Well, I’m back home after a very fun, very successful trip to Vegas. I have many stories to blog about, when I get the time, including my run at BSC at my last game before coming home. I will get to that story soon, but in the meantime, I think I have just enough time to tell a quick little tale that involves bad beats, hookers, cleavage and large breasts. I know that is shocking, because aside from bad beats, I’ve never discussed those other topics on this blog before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?
The bad beat story doesn’t involve me. In a 1/2 NL cash game hand where I insta-folded some trash hand, one guy raises pre-flop to $10 or $12 and gets a caller or two. The flop comes Q88. There’s some reasonable betting on the flop and the turn, two players left, including the pre-flop raiser. The turn and river cards seem rather innocuous, and the highest card on the board is the Queen. After the river card, both players were extremely eager to get all-in, and so they did. The pot was thus over $300, perhaps closer to $400.
Preflop raiser is only too happy to show his hand, pocket Queens. Yeah, he flopped a full house, queens full of 8’s. What could be better than flopping a boat like that?
The other player showed us. He had pocket 8’s, so all he had done is flop quads. He beat the second nuts with the only hand better. Yeah, now that is one sweet flop for him. Not only does he flop quads, but his opponent flops a boat so he gets paid off for it.
The word out of everyone at the table’s mouths was “sick.” Yeah, it was sick, although not so much for the guy with quads.
I’ve see a lot of guys go on tilt after a beat like that, but the guy with the queens was pretty cool. As he saw all his money shoved to the guy with quads, he calmly pulled out his wallet and took out a couple of hundreds for more chips. Everyone was offering their condolences as they were congratulating the winner but the guy who lost just shook his head and said, “That’s poker.”
Indeed it is. Still sucked to be him at that moment, though.
Not long after I cashed out and headed for the parking area. Now as I result of the story I posted here, I had zero interest in encountering any ladies who were hanging around there in the hopes of renting out their time, their bodies, and their particular skill sets to male tourists. Really.
But I couldn’t help noticing two ladies who were just sort of sitting at slot machines, but facing out into the aisle, who appeared to be very much available for rent. They each had long dark hair and were wearing very high heels. Unlike most hookers, they weren’t wearing short dresses or skirts, instead they wore what appeared to be very tight pants. One of them had a rather conservative top on, not very hookerish at all. But these gals were obviously together, they were eyeing the aisles and they had their cellphones out and were talking on them a lot, a definite hooker trait.
Oh, one more thing. The second woman was not wearing a conservative top. She was so not wearing a conservative top. Her top was extremely low cut and very wide open. And although I am normally not one to even notice cleavage, I couldn’t help but notice this gal. Because in addition to the low cut top, this gal had the largest breasts I’ve ever seen in my life.
Ok, maybe not the largest if you include pictures I’ve seen on the internet, which may or may not have been Photo-Shopped, but in real life, yeah, I’m pretty sure these breasts were the biggest I’ve ever seen live. They were huge. They were ginormous. They were humongous.
There were a lot bigger than Angela's. Angela is the stripper I described in the post here. This gal made Angela look like Audrey Hepburn.
They were friggin’ big! I mean, each one of them needed their own zip codes! They were so big that this scene could only have taken place in a Big Strip Casino, because the girl’s tits simply could not fit in a smaller casino. I mean, she couldn’t fit inside the Santa Fe Station casino, the casino I talked about here. No way.
So between the sheer enormity of these breasts, and the fact that her top was extremely low cut, there was more square inches of breast tissue exposed by her than you see in any five issues of Playboy Magazine. Of course, since no nipple was exposed she wasn’t actually showing her tits, per se, but the average woman—even one with a fairly large bosom—could be completely topless and not be exposing as much mammary gland as this hooker was exposing just with her cleavage.
Were they real, I hear my readers ask? No idea. Because of my previous experience, I tried to stay as far away from these girls as I possibly could. In order to do that, I had to stay two aisles away from her at all time, or risk accidentally running into them, I mean her, oh hell, I mean them. So I didn’t get a good look at them.
Whenever I see a pair this freaking big, I tend to think “after-market” of course, because breasts this large don’t normally exist in nature. So that would be the way to bet. That said, there are freaks of nature out there, so you can’t be sure.
And then I think….well, why would a woman purposely get implants this friggin’ huge? I mean why? In her current profession, is she really going to make more money with those giant juggs than she could make with a more reasonably sized chest? It would seem to me, for every man who would pay extra for those super-dooper sized watermelons, there’s gotta be five for whom they would be a turnoff. They were way too big for me, if that tells you anything.
Perhaps she got them for another profession? Porn star? Stripper? Maybe that would make a little more sense. Although I have a loyal female reader who insists that there is absolutely no difference between a stripper and a hooker.
Anyway, I have no idea whether it was Mother Nature or a plastic surgeon who was responsible for this girl needing to buy custom-made bras. But a few minutes after noticing these two gals, I saw the two of them had gotten off their stools and were walking around. I missed seeing the girl with the huge chest standing up, which I would probably have paid a buck or two to see.
Hell, I would have paid twenty backs to see her stand up on her own from a lying-flat-on-her back position (there’s no way she could ever get on a flat-on-her stomach position). It appeared the girls were heading toward the exit, and this time of course, I did not follow them, except with my eyes for a few seconds. I thought they did indeed exit, but no, they had turned down an aisle and had started “working the room.”
I was actually tempted to go over to them and warn them that cops were around town busting girls in their line of work, but I rejected the idea of having a conversation with them fairly quickly. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say.
So I left and headed to the parking lot, knowing I had just seen in person the two biggest mountains in Southern Nevada.