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Bluelighter
The Transaction
A new, faster way to ruin your credit. (Just add hookers and blow.)
by Jeff Deeney
Published: Jan 30, 2007
It all began one night on adultfriendfinder.com. You know how it goes with Web sites like that. But let me lay it out, just in case:
1. Lonely guy — let's call him John — logs on, looking for some quick company.
2. He finds what he considers the horndog Holy Grail, a Web site where all the girls are loose, looking for fun and live nearby.
3. He quickly realizes that the local nasty girls of AFF are ready to fuck tonight, just like he hoped, but there's one caveat: It costs money.
4. Already mentally committed to the whole idea, he goes ahead and drops a line to one of Philly's finest out-call ladies.
5. This particular guy has an itchy nose. He doesn't know what "party girl" means, exactly, but he wants to find out.
Cue the prostitute, a rough-looking white girl. The K&A type. She's not exactly Playboy material but at this late hour, a Club- or Oui-caliber girl will do. The John asks the hooker, "Before we get started, let me ask you ..." He pauses, a little nervous, worried he's about to say something out of line that might cause her to get up and walk. "What else do you got?" He lets the question hang, knowing she might pack up shop, hoping she won't.
"What is it that you want?"
That, my friends, is the $16,000 question.
What you do is offer the girl a $250 tip after you've done your business. This is how you let her know what you're looking for and that you can pay for it. She won't come out and tell you that she's holding at first; she'll hint that for $250 extra, you'll be a happy man. Thirty of the $250 is an actual gratuity on the fuck; the other $220 buys you an eight ball of high-quality powder coke. Sure, that's expensive, even for good blow, but you haven't heard the best part. Seriously, this is going to fucking kill you:
The whole thing goes on your credit card.
Winter Getaway Deals! Click here for more information.
PAID ADVERTISEMENT
That's right: powder on plastic. She takes your card, puts it on this portable hand processor she carts around in her purse, places a carbon credit form over top and gives it a swipe. Then, she plugs it into the nearest phone jack and calls in your card to make sure it's good. Thirty days later, your statement comes back with a transaction from the discreetly named "Ludlow Clinic." It's the kind of name that might not raise too many eyebrows on an expense report. If you're a convention-goer, you might be able to talk your wife out of her concerns by assuring her of a late-night stop at an out-of-town pharmacy.
...
Continued @ Philly City Paper
A new, faster way to ruin your credit. (Just add hookers and blow.)
by Jeff Deeney
Published: Jan 30, 2007
It all began one night on adultfriendfinder.com. You know how it goes with Web sites like that. But let me lay it out, just in case:
1. Lonely guy — let's call him John — logs on, looking for some quick company.
2. He finds what he considers the horndog Holy Grail, a Web site where all the girls are loose, looking for fun and live nearby.
3. He quickly realizes that the local nasty girls of AFF are ready to fuck tonight, just like he hoped, but there's one caveat: It costs money.
4. Already mentally committed to the whole idea, he goes ahead and drops a line to one of Philly's finest out-call ladies.
5. This particular guy has an itchy nose. He doesn't know what "party girl" means, exactly, but he wants to find out.
Cue the prostitute, a rough-looking white girl. The K&A type. She's not exactly Playboy material but at this late hour, a Club- or Oui-caliber girl will do. The John asks the hooker, "Before we get started, let me ask you ..." He pauses, a little nervous, worried he's about to say something out of line that might cause her to get up and walk. "What else do you got?" He lets the question hang, knowing she might pack up shop, hoping she won't.
"What is it that you want?"
That, my friends, is the $16,000 question.
What you do is offer the girl a $250 tip after you've done your business. This is how you let her know what you're looking for and that you can pay for it. She won't come out and tell you that she's holding at first; she'll hint that for $250 extra, you'll be a happy man. Thirty of the $250 is an actual gratuity on the fuck; the other $220 buys you an eight ball of high-quality powder coke. Sure, that's expensive, even for good blow, but you haven't heard the best part. Seriously, this is going to fucking kill you:
The whole thing goes on your credit card.
Winter Getaway Deals! Click here for more information.
PAID ADVERTISEMENT
That's right: powder on plastic. She takes your card, puts it on this portable hand processor she carts around in her purse, places a carbon credit form over top and gives it a swipe. Then, she plugs it into the nearest phone jack and calls in your card to make sure it's good. Thirty days later, your statement comes back with a transaction from the discreetly named "Ludlow Clinic." It's the kind of name that might not raise too many eyebrows on an expense report. If you're a convention-goer, you might be able to talk your wife out of her concerns by assuring her of a late-night stop at an out-of-town pharmacy.
...
Continued @ Philly City Paper
