Member-only story
Lunch Time Sex In The VIP
The New Stripper Loves To Kiss
It’s lunch time. I’m leaving a morning meeting at our corporate headquarters in Bethesda, MD. You see I’m a Senior Account Executive for Sprint PCS, a national wireless carrier. I’ve been squirming for the last 30 minutes anxious to leave and get my lunch time fix.
I’m headed up 95 north to west Baltimore. I’ve got a new hook up for cocaine. I give the little homie $125. A hundy for 5 vials of coke and he keeps the change for his heroin fix.
I drop the homie off at his burnt out rowhouse. I stay for a few minutes to grind up the coke. Take a couple bumps and wrap up the rest in a dollar bill. It’s the late 90’s, there is a heroin epidemic in Baltimore. I’m unaffected cause my drug of choice is coke.
Time for a liquid lunch. I head to the mafia controlled strip joints in downtown Baltimore. I do take a moment to ride by the Inner Harbor. The view of the Chesapeake Bay is gorgeous. This lovely Spring afternoon, the shops and restaurants are filled with patrons.
The bouncers are like street walkers, each out in front of their assigned bar trying to persuade patrons to enter. I’m wearing my favorite presidential blue three button suit, white shirt and matching white tie and white pocket square. My gold Movado with the black face matches my cufflinks.
