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Sunday, March 18, 2007

The Whore of Fortune

The past week has been extremely busy for our bar, and Mill Avenue in general. The convergence of several factors have contributed to this, those being ASU spring break, March Madness, and MLB spring training. This was a magical time for me in Arizona last year, but it's a different story now that I'm dealing with the obnoxious drunks rather than being one of them. Although the onset of Spring has been more tiring and keeps me out later than usual, I have to admit that it's pretty entertaining to watch this new brand of idiotic drunks.
On Wednesday night, I got to observe an interesting phenomenon: the Whore of Fortune. I first noticed her because she was hot. She was tall, thin, and blonde, with a pretty, lightly freckled face and an all-American look about her. At first, I couldn't see much of her physique because she was wearing a loose fitting dress. It was tight up top on her A cup breasts, but the bottom half was baggy and flowing, so you couldn't see her body. Luckily, Whore of Fortune, or WoF, was hiking the dress up as she was sluttily gyrating to the music, exposing her smooth, tan legs for all to see. At one point, she pulled the dress up so high on the side of her leg that the thin silk strap of her thong panties were visible.
This immediately attracted the attention of a large male at the table next to her. With a close cropped shaved head reflecting an early onset of male pattern baldness, and a general dopey look about him, this gentleman was one of the lesser males of his pack. Lucky for him, those other males had gone off to procure alcohol or to try to cram their fingers into the holes of women. This fellow wasted no time in approaching WoF. I anticipated a hasty rebuff, for, at firse glance, WoF looked to be well out of Male A's league. But to my surprise, she seemed to be very receptive to his advance. After some brief conversation, WoF introduced him to her pack, a wildly incongruous bunch which, until this point, I had not noticed. The first thing that caught my eye about this pack was its centerpiece, an overweight and largely immobile, tattoed-up black girl. The next largest was a busty asian with an expressionless face in a sexy black dress, and two rotund, haggardly hispanic girls for good measure. As Male A worked his way around the table, he paused for the longest at the fat black slob. I recognized this as a shrewd technique; he would ingratiate himself to the group by befriending its ugliest member, thereby gaining trust.
Apparently one of these creatures had been born on this particular date some 20 years ago. Male A accordingly ordered a round of drinks for the group. Oddly enough, while Male A was busy conversing with the great beast, the rest of the girls, including WoF, went up to the stage and started dancing. To my surprise, Male A continued his conversation for quite a while. I admired his commitment to the ruse.
Soon enough, Male A's pack returned to their table, right next to the den of WoF. When she and her mates returned from the table, WoF went around to the all of the new males and spent a little time with each one of them, whispering in their ears, acting coy, and snaking her body around in a general whorish manner. The males in question were all pretty typical looking, well-muscled fratboys. She spent the longest period of time with a black guy in a pastel-striped polo shirt. He seemed to do the best job at flirting with her, finding little ways to touch her arm or the small of her back as they leaned close to speak. I was pretty sure this guy was going to walk away with it, and I was a little disappointed. From her early moves at exposing her legs, I thought there was a chance she might flash a tit or show her ass cheeks; if she went home with this guy, the show was over for Raynok. But then I saw the two break out their cell phones and exchange phone numbers. This Whore of Fortune had not yet stopped spinning.

Throughout the evening, I observed her heavily flirting with at least 10 other guys, and she initiated first contact in each situation. I abandoned my hopes of seeing her young flesh, as she was clearly more interested in landing a prime cock for the evening, rather than giving a free show. All the while, she was enjoying free cocktails from a large percentage of her many suitors. The small bit of leg was all she needed to get the ball, or balls, rolling.
Without the promise of seeing her nipples or smooth hiney, I began to pay less attention to WoF. I had other, more pressing matters to deal with, such as ejecting the small girl who could no longer stand or the Mexican fellow who fell asleep on the pool table on two separate occasions.
I still kept tabs on her actions during the night, and as last call was just about to end, I saw her taking shots with a spiked haired frat boy from the original group of males. This guy seemed to think he was about to close, but as soon as the shot was taken, WoF's pack of friends stumbled past the bar on the way to the exit, grabbing her hand on the way and dragging her, giggling, out the door with them.
This WoF was more shrewd than I had anticipated, earning an entirely free evening at the bar for herself, as well as perks for the motley crew of hound dogs she ran around with. It was certainly an interesting phenomenon to observe, and WoF was a skilled grifter, but sadly, after seeing the dejected faces of the men she had bamboozled, I can only assume this will all end in date rape.

3 comments:

Soul-Van said...

Eggman, my comment doesn't have anything to with your keen field notes on the Whore of Fortune, but you should be made aware of the latest Dawkins book:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_God_Delusion

Big Rock Lee said...

Soul-van i'm sorry i ate your neck. the god delusion is for faggots only. the only reality is that there is no reality. All we know is that we exist

RAYNOK the EGGMAN said...

soul-van- already have the book

big rock lee aka wolfman or jones- that philosophical truth has no practical application. the god delusion is definitely a worthwhile book, especially for those on the fence.