How often have you sat around your respective domiciles/lairs/mom’s basement, pondering life’s mysteries like, “I wonder what The Hook is doing right now?”
Here’s the answer.
Two hookers just clip-clopped their way through the lobby.
(How do you girls walk on those six-inch heels without winding up in traction?)
The strumpets in question were embracing their inner-Lolitas, with Barbie doll make-up, the aforementioned small black shoes with killer heels and furry winter coats that only a streetwalker could pull off. They had a good girl/bad girl vibe going on and I’m sure it worked to full effect behind closed doors.
The brunette was a tall, slim Faith acolyte (from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, for the non-nerds among you), who appeared to be a veteran of the bank-for-spank industry, as she was wide-eyed and no-doubt-not-so-bushy-tailed. Her flaxen compatriot, however, looked as though she had been rode hard and put away wet.
Literally, of course.
Seriously, this platinum cutie just pulled off a job (yes, I went there), that may have paid well (I hope), but will no doubt require more than a midday nap to recover from, I’d stake my day’s tips on it.
“You expect us to do what? For how much?”
Longtime readers know how I feel about working girls, but I’m not here to judge. (Stop snickering, I’m serious!)
I will say this: a seemingly-upscale businesswoman just walked by and her attire, while attuned to the corporate world, began with a pair of boots that bore more than a passing resemblance to the “dynamic duo” that preceded her…
The truth is, none of us are in a position to judge, as we all answers to one master or another.
See you in the lobby, kids…