Dang, I nearly forgot to say anything about Treasure, the high class escort I had recommended to me by Imaginationn, that dude at the club. Last week I called her up and we arranged a little rendezvous at my crib, and I was six kinds of ready to mack. I was Clooneying in this crisp new Battori Uomo and my classic Tom of France.
I guess I was expectin' kind of a Tina Turner-type black stockings chick. Treasure was this little tiny person who seemed like a teacher who was real anxious to get done and leave. She was already taking quick glances back at her car while I said hello and let her in. Her enthusiasm did not improve. Her car was this kind of bad purple Ford Tempo with minor sun damage to the roof and hood paint.
When I suggested we have some Moët and cool it on the King-Size she got real nervous and said she didn't know about that.
Now, I am not a stone cold psychologist or anything, but I could tell right away this wasn't the same chick I had talked to on the phone. I took down a few suds and said as much, in a pretty nice way. I slapped her on the shoulder real friendly and said, "admit it!"
Since she obviously wasn't a pro she broke "character" and started to cry a little bit while she held her purse real tight against her chest. I handed her my handkerchief and said we could talk. I like when afternoons get weird, and I was ready to roll with this.
Apparently Treasure had been double-booked (she was having a bad time with her new scheduling software) and so she asked if her cousin, a third grade teacher (!) would turn my particular trick. She (the cousin, my guest) had never done that before, but her class was on a field trip with a different class, and since teachers get paid flat dick, she acquiesced. Turns out she don't drink and she only ever been with this one guy who left to go into the Army and he was coming home in six months and he had proposed to her on AIM during a latrine break.
I ain't a homewrecker, so I swilled some more Moët and gave her all kinds of pep talks about life. I said it was great to be a good person and obviously she had what it took because she was even willing to help out her cousin Treasure. We even laughed a little bit about how Treasure might have made some bad decisions in her life.
To keep from having to do awkward kisses or hugs or even any contact at all when she left, I carried down the mostly empty Moët bottle and both glasses and also this one couch pillow that I said I had been meaning to wash. I showed her to the front door and said Good Luck In Life and that Treasure didn't need to call me back. She kind of said a small squeaky "Bye!" and walked with her head down toward her car. I closed the door.
Through the door I could hear that the Tempo's starter was bad. Her engine didn't turn over for about ten tries, then she gave up. I watched out the window and about a half hour later this AAA truck showed up and gave her a jump, and she drove off. I think her crappy little car even left an oil stain on the flagstones.
Oh well, every idea for a good time can't necessarily turn into a good time. As for me, I ain't plan to call Treasure anymore, 'cause that was a wack-ass move to sub the lay out to an untrained amateur, so I guess I got to head down to Napoleon's or the mall and see if I can't bungle up some thonky bootay.