Quote:
Originally Posted by IAMthepokerhack
This is fun
more hooker stories, (most blatant theft/hustle?)
Hooker stories. Hooker stories are tough. Encounters are few and far between for me. Management/security has squashed most of that at the bars. At least, where I've worked. It's just too obvious for them to sit at the bar, not gambling, sipping water. They can sit the multi-denominational machines on the floor, playing penny slots, and attract less attention.
I will say that I've heard tons of stories about guys getting rolled. She chats you up for a while, she says she has to go, gives you her number. She comes back later, My car won't start, Can you give me a jump? Don't go to the ****ing garage.
A buddy of mine was in town. He loves the Strat for some reason. I leave my car at Caesars and take a cab up there. We drink and play machines at the bar. Doing shot's. There's this girl at the bar. She looks ****ing sixteen. I'm still in bartender mode and I'm thinking no way she's of age. Dude, cards her and she keeps drinking and playing.
Fat old man rolls up and starts running his game. Five minutes. They get up to leave. She's wearing a full length dress. My buddy says, "See, that's a brides maid dress. She's here for a wedding." I'm like $20 says she's back here by herself in less than 30 minutes. Booked. She's back in 15 minutes.
Another John, another John, and now we're discussing the finer strategy points of dressing like a prom queen to turn tricks. It's got the jail bait angle working with the back up excuse of I just got out of a wedding. Anyway, she was making money.
The bartenders are getting off work. They're sweeping the bar and I say, "Twenty bucks says these guys come right back and start stuffing these machines full of money." Booked. Profit.
My friend eventually has enough and I walk him to the elevators. I'm wasted. I go to pull my phone out of my pocket and my switch blade comes out with it. It pops open when it hits the floor. My whole life freezes. I snatch it up and stuff it in my pocket. My buddy, "What the **** was that?" Nothing. I dropped my knife. I'll call you tomorrow.
I catch a cab back to Caesars. They must have dropped me off at the valet entrance. I'm stumbling towards the doors and James Woods comes racing out. I'm lighting a cigarette and I mumble, "Hey, you're James Woods?" He shoots me with a finger gun and winks as he slips into a limo that rushes off. I turn around and say, "Call me?" I'm laughing to myself. That was a good line and no one heard it. A bicycle cop has rolled up to me. "Sir, are you bleeding?"