As a licensed Master Esthetician working inside the beltway of Washington D C, I'm exposed (no pun intended) to some sensitive information. D C is one of only four states to require me to be licensed to perform my craft. In laymen language, I remove hair using regular and irregular methods. I remove it from visible as well as hidden areas.

My clients often ask if I get stimulated removing hair from sensitive areas like the genitalia. The first to ask that was actually a Senator's Aid. He was young, fit, and staring at my crotch. I thought I was prepared for such a question but my boner was so obvious, my lie was just a joke. When he ran his hand up my leg, I stopped it short of the Y. I told him about the rules. He left a tip, a business card to a club and instruction about how to dress and be prepared to pay the $20 cover charge in the tunnel leading to the club.

I went there. It was in the industrial district. It looked like a factory or a large warehouse. There were hundreds of cars and people hanging on the outside. No one paid much attention to me dressed in old jeans and a plane t-shirt. A few yards from the open door leading into the club, a guy stuck his hand out with a ticket in it. I handed him the $20. The ticket was redeemable at the bar. It was a sizable bar with no seating. Several where leaning on the bar with drinks near. The dark dance floor had colored lighting from above. The music was moderately loud. There were several tables around the large dance floor. There were other tables and booths further away with almost no lighting. I found a small table empty, sat and sipped my Bloody Mary. The place had hundreds, I'd guess. Clearly catering to a gay crowd. I spotted the restrooms. I had to see this. I was surprised at how clean and free of graffiti the men's room was. Although there were four shoes viable under the raised partition of the stall, pointed toward the back of the first booth.

I'd seen what I wanted. I didn't know anyone so I decided to leave. I was met outside the door and asked if I was looking for someone or maybe, anyone? I offered something polite, I think, before leaving.

A month later, the Aid was back. He asked if I checked the club out. He wanted to know if I was married or partnered or whatever. I told him I didn't do personal information exchanges. He talked about his wife and how he wanted her to come see me. I offered to make an appointment, he accepted. The month passed and he surprised me by coming with her. I tried to get him to stay outside while I worked with her. She insisted he be present. She was actually afraid to be in the room with just me. I allowed it because it was her insisting. It can be painful especially for people who are embarrassed exposing themselves. I've heard stories about women having anxiety over seeing their gynecologist. We proceeded. Suddenly, she was moaning; I couldn't tell if it was from pain or stimulation. Before I even noticed, she had his dick in her mouth. Well, she had some of his dick in her mouth. I stopped. I made it clear they were out of line. I left the room. They did not come out for quite some time. I was upset. She laid 5-hundred-dollar bills on the counter and told her husband to pay for the treatment. She walked away.

He paid. I said, "She's not your wife, is she?" He shook his head. "Don't pull a stunt like that again here."

He asked, "Do you make house calls?"

"My web site offers that service; you probably already knew that."

He nodded and booked an appointment for two weeks out. He said, "It is for her. Her real husband will be there. She wants to find a way to get him stimulated enough to do something, anything, different. They have scheduled sex, once a week and she has to be ready for penetration as soon as he walks in. She loves him. She probably loves being his wife more because he is important here."

She came to see me two days before the home appointment. She talked me into an act for her husband's benefit. He would be tied to a chair a few minutes before the appointment. I was to arrive exactly on time. She would be seductively attired. She would toss on a robe to answer the door. I would come in upset about her forgetting our appointment. She would relent but make me wait while she positioned a screen to hide him. She'd make him promise to be quiet while I performed my professional duties. There would be a mirror where he could see some of what was going on. I would fuck a fuck doll and he would see enough of me to watch my actions at the waist. The doll had a painted tattoo to match hers. She would record him watching.

If it was worth $10, 000 for her and I wasn't actually fucking a client, I agreed. It went just as she said until he kicked over the partition and yelled at me. The shocker was what he yelled. "Give me some of that dick before you waste it on the bitch." She was behind him and made the praying gesture with her hands and mouthed the word please. I walked to him; he leaned and sucked me off so quickly I was surprised. He couldn't hold me cause his hands were tied to the chair. He did drive my dick down his throat before and after I unloaded. She did not make her presence known. As I turned to get dressed, he could see the fuck-doll wasn't her. He started crying. I said, "Sorry but I have to go. I have another appointment. Thank you for the blow. Have a nice day."

His aid told me he confessed to him and his wife. She made him watch while the aid fucked her for 15 minutes before pulling out and feeding it to him. She told him she had it all on digital. Their marriage would be much better now. He would be allowed to have men in the house and she would get fucked as needed too. He admitted, watching her get fucked was the biggest turn on he'd ever had. He also admitted it was watching the Dick not her that got him salivating. She, and the aid got me to service them at my apartment. It was fun for all; It was a bit more fun for me cause I got paid; I couldn't bring myself to tell them, pay wasn't necessary.