Desperate Times? Call Desperate Measures.

[gldenwetgoose 20,251]

[A fictional editorial article for one of those glossy in flight magazines…  various pee kink themes.  Obviously as a public magazine article, written in a tame way...   which may work or not.]

 

 

Sitting in the reception area, this mid-city Santa Monica office I could have been in any company, in any city around the world. In front of me all the trappings of everyday business life, the filing cabinets, the computer, the efficient secretary answering calls and taking client bookings gave little clue about the nature of this particular company.

Yet in the usually sordid world of professional  services this very office had gained a platinum reputation and had recently been awarded the much coveted Golden Taurus, the adult industry equivalent of an Academy Award for its services. My host, company founder and president, Jenny Rosenburgh opened up by explaining the history and the raison d’être of her empire.

First of all I was keen to understand what actual services this company could provide to set it so far apart.  Jenny explained her role as an agency matching up freelance service providers to particular clients, then went on to list some of the range of services currently on her books. I was expecting to hear all about the seedy LA underworld of exotic artistes, adult clubs, escorts and the like. What she told me though seemed a world away, just an everyday respectable agency supplying catering staff, household service staff, au pairs, pool and landscape maintenance, personal sports coaches, in a few cases personal nurses and all the other essentials to the well heeled of Bel Air.

Jenny smiled at my obvious confusion and explained where it had all started. She’d trained as a physio and masseur. One day a therapist friend - and of course in LA everyone has a therapist friend do they not - had asked if she would help out a client. He was an elderly gentleman who’d lost his wife and all his sparkle.  One time Jenny was running late, bursting to pee and she’d squirmed and battled her way through the session. The next couple of weeks were like working with different client.

Jenny’s explained the concept of Uralgnia, the tendency to derive sexual satisfaction from urination or the need to urinate.  Not only had Jenny found the key to restoring her client’s zest for life, it also became apparent that he was prepared to reward her generously for her discomfort. Jenny told me how not long after she’d been at dinner with a group of friends and had been discussing the situation.  Discretely of course. No names or details mentioned.  But what she had realised was that her gentleman was by no means an isolated case. And that is where the acorn began to grow, transforming into the mighty oak that is now Desperate Measures Incorporated.

Now I began to understand, or at least I thought I did.  Jenny went on to explain that first and foremost her staff are exactly what they are employed to be.  So a sports coach has to have the correct qualifications, just as a chef has to have been trained in the appropriate standard of kitchen. The willingness to participate in their employers’ fetish is a secondary necessity.  My host was very firm that her staff are not escorts or playthings, but professional staff.  Despite the sexual nature, rigid boundaries apply.

I was beginning to see how Jenny had created the perfect business on so many levels. She was very clear that most of her clients cannot be publicly named - industrialists, society figures, politicians, even the odd senator. None of them figures who could enter an adult entertainment establishment.  Figures whose tax returns are subject to public scrutiny - but who would question them employing a maid or their wife contracting in a gardener.  The perfect subterfuge.

 

Two days later and I found myself in the passenger seat of Jenny’s convertible, winding through the foothills, before eventually reaching a gated residence.  I wasn’t quite sure what to expect - Jenny had promised me an exclusive insight from one of her more open clients.  Once inside we drove up to what can only be described as a mansion. Parking at the rear, Jenny took me in and introduced me to her staff on placement there. Then Jenny excused herself promising to collect me later and left me under the wing of Shelley, the head housekeeper.

My first impression was just how normal everything was - everything I imagined of service life for the privileged. Half of me had expected scantily clad girls but no, the staff uniform was quite demure, just a smart figure hugging black skirt and white blouse.  Shelley gave me an oversized mug of coffee and we talked about the role a little. She was also one of Jenny’s team and had been serving at the house for eight years, declaring it to be the best role she’d ever had.  Just like every service job it was hard work, but her employer was particularly kind.

Then I asked about the elephant in the room, her employer’s unusual ‘interest’. To her credit, Shelley was very careful in what she said about her employer. It was a requisite that staff would be well hydrated at all times. Using the example of dinner service, Shelley explained that a team of three staff would be present, more if there were guests. The waitresses would stand discretely during the whole service, clearing, serving, topping up glasses and so on. All the while they would be trying to maintain their professionalism despite full bladders. A fine balance between hidden and obvious desperation.

I’d done my share of bar work as a sophomore and could relate to the long shifts being too busy to go to the restroom, then the desperate wrenching down of jeans and finally explosive relief. I’d never considered it a form of entertainment though. I was just getting my thoughts around the concept when Shelley interrupted and declared it was time to serve afternoon tea.

Before I knew it, somehow I found myself wearing a borrowed black skirt.  Fortunately the white blouse I’d worn and patent shoes worked well with it, good enough to fit in with the other waitress Eleanor.  So as I stood at the side of the summer room alongside the young blonde haired girl, I realised the other way in which I was fitting in was that the coffee I’d had earlier was rapidly making its presence known.  I found myself mirroring the subtle actions of the girl in slowly shifting my balance from one foot to the other and clenching thighs together.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, afternoon tea was finished and my host, let’s call him Mr. H invited me to go for a stroll in the gardens.  I’m pretty sure he know how much my bladder was screaming, but at the same time he was quite the gentleman.  He was genuinely interested to know what I thought of his ‘unusual interest’.  To be fair, if you’d asked me a few days ago I’d have thought ‘Russian hookers and sex tapes’, now it didn't seem too much different to a widow having a young trophy boyfriend.

There were three questions left in my mind though and I posed these to my host. The first one was about how well his wife tolerated his interest. He initially just smiled and didn’t answer, but instead as we walked around a large hedge it was obvious his wife had her own way of enjoying the moment. It seemed the gardener was equally willing to provide his services, in this instance allowing Mrs H to take him ‘in hand’ and direct a golden stream into the hedge in front of them.  It was nice to realise that the service Desperate Measures provided catered equally for the ladies of the City of Angels just as much as the guys.

My second question was at that stage very close to home.  How did Mr H feel about humiliating the staff in this way?  Certainly humiliation was at the front of my mind, I really didn’t want to wet myself but it was now a real possibility.  Again Mr. H just smiled and then explained that he paid a flat rate to Desperate Measures, but each time staff went over and above their basic responsibilities they were handsomely rewarded.  The concept wasn’t so much that staff were being humiliated but actually they held the power rather than him, their power being the ability to influence a powerful man in such a way.

And my final question - please could I relieve my long overdue aching bladder. Without going into graphic details, it wasn’t in any of the mansion’s porcelain restroom as I’d hoped, but was instead an experience which brought back happy summer memories of hiking in the mountains.  Only back then I didn’t have a Mr. H watching and smiling.

Somehow I understood at that moment exactly just how empowering it was.  Now I wonder if Desperate Measures have any clients looking for a freelance writer?

 

Diane Mills is a freelance, writing mostly for the travel sector. 

[Alfresco 11,002]

Sounds like a plausible business model.  When are you planning to set it up?

[Kupar 12,419]

A very clever and creative and - yes - arousing story 🙂 Thank you!

[daemoniak 586]

On 8/12/2021 at 11:22 PM, Alfresco said:

Sounds like a plausible business model.  When are you planning to set it up?

It is.

The best part is that public scrutiny probably means that the business name is revealed, but if the agency is only a "matching" one, its name doesn't figure on the housestaff bills!

[gldenwetgoose 20,251]

1 minute ago, daemoniak said:

It is.

The best part is that public scrutiny probably means that the business name is revealed, but if the agency is only a "matching" one, its name doesn't figure on the housestaff bills!

I was in two minds whether a journalist would reveal the business name, and was also in two minds whether it'd be too obvious weaving in the corporate tag line "Desperate times? Call for Desperate Measures".

[daemoniak 586]

5 minutes ago, gldenwetgoose said:

I was in two minds whether a journalist would reveal the business name, and was also in two minds whether it'd be too obvious weaving in the corporate tag line "Desperate times? Call for Desperate Measures".

Oh yes, the matching agency name is a bit obvious. And if it became known to provide this kind of service, any employer would be outing themselves if others caught wind they were using the agency...

... but any employer can easily use their own private money, not subject to any scrutiny, to pay the agency matching fee, and then let the tax payer foot the maid's or gardener's bill which is paid to a separate (normal) company!

[Adyguy6970 813]

Sounds like an excellent business model.  It's just a pity that the company is fictitious. 

[wannawatchuwiggle 125]

Wow! Loved the story, as well as the excellent sales pitch! Now, where do I sign up? 😉

[wannawatchuwiggle 125]

8 minutes ago, wannawatchuwiggle said:

Wow! Loved the story, as well as the excellent sales pitch! Now, where do I sign up? 😉

But seriously - and I don't mean to hijack your thread her so ill keep it short-why aren't there m o r  e omo fetish parties around? 

Anyone? 

[gldenwetgoose 20,251]

When I wrote it, I had in mind that if you look on say Trustpilot at massage parlours, people are very open in reviews about those that will provide a ‘happy ending’.  That sowed the seed of thought about seemingly legitimate business provided a service - so yes, very good question. 

[Kupar 12,419]

Slightly off topic, but there are many naked cleaner services these days, catering I think mostly for voyeurs but who knows what else.