"Give me a call." The text message from Roxy was simple enough, so I did just that. "Jethro, I am coming to Las Vegas over the Fourth of July. I want you to talk with your Chinese friends and have them get me a room at the Cosmopolitan." Jethro do this! Jethro do that! When I say jump Jethro, you say - "How high?" Whatever her majesty wants; her majesty gets...at least from me anyways.
"I will do my best to accommodate the request," I tell her. I then ask her this - "Are you still running with that clown? Have you dumped him yet? If you're bringing that asshole with you, forget about it! You guys can find your own room." Roxy pushes me around. And for the most part I put up very little resistance; but I draw the line when it comes to certain things. And I wanted her to understand. "Jethro," she says, "Jeff is going to Santa Barbara with his golf whores over the Fourth. So I am coming out to Las Vegas alone." The two of them must have an arrangement. I have never asked; but I get the feeling.
We chat a few minutes longer and then I ask this - "Can you and I spend some time together like we did last time you came to town? I try not to think about you, but it is hard. I miss you." Every time I think the two of us are through - she always shows again. "Jethro, I have missed you as well," she says, "Jeff is too busy with all his other stuff. He doesn't pay any attention to me. I know you will give me all the attention I long for. Besides, it is time for you to give the reader's of your blog some new material,,,Mr. Kiss & Tell."
She was in town a couple months ago and I shared our exploits on the blog...that's why she calls me Mr. Kiss & Tell. At first I wasn't sure if she would be angry about it or not. Turns out my writing about us being intimate is a humongous turn on for her. Most girls would be angry if they knew I was blabbing all over the Internet about their sexual prowess to all my friends...Roxy is not most girls. We chat for a little while longer and then I ask if she will send me a video or picture of her. I haven't seen her in a long time and I thought it would be nice to have little reminder. She tells me that I will see the real thing in a few weeks and I should be patient. I beg and she finally caves.
A few minutes after my request a video message on SnapChat appears. I open it up and she is standing in front of a mirror wearing nothing but a robe. She then says, "Jethro, I am looking forward to seeing you again. Last time we were together you fucked my legs off. And I know you will do it again. Here is a little something to hold you over." She then drops her robe and reveals her naked, yoga firm, tan body. She spins around slowly a few times for me, and then says, "Jethro, I want to show you one last thing before I go. I bought a new stud for my piercing." The camera zooms in between her legs and shows up close what she is referring to. My eyes were ready to pop out of my head - "I will see you soon enough," were her parting words.
P.S. I hate you SnapChat!
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets woken up at six in the morning by his boss Jayball.
"Jethro, I am taking you to breakfast, I will be there in ten minutes. Have your ass ready!" It was six o'clock in the morning, a Sunday morning, when Jayball called and woke me from a deep sleep. "There are a couple of races I want you to ship out to people. Like I said, be ready in ten minutes." I crawl out of bed, use the restroom, brush my teeth, get dressed and then - just like clockwork - my phone begins buzzing. "I am outside, hurry up!" The message read.
"Damn Jayball, when did you start wearing ladies perfume? It smells like a brothel in here. Were you with that broad from the Yard House again?" I ask. The smell of women's perfume in his car was overwhelming. As he is getting ready to answer my query, his phone starts ringing - "Hold on for a second Jethro - 'Hi babe, no I had to cut out for a bit. I had some work to take care of. I am with Jethro. You know him. He's that hillbilly from Kansas you met a while back. I will be back there in a little while. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?" He then hangs the phone up.
"Who was that?" I ask. Jayball has more women in his stable than Carter has liver pills. How he keeps them straight is a mystery to me. "Do you remember Veronica?" he says. I remember her quite vividly. She is hard to forget. Veronica is a stripper at Sapphire's. Her body looks as if it were carved of stone. "She came over last night after work," he adds, "I wasn't expecting her, she just showed up. I have been up all night doing you know what hillbilly. Anyways, that is beside the point. I have some races I want you to send out to people." It is times like these when I realize just how dedicated he is to his craft. Think about this for a second. He has a women that bears a striking semblance to Aphrodite herself; lying in his bed, waiting for him, wanting him. And all this clown can think about is horse racing.
"Don't you ever take a day off from the races? Jesus, there is a Playboy centerfold lying in your bed as we sit here and speak. What the hell is wrong with you!" I say emphatically, "If a girl like Veronica was lying in my bed. The last damn thing on my mind would be horse racing!" Not Jayball, his clock runs different from everyone else, and he told me such - "Jethro, first of all, there will never be a girl like Veronica lying in your bed. And second, I will take all the time I need. No matter how long it takes, she will be there when I get back. Now get a pen and write these races down. I want them shipped out to the data base ASAP!"
"Damn Jayball, when did you start wearing ladies perfume? It smells like a brothel in here. Were you with that broad from the Yard House again?" I ask. The smell of women's perfume in his car was overwhelming. As he is getting ready to answer my query, his phone starts ringing - "Hold on for a second Jethro - 'Hi babe, no I had to cut out for a bit. I had some work to take care of. I am with Jethro. You know him. He's that hillbilly from Kansas you met a while back. I will be back there in a little while. Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?" He then hangs the phone up.
"Who was that?" I ask. Jayball has more women in his stable than Carter has liver pills. How he keeps them straight is a mystery to me. "Do you remember Veronica?" he says. I remember her quite vividly. She is hard to forget. Veronica is a stripper at Sapphire's. Her body looks as if it were carved of stone. "She came over last night after work," he adds, "I wasn't expecting her, she just showed up. I have been up all night doing you know what hillbilly. Anyways, that is beside the point. I have some races I want you to send out to people." It is times like these when I realize just how dedicated he is to his craft. Think about this for a second. He has a women that bears a striking semblance to Aphrodite herself; lying in his bed, waiting for him, wanting him. And all this clown can think about is horse racing.
"Don't you ever take a day off from the races? Jesus, there is a Playboy centerfold lying in your bed as we sit here and speak. What the hell is wrong with you!" I say emphatically, "If a girl like Veronica was lying in my bed. The last damn thing on my mind would be horse racing!" Not Jayball, his clock runs different from everyone else, and he told me such - "Jethro, first of all, there will never be a girl like Veronica lying in your bed. And second, I will take all the time I need. No matter how long it takes, she will be there when I get back. Now get a pen and write these races down. I want them shipped out to the data base ASAP!"
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas sees a pair of pink lace panties.
"Jethro, open up the glove box and take a look at what I have inside." I was riding with my boss Jayball down to the race book at the Red Rock to redeem a couple of his winning tickets when he made the request. I follow his instructions, and a pair of pink lace panties fall onto the floor. At first glance I wasn't sure what they were so I pick them up for further examination. It became obvious rather quickly...Jayball had scored once again.
"Who do these belong to?' I ask. He grins and says, "Remember the girl I was firing on at the Yard House Saturday? I called her and we met for drinks last night at the Lahaina. We throw a few back and then she invites me to her place. I don't have to fill in the blanks for you hillbilly. You know what happened. I kept her panties as a souvenir." Jayball does more stabbing than Jack the Ripper. He is in possession of a pantie collection that would make Victoria's Secret jealous. Some times I think he might be losing a step or two in his old age; but then I have to think again. "Jayball - I can tell you this with all sincerity, There are a million guys in this world who would give their left nut to see one tenth of the action you see. Me being one of them." After my remark, he shrugs his shoulders - as if to say - "No big deal."
Jayball has become so adapt to a study stream of quality trim, in my opinion, he takes it for granted. "When are you going to hook up with her again? Do you think she could bring one of her friends for me?" I ask. He immediately starts shaking his head after my query and says, "I don't know when I will see her again. And to answer your second question Jethro - the women I run around with and their friends are way out of your league. No chance of being hooked up with one of her friends." I let out a sigh of disappointment after his remark. I wasn't mad, he was telling the truth. Jayball only fraternizes with 10's. My scale, at this point, only measures in the four to five range.
As were pulling into the parking lot of the Red Rock, he tells me this, "Jethro, you are doing an excellent job of working the list I gave you. I want you to make sure people understand my company is the best in the business when it comes to horse racing. We pick the most winners consistently and offer the best rebates anywhere!" You would think his life is all (wine, women, song and dance) by the way I tell it. Truth be told, his greatest passion is horse racing. He has made an ample living at it for the last twenty five years. He was kind enough to hire me on with the goal of expanding his customer base. I am doing everything in my power to achieve the prerogatives set for me.
"Who do these belong to?' I ask. He grins and says, "Remember the girl I was firing on at the Yard House Saturday? I called her and we met for drinks last night at the Lahaina. We throw a few back and then she invites me to her place. I don't have to fill in the blanks for you hillbilly. You know what happened. I kept her panties as a souvenir." Jayball does more stabbing than Jack the Ripper. He is in possession of a pantie collection that would make Victoria's Secret jealous. Some times I think he might be losing a step or two in his old age; but then I have to think again. "Jayball - I can tell you this with all sincerity, There are a million guys in this world who would give their left nut to see one tenth of the action you see. Me being one of them." After my remark, he shrugs his shoulders - as if to say - "No big deal."
Jayball has become so adapt to a study stream of quality trim, in my opinion, he takes it for granted. "When are you going to hook up with her again? Do you think she could bring one of her friends for me?" I ask. He immediately starts shaking his head after my query and says, "I don't know when I will see her again. And to answer your second question Jethro - the women I run around with and their friends are way out of your league. No chance of being hooked up with one of her friends." I let out a sigh of disappointment after his remark. I wasn't mad, he was telling the truth. Jayball only fraternizes with 10's. My scale, at this point, only measures in the four to five range.
As were pulling into the parking lot of the Red Rock, he tells me this, "Jethro, you are doing an excellent job of working the list I gave you. I want you to make sure people understand my company is the best in the business when it comes to horse racing. We pick the most winners consistently and offer the best rebates anywhere!" You would think his life is all (wine, women, song and dance) by the way I tell it. Truth be told, his greatest passion is horse racing. He has made an ample living at it for the last twenty five years. He was kind enough to hire me on with the goal of expanding his customer base. I am doing everything in my power to achieve the prerogatives set for me.
Monday, June 9, 2014
The Yard House.
"How old are you? I would guess twenty two, maybe twenty three." Without question, J-ball is the smoothest operator I have ever known. "Bartender, whatever this young lady is having stick it on my tab." The Vegas mama standing next to him at the bar was getting ready to buy her own drink when he decides to intervene. "Thank you for the compliment and the drink. My name is Claire," she then sticks her hand out to him. Most guys would sheepishly shake it and maybe, if their lucky, get a thirty second chat out of her...J-ball is not most guys!
Without a moments hesitation, he takes her hand and gently kisses it. "Anytime beautiful," he says. I was watching it all unfold from the bar stool next to him. After he kisses her hand - he asks if she would care to join us - "I would love to join you but I am meeting someone here in a few minutes," she tells him with a wide smile. He responds by kissing her hand again and saying, "Maybe he won't show and you can join us." After his remark her tan face blushes and she says, "Why don't I give you my number and we can go out for a drink some other time?" Without breaking stride or releasing her hand, he summons the bartender to bring him a pen. She writes her number down on a napkin and kisses it. "I will call you soon," he tells her. Most would think the encounter to be over...it wasn't. The two of them spend, I would guess, fifteen to twenty seconds staring at each other before she leaves, no words - just stares.
"I know a couple of guys back in Kansas who really knew how to swoon the ladies. But I have to be honest with you J-ball. They couldn't carry your jock." Watching him spin his charm on females is akin to watching Larry Bird shoot a basketball; or George Brett swing a baseball bat. It's truly a thing of beauty and grace. I told him such, and he says this - "Jethro, I want you to watch and learn. Who knows? One of these days your hillbilly ass might be able to pull off the same feats." We both look at each other after his statement and start laughing, he then says - "I seriously doubt it."
As we are leaving Yard House a beautiful girl in a short skirt and silk blouse is entering. He looks at me and says, "Check this broad out!" She hears his comment and looks at him with a wide smile. I thought he was being a little abrupt. But the subject of his compliment felt otherwise. She then says, "Hi, how are you?" Instead of reciprocating the greeting, he decides to pull the staring routine. Ten seconds or so pass and he turns and walks away...leaving the Madonna he was staring down gawking. As we are strolling to the car, I say - "Goddamn Jayball, you could have gotten another number! Jesus, that girl was gorgeous. Why didn't you make a move?" He looks at me; shrugs his shoulders; laughs; puts his sunglasses on; spits the toothpick out of his mouth and says - "Jethro, I have a stack of numbers at home I would venture to guess is at least two inches thick. Every once in a while I have to say no."
Without a moments hesitation, he takes her hand and gently kisses it. "Anytime beautiful," he says. I was watching it all unfold from the bar stool next to him. After he kisses her hand - he asks if she would care to join us - "I would love to join you but I am meeting someone here in a few minutes," she tells him with a wide smile. He responds by kissing her hand again and saying, "Maybe he won't show and you can join us." After his remark her tan face blushes and she says, "Why don't I give you my number and we can go out for a drink some other time?" Without breaking stride or releasing her hand, he summons the bartender to bring him a pen. She writes her number down on a napkin and kisses it. "I will call you soon," he tells her. Most would think the encounter to be over...it wasn't. The two of them spend, I would guess, fifteen to twenty seconds staring at each other before she leaves, no words - just stares.
"I know a couple of guys back in Kansas who really knew how to swoon the ladies. But I have to be honest with you J-ball. They couldn't carry your jock." Watching him spin his charm on females is akin to watching Larry Bird shoot a basketball; or George Brett swing a baseball bat. It's truly a thing of beauty and grace. I told him such, and he says this - "Jethro, I want you to watch and learn. Who knows? One of these days your hillbilly ass might be able to pull off the same feats." We both look at each other after his statement and start laughing, he then says - "I seriously doubt it."
As we are leaving Yard House a beautiful girl in a short skirt and silk blouse is entering. He looks at me and says, "Check this broad out!" She hears his comment and looks at him with a wide smile. I thought he was being a little abrupt. But the subject of his compliment felt otherwise. She then says, "Hi, how are you?" Instead of reciprocating the greeting, he decides to pull the staring routine. Ten seconds or so pass and he turns and walks away...leaving the Madonna he was staring down gawking. As we are strolling to the car, I say - "Goddamn Jayball, you could have gotten another number! Jesus, that girl was gorgeous. Why didn't you make a move?" He looks at me; shrugs his shoulders; laughs; puts his sunglasses on; spits the toothpick out of his mouth and says - "Jethro, I have a stack of numbers at home I would venture to guess is at least two inches thick. Every once in a while I have to say no."
Friday, June 6, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets orders from his new boss.
"Now listen asshole - whatever you are doing, drop it and get the reports out! Is that clear enough for you?" My boss Jayball is not a guy who minces words. "While you're at it...get a goddamn haircut! It looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket. You look like the guy from the movie Young Einstein. I can't remember his name right now; but you look like him!'
Jayball would not be caught dead with a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothes. He is metro sexual. I told him such and his reply was classic Jayball. "Look, Jethro - there is a right way to do things, and a wrong way to do things. At Betmakerpro we do things the right way. Right after you send the reports out I want you to call these guys," he then throws a couple of call sheets on my lap. "Tell them we will match or beat any rebate they are receiving from other sites. When I get back from my massage - they better be signed up."
Jayball would not be caught dead with a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his clothes. He is metro sexual. I told him such and his reply was classic Jayball. "Look, Jethro - there is a right way to do things, and a wrong way to do things. At Betmakerpro we do things the right way. Right after you send the reports out I want you to call these guys," he then throws a couple of call sheets on my lap. "Tell them we will match or beat any rebate they are receiving from other sites. When I get back from my massage - they better be signed up."
Monday, June 2, 2014
The village idiot of Las Vegas gets a new pair of shoes.
"Here, take these shoes and put them on right now. Throw the ones you're wearing in the dumpster. You can't get in my car dressed like that." My boss Jayball was taking me to dinner yesterday for my birthday; but before I was allowed in his car, I was forced to adjust my wardrobe. "While you're at it take the shirt off you're wearing and throw it in the trash too. And those sweats and whatever shorts you're wearing underneath them can go as well. You look like you dress yourself out of a garbage can."
I was now standing in the parking lot of my apartment complex with nothing but a pair of socks on. I wasn't wearing any underwear. "Here, put this stuff on," he then hands me a new shirt, shorts and a pair of silk sweats. Everything fit like a glove. "Let me take a look at you," he says, "Now that's what I am talking about. You don't look like a homeless guy anymore. You can get in the car now."
I was now standing in the parking lot of my apartment complex with nothing but a pair of socks on. I wasn't wearing any underwear. "Here, put this stuff on," he then hands me a new shirt, shorts and a pair of silk sweats. Everything fit like a glove. "Let me take a look at you," he says, "Now that's what I am talking about. You don't look like a homeless guy anymore. You can get in the car now."
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