The First Hooker Sighting

(Reader warning:  This post may contain content that some sensitive people might find offensive.  You have been warned.)

I’ve posted twice previously about some interactions I’ve had with hookers, you can find them here and here.  In the “Full Service” post I mentioned a married friend of mine who especially enjoys these particular anecdotes. In fact, he and his wife are the two people who most encouraged me to start this blog, they both enjoyed my tales of Vegas that I put in emails or told them in person.  So this friend has been really pushing me to document more of my “hooker sightings”, as he has heard many of these tales and is, oddly perhaps, fascinated by them.  Frankly, I’m not sure how much the “average person” would get out of these stories, but then again, I doubt if the “average person” is reading this blog, right?  Sorry if I’ve just insulted you!

Anyway, here’s a “hooker sighting” story and let’s see if my readers (and there’s now more than three of you!) like this type of post.

First you should know, although this story goes way, way back, the title of this post is not quite accurate.  This is not my very first hooker sighting.  But it is close.

This tale dates back, believe it or not, to the early 1980’s.  A male friend of mine, both of us young studs (!?!) started visiting Vegas from L.A. together several times a year.  Let’s call my friend Norm and you can be sure that Norm is not his real name.  At that time, we liked to hit the buffets, the shows and the blackjack and craps tables.

A favorite area of ours was in the vicinity of the corner of the Strip and Flamingo.  There were many casinos within walking distance, and many of them had low limit blackjack and craps tables.  Being young, poor and cheap, the low limits at the tables were essential to us.  This was a time when you could still find $2 blackjack and $2 craps, if you can believe it.

Evenings found us at the corner, walking to and from the various casinos there.  What is now Bill’s was then the Barbary Coast (one of our all time favorite casinos) and what is now Bally’s was then the old MGM Grand.  Where the Bellagio now stands was the Dunes.  The Flamingo was called the Flamingo Hilton.  Harrah’s was the Holiday Casino. If you walked north far enough, instead of the Venetian you found yourself at the Sands.  Caesars was there of course but it was always “too rich for our blood.”  But Imperial Palace was there and that was definitely in our price range.

There was an awful lot of foot traffic at this corner, as there still is now.  At night it was really packed full of pedestrians.  Most of the foot traffic was of course tourists, like us (though we started going enough we began to feel like locals).  Each time we went, we kept seeing more and more non-tourists walking around that area at night. A better word for these non-tourists would be “hooker” because that’s what they were.

After a few visits, it got to the point where the ladies of the evening were almost as plentiful as the tourists.  It really got out of control.  Any man who was walking in front of any of these casinos alone, or with just other guys, could count on being approached by numerous working girls in even a short work outside the casinos.  Norm and I used to start counting how may hookers we saw and how may approached us.  A walk from the Holiday casino to Barbary Coast was usually good for at least 10 hookers seen and half as many trying to solicit us.

It got to the point where it was no longer fun (if it ever was).  Some of the girls were quite aggressive and wouldn’t take no for answer.  Norm and I would frequently split up in the evening and would walk around on our own.  Norm told me the story of a gal who not only asked him if he wanted a date, but actually tried to lock his arm in hers and walk with him.  I think Norm was able to avoid the arm lock, but the gal kept walking with him and finally said, after being rejected by him at least three times, “Well, I’m going where you’re going.”  He said, “OK, but they’ll probably stop you when we get to the Men’s Room.”

The most common pitch the girls used was, “Wanna date?” or “Wanna have some fun?” or “Wanna party?” or “Want some company?”  I do recall one girl saying, after we said we weren’t interested, “Are you sure?  It’s more fun than gambling.”  We sorta considered it the same thing, but with a different pay off.

Now a few months after this story happened, the powers that be in Vegas finally cracked down on the hookers on the Strip and just cleaned up the whole area.  One visit or two later, there were no hookers anywhere on the strip!  They moved inside.  Also, the hookers on the strip were replaced by those folks you see handing out cards promoting escort services and strippers to your door.  The police apparently can’t do anything about them. But at least they aren’t as annoying aggressive as some of those hookers were.

Anyway, that brings me to the most memorable hooker encounter from this long-ago era.  Norm and I were walking on the Strip, probably between the Flamingo (Hilton) and Barbary Coast.  A particular unattractive Black hooker approached us.  Now, these hookers came in all shapes and sizes, and some were pretty good looking, most were ok looking, and some were pretty bad looking.  This gal belonged in the last category.  I don’t recall how she was dressed, but it didn’t matter.

She reached us and said, “You fellas want a date?”  Oh my god.  That voice.  That voice.  That horrible, horrible voice.  It was one of the most horrific female voices I’d ever heard.  She had a very, very, very thick New York accent, an accent I find particular unpleasant, especially in a woman.  Also, this gal apparently had bad adenoids and sounded excessively nasal.  It was really an awful voice.  I said she was unattractive but really, with her voice, it didn’t matter.  She could have looked like Halle Berry on her very best day and with that voice, it would have been such a turn off that she couldn’t have paid me to do her.  Really, it was horrific.  I wish I had a recording of her saying what she was about to say to post here, because that would add so much to the story.  Just imagine the worst, most nasal, most New York accented voice you can imagine.

So as I said, in that nightmarish voice she asked if we wanted a date.  We were nothing if not polite.  “No thank you.”  I think we said this in unison.

She replied, “Not even a blowjob?”

Again, in unison, we replied, “Oh a blowjob?  Is that what you meant?  That’s entirely different.  We thought it meant dinner and a movie.”

OK, we didn’t actually say that.  We both thought it and as soon as we were away from this slut we both kind of made the joke to each other as we laughed.  But what we really said was no, this time very forcefully, and this time she took no for answer and looked for her next prospect.

Norm and I couldn’t stop laughing about this for the rest of the trip.  “Not even a blowjob” became a catchphrase for us for years.  Again, I wish you all could have heard her voice saying it, that added so much to the humor.  Never have I heard the word “blowjob” spoken in such a less inviting manner.  If you didn’t know what a blowjob was, after hearing her say it, you might never try one, it was that bad.  In addition to the horrible nasal voice, she sort of stretched the word out as she said it, particularly the last syllable.  It was more like “Not even a blowjooooooobbbbb?”

Another thing to point out is that this was 1982, when that word was hardly even spoken in decent conversation.  Not that it comes up (so-to-speak) in decent conversation a lot these days, but remember, this was long before the whole Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky incident which made oral sex a general topic of dinner conversation for months.  Back then, not so much.  And then and now, hookers as a rule are never that blatant.  Recall that the hooker I blogged about here just said “oral” to get the same message across.  They say “date” and “party” and “company” and “fun” or even ask where you’re going…but they don’t offer you a specific sex act so unabashedly. 

So that was my first really memorable contact with a Vegas hooker.  Let me know if you want to hear more.