[Ok....burg is throwing out there for your consideration a opening tidbit to a OPUS I am beginning...read this and tell me if I should put bi-weekly installments in the future to turn this thread into a ongoing novel. I dont need the fame, recognition or money...I just need to vent, and if I can provide you all with some entertainment and food for thought, I am pleased to do so...besides, the story(ies) are/will get prurient.

>START>

INTRO and setting. <A nice 2 story, 4 bed, 2.5 bath house on the edge of Henderson, Nevada...one of Dale Webb's cutting edge cookie cutter domiciles from 1993, when the whimsical building of houses in Vegas ceased being whimsical and became a Tsunami, and the proverbial "luckiest resident of Las Vegas" wasn't some red hot shooter at the craps table in Caesar's, it was some neophyte real estate agent who had just relocated from Busse, Wisconsin because apartments were still available on Koval Lane for 250 bucks a month and 99 cents would get you a HUGE breakfast at the BOARDWALK Hotel/Casino>

It's 9:58 pm; she wakes up early today.

A seconal from that Mexican Pharmacy in La Paz, and 4 percocets which she chews....she lies back down, rubs her belly around her navel while she waits 20 minutes in bed staring at the ceiling while the pills kick in. She connects the plaster pock marks in the ceiling to form a map of Maryland....or is it Madagascar?

She pours herself a glass of apple juice and turns the shower on...the drugs actually clear her head and she does some math: she needs to put in about 8 hours tonight. It's a Tuesday in July, and as such business will be unpredictable. If there is a convention or two, she will do well. If not, she'll be happy to clear for herself 2 grand on "Grind" calls, i.e. men who want a lot for a little. She hates grind calls....the men are always smelly ... and fat ... and sweaty ... and hairy in all the wrong places ... and lacking in any affable personality traits whatsoever; even if the survival of the human race depended upon it, she would never touch them or be touched, let alone fuck these men in the REAL EVERYDAY WORLD without first receiving enough compensation (in money or pills) to faciliatate 40 hours of being euphorically BUZZED sufficiently to allow her to watch OPRAH without feeling guilt or anxiety about her life's course. But this is not the REAL EVERYDAY WORLD ..... this is Vegas 1996.

Erin is 30 years old and gorgeous...she is truly blessed, yet another monument to life's unfairness, and how all men and women are not created equal. She has known she is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS ever since she was 10, when Mr. James, the next-door neighbor who worked in the Police Commisioner's Office for the City of Salem told her so. In fact, he gave her 20 dollars everytime she entered his house alone, to show Erin just how fucking awesome and beautiful she was. Of course, the 20 bucks was not the ONLY thing Mr. James used, or did, to "SHOW" Erin just how beautiful he thought she was.....

Now, 20 years later, she tells herself she should have asked for a 100 bucks from that sick bastard. So it isnt a surprise or any fault of hers that she loves drugs..."The idea that a person can use lots of drugs and escape a terrible fate is anathema to most people." William Burroughs said that. He lived a long time. The shower is hot, her Victoria's Secret Body Wash lathers up her perfect skin and body, and she stares at her reflection in the shower door....when she finishes her "shift" at around 7 am, she will hit the L.A. Fitness gym on Spring Mountain Road on her way home. She may be the only drug addled and addicted, full time whore in Vegas that works out (with weights even) 2 hours a day, 5 days a week.

10:45 pm ... Her beeper is alive. She checks her voicemail: 4 potential calls, 3 of them repeats and a referral. Not a bad start. Her apartment phone line rings....it's Ray, her "Boss". Ray Cerrano is 41 and runs several of the escort agencies in Vegas having done so for over 8 years. Ray is sharp enough to know that Vegas-1996 is one giant urban slot machine and the first two red sevens have clicked in the windows and the third window is about to pop...he thinks to himself "I need more girls, and I need them yesterday...." He put Erin on the cover of VEGAS-AFTER DARK and several of the "Adult Guides" that litter the streets, that are inside all those broken newspaper dispensers and in the hands of about 500 mexican immigrants who line Las Vegas boulevard, "the Strip", and shove the guides and flyers into the paths of pedestrians walking in all directions. Vegas-1996 is not yet pretending to be "Family Friendly". But Erin is Ray's best girl. He keeps her stoned, she keeps him rich...it is mutually parasitic. Perfect for this town.

"I need you at Caesars at 2 am....what kinda shape you in?" he asks ..... You see, even though she is his best girl, Ray is a little wary: sometimes Erin eats all her pills too soon and goes into withdrawal, totally useless to him. That's when he has to call around for her, issuing a 911 to all the citywide drug dealers (except North Las Vegas "ghetto" dealers...he'll never forget "rescuing" Erin from inside a port-a-potty on a construction site that she hid in after being robbed and almost raped by a bogus Oxy dealer she met in a desperate moment when the withdrawal was so bad she was pissing out of her asshole)

"I'm fine." she says, "I hate Caesars Palace...everytime I go there security gets on that fucking microphone and yells "Buzzing one female up to 14, room 1458!!! Do u Copy that boobalah!! <static> Copy that Pops!" Ray gives her the info..."It is Four guys, they got some kinda accent, I think they are Turkish or some shit. They want the full tour....it's three grand." Erin ponders as his words swim through the chemicals in her brain...It seems it will be a good night...probably.


11:18 pm ... She is in her mauve Corvette driving up Boulder Avenue towards the northern Strip....in between call, The Sahara is where Erin hangs out with some of the other girls who work for ray or one of the other guys; the Sahara doesnt care if they congregate at the bars in the hotel since business for them is in the tank (relatively speaking) now that the new places like New York-New York and Monte Carlo are roaring. Her first call also happens to be at the Sahara, some guy named Patrick in room 506, Main Tower. Erin cranks her stereo....Better Than Ezra's "GOOD" fills Boulder Avenue just past Sam's Town...they will be appearing at the Hard Rock so she decides she wants to see them after hearing this song.

It's 11:23 pm, 94 degrees and her bare thighs coming out of her very short skirt stick to the seat even with a little A/C blowing.. She cuts across Paradise and pulls into the parking structure for the Sahara. She pop's another 3 percocets and she'll order a bloody mary before going up to 506...she likes doing her customers with a fresh euphoric buzz, that way she knows she is pleasant in their eyes. It's how she gets so many reapeats. That, and the fact she lets them cum on her face, something most girls will not do, except the real young ones, the ones who she most has to fear from cutting into her business. She can't imagine doing anything else at this point in her life, which is good because she COULD NOT, in fact, do anything else; her addiction (both to pills, AND this lifestyle and spending the money that it brings along with it) is so strong she needs at least a full year of intense therapy and rehab....her pills alone cost more in a month than average people make at their 9 to 5 jobs.


>Finito, for the moment>





Well?

awesome burg, and you'll be pleased/appalled to know they put a welcome to vegas sign(exact replica of the famous one) right on boulder in between sams town and tropicana, it even lights up occassionally

more please

It's kind of interesting, though I'm not sure how much I like Erin. She seems like one of those whores that thinks she's above all whores; like Elisabeth Shue when she gets in the hotel with the kids who want to film their first time, and she suddenly doesn't even fit the role of a hooker.

The way you have the story structured gives it a blog-like stream of conscious personality that affects the pacing. I'm not usually into stories like these, about whores and their adventures, but I guess you can always continue.

Outstanding, Burg. Keep it up.

One question, though: Who the fuck orders a Bloody at 11:23 at night?

I love it. It's seductive and easy to read. I'd like to know where this is leading... In my opinion this doesn't compare at all to the usual whore blogs on the web or to books about so-called "adventures of a call girl"; usually those have no more depth than a column of a glossy fashion magazine. Here the narrator (daBurg) is third person, somebody who doesn't need to sugarcoat and gloss over. The author is somebody who loves whores, somebody who loves and understands them for who they are. There is no moralism, no agenda to expose how horrible the sex trade is. Just a look at life.

It would make a great book.

It's a start...

(ok, I meant to do this regularly and like always, something else captured my time and attention. I have some time now so here goes....a lot of this is necessary set-up to the really good shit which comes next.)

<4 hours earler, 6 pm, that same Tuesday in Vegas, 1996. Inside Batistas Ristorante, behind and across from Bally's. The restaurant is a Vegas Landmark, and some good authentic Italian Food. Their Garlic Twists are as addictive as Heroin. The walls are full of pictures of Frank, and Dean, and Sammy, and dozens of other celebrities from the Rat Pack Years. In the corner by the kitchen door sit three men in business suits being served dinner. Two are in their early 40s, slightly overweight and balding, named Phillip and Wes.. The third is not yet 30 years old, well toned muscular upper body, shaved head and tanned. His name is Eric, and he leans back in a black and fire-engine-red titanium wheelchair like it's a recliner, resting on his wheelie bars as they clink wine glasses in a toast>

"Here's to dead trees", Wes offers, as they all chuckle at the political incorrectness of their inside joke. Dead trees refers to the 3.5 Million dollars of corrugated they just sold to a distributor who moved his warehouse operation to Vegas for all the advantages it offers. "You pulled it off dude, this should finally get you to San Jose like you want.", Phillip says to Eric. "Yes, well now we have to find our own warehouse here to service them. I am staying the rest of the week to check out a couple places. That's if I dont melt my tires in this fucking heat."

"Does Vernon know you are staying to do this?", Phillip asks Eric. "Well, yes and no. Look, How long has Vernon been CEO, 11 years? If he doesnt see 3 steps ahead at this point, then he wont be CEO much longer. This is just the tip of the fucking sword I am going to jab into this pig...with a warehouse here we can get all the other distributors who have moved here, or will do so in the near future. I mean we can't keep sending 6 trucks from Riverside all the way down the I-15 every night. Nah, we have a good thing going here now."

The three dive into their food and order more wine. "Well I cant wait to get the hell out of here", Wes says, emphasizing his displeasure with the heat and the fact his wife is 8 months pregnant with their 4th kid. Phillip is married too, with 2 kids. "Hey when are you going to get hitched?" he ribs Eric..."When someone gets me Pregnant" is the reply.

"Well what are you guys going to do this last night before you head back to LA?" Eric asks the other two. "Probably just head back to the Hotel and play Blackjack a few hours" says Wes, while Phillip shakes his head a little, distraught over his losing a bet on the Yankees the night before. "I have no luck. I am just going to get shitty at the bar and then pass out. I like that bar, The Mirage still has the best of everything. And it doesnt smell like cigs and stogies everywhere. What are you going to do Eric?"

"All these pictures are making me sentimental. I am going to play at the Desert Inn, it still has that old Vegas class. Plus one of my old roommates from college is a floor manager there." "Haha, from Harvard to Sin City getting people to blow money they dont have om Red or Black...", snickers Wes. Eric sips his wine and says "Hey, look at me. I am marketing and selling fucking boxes. I could have gone to Pomona State College to do this and saved 80 grand."

After dinner the three take a cab back to the Mirage, and Eric heads up to his mini-suite. After a shower he dresses casually and parks his chair in front of the large window that looks out across the span between the Mirage and Treasure Island. Things are going good, but as always something is missing. He cracks a Michelob from the minibar and stares...and thinks. "Well there is that nurse that works over at the clinic on Harman.....or there is always Markie." Markie is a dancer at Club Paradise, currently the top club in Vegas. It's across from the Hard Rock, which is also a great place to meet the young, undamaged (physically) "relaxation therapists", euphemistic bullshit for escorts, which is also euphemistic bullshit for prostitutes.

"Nah, I am going to see Josh (his friend at the DI) and play a little. Fuck, I can afford it now"

8:55 pm: The Desert Inn is a well lit, simplistically elegant establishment. They dont have slots or tables crammed together, there is plenty of room to move around, a definite plus for Eric, especially if he plans on drinking a lot. Nothing worse than crashing into shit trying to get to the bathroom. He sees Josh right away and the two embrace. "Dude, why the fuck didnt you tell me you were coming? I'd have taken the night off!" Eric smiles at seeing his old friend. "Nah, I am here on business mostly. How are you? How's Jen?" Eric was at Josh's wedding a year ago, down in Newport Beach; among the few details he remembers is that the garlic mashed potatoes at the Balboa Bay club were pretty good, and that Jen is gorgeous. Afterall, it was Eric that introduced them after meeting Jen during a visit to the Hoag Hospital ER. "Ah she's good, she is the charge nurse at University Medical Center ER. Hey did you eat yet, I am on break in 10 minutes?" "Yeah I bombed my intestines at Batistas...unreal veg lasagna. I'll have a couple of drinks though while you eat."

15 minutes later, inside the DI Steakhouse, Josh orders a sirloin while Eric gets an Absolut and cranberry. "So what's the business?" Josh asks. "Ah, I sold a forrest of corrugated to a distributor here in town, and now I have to find a warehouse to service him and expand to others." "Damn dude, you've made it!" Josh high fives Eric. "Not yet, I am going to use this to get a transfer to our office in San Jose, fucking shit is happening up there so fast it's sick. Our Management is all these old fuckers who are already set, they will miss it if it's not brought to them on a platter. Tech and computers and the like, I already have an inroad at Hewlett Packard...Silicon Valley. You know." Josh nods and realizes just how much he always liked and admired Eric, going back to watching him slog to class in the snow in his wheelchair over the brick sidewalks of Cambridge.

Then he comes back, "Silicon Valley huh? Yeah, unlike this place, or LA, which are now Silicone Valleys. Fake tits are all the rage in Vegas these days", he smirks, and cuts into his dinner. "No shit. So how's business here for you?" Josh pauses for a moment, "Honestly. It's out of control. We havent failed to have an increase in take for the last 14 months. The city is exploding. Word has it, Wynn is building some fucking Italian themed Monstrosity up the strip....talking, like billions. That guy is both amazing and annoying."

"Yeah well I am staying at the Mirage. It's good I like it. I actually like his place downtown, the Golden Nugget ...downtown still has that edge that makes me feel I am in Vegas and not some perverted version of Disneyland. So what table should I play at here?" Josh laughs, "They're all good, we have the best dealers here. Not greedy fuckers like over at Caesars. These guys do what they do because they LIKE it, and they like people."

11:55 PM.: Eric is up almost 6,800, and 7 Absolut and Cranberry drinks. He's feeling pretty good, and Josh sends the pit boss over to check on him, basically put his hand on his shoulder and remind him, in case the drinks are in the way, that he is up a lot.. The pit boss tells Eric he's comped at the DI the next time he comes to Vegas, room, food everything. It's both an offer and a gentle reminder, via Josh, that maybe it's time he take a break, before the booze ruins it. Eric cashes out, Josh walks him to the cage, and to the bathroom.

"I'll be back the end of the month, depending on what I find these next couple days" Eric tells Josh. "Well give me a call, let me know. Jen and I will hang out with you." "As long as she doesnt try to set me up with one of her nursing friends", Eric jokes, "I hate that." "Ha! Hypocrite! You fucking shackled me that way. Where you heading now?" Josh asks hiding a note of concern, realizing his friend has a crapload of cash on him and is in a wheelchair. "Probably back to the Mirage, I have stuff I need to do tomorrow." Josh see's him to a cab, helps put the chair in the trunk and they shake hands and embrace.

"So where to?", asks the cab driver...Eric looks at his watch, 12:15 AM: ...."The Mirage.....no wait a second, head north towards downtown first." He decides he is not ready to sleep....Maybe he will try his luck somewhere else. As they approach the intersection of Las Vegas Blvd and Sahara, Eric looks first to his left at the freakish brand new Stratosphere, Bob Stupak's boondoggle turned good overnight, then he looks out to the right. He see's this totally gorgeous woman talking into a cellular phone with a drink in her hand....her attire suggests what she probably has for an occupation, but you never know in Vegas. The traffic light at the intersection is red and they are paused behind a long line of cars. Eric rolls down the window and pauses for a moment. The booze has loosened him up a bit. "Hey! Hey! You need a ride?"

Erin hangs up her phone and walks over to the curb..."Hi", she calmly says, "Where are you heading?" "Anywhere...nowhere. You need a ride, its on me." "Well I need to head to Caesars" "Cool." Eric opens the door and Erin slinks in, but not before downing her drink and leaving the glass on the curb.

"I'm Eric." "Erin...thanks for the ride." They shake hands, and Eric tells the cab driver to head back to Caesars. Erin quickly sizes him up through her euphoric haze. To herself she says "Well he is kinda cute, smells good. What's that thing in his ear? A hearing aid, ok. Nice bod....wait, what's up with his legs?"

Eric turns back to her "So what do you do here? You visiting?" "Umm, I work here", Erin answers and stares at him with a blank expression, trying to convey it all with out saying anything more, to see what he does. "I understand", says Eric. "Are you working at Caesars?" "Supposed to, but nothing here is ever definite until its over", she says, again with the same stare. "Well its almost 12:30, what time are you working?" "Supposed to be, like, 2 am, I thought I would have a couple more drinks, waste a few dollars in a slot machine." "Ah...." "So you want to hang out while I wait?", Erin asks. Eric, still absorbing her beauty, nods..."lets play blackjack", he suggests. "Nah I suck at it!", Erin half laughs. "It's on me, I'll coach you", and he turns to look out his window, and they dont say another word until they get to Caesars.

The Valet approaches the cab, as Eric hands the driver the fare and tells him to pop the trunk. Erin gets out and Eric slides over but sits at the edge of the seat and tells the Valet to get the wheelchair out of the trunk. "Now let's see how she reacts", Eric says to himself and watched out of the corner of his eye Erin's countenance, while the valet wrestles with the chair. "Just bring it over here dude, I'll unfold it", Eric instructs and hands the Valet a 20. Erin's expression hasnt changed. Too stoned to care?. Cool with it? Mortified? When Eric unfolds it, Erin steps behind it and lifts it by the handlebars. "Wow, this is really lite. How much does this thing cost?" "A few bucks." Erin looks under it, "I like the Red." Eric hops in, relieved. "Here, I'll drive.", says Erin.

1:58 Am: "Double down sweetie." Erin looks at Eric...."Double down? With an Eight?" "Yes, the dealer has a 5 showing, a bust card." Erin places another Black Chip next to the one she has out there. She gets a 9. Dealer flips his down card over, also a 9. Next card is a 2.....and then an 8. "Fuckin' A..." Erin smiles and gulps another mouthful from her Bloody Mary. She's now up to 1100 from the 300 Eric started her with to teach her basic strategy. Eric recognizes though, from her slightly slurred speech and pinpoint pupils that this girl is not ready for card counting, and probably never will be. In the hour that they have been playing they found out a little more about each other, and in the well lit Caesars Black Jack Pit, Eric more fully saw just how unbelievably gorgeous she was. "How the fuck does she stay so toned?" he asked himself. As for her own mind, Erin came to decide that Eric wasnt just cute, he approached Handsome. But that was easy for her to decide when they first sat down at the table and Eric pulled out his wad of cash from the Desert Inn and placed the 300 down to buy in for her. In the back of her clouded mind though, was that 2 am call upstairs with the four "Allegedly" Turkish guys. And it was now 2 AM.

"Well, escorts are always late, I'll play a few more hands", Erin reasoned in her head. "This guy is different, fuck if I know how yet, but he is different. He hasnt groped, or touched, or tried to kiss me or anything. No rude remarks or innuendoe, and he looks me in the eye." Her beeper went off again..."Fuck, I need to make a call", she says to Eric. He tells her "Hey, if you need to go, I know you said you did earlier, go ahead. I'll give you my number if you..." Erin stops him, "NO No wait, just hang on for a minute, Ok? Let me go make this call...I'll be right back" Eric plays the next few hands for her until she returns.

"Can I talk to you for a minute? Over there..." Erin points to the Bar. Eric picks up the chips and rolls over to the bar with her. "I have to go upstairs, I dont know how long I will be, probably at least a couple hours. Here's my number, I know you told me you would be here another couple days, so call me if you want. For...whatever." "Ok, cool, either way, I am glad I asked you into my cab." "So am I..." and Erin bends down and kisses Eric on the cheek. "Oh wait", says Eric, "here..." He hands her 8 of the 11 $100 dollar black chips..."You won these...." She pauses for a moment, then kisses him again and says into his ear "Please call me", and then hurries off to the elevators.

Eric sat there for a minute or two, sobering up now, he pondered the last couple hours in his head. "Yeah I'll call you", he says to himself. Then he remembers what he needs to do tomorrow...."Fuck, I need to get to sleep." As he is wheeling out of Caesars after cashing his remaining chips, he rolls by a 24 hour snack bar. Hunger from booze now trumps sleep and he grabs a sundried tomatoe and turkey breast pita to eat before heading back to the Mirage. As he sits in front of the window next to the snack bar eating, watching the Valet load and unload, he sees in the reflection a silhouette approaching him from behind. Erin comes up from behind him...Eric stops chewing and mumbles with his mouth half full, "Umm...Wha' 'appened?" and then swallows.

Erin almost ignores the question and stares for a moment..."You are staying at the Mirage?" "Ummm....right." "Comeone, we can walk, I'll push you, you finish eating." Before he can say anything else she has him going at a brisk pace out the door, past the waiting cabs and onto the Vegas Strip towards the Mirage. To himself, Eric says...."Ah how hard can a warheouse for sale be to find these days in Vegas? Fuck it, there's miles of Desert, around here, we'll build one if need be, it's still worth it...."

<To Be continued, the dirty part is next>

Hey man, I like your writing style. It moves right along, has information, it's in the moment. Write a novel, huh? I'd buy and read it.

Burg, where's part 3 already -- this is good stuff.

Someone told me I was fucking crazy to be putting this stuff on a site like this for FREE. I thought about it for 37 minutes after he told me, and then I kicked him out of my house because I generally dislike jews even though I have many jewish friends, and he looked like a jew (but i wasnt 100% sure). Anyhow, soup to nuts, I have jumped from work to work, I have like 28 half written books. If I needed the money and wasnt so easily bored and didnt need a change of scenery every 6 days I'd finish one/some/all of them.

Glad you liked it though, maybe I'll plop another portion on in a few days/weeks....just cant decide if I talk about throat fucking the whore, or the time I jerked off into her pussy gape while she enjoyed a valium & Perc haze. Writer's dilemma....

Burg, please continue this piece. Rather it's here or a book, as long as we get to read it until the end.