The Hooker Wore Flats

I kind of feel morally obligated to score at least one hooker story every Vegas trip.  This is the one such story from my March Madness trip.

It was a Thursday night, i.e., a Slut Parade night.  After leaving the poker room for the evening I did some people watching, or perhaps you might call it “scenery watching.”  I found myself over by the area where I’ve spotted working girls in the past.  But this being a club night, I was watching the scenery coming and going to the parking area.

A few nights earlier I had seen a couple of black ladies in the area who almost got my spidey-sense tingling.  They were walking slowly, spending a lot of time on their cell phones, and just kind of milling about.  Definite indications of possible hooker-status.  But I never saw them approach anyone (myself included).  Also, they were rather modestly dressed, and I somehow noticed they were both wearing flats, not heels.  So I thought it was unlikely they were available for rent.

So on this Thursday night, I was tired and took a seat in front of a slot machine and was checking my cell phone as people—mostly girls dressed for the club—walked by.  A few feet away there was an unattended slot machine and I noticed a guy approach the empty stool and take a seat.  He had a glass in his hand, I suspect it was an adult beverage. He appeared to be my age, perhaps a bit younger, but not much.

He didn’t appear interested in playing the slot machine, he was facing out towards the aisle, giving him a good view of the passersby. 

Suddenly I heard a voice and looked over.  An attractive black woman was standing right in front of the guy.  I heard her say, “What are doing sitting there, all bored like that?”

Wow.  That certainly sounded like a hooker’s introductory line to me.  They apparently exchanged names and the girl extended her hand to the guy and they shook hands.  Just a hunch, but I doubt either one of them used their real names.

This was almost awkwardly close to where I was sitting.  As much as I wanted to see if I could hear the conversation (solely for the blog post, you understand), I felt like was intruding.  I got up and went across the aisle and tried to subtlety observe them from afar.

As I walked away, I could see that the girl was dressed rather modestly.  She was wearing pants that were tight, but I’ve seen tighter.  Really didn’t get a good look at her top but I don’t think she was wearing anything low cut.

And then there were her shoes.  They were flats, not heels.  I began to think that this was one of the girls I’d seen a few nights earlier. 

Hmm….the hooker wore flats.

They didn’t talk very long.  In just a few minutes I saw the guy get up from the stool and the two of them headed off together, straight for the elevators.

Apparently her suggestion for how to treat his “boredom” met with his approval.

As they walked away, I couldn’t help wondering….What’s wrong with me?

I mean, the two of us were sitting near each other.  She could have just as easily approached me first. 

Maybe her “creep detector” was working.  Last time I talked about a modestly dressed hooker (see here), I received a comment from an ex-reader (I assume he’s now an ex-reader) saying that hookers develop radar for “creeps” like me.  It’s the first comment on that post, if you want to check it out.

Perhaps it was because the guy had a drink in his hand made her think his inhibitions would be lowered.

Or it could just be that the guy looked more in desperate need of some nookie than I did.