Girls For Hire

There are hookers here in Las Vegas. I guess "Sin City" is quite an appropriate title here. They are not your stereotypical hookers with patent leather booty shorts and vagina-high stiletto boots. That's what I assume most hookers wear while "on the job". These are more "escorts" than hookers. But you still pay them to make it look like you could actually score a date with one of them so call it what you will.

We have witnessed all sorts of these hoochies around town. At the pool one day there was a pair of them. They were sisters, as we couldn't help overhear their conversation since they were drinking Bud Light and smoking a joint poolside. Yeah, that's right some HOOCH for the hoochies. The bigger of the two sisters (gut-o-fricking-rama) had her man with her but kept screaming at him "Heeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy!!" in her three packs-a-day of Marlboro Reds voice. This dude was maybe 65 and had dyed reddish hair. My guess when you are old and decide to choose this color is that you used to be obsessed with Ronald McDonald or Bozo the Clown. When her paid time at the pool was up she was screaming that he was "a mother fucking faggot" for wanting her to fly home. Such a mouth on the classy lady. She started splashing Sultan as he was lying on his raft to catch a raging tan. (I am now married to a black man. My husband gets DARK without even trying.) She grunted, "Ooohh, you LIKE it, don't you? You WANT to get wet!" Then the crazy hag flipped his raft. Not a good way to score some dick by hitting on a married man, being totally out of shape, and sounding like a cursing she-man with a voice box. This chick begrudgingly left with her trick (eeww) and her sister trolled the pool for men. We saw the same chick the next day with a guy Sultan claimed was her Last Night Man but she agreed to hang with him so he could get her into this sick pool party, called Ditch Fridays at the Palms. This crazy bitch dumped his black ass as before he lit up his stank-ass cigar in the pool. Dude was wearing Mardi Gras beads like he had flashed HIS titties on Bourbon Street. He was craning his neck around getting whiplash looking for his whore but she was too busy looking for her next trick at the bar. Sucker.

The classiest, if you can even consider their profession classy in the least, was a trio of skanks at this bar called Blush at the Wynn Hotel. They had dresses that were so short you could see their butt cheek tan lines from the tanning salon. And they weren't wearing any panties, airing out their lady business like a fresh fish market seaside. Good Catholic girls I'm guessing. The dude they were with was the creepiest of pervs you have ever seen. He wore this crazy white linen outfit, short sleeved, that almost looked like a crazy dental fetish costume. He had expensive shoes on so I'm guessing it's some ass-clown over-priced designer from Neiman's or some shit. This freakshow had an eensy, weensy little Hitler mustache. Really? That look has clearly made you object of many unpaid women's attention over the years so why not keep it going? He was taking pictures of the trio's panty-less poon bonanza as they straddled each other on the couch. I think those of us who witnessed this display puked a little bit in our mouths when Merv the Perv began to gyrate slowly with his favorite hoochie. Why is it all old men have no rhythm? Seriously, I don't know if he was shaking the medically induced boner down from te see-through glare of his crisp white linen scrubs or he was just a douche. Probably both. This dude was insanely jealous of Sultan. Our little posse consisted of him and 5 female dance instructors. Sure, we all happened to be wearing panties but we were all hotter, more flexible, had sexier dance moves, and didn't have a raging case of the clap. We worked the room like it was our fucking runway. People were crowding with us to dance because we were fun and classy, not trashy. No matter how expensive your shoes, how much many you get paid to be an escort, or how great you think you look in your vagina-high Versace dress, you can't buy class, sweetheart. Sucking dick for money makes you cheap and trashy, not cosmopolitan and classy. Price check on shaved beaver, aisle 6!!!