WTFWJCVDD – Edition Twenty-Four

Professionally Unreasonable

This past weekend was pretty good. I went to some parties at a couple of bars with a bunch of friends Saturday night. Towards the end of the night, I ended up getting separated from them and I turned up at this bar alone. I stayed until the drink special was over, and then went outside around 3AM to find a cab home. As I started walking away from the bar, I crossed the street and heard some woman yell out to me, “Hey you, come over here.” I was drunk and had nothing else going on, so I decided to investigate.

As I approached the white jeep this chick was sitting idle in, I saw her flash a smile at me. “What’s your name?” she asked me.

“Biff. What’s your name?” I replied immediately.

“Candy. Need a ride?”

As I was standing there drunk trying to follow what was going on, I was confused because I wasn’t sure why she had offered me a ride and what she was doing. However, after a brief moment of consideration, I decided that she should be the one in this situation to be afraid of someone if anyone were to be, and I did need a ride. So, fearlessly I accepted and walked around the car and got in. She asked me where I lived so I told her and gave her directions.

While we were driving, the conversation was cordial and nice. She asked me what I had done that night and if I had a good time. She asked me why I was alone and I explained how sometimes I tend to wander when I get drunk and how I had misplaced my friends. Finally, we got to my place and she pulled over on the side. She turned to me, smiled, and said, “Would you like me to come up?”

I was sitting there trying to figure this whole thing out. I couldn’t believe that it was going to be this easy. She wasn’t great looking, but decent, and certainly good enough for me at that time and condition. “Sure…” I shot back at her happy and surprised. At that moment, she leaned over and started rubbing my leg. I just sat there with my head tilted down, starring at her hand massaging me. In my head I was thinking this was ridiculous and none of this made sense, but then I remember my ridiculous sex appeal and figured this one just couldn’t resist.

As I lifted my head and made eye contact with her, she smiled (man she was really nice) and said, “I just want you to know, I’m $150 an hr.”"What’s do you mean?” I replied confused.

“If you want me to come up, I’m $150 for an hr.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second. You’re a hooker?”

“I’m not a hooker. I’m a professional escort.” She retorted defensively.

“A professional? I don’t understand. Did you go to grad school?” I mean who the hell was this broad sitting here telling me she was some sort of “professional”? I have done a lot of chicks and I think I fuck them real nice – does that make me a professional? This was ridiculous.

“No. I have my own business.” That was when she reached down and picked up a business card and handed it to me. It read: “Candy Climax. $150 an hr. I do parties of men or women.” There was a phone number at the bottom of the card which I have no recollection of.

“Wow,” I said, “you’re a legitimate prostitute.”

“Yep. So, you want me to come up or what?” I was insulted at this point. Who did this ho think she was? Do I look like the kind of scumbag looking for erotic services sold on the street randomly at 3AM?

“Well $150 is a lot of money and I just spent pretty much everything I have at the bar tonight – how much for a blowey?”

“I’m not selling blow jobs. It’s an hr for whatever you want.”

“What does the hour buy me? I mean, can I punch you in the face if things heat up?”

“No asshole. Pretty much anything else though.” I sat there contemplating whether to degrade myself and pay this woman for services that were questionably morally flexible (not morally flexible in my mind, but certainly perceived that way in current social views and potentially by you, the reader). I looked into my wallet and saw that I had $11 left.

“I’ll give you $11 for hand job.”

“No dick, get out of my car.” Without hesitation, I opened the door and got out. But before I walked away, I turned to her and through the open window I said, “You know, you spent all this time taking me here. A hand job is pretty effortless, brief, and at least you get something.” I thought that was a fair and reasonable argument.

“Fuck off,” she said as she drove away.

I smiled and yelled, “Thanks for saving me the cab fare!”

Who would have thought that the innocent looking chick that called me over and offered me a ride was a hooker. As I walked up to my place I smiled thinking about this humorous story, but immediately the smile turned to a disappointed head nod as I had to accept the fact that this time had nothing to do with my raw sex appeal.

Until the next Kumate…

For your consideration:
Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

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Published:
June 15, 2009 / 7:18 AM
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WTFWJCVDD
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