Promises, Promises!

Miss MI was out on a Friday night recently, in the Gulch but not the Del Rey or Key Largo, and after spending a fair number of hours consuming beer and socializing, I found myself sitting alone and into the bar walked a working girl. That’s certainly not news, and really there was nothing noteworthy about the lady in question other than her nice rack, showcased nicely by what she wore.

She was a little past her prime and a little beyond her ideal weight but looking through beer goggles she looked alright. I struck up a conversation with her and she just happened to catch me in the mood to try somebody new. I was in no rush to strike a deal. When she asked if I wanted company, I replied with a firm “maybe.” My particular preferences are nothing too unusual, but I know what I want and I explained what I was looking for and my companion said the Tica equivalent of “You betcha!”

I told her how much I would pay, and she countered with a higher figure. I told her no, I would pay X and that was just how it was, that I understood that she wanted more and that I wouldn’t blame her if she went her way to find a more generous client. She lowered her asking price to five thousand colones above my offer, so I told her if I was happy with her performance, I’d give her a tip of five thousand.

She wanted to know where I lived (I already told her I lived in town) and I told her. Since it wasn’t far away, she said “let’s go” and off we went. I got my first hint of what was to come in the back seat of the taxi, which was basically nothing.

We got to my room and I got another hint of what was to come when she wanted the money up front. I was beginning to get the picture. What I should have done was give her taxi money back to the gulch but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. The next red flag was when she wanted me to put the condom on before we did anything. I told her I’d put it on when I was “ready” but I wasn’t “ready” (physically, I think you know what I mean).

What followed was about as generic as could be imagined. After the condom was on, she gave me a few minutes of oral then climbed on top and went through the motions. About the only positive I have to say is that her chest was quite nice looking. After a minute or two she began to moan, not convincingly, but I guess she thought she was doing a good job. She increased the fake intensity to the point of a fake orgasm then kept at it for a while more before asking me if I had finished. I hadn’t and the fact was that I wasn’t going to with her.

!!debI told her she could stop faking it, and that she could go. I’ve been to too many rodeos to bother with a bum steer. She wanted to know what was wrong and I told her, politely, that it was obvious she was faking it and that she wasn’t doing what she “promised” in the bar. She said she was sorry, but that she couldn’t “get into it” with a stranger. I didn’t bother telling her she was in the wrong business. She said she only did it to feed her children and survive. Well, okay. She asked about the propina (tip) and I told her no, because the sex wasn’t good. She wasn’t happy and neither was I. But such is life. She left and I went to sleep with another lame encounter to notch on my belt.

A friend of mine came over to my place the next week with a similar story about a girl he met in the afternoon in the Del Rey. Our tastes in physiques differ and our preferences aren’t totally the same, but they are similar. We look for girls who can put a little real enthusiasm into it. Well, according to him, she was giving him all the right signals in the bar. Since he had a live in girlfriend he took her to one of the nearby love hotels, and she turned out to be even worse than my girl. His Spanish isn’t good, though he can usually get his point across. But pretty much everything he understood her to be offering him turned out to be off the menu, so to speak. Once he understood what her attitude was, he lost his desire for her. He found a way to finish, with minimal help from his “date,” (a do it yourself job, essentially) and that was the end of that.

The moral of the story is simply that no matter what a girl promises you, there is no guarantee she’ll deliver. There are definitely working girls who like to have fun and enjoy the sex and DO deliver, but we “clients” should remember that the girls are SALESwomen, above all. They may be there to have fun in addition to making money, but they are there to MAKE MONEY first and foremost. If they are cold fish, they will still promise anything they think they can get away with in order to make some money.

It’s not always ALL about the money, but MONEY is first in line. Promise him anything, but make sure you get paid.
 
 

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