Friday, October 15, 2010

Pain "Per Se"

His right nut was killing him. Well, OK, not killing him, but it hurt. Never try to beat a hooker out of a tip, a lesson he had learned in Tijuana forty-two years ago. Back then he tried to stem a chubby bar prostitute out of $5 US and he met her muscle. But he had forgotten. Tonight he paid the price for his date. $400 base for a half of an hour (minimum) then $100 more for an additional fifteen minute segment. His total ticket this evening was $500. Five Benjamins.

The Excelsior Agency always sent him nice hookers with good teeth and sweet smelling parts. Teeth and smell were important to some johns. Darren, who could be described as an average man in every way (except for his SAT scores), was on the down side of the mountain. At 70,

there weren't that many chapters left to write. Gisele (Cynthia), her alias (her real), was an adequate harlot, but she lacked the feigned enthusiasm he needed. Even though it was a cash transaction, a man of his age still believed in romance. Whacky, yes. Yes, indeed!

It was always straight up missionary. Didn't matter who, where or why, always missionary. Even with the blue miracle pill in play, Double D was best above the fray. Gravity? Gravity worked in his favor. Most of the 45 minutes with Gisele were spent encouraging the band to play. Gisele perfunctorily did what pros do, but sometimes things take time. Darren B. Danvers, retired lawyer, was her third trick of the day. She wanted to turn him inside out and then try to get another trick before calling it a night. The easy money was made in the first thirty minutes. And most of the time, for Gisele, it took less. Long legged and all smooth, well, men are men.

Back years ago, before the time when Darren paid directly for favors, he liked the post game show. Some of Excelsior's ladies gave him the over time he needed and craved. One of them, Pam (whose real name is Pam), is always tender to him. She even kisses! Maybe some people just know when another person needs a little tenderness. Too bad for Darren, Pam had a M-M-F threesome tonight (threesomes pay double). Pam never turned down threes and for good reason. Interestingly, Pam discovered that with M-M-F threes, she was often the excuse for the opportunity for the M-M to sword cross. En garde!

The usual, customary and expected hooker tip is 25%. Darren always paid the toke. He just figured it into the price of the service. Tonight, he only slipped Gisele an extra $50, 10%. The duffer was not enthused with Gisele. Like any dissatisfied customer, frustration comes out in the tip slip. But for prostitutes the "tip" isn't a conventional gratuity. It's like the tony restaurant's mandatory 18% added onto a meal. AUTOMATIC. Oh, yeah, DD is no fan of smooth either. He prefers a natural woman. He was old school in that regard.

Upon seeing her boost was only $50, Gisele blurted, "Hey old man, it's 25%, $125, you know the game, you're a regular."

"Yeah well, 25% for satisfaction..." Darren offered. "Complete satis...."

"C,mon, you were satisfied." asserted Gisele.

"Says who?" he countered.

Gisele stooped over and she pulled a deflated condom out of the "Holiday Inn" plastic trash can. It was covered with lube. She pointed to the reservoir tip, which contained but a few dew drops. "See, see."

It wasn't much and if anything the septuagenarian was embarrassed by his paltry output. Defensively, he stated, "Look 10% is what I'm offering, take it or leave it."

Gisele looked at him like a defensive right guard looks at a quarterback, right before he cracks his ribs. Never give a defensive lineman a clean shot at the quarterback. As Darren was standing besides the bed pulling on his trousers, Gisele charged him and unleashed a right leg, foot extended, into his groin.

"Yeeeow", he bellowed. He went down like a sack of Idahos. As he writhed on the foot sticky Holiday Inn carpet, Gisele relieved the ex barrister of another $75. She fingered his right pocket better than some of the picks out in Times Square.

"We're even." She moved quick as a panther and the door slammed after her. Darren could hear her moving down the hall. "Daaaammmn..."

Darren wanted to complain, but... The cops would laugh. The Excelsior Agency would tell him he deserved it. After all, Madge, the booker at Excelsior knew that Darren was cognizant of hooker tip etiquette. Somehow he moved, crab like, to the ice machine at the end of the hall. After filling the "Holiday Inn" bucket with ice, he side winded back to Room 543 and then he dumped the ice into a plastic bag. It was the bag a patron could use for dry cleaning pick ups and without surprise the bag was labeled, "Holiday Inn". He gingerly positioned it to ice the bag.

Although Darren rented the rooms for the night, he never stayed longer than necessary. Excelsior dates were short and generally sweet. Tonight would be different as a result of his injury. He could barely walk. With some time on his hands, he began to feel disgusted with himself. Retired, bored and old, Darren Danvers knew he needed redemption. No, not religious redemption, the old atheist was well beyond that bridge. Redemption for Darren would have to come in the form of a relationship, a loving one at that.

Darren Danvers was married once, for forty-one years. While it wasn't always blissful, it was a good marriage and Marie Holmes Danvers was a great life partner. As he stared at the popcorn ceiling, he knew he would never find another Marie, but a revelation came in the idea that he didn't need to per se replace Marie. Per se is a Latin phrase, liked by lawyers, meaning "in itself". He came to understand that Marie is not replaceable. Holding onto the ice bag, Danvers intuited that he needed to love and to be loved. With the ice bag easing the testicular pain, his thought processes became more clear. For the first time since Marie died, which was over three years ago, Darren Danvers was ready to love, again.

Remoting the box TV, he surfed. He dwelled on a commercial for the Hoveround,, a mechanized, motorized chair for the non ambulatory. It was a ridiculous pan, with a bunch of people riding around in goofy chairs. He moved to Channel 45. CNBC by day and infomercials by night. A chiclet

toothed woman was extolling the benefits of "There's someone for everyone. Just take the test. Blah, blah..." Darrren watched for a while and then he scribbled, "". Lucky Holiday Inn puts a pen and some paper, both of which say "Holiday Inn", next to the beds. Old guys like Darren might forget by morning. As he began to doze he wondered whether the Holiday Inn provided motorized chairs for impaired guests. If so, Kemmons Wilson would have insisted the chairs be logo'd "Holiday Inn".

And so it goes.

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