I worked really hard to earn my tuition for school when I worked on my Ph.D. in Physics. I was a 'peep show hostess,' and, while only working three days per week for about six hours per day, I earned enough per week, inside a booth, to live a comfortable grad student's life.
For $45 for 20 minutes, a gentleman would enter my booth from the outside, get himself comfortable in the easy chair in front of my glass and watch me work. Usually, the gentlemen who came to visit me were wealthy and influential captains of industry.
We would converse genially for a moment or two. The gentleman would tell me what he liked to watch sexually, if he could actually wait that long before beginning to pleasure himself, and I would advise him if any of his pleasures cost extra. I had an arsenal of vibrators, dildos, ben-wa balls, vibrating eggs, feathers, whips, chains, whipped cream, guacamole, cucumbers, and other treats to keep a 20-minute man happy for 60 minutes or longer.
My favorite guests were the first-timers because I could get off with little effort, and I usually didn't have to do anything freaky. The best newcomers entered my booth and removed their lower garments to reveal raging erections even before we got started. They could barely keep their hands off themselves as they unfolded the clean cool white sheets across the recliner. As they sat, they stroked or fondled themselves quickly, almost furtively. Some even moaned.
Me: Hi, there.
Me: Your first time?
Him (Ideally): Yes.
Me: Tell me what you like.
Him: I like to watch. [First strokes; he can no longer resist touching himself. I comply by fingering myself in the same desperate manner. I always moan, lick my two fingers wet, stroke my clitoris, stick those two fingers deep into my vagina, rock my hips pleasurably, remove my fingers, smell them, lick at them or let them outline my lips, and then caress my nipples. I am sure to moan and move my hips occasionally. After coating the nipples with my essence, I lick my nipples. The first-timer hardly talks to me after this display.]
Me: What do you like to watch?
Him: I like to watch you play with your pussy. [He always moans, sits back in the chair, jacks himself off fiercely, arching his hips, thrusting, trying not to close his eyes. Still trying to look casual and conversational, he jacks off even harder, his hips lifting off the chair as he pleasures himself, furious with himself for not being able to stop, too far gone to desist. I grab a vibrator or a Venus butterfly or a vibrating dildo. I stroke it against me or remote control it, or ride it (this one drives a first-timer straight to profanity - filled orgasms). No matter how much I fake some of my sounds early in the session, my orgasms are always timed to match my guests' climaxes, and my orgasms are always real.
Me [moaning and gasping]: you didn't ever tell me exactly what you like.
Him [grunting and stuttering, red-faced, nearly incoherent with lust]: I-like-what-you-are doing-right-now.
[And he climaxes - hard - barely turning toward the cum spittoon in time to keep from making a royal mess on the floor.]
Now that I am a high ranking executive, I still find myself taking an occasional day off to return to the Royal Cum Palace, as we quietly call it, to immerse myself in the glorious rhythms of impending and ever-present orgasms.