[Continued from previous Post]
While conversing with the johns, the pimp found out they were Saudi Arabian engineers from London, in town for some conference. Evidently the johns were too high to keep their business confidential.
Then he asked me what skinny I had in this. I told him I wasn’t in on it, but only setting things up.
“Well they’re in for a big surprise, he stated.”
The working girls that showed up were so fine, I couldn’t imagine them getting in bed with those disgusting looking bearded, balding, gray haired wrinkled up relics. I figured those gals must’ve gotten big bucks just for allowing those johns to even lay hands on them. I could only imagine what the guys chest looked like. In any case, those guys were wide eyed, grinning and babbling in their foreign tongue.
Then the pimp asked them, “Did y-all bring some of that knockout hashish I heard y-all have over there?”
One john replied, “We didn’t want to take a chance with customs.”
Just as I was leaving, the pimp gave me a twenty and said if they happened to swing through again, he could hire a limo and take ’em on a tour of the town—just contact him early enough.
In response I said, “Better yet, how ‘bout they bring some throw rugs, then they could take the girls on a magic carpet ride. You know like Ali Baba, huh dude?”
Then the pimp said in a joking manner, “These girls are from France, where they do the Ouchi Couchi Dance.” That’s when he introduced them as a trio of belly dancers.
As I was leaving, one of the johns pulled my coat and whispered, “Thanks man. They are . . .how you Americans say, a rum . . hot! They don’t even have muffin tops.”
Before the door shut I overheard one of the johns say¸ “Just in case you gals forgot to bring yours, I have some finger cymbals in my suitcase.”
Today a lot of johns get hooked up through the Internet with call girls who pretend to play the dating game.