Vegas Tales
By Anthony Dominguez

Vegas Rules, F23King rules! Start with bunch of guys; throw in lots of alcohol, and a ton of hookers…waalaa! VEGAS BABY, V E G A S!

I got some crazy friends, AND as DB3 always says “You attract a different kind of person.” He’s right, our lil’ crew of miscreants attracted a much larger crew of maniacs.

First was ‘Peckerwood’ followed by ‘Mr. Angry’, ‘What Wife?’ ‘Tha Pimp’ and ‘Silent’.  Names and faces have been changed to protect the innocent, well to protect reputations. We met ‘Tha Pimp’ on the plane ride to Vegas, he was sitting next to this amazingly hot Indian gurl (India Indian, not tomahawk Indian) going to Vegas for a convention, did I mention she was meeting her fiancé the following day? No? Pay attention, this will be important later, ‘Tha Pimp’ got to talking to her and they decided to meet later, the conversation went this way.

‘tha pimp’-”Here’s my number, but you better erase it later.”
‘Indian gurl with fiancé’- “Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m erasing it as soon as we are done.”
‘tha pimp’- (with a huge smile) “Ahright gurl, it’s on, call me later tonight.”

What happened you may ask, well, ‘Tha Pimp’ caught up with her while the rest of us where drinking and, I’ll have to get to that a little later, we’ll start with ‘The Story of Peckerwood.’

‘Peckerwood’ started out by hammering down a few bottles of Patron, let me repeat, a few bottles of Patron, by himself. He then proceeded to tell us “Oh, this is nothing, I don’t’ even get started till the fourth bottle, don’t worry, I got two more in my room.”

All I could think was ‘Yayyy! I get to experience Vegas County Jail.’ If your gonna do Vegas, do it right I say. We decided to leave the first casino, on our way out, we overheard a group of business people talking about a vendor party, we decided to crash it. We followed the group into a special elevator going to the private lofts at the top of the casino, laughing and acting like we belonged. Let me tell you, the lofts at the MGM are awesome, they have a see through five person shower facing the hallway, I wanted to have sex in it so bad it actually hurt, I had chest pains, seriously, chest pains. Flat screens in every room, including a waterproof LCD in the shower and one in the restroom, the mirror over the sink, the closet, every F23king where. The best part, and believe me when I tell you, under no circumstances should me and my band of merry maniacs be allowed to roam free in any unsuspecting person’s room, was the all inclusive remote, it worked everything in the place. It worked the TV’s, the stereo, the lights, the blinds, the cocaine dispenser, everything. After hitting several unsuspecting guests in the head with the remote blinds, we were busted; the party thrower felt we would be better behaved if we had more alcohol, I’m laughing as I type this, more alcohol! We proceeded to raid the bar, taking bottles of $100 bottles of Whiskey, Gin and Vodka, then after emptying the bottles, we left. As we were stumbling out of the room I heard several people say, “Do those guys work in your department?” Followed by “No, I thought they worked in yours.”  Our completely inebriated group made a not so subtle dash for the elevator while the partygoer’s tried to figure out if we actually worked with them.

After the party went so well, we all decided to go back to our rooms, change and hit the clubs. Most of us changed quickly, and met in the elevator lobby, ‘Peckerwood’ however, took forever, I finally called him, he answered like such. “What? I’m just about to shoot my load, god dammit, you ruined it, I’m sitting on the phone with you while my d1ck’s in this hookers mouth and your gonna listen to me shoot my load, AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGG! I’m done, get out!” I thought he was kidding, then I see him stumble out of the elevator a few minutes later with two skanky hookers.

Turns out on his way up, the two-skanky hookers where in the elevator with him, he looked over and said “You gurls working? How much?” They looked him up and down and said “For you whiteboy, $300″ he replied “Damn, how much to blow me while I’m changing my clothes?” ‘The skanky hookers laughed and told him “If your serious, then $100, and my friend will play with herself and watch.” How could he pass up such an offer he figured, “Hot damn, let’s get this on ho’s!” Consequently he got a blowjob while he was changing his clothes. I called him at he end of this act…I was a verbal witness to another man’s orgasm! I will never be the same. This was the conclusion of ‘Peckerwoods’ rousing story of love, fidelity and the passion that can only be experienced by a hooker’s mouth while you’re changing your clothes, on your cell phone, talking to another guy. Oh the joys of love, I’m jealous, celoso, I tell you. Vegas Baby, Vegas!

Next up it was ‘Mr. Angry’s’ turn to get on the M I C, and throw down with his natural alcohol fueled charm. To give him some leeway here, ‘Mr. Angry’ was persuaded by the group, okay persuaded is a strong word, fooled is better. He was fooled by the group into thinking every hot gurl in Vegas is a hooker. This was proven by strategically approaching the known hookers and striking up conversation with ‘Mr. Angry’ in earshot. Within a few minutes, he was positive every gurl in Vegas was, in his words a ‘whore’ and only out to humiliate him.

Fruity mixed drinks are concoctions created by Beelzebub himself for people like ‘Mr. Angry’ they are specifically designed to bring out the worst in the least amount of time. To counteract this ‘threat’, when I say ‘threat’, I am referring to the plot by ‘the whores’ to humiliate ‘Mr. Angry’ by not actually being interested in anything more than his wallet, he proceeded to approach any and every attractive gurl in the casino and casually SCREAM “ARE YOU A WHORE?”, followed by, “NO, REALLY, ARE YOU A WHORE?” This was funny only every single time he did it, made funnier by the fact that he at no time approached an actual hooker, just tourists there for a good time. Beautiful, innocent tourists who would spend the rest of the night asking anyone who would listen, “Do I look like a hooker?” Vegas Baby, there’s No place else. After avoiding about 30 fights we proceeded to pawn ‘Mr. Angry’ off on the casino, leaving him to some much needed gambling. To give you an idea of how drunk he was, the Pit boss refused him a seat a the poker table, then he passed out at the counter arguing with the hostess for a seat at another poker table, passed out in mid sentence. Thank you ‘fruity mixed drinks’ Beelzebub.

This Vegas Romp wouldn’t be complete without my own embarrassment; mine came after I ditched the crowd, wandered the casino and was stopping to get a Gatorade before heading to my room. As I approached the drinks, me and an excruciatingly beautiful Puerto Rican woman reached for the same drink, we stopped, looked at each other and smiled. I started cracking jokes about the funny named drinks on the shelf and she laughed, an amazing laugh, which made her glow, and her ample breasts bounce with glee. I was mesmerized. We stood there talking, laughing, telling stories and getting to know each other for an hour, by now it was close to 5am. I was attracted to this beautiful woman from Arizona, here for the weekend dancing at the local club. She told me she flies in every weekend works at the strip club and flies home. Not unusual, I know lots of gurls who do this, it’s the norm in the porn world, Vegas strippers make the most legitimate money. So, I’m not turned off, I’m even a little more attracted now. We buy our drinks, start to walk and she says “My allergies are really acting up, can we go up to your room and I can wash my face, my friends should be calling me in a few then I gotta meet them at our hotel.” I’m a gentleman, who happens to have an erection you could cut glass with, and politely say “Yes, of course, but no fooling around, I’m tired and gotta get up early, be a good gurl and don’t try to seduce me.” She laughs, we proceed to the cathedral which is my room, we’re holding hands, she’s smiling at me, giggling, I’m gonna spend the next 20 hours devouring this Puerto Rican treat!

Wait for it…my luck could not possibly be this good. We get to my room; she excuses herself to the bathroom, washes her face and clears up her allergy attack. She comes out, sits on the bed across from me stars rubbing my leg and asks, “So, what are you into?” I look back at her puzzled, she repeats her question “So what are you into?” I stutter out an answer, “What do you mean?” She laughs, unbuttons a few of the buttons on her top and says “It’s 300 for the works, I got toys in my bag, outfits, I do massage, dance for you and you can put it anywhere you like.” Yeah, she’s a F23King H O O K E R! I stare at her for about 90 seconds, thinking in my head, “Damn, she’s a F23king hooker, a nasty F23King hooker…do I got 300 to spare, NOOOO, that’s durty, tell her to leave, now. She is hot, hmmm, we seem to click, have things in common, I wonder could I date a hooker? That’s just ridiculous, Could I? Stop it, throw this hooker out N O W!” My conscious finally wins and I say out loud “I didn’t know you where a ‘working gurl’, you coulda told me that a F23King hour ago and saved us both some time.” She looks at me confused, “I told you I was a stripper.” Like that says it all, “Honey where I’m from, not every stripper is a hooker! We’ve had a bit of miscommunication, plus my ego has been body slammed from the top rope by this little incident. I thought you were genuinely interested in me.” She looks at me with those sad eyes and delicious breasts and says “Honey, I am interested in you, we have a connection, we obviously are attracted to each other, so let’s do this thing, how bout 200?” She’s haggling with me, wow she must really like me. Now I’m straight up mad, I tell her, “Get out”, she stands to leave, not knowing that my head is having a vicious argument about having 200 or not and if this could be the start of a wonderful relationship, using the logic that the best relationships start under the strangest circumstances, and this qualifies as strange. I need therapy, bad. She leaves, but not after giving me her cell number and name, Jackie, sweet sweet Jackie, oh what could have been. I hate Vegas!

As I laid there in my bed, ALONE, trying to relax, and possibly sleep while not thinking about my utter humiliation and embarrassment over being fooled by and having an unhealthy crush on a hooker, I received a call from ‘Peckerwood’ to tell me about ‘What Wife?’ and his exploits. You’ll notice a theme in this particular trip, pay close attention, I won’t point it out again.

‘What Wife?’ was sitting at a slot machine when I was headed to my room, before my ‘hooker crush’ caught and tricked me, I said, “Hey bro, what’s up?” He replied. “Oh, I’m just chillen watchin’ security round up all of the hookers, its like watching cockroaches run when you turn on the lights.” Followed by a hearty laugh. Behind him ‘Silent’ just nodded…silently. I stopped and sat with them for about 15 minutes watching the show; it was similar to a Keystone Kops routine (look up Buster Keaton if your confused, and get some culture dammit!) The choreography was impeccable, hookers would huddle, then fake right, fade back, cut left, and dive for the goal line, the goal line being some unsuspecting drunk bastard who they could pass off as boyfriend and girlfriend with for the few minutes it would take Hotel Security to pass them by.
As they would scurry by, ‘What Wife?” would whisper at about 90 decibels (that’s very loud for you non audiophiles) “How much ho?” If the answer was too much he would then yell “Hey, security, I got one right here, there she goes, the cockroach in the magenta skirt, get her, rope that ho!” Behind him, ‘Silent’ would nod in…silent approval. The amusement ran out for me at about the 15-minute mark, so I bid them good hunting and left to start my own private embarrassing nightmare.

According to ‘Peckerwood’s’ account several minutes after I left them, one of the ‘hooker cockroaches’ gave the right price, ‘What Wife?’ stuffed her under his arm, with ‘Silent’ in tow, headed for their room. Now it starts to get weird, ‘Peckerwood’ had called it an early night, due to loss of fluids and 3 bottles of Tijuana’s finest tequila, he was passed out, when his phone rings, “What the F23K!?” “Yo, ‘Peckerwood’, it’s ‘What Wife?’, I got this hooker with me, I’m getting a massage, want to come watch? Dude, she’s neked, rubbing her titties on my back, I got wood bro.”

‘Peckerwood’ sat speechless, when he regained his composure he screamed at the phone, “F23K You! I’m sleeping, I don’t want your sloppy seconds, sh!t probably thirds. And, what the F23K is ‘Silent’ doing?” It gets strange now, “Oh, he’s sitting on the other bed in his tightey whities watching me get a massage and rubbing his dick. Um, I just realized that this is kinda gay, dude, don’t tell anyone, go back to sleep and forget this phone call ever happened.” CLICK.

Of course ‘Peckerwood’ called everyone in the hotel, every cell number he had, and I think he even yelled down the hallway to the hotel staff just to be sure everyone heard the story.
In the morning, I saw ‘What Wife?’ and asked him how it went, he laughed and said “Bro, she was rubbing me down and getting into it, and I was all ready for the happy ending, then I heard ‘Silent’ grunt twice, followed by a thud…then my hooker said she was weirded out by this, so she got up, got dressed and left. ‘Silent’ had a happy ending watching me trying to have a happy ending and scared my hooker away.”
‘Silent’ stood behind him with his head down… in silent penance. I laughed my ass off! ‘What Wife?’ looked behind him at ‘Silent’ and said, “Bro, you owe me, when we get home, you gotta take my old lady out with your old lady so I can go hit my girlfriend, I need to get laid.” Vegas brings out the best in people.
We bid adieu to ‘What Wife?’ and ‘Silent’, leaving them to their own devices to catch up with ‘Tha Pimp’ for breakfast, he was regaling us with tales of how he hooked up with ‘What Fiance?’(the stunningly hot East Indian delicacy who was in town to meet her fiancé the previous evening). As the story goes, after we landed, he met her at a restaurant, avoided her cock blocking friends, took her to her room and hit it for a few hours, before he left, he went to the bathroom to freshen up. For a guy, ‘freshening up’ means wiping your balls off. I asked him, “What did you wipe with?” This may sound strange, but I had a feeling the answer would be worth the strange looks the other guys who had straggled to our table gave me, he said, “With the hand towel in the bathroom.” Then he looked at me like I was gay, I stared back, not paying attention to the murmurs and strange looks from the group, and followed it with this question, “What did you do with the towel when you were done?” He looked at me real strange and said “Dude, are you gay?” I laughed and said, “No, just tell me what you did with the towel when you where done.” I already knew what he had done with the towel, this was his first trip to Vegas, and his first time in an expensive hotel room, it was simple human nature. I asked again, “What did you do with the towel?” He finally, reluctantly answered, “I folded it neatly and hung it back up. Why?” I laughed and laughed, then I asked him, “What do you think the first thing ‘What Fiance’s’ fiancé is gonna do when he gets to the room after coming from the airport?” by this time a few others at the table were beginning to catch on, they sat nodding in silent approval. ‘Tha Pimp’ answered with a bewildered look that in a flash reached what I consider to most closely resemble the look Albert Einstein must have had on his face when he came up with E=MC squared. “I don’t know, probably wash his face, and…..oh sh!t! He’s gonna rub my ball sweat on his face, oh man I feel bad now, not only did I tear up his fiancé, he’s gonna have my balls on his face too!” The table laughed, having finally figured out where I was going with my questions. For the remainder of their stay, ‘What Fiancé’ and her fiancé where probably gonna wipe ‘Tha Pimps’ balls on their hands and face several times. That’s adding insult to injury, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!

We sat and cracked jokes, busted ‘Tha Pimp’s’ balls and drank to ‘Mr. My face smells like balls’ for the next half hour. To make things better ‘Tha Pimp’ told us about the hooker he brought back to the room he was sharing with ‘Peckerwood’ he spent the whole walk back from another casino looking for the ugliest hooker he could find, he found one who looked like Mr. T and she told him, ‘50 bucks.’ He took her back to ‘Peckerwoods’ room, walked in and yelled, “Hey ho, I got this hooker for 50 bucks, you wanna go half and hit it too?” ‘Peckerwood’ was lying on his stomach facing away from the door, so he said, as he rolled over he slurred, “F23K yeah! I put 20 on…OH HELL NO!” By this point he had gotten a good look at ‘Mr. T’, ‘Tha Pimp’ fell out laughing, ‘Peckerwood’ yelled, “Get that tranny looking ho outta my room now!” ‘Tha Pimp’ turned to look at ‘Mr. T’, she was leaning against the door staring at him with those sad hooker eyes, he felt bad for her, so he took her into the bathroom, put on 2 condoms, (I’m not making that up, he put on 2) and tried to hit it from behind, he said she was so ugly, he couldn’t get hard, he was limp trying to F23K ‘Mr. T’. Picture that one in your head. After about 7 minutes, his disgust reached its limit; he threw her out of the bathroom and told her to get the 50 out of his jeans and leave.

Disgusted and feeling dirty, he took a shower, drank several shots of tequila, then proceeded to pour some on his d!ck for good measure and went to bed. As he retold the story, the waitress came with our check; he reached into his pocket, looked at all of us in amazement and pulled out 50 bucks. ‘Mr. T’ had left without taking the money! We couldn’t stop laughing, he hit ‘Mr. T’, thought he paid, meanwhile she was so hurt, she ran out of the room giving him a freebie! The extent some people will go to play a trick on a friend.
We finished our meals, drinks and stories, shook hands, did the ‘man hug’ and went our separate ways, each on his way to a different flight, city and state, all with a story to tell. A Vegas Tale.

The End.