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The characters in this piece are not real people, but are based and written as composite images of several people that I have met over the years. The names and places are not real either and are written they same way.

If you think you have encountered a victim of human trafficking, call the National Human Trafficking Resource Center, 1-888-373-7888, open 24 hours a day/7 days a week. In cases of emergency, call 911...for more information click this link to State.gov and help stop the sex trade.

Don't Stop

I returned to work after my unannounced vacation. Nothing much had changed and waiting for me at the corner table were the NSA guys. I had thought about ignoring them but thought the consequences of that would be far worse than actually getting this over with. I smiled and approached the table and as I got close I was practically tackled by two dancers trying to get my attention. Of course they were interested in getting an introduction to my customers as they believed that any customer of mine was a ‘big money’ customer. I considered it for at least three seconds and decided that three would be better than one in this conversation. These girls were ‘pros’ at this game and they both could carry a conversation but were as different as night and day. Jesabelle was a striking red head with the mouth of a sailor and she could drink her weight shots before noon and not miss a beat. Jesuit was a willowy brunette that was aggressive and had an impressive cell phone photo diary of herself that would make even a hardcore porn fanatic blush. Three guys and now three girls the odds were the same or at least I thought and at any distance those girls could drive a tab up over a hundred bucks in fifteen minutes flat which meant more money in my pocket.

So we joined the guys and after a few rounds they were clearly irritated. My main NSA contact, Richard decided that we should all do shots. These girls could start the day with Jaeger and end it the same way; they amazed me. So with Jaeger all around and toasts about to start, Richard held up his hand. “I want to be sure your’s are real shots and that I’m not paying for some juice.” I grinned, that was not a problem with these girls. So he reached over and picked up each of their shots and waved his hand over them in the process. It did not register until later just exactly what he had done. He decided the shots were real and the toast went on. “Here’s to partying like rock stars, living like ‘movie stars’ and f’in like porn stars.” It was ten minutes later Jesabelle could not sit up straight in her chair and she became completely incoherent. Jesuit was not doing much better and she confronted Richard; “did you just Rufi my friend;”?

“Why would I waste a Rufi on her;” was his reply. I was shocked and maneuvered the girls away from the table and into the back dressing room. Which was like herding drunken giraffes across the Serengetti. I wanted the tab closed and these guys gone. I returned with the apologies, a pasted smile across my face and their tab. The club policy was that the customer was ‘always’ right and just because they did not get along with one girl (or ten) did not mean that they were at fault for ‘anything’. Richard looked up at me with innocent eyes; “I did not ask to close my tab.” I smiled back at him and he quickly retorted; “So how’s the bee sting?”

Shocked that he knew this as I had not told a soul, I sunk into a chair in a state of disbelief. “It’s okay, I could tell you about the day you lost your first tooth, your first date in high school, or that you only have five tampons left in your duffle bag, looking at his watch; and you’ll be needing one of those fairly soon and why do you not ever wear any underwear?”

I wanted to run. I had already called a very real CIA contact and run their cover names. I had been advised about hardball tactics and squeeze tactics. This I was not really ready for at the time. (Yes, you get within a mile of me and your catching a tan these days, I do not advise it as I understand it’s a slow burn). I was very upset at the obvious violation of my privacy and the blatant disregard for my civil rights. I did not want them to see me squirm too much, so I tackled the underwear thing. “Ever been on a horse and turned a barrel at about 35mph?” and then I added; “or gotten undressed at the end of the day and have bruises instead of a panty line from spending too much time in the saddle?” They both looked at me with blank stares. “Well, that little strip of nylon can become a torture device in no time.” Then they caught on...finally. I caught my breath and got into the swing of the conversation. “I also tuck my pants in my boots to keep the fire ants out, the bank I use is in my brassiere, I like to go camping during a full moon with my horses, I prefer a Glock to a Walther but I have definite preference to hollow points and on Sundays I wash my hair in the stock tank butt naked, do you wanna come and watch?” At this they smiled.

“Don’t worry I won’t miss a second of it”, Richard ruefully retorted. He grabbed his tab and signed it with no tip and quickly left the club. His companions were in tow behind him and the last one apologized for this not going well and handed me a couple of twenties.

Baffled as always by the behavior of men, I continued my day; I could not stop until 7. I had a personal quota to hit and me and a few other hostesses had a playful competition that could turn into a cat fight at the drop of a hat. I greeted yet another customer who was obviously not from this country. He introduced himself as Tan, and he was Iranian. He ordered a drink and when I came back after throwing a twenty on the table and telling me to keep the change; “I am looking for a very special girl”.

I looked at him “Your kidding right. Is there a camera crew here; I am starting to feel as if my identity is being cast in a Bad B Scifi movie without my explicit consent or compensation. Maybe we should just ‘Chuck’ this conversation out-the-door before we even get started cuz we know there is not enough ass-pir-in for the headache your about to cause.”

He grinned at me and threw another twenty on the table. “Give me just a few moments of your time; I know it must be hard living life always knowing what’s going to happen next. If I can borrow your pen I’ll give you my information and you can call me anytime; even just to talk. It must be awful lonely in that big house all alone in the country like that.”

I was completely rankled by this guy. “All I’ve got is this asspen, that says ‘Buy MO’ and given where we are it might as well say ‘Buy A HO’, Lord know this is’nt some ice cream shop where the highest bidder decides what the flavor-of-the-week is.”

“Oh but it is; I can get whatever flavor I want for a price.” With this he got up and left.

to be continued...

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Breakfast Blend


Lola Pt6 Ericca Cordier http://www.conspiracycafe.us © 2009 ConspiracyCafe.us Ericca Cordier. All Rights Reserved. The characters in this piece are not real people, but are based and written as composite images of several people that I have met over the years. The names and places are not real either and are written they same way. If you think you have encountered a victim of human trafficking, call the National Human Trafficking Resource Center, 1-888-373-7888, open 24 hours a day/7 days a week. In cases of emergency, call 911...for more information click this link to State.gov and help stop the sex trade. Don't Stop I returned to work after my unannounced vacation. Nothing much had changed and waiting for me at the corner table were the NSA guys. I had thought about ignoring them but thought the consequences of that would be far worse than actually getting this over with. I smiled and approached the table and as I got close I was practically tackled by two dancers trying to get my attention. Of course they were interested in getting an introduction to my customers as they believed that any customer of mine was a ‘big money’ customer. I considered it for at least three seconds and decided that three would be better than one in this conversation. These girls were ‘pros’ at this game and they both could carry a conversation but were as different as night and day. Jesabelle was a striking red head with the mouth of a sailor and she could drink her weight shots before noon and not miss a beat. Jesuit was a willowy brunette that was aggressive and had an impressive cell phone photo diary of herself that would make even a hardcore porn fanatic blush. Three guys and now three girls the odds were the same or at least I thought and at any distance those girls could drive a tab up over a hundred bucks in fifteen minutes flat which meant more money in my pocket. So we joined the guys and after a few rounds they were clearly irritated. My main NSA contact, Richard decided that we should all do shots. These girls could start the day with Jaeger and end it the same way; they amazed me. So with Jaeger all around and toasts about to start, Richard held up his hand. “I want to be sure your’s are real shots and that I’m not paying for some juice.” I grinned, that was not a problem with these girls. So he reached over and picked up each of their shots and waved his hand over them in the process. It did not register until later just exactly what he had done. He decided the shots were real and the toast went on. “Here’s to partying like rock stars, living like ‘movie stars’ and f’in like porn stars.” It was ten minutes later Jesabelle could not sit up straight in her chair and she became completely incoherent. Jesuit was not doing much better and she confronted Richard; “did you just Rufi my friend;”? “Why would I waste a Rufi on her;” was his reply. I was shocked and maneuvered the girls away from the table and into the back dressing room. Which was like herding drunken giraffes across the Serengetti. I wanted the tab closed and these guys gone. I returned with the apologies, a pasted smile across my face and their tab. The club policy was that the customer was ‘always’ right and just because they did not get along with one girl (or ten) did not mean that they were at fault for ‘anything’. Richard looked up at me with innocent eyes; “I did not ask to close my tab.” I smiled back at him and he quickly retorted; “So how’s the bee sting?” Shocked that he knew this as I had not told a soul, I sunk into a chair in a state of disbelief. “It’s okay, I could tell you about the day you lost your first tooth, your first date in high school, or that you only have five tampons left in your duffle bag, looking at his watch; and you’ll be needing one of those fairly soon and why do you not ever wear any underwear?” I wanted to run. I had already called a very real CIA contact and run their cover names. I had been advised about hardball tactics and squeeze tactics. This I was not really ready for at the time. (Yes, you get within a mile of me and your catching a tan these days, I do not advise it as I understand it’s a slow burn). I was very upset at the obvious violation of my privacy and the blatant disregard for my civil rights. I did not want them to see me squirm too much, so I tackled the underwear thing. “Ever been on a horse and turned a barrel at about 35mph?” and then I added; “or gotten undressed at the end of the day and have bruises instead of a panty line from spending too much time in the saddle?” They both looked at me with blank stares. “Well, that little strip of nylon can become a torture device in no time.” Then they caught on...finally. I caught my breath and got into the swing of the conversation. “I also tuck my pants in my boots to keep the fire ants out, the bank I use is in my brassiere, I like to go camping during a full moon with my horses, I prefer a Glock to a Walther but I have definite preference to hollow points and on Sundays I wash my hair in the stock tank butt naked, do you wanna come and watch?” At this they smiled. “Don’t worry I won’t miss a second of it”, Richard ruefully retorted. He grabbed his tab and signed it with no tip and quickly left the club. His companions were in tow behind him and the last one apologized for this not going well and handed me a couple of twenties. Baffled as always by the behavior of men, I continued my day; I could not stop until 7. I had a personal quota to hit and me and a few other hostesses had a playful competition that could turn into a cat fight at the drop of a hat. I greeted yet another customer who was obviously not from this country. He introduced himself as Tan, and he was Iranian. He ordered a drink and when I came back after throwing a twenty on the table and telling me to keep the change; “I am looking for a very special girl”. I looked at him “Your kidding right. Is there a camera crew here; I am starting to feel as if my identity is being cast in a Bad B Scifi movie without my explicit consent or compensation. Maybe we should just ‘Chuck’ this conversation out-the-door before we even get started cuz we know there is not enough ass-pir-in for the headache your about to cause.” He grinned at me and threw another twenty on the table. “Give me just a few moments of your time; I know it must be hard living life always knowing what’s going to happen next. If I can borrow your pen I’ll give you my information and you can call me anytime; even just to talk. It must be awful lonely in that big house all alone in the country like that.” I was completely rankled by this guy. “All I’ve got is this asspen, that says ‘Buy MO’ and given where we are it might as well say ‘Buy A HO’, Lord know this is’nt some ice cream shop where the highest bidder decides what the flavor-of-the-week is.” “Oh but it is; I can get whatever flavor I want for a price.” With this he got up and left. to be continued... If you want to know more about this....buy our dvd http://www.conspiracycafe.us/shop.html









http://www.conspiracycafe.us © 2009 ConspiracyCafe.us Ericca Cordier. All Rights Reserved.