spanked anyone wearing a tie before. There’s a first time for everything.

I rub on his boxers in a circular motion, tugging on the hem to straighten out the cloth over his buttocks. I like to get a lay of the land so to speak. Paul’s seems to have a nicely shaped bubble butt, which I pat a couple of times, to let him know to be ready.

Ready now, Paul? Tell me why you’re getting this spanking; then ask me for it.

Yes Sir, I’m ready. Sir, I lost my concentration four times during last night’s performance, which made Roman play some bad notes. Please spank me Tommy. I need help to concentrate for my performance.

That sounded good to me. I bring my hand down with a sharp SWAT, medium intensity; I press down lightly and hold a few seconds. The rest of the first ten are the same, just placed evenly around his target area.

Paul just lies there, seems to be having no trouble. Good.

The next ten I double the speed and up the intensity to maybe 50% more. Paul moves his chest and legs a bit. I can hear him grunt lightly. Good.

Next, I place my left hand on the middle of Paul’s back and spank him very hard, back and forth, left to right, up and down his rear, with my hand, 25 times or so. As I expected he tries to move away from my hand but my left hand pressing on his back ensures he has to stay in place and feel every one.

Paul is breathing hard, when I stop. After a minute or so he says That was really hard, sir

I reply with a simple: Yes, Now put your wrists together behind your back. As I reach quietly forward to pick up the hairbrush from the table.

Why, Sir?

I raise the hairbrush to just above my shoulders and bring it down sharply and press it hard into his butt.

Paul cries out and he jerks his torso and legs up.

Because I said so.

Paul starts crying softly, but doesn’t move his hands back like I ask.

So again I bring the hair brush down sharply. SPLAT!

Paul cries out again and he jerks his torso and legs wildly.


And accompanied the order with yet a third hard SPLAT!

Paul jerks like before but this seems to convince him to pick up his hands from pushing against the couch and reached them behind his back. I quickly grab one wrist, then the other and hold them together against his back, which immobilized his upper body.

Just to let you know where we are. I tell him. You’ve had a good warm-up, so your spanking can start now.

Paul cries out: No. Not more! I’m sorry now. I’ll be good! No more!

I let the hairbrush respond, better than words. I reduce the strength of my swats, but place them all over his butt. Paul again is crying out with each one. Then I move to his sit spots, giving five successive swats on one side, resulting in one long howl, then five on the other. His howl degenerates into incoherent noises; then moves to a steady bawling.

After about fifty of this Paul becomes just one long howling and bawling mess.

Good. Ready to finish up now.

I put back the hairbrush, take the strap, fold it over and wrap the folded end around my wrist a couple of times to shorten it and spread the ends so they will be side by side when they strike. This doubles the striking area of the strap from four inches wide to 8-10 inches striking at once.

I gently lay the strap across his boxer cover butt. Paul twitches, but what I am trying to do is ensure the free end is the right length to impact his entire butt from one side to the other when I bring it down with my wrist placed near between my abdomen and his hip.

I measure the length and practice my swing so as to leave enough free end that the strap can lay across the entire width of both butt cheeks at once.

I give a practice snap with the strap in the air and hear a satisfactory CRACK as the two ends snap together. Paul’s entire body just shudders and he cries out, even though he wasn’t struck.

That kind of noise won’t happen when the strap impacts him, of course, but it does set the mood properly. I’ve found that the fear of the strap can make a bigger impact that the force actually does.

Now that the stage is set, I bring the strap down sharply, across his entire butt at the level of his sit spots.

Paul’s body jumps forward as he frankly yells, but I was ready for his movement and restrained him in place.


As I start to strap in earnest Paul basically screams and starts bawling uncontrollable.

I wait about 30 seconds between each strapping. Up his butt, 4 swats, pause then down his butt, 4 swats and then across the sit spots again with Paul screaming and yelling each time.

When I pause, I put my hand on his boxer cover butt and feel a pretty good heat radiating off.

Paul is a complete crying mess, lying limp over my lap.

That limp submission is what I always look for, so I put the strap down; gently lift Paul back into a kneeling position and guide him to lie against my chest.

Paul throws himself against my chest with his arms around my neck.

I’m sorry daddy, I’ll do what you say. I promise to not make any mistakes again, I promise

He cries into my chest for a while, streaking my shirt and his tie with his tears and snot. I just pat his back and rock him against me, slowly.

After a bit he slows down and lifts his face up, still crying

That really hurts sir. That’s the hardest spanking I’ve ever had!

I’m sure it is Paul. And I’ve given lots of them. Now tell me why you earned this spanking; and how you’re going to change so you don’t need another one.

I listen to his story again, and his promises to concentrate and not get distracted.

That’s good, that’s very good.

Now tell me what will happen if you do mess up your playing tonight, even one note!

You’ll spank me tomorrow?

Yes, I’ll spank you. And how will you be spanked tomorrow?

On my bare butt sir.

Correct. And what will you be wearing?

I expect you’ll strip me stark naked sir.

That’s right. I will. But none of that has to happen if you allow yourself to perform correctly, right?

Yes sir. And I can now. I’m sure of it.

Paul hugs me then says again: Thank you sir.

Do you feel better about yourself, now?

Yes sir, a lot better.

Are you going to be able to concentrate on your performance, or do you need me to visit you before the show?

I’m sure I’ll be fine sir. I’ll keep that strap next to me while I practice. I’m positive it will remind me to concentrate.

I want you to practice now, I know you have a sore butt, but If you can play perfectly now, then you can play perfectly this evening.

Yes sir, I will

Annie, my wife, and I will come see you this evening. She likes your playing, and I’ll be taking notes. We’ll have breakfast together tomorrow morning; and we can review your performance together. I’m sure you’ll do well.

Paul then asks: Tommy, sir, Uh, is there any music you or your wife especially like that I could do for you? I’d like to do something special for you.

Well, the Girl from Ipanema is sort of our song.

Your song – doesn’t that mean it’s the first one you danced to?

Not exactly, for us anyway. It was playing the first time we made love. I sort of, pardon the Anglo-Saxon, started fucking to the rhythm; and it really worked for us.

Wow, Cool. Is there any other music like that Sir?

We both think Ravel’s Bolero is way sexy too, the way the rhythm builds to a climax.

I love it too, but that’s one is pretty long for a lounge club setting sir, and takes more than just a piano to get it right, sorry

Sure Paul, I understand, it really gets her wet for me, though. Keep it in mind for me.

So long now. as I leave his practice room.

In the afternoon, Annie and I do the Star Trek experience at the Hilton. The realism is great, and it’s a lot of fun for both of us. We hit the pool for a while, until it’s time for dinner and the show.

I had made a reservation at the lounge, but they seem to have lost it. So the waiter had to place us near the back at first, I knew that was a ploy for a tip, so I was ready for him. I slipped him an extra $100 to get the seats in the first set of tables, where we can see the keyboard even.

Right on time, Roman comes out to applause, waves at the audience, looks around and nods at Annie and I.

He starts playing music I’m familiar with, so when I hear a wrong note I jot it down on my notepad.

Roman does great on the vocals, until I realized he reached too far for one of the higher notes, but quickly smooth’s it over with a glissando, but I jot it down anyway.

Soon Annie pulls me onto the dance floor, so I concentrate on her instead of the performance, of course. Annie just loves Roman’s playing and pulls me close to her for every slow dance.

Then we were dancing near the piano when I was facing Roman and we made visual contact. He got this intent look on his face – then played one note out of key on the next chord.

My hands were around my wife’s back, but I held both my wrists away from her back and slapped one set of fingers against the back of the other hand, like I was spanking it, giving a sharp sound. Roman nodded at me – then started a transition that promised to become a slow and sexy number.

Roman moves into Girl from Ipanema the rascal. I start moving my hips with the rhythm, but still in a slow dance embrace, she starts moving her abdomen against mine, rubbing my erect prick all around. I notice he was slowly and steadily moving the beat faster with each stanza.

The say that dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal intention

We really made it obvious that night, I actually climaxed on the dance floor, creaming in my tux, I couldn’t believe it – I was reacting like an adolescent kid again. I always feel like one around Annie anyway.

I was staring in Annie’s eyes the whole time I came, just like we do in bed. She took full credit for it, of course. No reason she shouldn’t.

As soon as the dance number winds down, I whisper, Sorry, I need to clean up for just a bit, would you like to wait here

Oh yeah, I’m not missing any of this music. He’s really a find. I wonder how they got him from the Riviera to this hotel? I hear in Las Vegas it’s who you know. she adds knowingly.

Good question. I’ll be back in a few minutes. and turn.

As I start to leave, I hear Roman start a drum rhythm indicative of Ravel’s Bolero. He must be using a synthesizer, as he sits at the piano, hands poised, ready to play along.

I realize I can’t leave, not now. So I just pull Annie onto the dance floor and hold her next to me. Careful to match the rhythm of our moves with the drum beat.

As we start to dance, Paul plays the musical part on his piano, God he’s good. He can simulate several parts at the same time. I notice the tempo increases as the music moves along; which is leading both of us inexorable to the climax of the music.

A lot of the couples get out on the dance floor. I would be too. This isn’t something you find in an ordinary lounge act. About half of them are an older crowd that loves the music, hopefully dancing to fond memories. But there is a younger crowd that seems to be getting into it like I do. I predict a lot of sex in the hotel later tonight.

As the music moves, slowly faster, my hips, glued to Annie’s now, move faster. I get hard again and wonder if I am going to climax again. I don’t care. I just want the music and the mood to last forever.

The lounge had filled up during this number, I noticed a lot of the hotel staff was there watching and listening as well.

The climax of