Field Report on Sonja
Brothel: Dovetail Ranch
Reporter: Rand McNally
Date Received: February 24,
2012
Date of
Party: February 22, 2012
“I’m
sorry,” I told Sonja. “I’m babbling. But you’re so much more than I
expected.”
Sonja and I were sitting on the couch in the
Dovetail bar. Despite our only having met minutes previously, she had
casually put her foot between my legs. I figured this was because she
shared my arousal at meeting another SIN correspondent who knew the
difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re.’
“I
knew you were gorgeous,” I said nervously. “But you’re so, well, so
girly. Not that I didn’t think you weren’t girly. Hell, I’m babbling
again.”Sonja just smiled and pressed her foot into my groin. It was at
this point that I noticed Sonja’s short dress had ridden up to her
hips and that she was wearing nothing underneath.
Despite these
distractions we enjoyed an extended conversation, including anecdotes
of her adult film work, which verified my suspicion that actors have a
hard time keeping from laughing when working on a production titled “
A Woman’s Asshole Needs Attention, Too.” Sonja also shared an amusing
tale about her prostitution debut at Bella’s, where, assuming that in
a brothel nudity was the norm, she strolled into the bar to turn in
the money from her first booking completely naked.
At length,
we adjourned to her bedroom where we quickly agreed on a price I found
commensurate with going rates at Elko County houses. Sonja prefers not
to negotiate for time, but she was extremely generous with the time
she spent with me both before and after our intimacy, as well as post
coital cuddle time, a rarity in an industry where the norm is, “get
‘em off and get ‘em out.” And when considering total cost, one has to
factor in the business with no panties and the foot in my crotch.
Sonja
looks exactly like her pictures, which abound; on the Dovetail
website, her own website, and are liberally sprinkled through her SIN
board posts. All of her anatomy is original factory equipment, and is
in excellent working order. Trust me on this—I checked. As she
undressed--a perfunctory process, since she hadn’t bothered with
panties--my only disappointment was that since she’s possibly the most
nekkid woman on the SIN board, seeing her in the altogether for the
first time was pretty much déjà vu—or perhaps déjà view. Her only
hardware is earrings; her only tattoo a miniscule design on her right
hip. Speaking of hips, I should add that Sonja’s derriere was sculpted
in heaven. The only surprise was psychological. Sonja’s larger than
life internet presence had led me to imagine her as a tall woman, but
she’s a few inches shorter than my average height. She describes
herself as only a moderate drinker. Smoking wasn’t a problem for
us—since it was our first time together we took things slow.
Sonja
is one of those treasures who is old enough to be in the full bloom of
her sexuality, but having only turned out a year ago, she still does
her customers as if they were boyfriends. At least that’s how she did
me. Afterwards, she snuggled against me and whispered sweet nothings
in my ear. As a writer, Sonja’s command of sweet nothings equals her
physical command of sweet somethings. She’s the only provider who ever
made this quintessential cheapskate think about extending the party
just to prolong the cuddle time. In the end my parsimony overcame my
prurience—but as Wellington said about Waterloo, it was a damn close
run thing.
Something delightfully spooky occurred during our
tryst—on occasion Sonja seemed to intuit what turned me on, moving her
body into this or that intimate position, and murmuring this or that
salacious phrase without being cued. When I mentioned this afterwrds
she smiled and said, ‘chemistry.’ Personally I think it was
witchcraft, but I’m not complaining.
Sonja mentioned that
she’s at a point in her life where her finances allow her to pick and
choose her pay-for-playmates. I’m flattered that I made her list—and
she’s certainly on my list of ladies I gotta see again.