High Class Hookers

I got the phonecall a mere 30 minutes notice for a 6 o'clock pm pick up at an address in Old Town. Mildly perturbed, I had to put down my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and get dressed. I pulled up to the address and out from the overpriced townhomes emerged a couple of middle aged bimbos adorned with the typical habiliments of their profession. Both women had to-go cups of frosty margaritas, replete with umbrellas, in their hands and purses slung over their shoulders. They got themselves settled in the back of my car, upon which, my senses were flooded with an obnoxious mixture of powerful perfumes. Immediately, they told me to turn on 101.9 FM and I obliged. It appeared they were fixing their makeup for the entire hour-long ride as they alternated animated confabulations amongst themselves and with the random men calling their cellphones, to which they responded with succinct male ego-flattering smalltalk. As we made our way to the elite countryclub, I learned all about their day: Woke up at 11am, played volleyball on the beach for a couple hours, came home and showered, margaritas in the blender at 2 o'clock and now they are on their way to work, which is, ostensibly, to bang rich guys. We pulled up to our destination and were greeted by a young pimply faced punk doing an extremely lax job of "security" at the gate. He nonchalantly waved us in, not even bothering to check for identification. We proceeded down a well-manicured, tree-lined, winding path toward the clubhouse. The women had quieted down a little, expressing their approval of the number of Bentley's being parked by the valet. In front of us, a mysterious red Lamborghini stopped and waited for the valet. The women eagerly anticipated and fantasized a handsome young man as the vehicle's owner. The suspense was unbearable! Finally, the door vertically arose and out shuffled an aging tub-o-guts wearing a most ridiculous outfit: pleated baggy white slacks, beige penny loafers and a black button-up shirt with some sort of gold corporate insignia embroidered on the back . The women gasped and I chortled.