I hate flying. Not because I'm fearful of a crash, but because I suffer every time with the annoying popping in my ears from the rapid changes in pressure, and I'm trapped inside the cabin with a mixed bag of humanity. Fortunately, most of that bag was seated behind me in coach, and I enjoyed the benefits of being able to afford first-class accommodations.

The handsome, young flight attendant offered me a cocktail, but I declined, wanting to be one hundred percent when my flight landed in Cancun. I did accept his offer of a diet Coke, however. His professional manner couldn't hide the fact that he was gay.

Daddy had emailed me yesterday, explaining that my two counterparts would arrive on different flights.

I took the time to check my co-workers' profile pages on the company website so I would at least recognize them. Jasmine, a stunning African American beauty, had gorgeous facial features and a killer body. She had short hair, which reminded me of Halle Berry's style. Jasmine could comb it straight and use the tips to frame her lovely face, add some styling gel, and give herself a wilder animalistic appearance. Her skin was similar in color to Halle's. Jasmine's flight was arriving 45 minutes before mine.

Tiffany, who wasn't scheduled to arrive until mid-afternoon, would best be described as a voluptuous redhead, her curly locks extending halfway down her back. She lacked the milky pale complexion often seen in true redheads, which led me to believe red was not her natural color. Judging from her photo spread, I had to assume she, too, had augmentation surgery. Both Tiffany and Jasmine were at least ten years younger than me.

Daddy was still not at liberty to divulge the names of our client's guests, so I had to wait to see how connected these three gentlemen were.

The direct flight to Cancun takes over four hours, so I had ample time to email Daddy a report on my appointment with Mr. Sebastian and update my journal entries with details of our time together. After finishing, I closed my laptop and stowed it in the overhead compartment, then sat down and reclined my seat. The steady drone of the jet engines soon lulled me to sleep.

"We'll be landing in thirty minutes; please bring your seat upright and fasten your safety belt," my gay attendant whispered in my ear, waking me from a restful nap.

I looked out the cabin window and saw nothing but blue water below and a few puffy, white clouds off in the distance. The captain came over the public address system and explained that weather conditions were perfect, with mid-day highs in the eighties and humidity along the coast that seemed lower than at home. The forecast for the next six days didn't call for any rain.

I smiled, figuring that most of my day would be spent on the beach, and I looked forward to coming home Monday with a great holiday tan.

The screech of rubber-striking concrete and a bumpy ride replaced the extremely smooth flight and signaled my arrival in Cancun.

I began to feel excited because of what I anticipated would be a wonderful three days in paradise. As the plane taxied toward the terminal, a flight attendant walked down the aisle, offering warm towels to each passenger in their section. I declined, knowing a moist towel would do little more than smear my make-up.

The plane glided to a stop, and nearly every passenger began retrieving their carry-on luggage from the overhead storage compartments. I remained seated, waiting for the mad rush of people wanting to get their Caribbean vacations started to exit through the first class section.

As the last of them exited the plane, I stood up and pulled my single carry-on out of the storage compartment above my seat. I had two pieces of luggage to gather at baggage claim, so my small carry-on was slung over my shoulder, and I walked off the plane all by myself.

The terminals at Cancun International Airport were small compared to the major airports in the States. I learned that Terminal One was closed for remodeling, so it seemed rather crowded as I exited the walkway from the gate where the plane had stopped.

I scanned the hundreds of faces, looking for a familiar one that matched Jasmine's profile photos I'd seen the day before.

"Hey, girl!" a female voice said to my right.

I turned toward the voice and was greeted by a wide, brilliant white smile. I wouldn't have recognized Jasmine had I tripped over her; she wore a shabby-looking tee shirt, jeans with tears in the thighs, and an NYFD ball cap that hid most of her face. As she approached, I thought, "So much for looking classy while traveling."

Jasmine stretched her arms out and hugged me like we were long-lost friends, then moved back and asked, "Are you ready for an awesome weekend, Angel?"

I smiled, "Absolutely!"

As we walked down the long hallway toward the airport hub, Jasmine explained, "I've already claimed my luggage and had them stored at the shuttle stop for the Royal Cancun."

I wasn't all that keen on taking a shuttle bus to the hotel, but I figured I'd let her show me the way to baggage claim.

"Baggage claim is over this way,” she said, pointing toward the big sign.

I chuckled as we walked under the oversized sign, "Glad you got here first; I would have never found it."

There were two baggage carousels, each with a flashboard above showing what flight's baggage was being sent out. I didn't see my flight number, so I stood back a little, waiting for my bags to arrive. Most of the tourists who had rushed off the plane were standing around, too.

Jasmine made small talk, "Can you believe we're gonna spend three days at the Royal Cancun? It's just about the swankiest hotel in the entire Zone."

"Zone?" I questioned her.

She explained. "The Hotel Zone is a strip of land separated from downtown Cancun by the Nichupte Lagoon. Security in the Zone is very tight, ensuring that all the wealthy tourists are safe from the locals."

"And if you venture out of the Zone?" I asked.

"You're on your own, girl," Jasmine replied.

"That's good to know," I answered.

She grinned and continued, "Trust me, everything you could need is available in the Zone or from one of the hotel staff members."

I assumed the staff members provided any illegal stuff one might want.

I noticed one couple that had rushed off the plane moving toward the carousel and glanced up at the flash board to see that our flight number had popped up.

"It looks like my luggage has caught up with me," I remarked as I moved toward the stream of luggage headed down the conveyor. In a few minutes, I had my pull-along bag, which contained my essentials, but I had to wait another five minutes for my suitcase to slide by.

"How the hell do two bags get that far apart?" I quipped.

Jasmine giggled, "Some Mexican was probably sniffing your panties."

I checked to make sure the locks were secure on both bags.

"Follow me; Customs is over here," Jasmine suggested as she grabbed the handle of my pull-along bag.

The female Customs agent looked me over carefully but eventually rubber-stamped my passport.

"That was easy," I commented to Jasmine as we moved away from the Customs station.

She smiled, "I'll say they put me through the wringer a little while ago."

"Why?" I questioned her.

"I guess they thought I might be bringing contraband in with me; they picked through every square inch of my luggage, and I thought they were considering a strip search," she replied.

"Perhaps it had something to do with how you're dressed," I commented.

As we walked outside, I was struck by how humid it seemed. The temperature was very comfortable, but the humidity was oppressive.

"Whew, I didn't expect it to be so sticky," I remarked.

"We're close to the jungle now, but the ocean breeze makes it wonderful when you're near the shore," Jasmine explained.

"I can't wait to get there," I answered, walking with her toward a sign for the Royal Cancun shuttle.

An extremely handsome black man smiled widely as we approached, clearly recognizing Jasmine from her earlier visit to store her luggage. His eyes never moved off her as he spoke, his Jamaican accent giving away his true identity, "Are you ready?

I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed that the Royal Cancun's version of a shuttle was, in fact, a Hummer stretch limo.

"Ladies," after loading our luggage in the back and opening the door, the Jamaican said as he waved us inside.

It was cool inside the limo, and it seemed like the driver was a football field away. He gunned the engine and pulled out into the busy airport traffic.

"It takes about 30 minutes to get to the hotel. If you'd like a drink, please help yourselves," he remarked as he exited the airport and steered the stretch SUV onto what I assumed was a Mexican freeway.

Jasmine slid forward and opened the small cooler to see what drinks it contained, "Want a beer?" she asked.

I looked over her shoulder to see what else the cooler contained, then replied, "I'll have a Perrier."

"Girl, we're on a mini vacation, loosen up a little," Jasmine remarked.

I frowned a little at her, "Keep in mind that we are here to satisfy the needs of our client's guests," I remarked, reinforcing Daddy's wishes for me to keep my younger counterparts in line.

Jasmine replaced the beer she held with a Perrier and slid back into the black leather bench seat. I was sure she was thinking I was an old fuddy-duddy spoiling her vacation so soon after it began.

As we rode along, I looked out the front and could see the deep blue ocean in the distance. As the road curved left, we passed what looked like a water park on the right, and our limo skirted along the beach. I'd never seen whiter sand or, for that matter, a bluer ocean, and I couldn't wait to sink my toes into both.

Another few miles, we drove past the Bel Air Collection Hotel & Spa, the first resort in the Hotel Zone. From there on, we passed one resort after another, all looking like fabulous places to stay. A short time later, the strip of land we were traveling on widened, and to the left, I noticed a golf course, its green lawns better maintained than any I'd noticed back in the States.

We drove past the Hilton Cancun Golf and Spa Resort, which looked spectacular, then our view of the hotels and the beach was obscured by an expansive wooded area. As the trees thinned out our driver turned right, then right again driving into what looked more like a small city than a resort hotel.

The Royal Cancun was immense, its main building seven stories above the street. As our driver brought the Hummer to a stop, he announced, "Welcome to the Royal Cancun ladies."

Two male members of the staff approached as soon as the limo stopped, one assisting us from the seat while the other quickly collected our luggage from the back. Both men welcomed us to the Royal Cancun and hoped we would enjoy our stay.

Jasmine knew the routine as she walked toward the massive glass door to the lobby. She removed her ball cap and shook her hair as they slid open. It cascaded down her back, but she still looked a bit frazzled.

I caught up to her just as we approached the front desk, "Hi, I'm Maria. Welcome to the Royal Cancun."

I smiled and let Jasmine handle the details. "We're with the Johnston party," she announced.

"Let me check," Maria said as she typed the name into her computer.

Jasmine smiled at me, knowing Daddy would have booked the best of suites for his clients.

"Here it is," Maria looked up at us and then continued, "There must be some mistake. I have you booked for three Presidential Suites, all adjoining each other."

Jasmine grinned, "That's correct; four other guests will arrive at different times today."

"I understand," Maria responded and then asked. "You will be staying until Monday?"

"Yes," Jasmine answered.

"Very good, your accommodations were paid for in advance," Maria said.

I smiled and whispered under my breath, "Thanks, Daddy."

"The Penthouse level," Maria announced as she reached out to the two bellhops standing to our right, handing them each a key card.

"Right this way, ladies," one of them said as they headed toward the bank of elevators across the lobby. Jasmine and I followed the two men into the elevators, turning to face the doors as they slid closed.

"This is spectacular," I exclaimed as the elevator rose slowly to the seventh floor.

The car came to a stop, and the doors glided open.

"Oh, my God!" Jasmine and I exclaimed at the same time.

Across the hall from the elevator, a comprehensive picture window opened to a fantastic view of the blue waters of the Caribbean Ocean. I felt as though I could reach out and touch the horizon. Far below, the strip of pure white sand was polka-dotted with green beach umbrellas; the breaking waves made that part of the beach look slightly darker.

Jasmine lightly elbowed me in the side. "We should check the view from our suites," she remarked, knowing the two young bellhops stood behind us as we enjoyed the marvelous view.

"This way, ladies," one of them said as they headed toward our rooms.

The hall had a rich, almost maroon carpet that curved up on the wall, ending at a brass or at least brass-looking rail. Above the rail, the walls were decorated with expensive wallpaper with a tropical floral pattern. A polished brass carriage light marked the entrance at each door leading into a suite.

"Here we are, Miss," the bellhop carrying Jasmine's luggage mentioned as he slid the key card through the reader.

I followed the other bellhop to the next door.

"This is your suite, Ma'am," he remarked as he unlocked the door.

I smiled at him, wondering if he called me Ma'am because I looked much older than my companion or because I was dressed more like a Ma'am. Either way, I was too excited to care one iota about how he addressed me, but if the opportunity presented I'd ask him to call me by my name.

He pushed the door open and held it for me to slide by. I walked to the center of the suite, initially stunned at the sheer elegance of the appointments.

"Can I place your bags on the bed?" he asked, momentarily distracting me from my amazed state.

I smiled and walked back toward him, "Yes, that'll be fine," I commented as I opened my purse and retrieved a twenty to tip him.

He quickly placed my luggage on the bed and accepted my tip, "If you need anything during your stay, please call and request Simon," he remarked, accentuating anything in his statement.

"I certainly will, Simon," I answered, repeating his name so he knew I'd remember.

He smiled and turned to leave. Just before he pulled the door open, he turned and said, "Remember, if you need anything, just call me."

Again, his voice accentuated the word anything.

I smiled at him as he left me alone in the fabulous suite.

As soon as the door clicked closed, I almost raced across the room to the sliding glass doors that led out onto a fantastic balcony and afforded the same view I'd marveled at when we exited the elevator. Sliding the door open, I stepped onto the carpeted balcony and approached the wrought iron railing at the edge. I giggled to myself as I thought, "If you could see me now, Barry." Knowing my soon-to-be ex would have booked a much less expensive room floors below,

A gentle breeze softly teased my hair and made the hem of my dress flutter as its cooling effect flowed from the ocean surface far below. This place truly is a tropical paradise, I thought as I stood there thinking about the next three days. The fresh smell of salt water wafted into my nostrils, and as I inhaled the ocean air, my ears popped one last time, finally regaining equal pressure.

I walked back inside, leaving the balcony door open so the beautiful breeze could flow into the suite.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the largest king-size bed I'd ever seen. It was 2:15 PM. I'd have time to unpack my luggage and explore the Royal Cancun before Tiffany and our guests arrived later.

As I started to hang my clothing in the closet and arrange my other things in a dresser drawer, a light knock on the suite door interrupted me.

I opened the door, and Jasmine came bounding in. She wore a tiny white string bikini with an almost non-existent white cover-up. The beach robe did little more than satisfy the requirement that swimsuits be covered until you were on the beach or at the pool.

Jasmine had the perfect body for a tiny string bikini; only the very tips of her small A-cup tits were hidden by its white top. Her hips were probably a little wider than they should be, but that was partly due to the awesome ass she was blessed with. The bottom of the white bikini barely hid her pussy and totally exposed her ass, with the string almost invisible between her butt cheeks. Jasmine was five foot seven inches, but the fact that the skinny ties of her white bikini bottom rose high over her hips gave her legs the appearance of being longer than they actually were. A sparkling diamond stud adorned her belly button.

"Come on, girl, let's hit the beach!" she exclaimed as she turned to face me.

I smiled, knowing that if I did, my clothes wouldn't have time to hang free, and I'd be wearing a wrinkled cocktail dress for dinner later in the evening.

"I'm going to pass for now. I want to unpack and maybe explore the hotel a little until Tiff and our guests arrive," I replied.

"Are you kidding!" she exclaimed, then added, "This place is crawling with available young, rich bachelors, and I wanna get down there and check out some bodies.

I smiled, hoping I didn't have to remind her that our guests would expect our undivided attention and that she wouldn't have time for any young studs.

"Tell ya what, let's plan on meeting back here at four. Tiff should be checking in just about that time, and it might be a good idea for us to talk a little before the men arrive." I suggested.

Jasmine giggled, "Talk about what? We're just going to suck and fuck them anytime they want, right?"

I just smiled and replied, "Have a good time. I'll see you here at four."

She shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door, "Later, girl," she exclaimed as she walked out into the hall, her ass swinging from side to side.

I finished unpacking and then changed into a pair of white shorts and a dark blue cotton tank top, skipping a bra and letting my large breasts enjoy some freedom for a few hours.

As I rode the elevator down, I tweaked my nipples, giving my tank top an even sexier look.

The elevator slowed and stopped at the fourth floor. The doors slid open, and I was joined by a fat little Italian-looking man whose bald head was surrounded by close-cut gray hair. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that hung open in front and matching swim trunks that his belly protruded over.

"Hello, darlin'," he announced as he stepped in, standing far too close for my liking.

I graciously replied, "Hello, how are you today?"

He smiled, showing nicotine-stained teeth, and answered. "Looks like I'm doing much better," his lecherous stare focused squarely on my unencumbered tits and visibly erect nipples.

I moved as far away from him as the elevator car would allow, then reached out and pressed the button for floor two, wanting to get off before he had a chance to say something obnoxious and piss me off.

The car stopped, and I walked out, slipping between the doors as soon as I could fit through the widening opening.

"Hope to see those again," he remarked, an obvious Freudian slip of his disgusting mind.

I walked across the hall and scanned the beach from a much lower angle. It didn't appear all that crowded. I assumed the reason was that, at this time of day, the sun could give you a nasty burn in no time. Those guests enjoying the soft, fine white sand and cool ocean breeze mostly sat under the beach umbrellas enjoying a mid-afternoon cocktail or a cold Corona. A few sun worshipers were lounging about the marvelous swimming pools that separated the white sand from the resort

I spent the next hour or so familiarizing myself with the layout of the hotel. Walking around aimlessly, I found the spa, which looked very inviting, and several restaurants, each looking like it could earn five stars if reviewed by a dining critic.

The Royal Cancun is an adults-only resort, so there wasn't the usual laughter and scurrying about of children that you would find in most vacation resorts in the States. The entire atmosphere seemed very relaxed, and the other guests, most of whom were couples, took their time to enjoy every moment of their stay.

Three men returning from a round of golf walked toward me as I strolled through one of the open courtyards provided for mingling.

Three sets of eyes focused on my tits, and for a moment, I regretted my choice of a tank top and going braless. My large breasts with their erect nipples bounced as I walked and brought a smile to all their faces.

As we passed, I heard one whisper. "Whoa," After a step or two, I looked over my shoulder. Two of the men were walking forward, but the third had turned and stopped to watch me walk away. I smiled, knowing he was the ass man among them.

I had covered most of the resort and found myself in the main lobby. It was 3:45 PM, and I expected Tiffany to arrive fairly soon, so I decided to head back up to my suite and change for a relaxing evening while we waited for our client's guests to arrive.

The ocean breeze blew through the open balcony door, causing the sheer curtains to flutter softly. I grabbed a Perrier from the well-stocked refrigerator and walked back outside. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip in the west, and the hotel cast a shadow across the beach below. The ocean water seemed an even darker shade of blue as the shadow reached the breaking waves.

After taking a few sips of my Perrier, I decided to grab my laptop and see if Daddy had emailed me with any details about the three men we'd be escorting for the weekend. The Wi-Fi connection was instantaneous, and I smiled when I saw I had an email from Daddy with the subject line: "Welcome to Cancun."

I opened the email and began to read.

"Angel,

Now that you've arrived in Mexico, I can fill in some of the details that I wasn't at liberty to divulge earlier. Your guests are scheduled to arrive on a five-thirty flight from the States. Let me remind you that these guests are to be handled with kid gloves, a fact I know you already understand, but I want to make sure you relay my wishes to both Jasmine, and especially Tiffany."

I sat back, wondering why it was falling on me to keep my co-workers in line, but I assumed Daddy knew I was the woman for the job. I continued reading.

"While I told our client that the three of them could pick and choose which of you was to be their escort, I suggested a possible pairing with our client, keeping the unique talents of each of you in mind.

"Jasmine, I believe, would be best suited for Avery Scott. He is an attorney who worked closely with the client's campaign staff on legal issues. Mr. Scott will join the Senator Elect's staff as chief counsel once the oath of office is administered.

"I believe Tiffany would be perfect for James Hargrove, who previously served as media advisor to several prominent politicians and will serve that role for the Senator-Elect."

I leaned back in my chair, knowing the next paragraph would be about the man I would accompany for the weekend.

"Angel, I have saved the last and most important for you. Mitchell Freeman will be named as the Senator Elect's chief of staff. He has been CEO of several financial institutions and was a major, if not THE major, contributor to the campaign war chest of our next senator. Mr. Freeman is our ticket to ninety-nine other chiefs of staff in the Senate and hundreds in the House, so I cannot express, and I'm certain you understand how important it is that he enjoys his stay in Cancun. I don't have to remind you that this is a working weekend. I'm certain you understand that, but before your guests arrive, I want you to express that fact strongly to Jasmine and Tiffany and make them understand that I will not offer them this type of opportunity again if I receive any negative feedback on their conduct. Enjoy your stay, and I look forward to receiving your report upon your return.

"Daddy"

I clicked on reply and typed. "You can count on me, Daddy." Then I clicked send so Daddy would know that I read his email before the arrival of our guests.

After deleting several junk email messages and quickly reading one from my travel agent welcoming me to Cancun that looked like a form letter, I stood up and walked back inside, leaving the laptop turned on so I could review Daddy's email with the girls who I expected shortly.

It was 4:10 PM when I dialed Jasmine's room. The phone rang forever before she finally answered. "Hello."

"It's Angel. Have you seen Tiffany?" I asked.

"Nope," was her one-word reply.

"I just read an email from Daddy, and we'll need to get together soon to go over some details. Our guests will be arriving around six," I commented, knowing the drive from the airport takes about half an hour.

"I guess you could call the front desk to see if Tiff has checked in yet," Jasmine suggested, then added, "I'm gonna shower quickly and wash the sand from my private parts."

"Okay, why don't you come over here after you showered and finish getting ready?" I asked.

"I will. I'm dying to know who the three studs we're servicing are," Jasmine stated rather bluntly.

I dialed the number for the front desk. A friendly voice answered before the second ring, "Guest services, this is Consuela. How can I help you?" Her obvious Latino accent matched her name.

"Yes, Consuela, I'm wondering if any of the other members of the Johnston party have checked in since I arrived," I asked.

"Let me check," Consuela replied.

I waited for her to check the computer system.

"I see Ms. Comings arrived a few minutes ago. She is on her way to the Penthouse level as we speak," Consuela confirmed.

"That's excellent; thank you, Consuela," I answered, then hung up the phone.

I giggled to myself. Tiffany Comings, I wonder if she spells it with an "o" or "u."

I figured I would change into something a little more appropriate to greet our guests and then call them both so I could fill them in on the details Daddy had provided.

I picked a pale-yellow lacy bra, a cheeky panty set, and a flowery print sundress that buttoned up the front. Stripping out of my casual shorts and tank top, I dressed in my underwear, then went to work on my make-up and hair. The slightest of eye shadow and a hint of mascara to lengthen my lashes was all I felt was needed to greet Mitchell. I brushed my hair nearly straight, leaving a sexy wave over my forehead. I decided that other than the diamond ring on my finger, no other jewelry was necessary.

After completely buttoning the flowery print sundress, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. The sundress hugged my form snuggly, but not so much that my large tits pulled the buttons tight in the holes.

"A little too stuffy," I commented as I undid the top button, exposing a little flesh but not allowing my cleavage to be exposed.

I heard sounds from the next room signaling that Tiffany had arrived. Slipping on open-toe sandals, I grabbed my key card and headed for her room.

The bellhop was leaving as I stepped out of my suite. "Well, hello again, Simon," I said with a smile.

Simon returned my smile and, with his eyes slowly scanning down my shapely form, replied, "You look stunning, Ma'am."

As he approached, I stepped into his path. Placing my hands flat on his chest, I grinned, "The name's Angel," I remarked, having enough of that Ma'am bull shit.

"I'll keep that in mind, Angel," he replied as I removed my hands from his chest and stepped aside.

I stood sideways in the hall, and Simon turned to look over his shoulder at me, enjoying my look and nearly walking into Jasmine, who had also stepped from her room.

He excused himself and hurried down the hall, embarrassed at having made such a gaff.

Jasmine approached and giggled. "Setting up a little pro bono work for later?" she remarked.

I smiled as we walked toward Tiff's room and lied, "I don't do pro bono."

Jasmine knocked on the door, and in a moment, Tiffany opened it.

"Hey, girl," Jasmine exclaimed, greeting the third member of our pleasure team.

Tiffany smiled and, as we all walked into her room, answered, "What's up?"

Tiffany's profile photos didn't do her justice. She was more voluptuous in person, standing five feet ten inches in her stocking feet, with long, curly red hair. Tiffany's entire body had a rich, dark tan, which confirmed that she wasn't a natural redhead. Her very short denim mini skirt exposed her incredibly long legs. Tiffany's double D tits stretched an already tight-fitting blouse that was unbuttoned far enough to provide a view of the deep cleavage between her full breasts. I wondered if James was a tit man because she certainly had enough to satisfy even the strongest breast fetish.

"I'm Angel," I said while extending my hand to greet Tiffany since this was our first meeting.

"Nice to meet you, Angel," she replied, shaking my hand, then added, "You're the new girl at "EE," aren't you?"

"Yes, actually I am," I replied.

Tiffany looked me over, then asked in an almost distasteful tone. "And what's your specialty, mommy role play?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm the best cock sucker on the planet," I shot back.

"Oh really." She answered, then added. "Maybe we should have a cock sucking contest sometime this weekend. We'll see who can suck a guy off faster."

I smiled curtly at her and replied. "I didn't say I was the fastest; I said I was the best."

Tiffany doesn't like being shown up and instantly answered. "Honey, in this business, faster is better."

I chuckled, realizing Tiffany had the mental attitude of a common whore. "Gee, and all this time, I thought this business was about earning the best possible tip," I remarked.

Seeing that Tiff and I were entering a war of words, Jasmine chimed in. "Come on, girls, let's work together as a team this weekend, and maybe we can all earn a huge tip."

"I'm good with that girl," I said, smiling at Jasmine to thank her for nipping the battle of words in the bud.

"Whatever," Tiff answered.

I could tell that Tiff would be a problem, so instead of suggesting they return to my room to let me fill in the details about our guests, I'd get my laptop and bring it to her room.

Trying to be friendly, I said. "Tiffany, you still need to unpack; how about I grab my laptop and read Daddy's email to you both."

"Okay." She answered as she began to unzip her luggage.

When I returned with my computer, Tiff had almost finished her unpacking. She picked up the two smaller bags and turned them over above an open dresser drawer, its contents haphazardly drilling into the drawer.

"What an unorganized slut," I thought as she closed the bag and tossed it into the corner of the closet.

"Okay, our guests are on a five-thirty flight, so they will arrive around six," I began.

"Shit, I wanted to shampoo my hair before they got here," Tiffany remarked.

Jasmine replied, "You're not gonna have time for that."

I quickly reviewed the names and the positions each would hold in Senator Johnston's staff, then read Daddy's comment about the importance of this weekend's future opportunities. I left out the part where he directed me to keep these two in line. However, I gave them a pep talk about ensuring our guests enjoyed their weekend.

"How about we meet in my room a little before six? I'll call down to the desk and ask them to have the guys come to my room to meet and have a drink," I suggested.

"That works for me," Jasmine replied.

"Me too," Tiffany said, surprising me a little with her agreement of my idea.

"Great, see ya in a little while then," I said, smiling at them as I turned and headed back to my suite.

Once there, I closed my laptop and stored it away, knowing I wouldn't need it again before Monday, when I'd hopefully give Daddy an excellent report on our weekend.

I was becoming rather anxious about meeting Mitchell Freeman and the prospect of trying to keep Tiff and Jasmine focused on the task at hand. To calm down a little, I decided to have a drink. The Presidential Suites have fully stocked bars, so I cracked open a fresh bottle of gin and mixed a strong gin and tonic.

Stepping out into my favorite place, the ocean breeze was still blowing strong, and the hotel's shadow extended far into the water, giving it a tranquil appearance. Sitting down, I crossed my legs and tried to relax, sipping the cocktail and trying my best not to stress out over the weekend that was about to unfold.

From the balcony, I barely heard the light knock on the door, and a second louder knock sounded as I reached for the door lever. Tiffany was standing in the hall and looked stunning in a pair of tailored navy-blue slacks with a white V-neck knit sweater that accentuated her large breasts. The brilliant white sweater sharply contrasted with her dark tan. "Wow, you look fabulous," I remarked as she walked toward the bar. Her long, almost kinky red locks cascaded down her back and appeared to be slightly moist. She wore a very expensive-looking pair of diamond earrings and a matching pendant that sparkled just above her sumptuous, tanned cleavage.

"Thanks, Angel," she replied as she slipped up onto one of the stools.

"So, you decided to shampoo your hair after all?" I asked.

She smiled and ran her fingers through her hair, "I did, and I hope it's completely dry before someone's fingers run through it," Tiffany replied.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.

She smiled and answered, "I need one, I'm so fuckin stressed out."

I didn't ask why she was stressed, figuring if she wanted to expound, she'd do so in her own time.

"What would you like?" I asked, settling in behind the bar.

Tiff smiled, "I'd love a rum and Coke."

"Coming up," I replied as I searched the shelf for a bottle of rum.

Tiffany sighed as I poured a shot of Captain Morgan over ice, "Angel, I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier. My day so far has been nothing but one major pain in the ass, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry," she explained.

As I filled her drink to the top with Coke and slid it across the bar, I replied, "Hun, anytime you need to vent, I'm here for ya." I felt a little ashamed, having thought she was an unorganized slut earlier, and once again proved to myself that first impressions aren't always an accurate indicator of someone's personality.

She smiled, "Sorry about that crack about mommy role-play, too."

I giggled and leaned toward her, "Hey, whatever it takes to please the client, right?"

"Ain't it the truth?" Tiff replied, smiling widely at me.

I was glad she'd got there first, so we had a chance to iron out what I thought could become a real problem, and I felt that she and I would get along just fine for the rest of the weekend.

"Oh shit, I forgot to call down to the front desk!" I exclaimed.

Tiffany smiled, "They'll find us."

As I walked toward the phone, I replied, "Yeah, they would, but let's make it easy for them."

The same friendly female voice answered before the second ring. "Guest services, Consuela speaking, can I help you?"

"Hello, this is Angel in Room 762. Could you ask the last three members of our party to join us in my room when they arrive?" I asked.

"Of course, I'd be happy to," Consuela replied.

"Thank you so much," I said before hanging up the phone.

I returned to the bar and glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was 5:50 PM. "Wonder what's keeping Jasmine," I remarked.

"She'll be here," Tiff replied, then added. "She's probably snorting one last line of nose candy before the guys arrive."

I knew all too well what nose candy was and figured Jasmine had dashed off to the beach earlier to find some hotel staff member who could provide her with a supply of cocaine for the weekend.

"Is that gonna be a problem?" I asked.

"Never has before," Tiff responded.

I made a mental note to monitor Jasmine's drug use in hopes of preventing any problems.

Jasmine knocked on the door and, after I opened it, came bounding in wearing an ultra-short denim mini skirt and a matching vest with nothing underneath. As she slid up onto a bar stool facing me, she flashed the white thong between her dark thighs.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked, noticing a speck of white powder clinging to the edge of one nostril.

"Naw, I'm good," she replied, confirming Tiff's earlier assumption about nose candy.

Tiffany must have noticed the cocaine on her nose, too, because she rubbed her nose and said, "Ya missed a speck girl."

Jasmine giggled and rubbed her nose, wiping the residue away.

It was a little after six, and I decided just to let the issue rest since our guests would be arriving shortly, and I wanted us all to be in an upbeat mood when they did.

Tiffany turned toward us and said, "I sure hope these three aren't old, boring politicians. I just hate fucking old dudes, they all smell."

Before I could offer my opinion on what it takes to get where they're at politically, a soft knock on the door signaled their arrival.