A Conversation About A Hooker…

As the Easter weekend approaches, I am reminded of family and friends…one in particular: a one Mr. Kevin R.

  • 48
  • Currently single and unattached
  • Married once
  • Divorced twice
  • Commercial Real Estate Broker
  • Successful
  • Handsome…if you squint

    Every year, he and several friends go to Las Vegas for a little drunken pre-Easter falderal. But a personal matter is keeping Kevin home this year, so I thought I’d revisit a post I wrote a year ago which focused on his action-packed trip to Sin City.

    Resubmitted for your approval.

    April 8, 2007

    I woke up early Easter morning. I’d gone out with my friend, Martha the afternoon before–and all that that implies. Bacchus punishes me when I imbibe. I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is, but when you throw demon alcohol into the mix, that means I’ll be up for days. I may sleep for an hour or two, but that’s it. I’m lucky in that I get to be awake and alert so I can “feel” the hangover as it sets in and stays and stays…….and stays. It eventually relinquishes its death grip on my body, but ONLY after several hours of misery.

    I may have caught an hour or two of slumber, so when my two bloodshot baby browns crack open, the TV is on and so was this show called “Something Montana” show…or whatever it’s called, featuring the entire Family Cyrus and by Cyrus, I mean THAT Cyrus.

    As in Achy Breaky Billy Ray Cyrus. Never liked the song or the man who warbled it. And that pedestrian mullet hair cut he used to sport? Awful.

    This show was worse.

    At first, I couldn’t figure out its target audience…children or the mentally challenged? Then, I realized that Hannah had the best lines, so kiddie show it is. I guess a program like this might have appealed to The Laurie in my days as a “pre-tittied, female sapling”. But here and now in 2007, it was horrible and yet oddly, mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Like a train wreck.

    Billy Ray was making all these weird faces and over gesturing like one of the Barrymore’s on acid. His wife–I think–was in on the action, too. His daughter? Hannah Molly….Lydia Wyoming? Whatever the hell her real name is doesn’t matter. She should legally change it to “Irritating”.

    I know this is a kid’s show, but even for that genre, its bad. I know it’s wildly popular with the training bra set—the tweens, as it were, but I don’t get it. It’s horrible. I haven’t seen acting this bad since the Iran Contra hearings.

    Then, my phone rings.

    Oh joy! I’m gripped with sarcasm. It’s my friend Kevin who just got back from his annual guy’s trip to Las Vegas–they go every April.

    At least the call is saving me from the evils of all things Cyrus.

    I’ve known Kevin for years. Not only is he one of my straight male friends, he’s in the real estate game here in Houston and considering how insanely crazy fast this city continues to grow, he does very well for himself. He and three of his male friends go to Vegas each year to get drunk, disorderly and invariably, infected with something.

    Good old penis-brained Kevin! Cute, but naive and shallow and not the sharpest fork in the cutlery drawer. It was only recently that he learned that “chlamydia” IS NOT an obscure African country from which Angelina and Brad keep adopting babies.

    He called this morning to brag about this year’s trip. They’d taken the early morning flight back to Houston in order to celebrate Easter with their families. He was excited and wanted to tell me all about the now all-too-familiar crotch conquest he’d bought and paid for.

    I laid back down on my pillow, preparing for the 36 eye rolls I’d undoubtedly do during the course of our conversation. I then pretended to be interested.

    This year, Kevin and the boys stayed at the Palm. There, they gambled and drank and drank and gambled. He regaled me with stories about having won and lost close to a grand and then he also told me about a date with his favorite Las Vegas call girl.

    Kevin has been sampling Tasha’s sexual favors for the past three visits to Vegas, but can I be honest here? I have never understood the appeal of the standard issue Whore/John relationship. I guess its a guy thing. Kevin feels that there’s something lurid and nasty and forbidden about paying for sex with a hot, lusty virtual stranger.

    “So, tell me all about Tasha. How is she doing?”, I ask.

    “How is she doing? No Laurie, that’s WHO was she doing and that was me”.

    I brace myself.

    “She was great. Hot as always and she looked incredible. First class all the way. She cut her hair, I think. But we SURE as hell didn’t talk about that!”

    With all the enthusiasm of an ass cheek I say, “Tell me all about it, Lothario”.

    “Well, she came to the hotel and we never left the room. Three hours of sexual bliss. I gotta tell you something, Kendrick—I’ve been laid before but never like this!”.

    “How so?” Up to eye roll #25…already.     Wow….a record!!!

    “She’s a pro. She knows what to do and when to do it and sometimes, when not to do it. That takes skill. Sometimes the hotness is in the omission of sex, ya know?”

    No, I don’t know.

    He continued, “And she does what she does with me and only me in mind. None of that pesky emotion comes into play”.

    “Really? What exactly comes into play, then?”

    “Me, like Mount Vesuvius, dude!!”

    I’m repulsed by the visual—–and the fact that he referred to me, a woman in her 40’s, as “dude”. There goes eye roll #26.

    Kevin went on to say, “And when it’s over, I pay for her services, she takes the dough and we say goodbye. She splits and I have enough white hot memories to last one more year”.

    “Gee, I don’t know, Kev–the whole concept of “pay-per-hump” just doesn’t do anything for me. It obviously holds an erotic appeal for you, but I just don’t get it. You mean to tell me that it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s having sex with you because you’re paying her to?”

    “Well, maybe in the beginning. But it didn’t take long for me to get over that. Sex is sex, even the kind with a price tag. This woman is such a babe and I pay her to make me her sole focus, man! Who wouldn’t dig that? Seeing her is the highlight of going to Vegas. But…but I guess there is one thing that bothered me a little this trip”.

    “Oh yeah? What was that?”

    “Well, Tasha raised her prices on a few things she does. Her blow jobs mainly”.

    “What’s her deal?”

    “This year she charged me an additional 50-bucks for a Lewinsky. Last year, I just paid 50 bucks. She’s now charging a 100 bills. And I’m a repeat customer!!”

    “A Lewinsky?” I laughed. “I haven’t heard a B-J referred to a Lewinsky in years!”.

    “Well Laurie, I haven’t heard one referred to as a B-J in some time either!”

    “You know, Monica Lewinsky has always fascinated me in a way. I can’t help but look at her mouth every time I see her. Ever thought about the amount of well….uh…liquid her mouth is capable of holding?”

    “No Laurie, I haven’t. But I’d venture a guess its probably just one U.S leader.

    “Ah…good one, Kev!”

    “Back to Tasha. I think what she charged was highway robbery!”

    I thought I’d try to add to the levity. “So you say that the price of Tasha’s blow jobs have gone up 50-bucks in just a year’s time?? Gee Kevin, that’s inflatio!!”.

    Silence.

    More silence.

    I waited for a response that never, ever came.

    Eye roll #27 with audible sigh.

    “I know”, was all he could pathetically muster after a killer line like that!!!

    I added, “So, what did you do?”

    “I shelled out the extra 50- and got the oral. But I acted like I didn’t enjoy it. It was a matter of principle”.

    Let me stop here to explain that I love Kevin– I really do. He’s a good guy, just sometimes, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t have any sense. He often acts like an idiot. A big, mustached idiot.

    This conversation had to end. It was making me nauseous and I felt gaggy. Idiocy effects me like Ipecac. And I’d heard enough. Besides, but my eye muscles were starting to cramp from the incessant rolling.

    I told him I needed to hang up because it was time to get ready for church–a line I think he actually believed.

    I hang up the phone and go back to the refuge of my warm, comfy, Sealy Posturpedic Pillow Top queen size bed…my haven, my sanctuary.

    My attention turned back to the TV. Well, I’ll be damned (and will be, if you believe the Old Testament) , “Hannah Montana” was still on. I began to watch with new appreciation. After that conversation with Kevin, Billy Ray Cyrus seemed MENSA worthy.

    But that soon faded.

    In one scene, Billy Ray was wearing an apron. He made some dumb ass comment, then in a Hollywood second, was sprawled out on the floor, his achy breaky limbs all akimbo after a highly unfunny pratfall cued precisely after he spilled something, which was also precisely on cue.

    I took a deep breath and cued my remaining eye rolls, numbers 28 though 36.

    8 comments

    1. inflatio!
      that’s the citizen kane of puns.
      if you pulled that in real time, color me impressed…
      so, what does the comedy matrix look like, anyway?
      is it actually strands of downscrolling random asian hieroglyphics, or is that just a bunch of hollywood bullshit?

    2. Inflatio indeed and why not, performing the Monica three years running for the same price would be pretty hard to swallow for antone. I bet she was gagging for some extra cash. What with the pimp wanting his cut and all that why shouldn’t she suck her clients dry. Don’t forget the choice was his, she gave him his head and he decided to give her the money shot.

      Incidently, I quite like Smiley Miley, especially in the blond wig which is worrying for a man of my age… good god I think I need help…

      Freddy

    3. Who was it that said “The biggest difference between sex for money and sex for free, is that sex for money usually ends up costing a lot less.”?

    4. With Laurie, that “inflatio” line was spontaneous. She’s always had that quick wit about her-live and on paper.

      Fabulous, sistergirl!

    5. Hanny Wyoming is a horrible show! I cannot tell you how many times I have woken up to either her or Raven on a Saturday morning.

    6. Laurie, you NEVER fail to crack me up… or maybe that’s just my old joints creakiing. I was working in Laredo in the mid 70’s and I saw via your comment at my site that you were on the radio in Laredo. Then I realized, that you being only a spring chicken compared to the old boy here that to have been on the radio in the mid 70’s you would have had to be sitting on the radio.

      Having said that, I plan to steal your inflatio line. I’ll give you credit the first three times I use it, after that it’s all mine. 😉

      Cheers and have a great easter call from Kevin. Maybe he’ll get the joke this time.

    7. Brilliant! even with a fever, i’m laughing my ass off! i’m just a shocked as ur friend that chlamydia isn’t a place in Africa. I had my passport all ready too.damn.maybe i’ll just go vacationing in herpes island.

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