The "Couple a Hundred Bucks" Hooker

This one’s for Woody.

As I explained in this post here, Woody and his wife, Luv Malts, were the two people who most encouraged me to start a blog, based on the tales of Vegas (many of which took place at the poker table, but plenty did not) I was relating to them in person and in emails.  Neither of them have any interest in poker.  Woody’s favorite kind of story is the “woman said” story, and one of his favorite variation of that category is any story at all that involves hookers.  Even if I just describe a hooker I’ve spotted from a distance, and had no interaction with, he seems to be enthralled.  Of course, if I do have a conversation with one, he is especially fascinated and wants to know every little detail, every nuance, every bit of conversation I can recall.  You’ll have to ask him why this fascinates him so, but it does.

I’ve had my share of hooker posts in the blog, but none lately.  The main reason for the absence of them is the story I related in this post, where I almost ran afoul of the law in pursuit of a good hooker story that I could blog about, and perhaps more importantly, entertain Woody with.  But also, the fact is, I am now a lot more involved with poker, both vocationally and professionally, than I was when I started the blog, and thus the blog has weighed heavily toward poker content of late.  No doubt this has disappointed Woody, who had hoped he was encouraging me to start a blog that would be filled with hooker stories.

Well, on the night after Christmas Day (or Boxing Day, if you’re Canadian), despite my best intentions, I scored (so-to-speak) a hooker story that I’m sure will prick Woody’s interest, and will hopefully be of interest to most of the rest of my readers as well.

But it did occur after a night of poker, and the poker actually has some relevance to the story, so let’s start with that.  I was having another less than satisfactory nite at the felt at BSC.  After several hours, I found myself down about half a buy in (which is usually $200), and wanting to call it a night.  I just hadn’t been getting cards, and when I did, the flop was missing me or was hitting someone else a lot harder.  I decided to just play until the big blind came to me, and if that meant I had about $100 left to cash in, that was fine. I wasn’t going to go out of my way to find a place to put my whole stack on the line, but if happened naturally, that was fine too.

So, in what would have been my third to last hand of the session, and thus, in early position, I looked down at pocket Jacks.  OK, that was where I would make my stand.  I knew I was going to raise, and I also decided that, if I met any resistance, I would be willing to risk what was left of my stack with this hand.  I wouldn’t feel that way if my stack was closer to my original buy in (and certainly not if it was more than that), but for about a hundred bucks, I was willing to roll the dice.

Both players in front of me limped, so I raised to $14.  Everyone folded to the big blind, who was an older Asian gentleman who had just returned from a bit of an absence from the table in time to take the blind.  He was a rather conservative player, I couldn’t recall a lot of raises from him, and I don’t remember him three-betted.  So when he re-raised it to $40, it gave me pause.  It folded back to me.

As I said, I’d already decided to roll the dice.  He was not the person at the table I would have preferred to have re-raised me, but I didn’t really hesitate very much.  I recalled on at least two occasions seeing Prudence shoving with pocket Jacks against pocket Aces and hitting her set to take the pot.  Hey, if it worked for her, it could work for me.   So I announced “all in” and was snap called by the Asian gentleman.  I knew I was in trouble, and I was sure I needed to hit my set to win the pot.  Yeah, I was in desperate need of hitting my two-outer.

Neither of us flipped our hands up, but I felt dead when the flop was nothing but blanks.  When the turn was a King, I was sure it was over.  I smelled Kings more than I did Aces.  A blank river and I flipped over my pocket Jacks.  The guy actually kind of slow-rolled me—I don’t think it was intentional—and eventually revealed the two Kings in his hand.  He was the one who hit his set, not me.  I would have lost even if I had had Aces on the hand.

I beat a hasty retreat from the BSC poker room and headed toward the parking area.  My timing was such that the area where hookers are known to congregate—which is on the way to the parking— was very crowded with foot traffic.  I believe a show had just let out and the place was mobbed.  The walkway was filled with people and wouldn’t you know it, some of those people were young, attractive females, which, miracle of miracles, somehow caught my attention.  Actually, I’ve been in this area before when a show lets out and it is a great place to just hang out and people watch.  Not a bad activity to pursue after a rough nite of poker.

There was such a mob that I moved off to the side so I wouldn’t be in the way of all the people headed to the parking.  I leaned up against a slot machine and just watched the crowd.  But when there was a brief break in the foot traffic, I happened to notice a couple of women across the aisle, also standing by a slot machine, also watching the crowd.  One was blonde, the other a brunette, and they were very attractive.  My first thought actually was that they were too attractive to be hookers, but the way they were just standing there, my Spidey sense starting tingling and I began to think they were indeed ladies of negotiable virtue.  They were dressed rather modestly—neither had a short skirt, both were wearing tight pants.  Their tops were also modest, but tight.  The cold weather is probably a factor there.  It was actually the blonde that first caught my eye because—I know my readers will find this shocking—she had rather large breasts straining against her too tight top.  If she really was a hooker--and I wasn't sure at this point she was--only the hooker I described in this story would top her in the category "largest breasts--hooker division."

I kept an eye on them for a few seconds.  As I mentioned above, I’m no longer going out of my way to spot hookers, but I felt this was safe as long as I stayed where I was.  I thought there was so much traffic between us they probably wouldn’t even notice me.  But I underestimated them.

Suddenly the brunette left her post and walked sorta toward me. Actually, I thought she was going to the ladies room but she corrected course and came right up to me. And she was quite brazen in her approach.

She grabbed and sorta rubbed my arm and said, “Who are you waiting for?”

Bingo. My Spidey sense was indeed correct. This gal--and I'm sure the blonde with the big knockers she had been hanging out with--was indeed in the very personal services industry

And so it seemed, like it or not, we were going to have a conversation.  Especially since she was holding on to my arm.

“No one,” I said.

“Well my name is Marguerite and now you know you’ve been waiting for me.”  I really didn’t catch the name she gave me.  It was something unusual and exotic, so I’ll just go with Marguerite, even though I’m sure that’s not what she said.  I’d lay pretty good odds whatever name she did say wasn’t the one on her driver’s license. 

I said, “No, I’m not interested, I’m just trying to chill out after a rough night at the tables.”  Well, that was actually true.

She asked what I was playing and I said poker.  And then I added, “And I lost all my money playing.”  Well, I did lose but it wasn’t true I had lost all my money.  I was hoping that would make her lose interest in me, since I really didn’t think this was a case of “love at first sight” on her part.

She wasn’t ready to give up.  “Oh come on. Give me of couple a hundred bucks and you’ll have a good time and forget about your troubles.”

I wish I was quick enough to say, “For what, poker lessons?  I could sure use them.”

But I was too surprised by her mentioning of couple a hundred bucks, for two reasons.  This was the first time I’d ever spoken to a hooker who was so quick to mention her price.  The only other time a hooker had ever mentioned her actually fee to me (see here), I had to ask. No girl had ever volunteered a price. And please remember, I only asked back then in the interest of reportage, for a good story to report back to Woody. Then and now, I had no intention of ever paying that--or any--price.

The second reason was the price itself.  The girl in the story linked above said it was $500 for “full service.”  This gal was talking about a couple of hundred.  Of course, maybe she was giving me a ballpark figure, and maybe she meant a “couple” as in a “few” and if we had really gotten down to brass tacks, it would have been more.  But the truth is, this woman was quite attractive, definitely in the upper 10^th percentile of any Vegas hooker I’d ever encountered.  And much better looking than the gal who quoted $500.  I suppose that, for journalistic reasons, I should have questioned that amount, but I was actually eager for the encounter to end.

So I said to her, “No, sorry, I told you, I lost all my money.”

She stayed there a few more seconds, let go of my arm, and looked like she was considering if there was any point in trying another tact with me.  I guess she decided there wasn’t.

“Oh well, sorry, that’s too bad.  Have a nice night.”  And with that, she walked one way and I walked the other way, and I didn’t see her again.  I did actually see a few other girls on my way to the parking that I suspected might be in the same business, but I managed to avoid them.

This was the first time all trip I’d seen any hookers at BSC or in any big strip casino I’ve been in (but remember, I’m not looking for them).  However, oddly enough, a few nights before Christmas, I saw a couple of the ugliest hookers I’d ever seen at the Orleans at the two slot machines closest to the elevators.  They were also severely overweight.  I didn’t actually notice them at all, and never would have pegged them for hookers, but one of them said something to me as I passed by.  I didn’t hear what it was so I ignored it, but then I heard her say, “Oh, you don’t like me, huh?  OK.”

So that’s the tale of my hooker encounter.  I suspect, as we get closer and closer to New Year’s Eve, it will soon become a case of hot and cold running hookers in the Strip casinos.  I’ll try to avoid them, even though I know my pal Woody is hoping I fail in that endeavor.

EDITED TO ADD:  

This post inspired to Poker Meister to run a great hooker parody commercial and a few others, see here.