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Even in my horny state. I was too smart for that. The serous working girls (a constantly changing cast) had a more direct method - you pull up and they hop in the passenger side. While this was a pretty good sign that they were not police, if you did it on the Avenue, you were both exposed to the view of all other traffic - including the unmarked Crown Victoria prowlers. The safest way to make a discrete connection was to meet the ever sharp eyes of the strolling hooker, nod once toward the nearest corner and drive around the block, then pull up to the curb on the side street a couple of hundred feet short of the Avenue. The pros were always there waiting with a smile.The going rate in those days was $15 to $20 for head. This was plenty cheap and instead of dickering I made it clear that tips above the base rate were in order for good service. Pay up front and $5 or $10 more after the act. It was all potluck at first. The good whores would get right to work, freeing up their tits and. He came with a gasp, and flopped down next to me. I sighed and wriggled myself further into the mattress, enjoying the nice warm feeling inside me. Then he leant over me, kissed me on the lips, gave me a wink and said ‘G’night sweetheart’, before rolling over and falling asleep within seconds. In the friendly darkness of my bedroom I lay back and stared in the direction of the ceiling. We had a good marriage, I thought, coming up for 23 years, and I looked forward to my Saturday night cuddle and tumble, as George put it. And on Sunday I was going to play host to my daughter and her new boyfriend. Sharon lived across town with a couple of mates, and she’d met this fellow while temping at the office where he worked. Steven his name was. I’d promised to lay on a nice Sunday lunch, and Sharon had threatened me on pain of death not to embarrass her: ‘No baby photos, no stupid questions. Okay?’ Honestly, I’d only just turned 44, and she made me feel so old sometimes! I giggled to myself.
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