And by “ladies” I am referring to the ladies of the evening. Hey, this blog is too classy to refer to them as “hookers.”
Yeah, right.
For all the time I spent in Vegas, there were not a lot of hooker sightings. But there was one particular unusual PHS (possible hooker sighting) that I want to report. Before I get to the main event, a couple of quickies.
One Saturday afternoon I encountered the earliest (by time of day) hooker sighting I can recall. I was walking past the bar near the hotel’s lobby (a place where one can often see the working girls around midnight or so) and I saw too fairly attractive ladies sitting on a little ledge on the outside of the bar. One was on her cell phone, the other one was just looking around. As I passed them, the one not on her phone said to me, “Where you going?” Since I don’t think she was there taking a survey, pretty sure she was a hooker. The odd thing was this was around 4:00PM. Not the time you’d expect to see a couple of girls plying this particular trade. Didn’t realize that job has a—you’ll pardon the expression—“swing shift.” I passed them without responding.
Near the end of my trip—in fact, it was the same day I played with Orel Hershiser (see here)—I found myself walking on the Strip and heading into the Monte Carlo. It was around 7:30PM or so. I never noticed before they have a bunch of tables and chairs outside as you climb the steps to enter the casino. I looked around and it didn’t appear that there was a café or a bar there, and no one had any food or drinks. So just a bunch of tables and chairs out there for tourists to take a rest.
As I was going passed what appeared to be the last table there, I heard a female voice call out, “Hi!“ I turned and saw a very young, very attractive young woman sitting alone at the table, and she was clearly talking to me.
I stopped and turned towards her and she continued, “Whatja doing out here all alone? Why don’t you come talk to me?”
I said, “No, I don’t think so.” She responded, “Oh come on, sit down. Let’s chat.”
I said no again and she pressed it. “Come one, why won’t you chat with me?”
When I said no again, she said, “Why not, why not? But I moved on. Another rather early hooker sighting—the sun was just setting.
And that brings me to one of the strangest things I’ve seen lately.
On this particular Saturday night, I was taking a dinner break and eating at the deli. I took my sandwich and grabbed a table and noticed at a table in front of me a very odd couple.
The lady was dressed to kill. It was around 8:30 PM, a bit early for the Slut Parade, But she looked perfectly dressed for the club. She was black and had an orange designer dress. I only say “designer dress” because it had the brand name “Bebe” on it. The dress was very, very short and absolutely skin tight. Seriously, it looked like this dress was spray painted on. It was cut up to her neck so there was no cleavage, but the dress was so tight I could see her nipples through her dress. Very prominently so. It was either very cold in there or she was happy to see me. Actually, her nipples were so prominently visible it looked to me like there were built-in fake nipples as part of the dress. Do they make dresses with fake nipples? She had a very attention-getting figure—she was packing plenty, both front and back.
I wasn’t thinking hooker because, as I’ve said before, the Club girls dress a lot sluttier than the hookers. The hookers dress more conservatively and there was nothing conservative about this outfit.
But then there was the guy she was with. He was older—a lot older. Late 50’s maybe earlier 60’s. Grayish, balding hair, dressed like a total slob. It didn’t look a searing romance to me. He was eating a sandwich and she was not eating. She only had a soft drink.
And she was kind of yelling at the guy. I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but she may have been complaining about how messy he was with the sandwich. And then, after almost every bite, she would take a napkin and wipe his face—like he was a child. Also, she took the napkin and wiped his hands. And also slapped his hands, like he was being bad. I didn’t hear anything out of him but grunts. My first thought was that the guy had “special needs” and was perhaps mentally challenged, and that she was his caretaker.
But then I thought…..she’s his caretaker dressed like that? Well maybe she’s waiting for the next caretaker to show up so she can go to the club.
Not very likely.
This continued for a few minutes. After he was done eating, she wiped his hands and face again, slapped his hands, and then cleared away the paper plates and took them to the trash.
The two left, and the guy walked perfectly fine—he didn’t need any assistance to walk. At first, they appeared to be walking off in slighting different directions, but before they both left my line of sight, I saw them come back together and the guy put his arm around her. And they wondered off out of sight.
My assumption is that the special treatment he had received from the girl was all part of the service he had requested when he had arranged this, ahem, “date.”
It takes all kinds.
OK, so the girl in my story wasn’t showing any cleavage. So sue me.
