El Oh El Ay

We’re back from Key West, and we’re shot to shit.  This was, after all, a designated birthday weekend (the actual date is today), and it’s a big one.  How big?  Well, here’s my story:

Guido and I are doing the Duval Crawl when we both spot what has to be the single more gorgeous hooker in the Keys, ever.   She is unearthly sensuous,  Sex pours out of her like a ruptured oil well (well, that’s a crappy way of putting it – but you understand the context).

Is this my birthday weekend? I ask Guido, and she just sighs, because she had promised me “anything,” and knew this might happen.

So we both approach her, and to make the story shorter if not bearable, she tells us that she gives “the best handjobs ever conceived” for only $500.

“$500!” explodes Guido.  “No hand job on the planet is worth $500.”

Hooker smiles.  “See that tee shirt store?” she says, gesturing across the street.  “See the one a block down?  And the one across from that?  They’re mine, and you know why?  Because my handjobs are worth $500.”

I don’t believe it but I’m as weak as I am stupid so we end up making the deal, which we consummate in her, um, studio.  And yeah, it was worth the money.

“Happy now?” asks Guido.

Well, I am, but I want to know what she gets for a blowjob.  A grand?

“Fifteen hundred,” says Hooker.

Fifteen hundred?  No blowjob in the world is worth $1,500!

She walks us to the window.  “See that marina with the raw bar?” she asks.  “The one with the yachts docked and the motel beside it?  That’s mine, and it’s all because my blowjobs are worth $1,500.”  She smiles at Guido.  “You’re so sweet – there’s something in this for you, too.”

What can I say?  It’s my birthday, and Guido promised me “anything.”  And again, we get our money’s worth.

Well, I’m flat broke, done for the day and maybe the whole damn month of May afterwards but I have to know, so I ask what she gets for some pussy.  She laughs out loud, and walks us to the window.

“See that cruise ship?” she asks.  “It’s one of three in the company line.”

Don’t tell me that’s yours, too!

“No,” she sighs, batting her eyelids.  “It isn’t.  But it WOULD be, if I had a pussy.”

Happy birthday to me.