Naked Montreal: Excerpt 3

This is an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, Naked Montreal. New 500-word excerpts are posted every Monday, so be sure to subscribe to avoid missing a thing!

Need to catch up? Here’s Excerpt 1. And Excerpt 2.

Bienvenue / Welcome (cont.)

So let’s not beat around this bush any longer, darling. We both know why we’re here. You enjoy the company of a beautiful, charming, sophisticated woman. I enjoy the money that men like you can supply. I’ll show you the charming old-world sights in my Paris of North America, and then I’ll show you exactly why Montreal is known as the Sin City of the North.

"Montreal" (photo by Flickr user francki.photo)

Montreal” (photo by Flickr user francki.photo)

We have a million and one reasons. Have you time enough to experience them all? Perhaps you should extend your stay. Double your pleasure. I’ll call a few friends. Maybe you’d like a little ménage à trois? A little more plotte in your plot?

Top you up, sir?” the waitress intrudes.

He’s not thirsty,” I say, waving her off. She’s waiting on an order. So am I.

Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Two-hundred an hour, minimum 3 hours, plus extra for every kink you’d like to indulge. I’ll have someone spend the night with you for a thousand, but I’m sorry, it will not be me. Not unless you are terribly charming, attractive, and lucky. I’m just The Fixer, mon ami. You understand?

Whatever you need, or merely want, I can get. Whether that’s a strawberry daiquiri or a strawberry blonde, I’m the girl who can find what you’re looking for, when it comes to all things sexy, dirty, or downright strange. That’s what you pay me for, after all.

I’m not your average, ordinary tour guide in a button-down blouse and no-nonsense pumps. Maybe it’s the stiletto heels that helps you to this realization, or perhaps the leather pants? Maybe it’s just my French accent (which I generally fake, being a dirty Anglophone), or the way you’ve been wondering what might happen if I let my hair down from its careful coif? There are plenty of subtle clues. Some are even less subtle, like my business card, which reads “Sexy Tourism for Canada’s Fetish Capital,” and features a splendidly naked posterior, tightly bound by black fishnet stockings. People always assume the buttocks are mine, but in actuality they belongs to a friend – an infamous stripper by the name of Velma Candyass. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?

Yes, you can meet her if you like. No, she won’t sleep with you, but she can make you feel like a million bucks in a variety of other ways, if you’re interested.

So now that you’ve discovered my true calling, here’s the menu, complete with rates for every imaginable perversion – a check box for all of your favorite kinks. It’s just like sushi. Funny how the Japanese have everything all figured out when it comes to business.

Here are some of the options from my Menu du Jour that won’t land me in jail:

  • Sin City Tour (available during daylight hours only, in 3-hour slots)
  • Karaoke, Chez Mado (be forewarned: Mado is a fabulous drag queen)
  • Naughty Secretary’s Club (ladies-only vibrator shopping @ Joy Toys; does not include purchases at the boutique)
  • Boudoir/Fetish Photography with Ms. Andrea Hausmann (be forewarned: Ms. Hausmann does not suffer fools and will not be posing with you, so bring a friend)
  • Sushi served fresh off a gorgeous nude of your choice (please specify desired hair/eye color and/or race in advance – 24-hour notice required)

Just a taste, you understand. A girl can’t give all her trade secrets away…

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