A Tale Of A Hooker

We know that you all enjoy a good old fashion whore story just like the rest of us. What makes the following tale all the more satisfying is that it was told to me by a dear friend. Enjoy!

"So, it’s just another night in the ho biz. I’m a happy man because we just hired a beautiful, 19 year old, exotic girl who’s ready to work and in dire need of some cash. The phone rings and off she goes to her first call at our incall hotel in midtown. She’s looking top notch in a short black skirt and she virtually skips out the door with a cute little wave over her shoulder. She arrives, gets paid and calls to check in. 30 minutes go by and the phone rings again. We see that it’s her and the talent manager answers, saying, “Done that quickly?” I watch her face change from one of happy surprise to sheer horror.

On the other end of the line is our newest girl balling her eyes out saying that the cops are there and she doesn’t know what happened. There’s a SWAT team, dogs, the door got smashed down, on and on. We just need to know whether she’s ok and if she’s in trouble, she says she doesn’t know and that she really wants to get picked up IF the cops will let her go.

With my heart pounding, I call my lawyer and give him a quick run-down, throw on a jacket over my “Trust me, I’m a pornographer” t-shirt and head down into the Hornet’s nest. For safety’s sake (and bail money), I have my admin follow me. When I arrive, the scene is surreal. There are lookout cops on every floor, there’s undercover cars everywhere and a bunch of very pissed off looking vice cops standing around looking all kinds of ready to taser my ass for strutting up and asking to retrieve the hooker.

I approach with my hands out of my pockets, heading for the guy who looks like he’s in charge. As I get closer, I see that they’ve got a car torn virtually down to the frame in the parking lot and I’m even more confused. A couple of uniforms yell at me to stop when I get a few feet from the guy and start to ID me and give me the “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” thing when the detective stops them and heads my way. I introduce myself as a friend of the girl they’ve got and that I’m here to pick her up. He’s a bit dubious and looks at me like, “Ya right.” I ask him if she’s free to leave and we go through a verbal volley for a few minutes about who she is, my relationship to her, etc. We end up agreeing that he’ll release her to me if we’ll give him the phone number the guy was on when he called us. I call and get the number, all the while pushing harder to try and find out what happened. Finally, he tells me.

The gentlemen who called us that evening for a date was being followed by the DEA and had been for four states. The alias he gave us to confirm was one of over 10 that he had, including driver’s licenses, etc. to match the name. Apparently he was wanted for several drug charges in multiple states, a murder in one state and information on two more murders. He was also suspected to have “some” drugs in the vehicle. While I was there, they were up to 35 lbs. of meth and were still counting.

After some more wrangling and a few tense moments, they cut off her zip-cuffs and released her. She ran to me crying and virtually collapsed into my arms. We headed back to the office after a quick stop at the liquor store and proceeded to drink excessively. Despite her repeated assurances that she understood that this kind of thing never happens and that she could now relax because she’d just gotten the worst possible call of her upcoming career, the poor thing quit the next day."

Our buddy Jim sure has a way with the fairer sex. Especially when he's making money off of them.