The Hooker Hookup Repudiation

I had just driven to the grocery store, parked my Jeep, and was walking away from it when I saw them: two hookers walking through the parking lot. One was white and one was light-skinned African-American. They were young - maybe in their early twenties. They were both very pretty. And they were both most definitely smokin' hot. How did I know for sure they were hookers, you might wonder. Partly their attire: both had tight white halter tops, very short shorts, and high heels. One was wearing what I call "stripper shoes" - those shoes with ultra-thick soles and very tall heels that Hollywood celebs tend to wear nowadays.

Still not convinced they were hookers? Ok, get this: As they strolled past, about 10 feet from me, the girl closest to me – the one wearing the stripper shoes – turned her head in my direction, smiled brightly, and said "Hello!" to me. I returned her hello, then turned and walked toward the store. Her hello had clinched it for me.

You see, I'm long past the age where women even notice I exist, much less smile and say hello. Unless, of course, there's money to be made by doing so. I guess working girls have to constantly be on the lookout for customers. But I wasn’t there to buy hot sex. To be sure, I was there to buy something hot – but in the store’s deli, not in the parking lot.