What does it say about a person who gets propositioned by a “Lady of the Night” at a library – during lunchtime? Aliso Viejo is not that kind of a community at all. This may have been the sign of the times – of economic difficulties – that one particular sex worker moved into our quiet community to ply her trade.
I was at the library watching the business news. It has been a routine for me for many months now trying to keep apprised of market developments and to watch the spectacle of TARPS and ALFS and Senators grilling Captains of Industry. I was being my usual self, acknowledging people around with a smile. It really never mattered whether I knew them or not. I sat across a lady reading the OC Register and every time she would turn the page we had a short glimpse of each other. If I had to make a guess, she was probably a teacher – clothed very simply and not flashy with a reserved demeanor in her mid-30’s. On one of those page-turners she got my patented smile.
I noticed her leave but returned a few minutes and handed me a note. It was amusing because the note was an example of deniable communication – code in other words. It was an offer to have an illicit encounter with her. I finished the television program and went outside where I found her waiting for me. After a couple of questions, I confirmed my suspicions. She was trying to convince me that the Bank of America right in the heart of town could not help her and she wanted me to drive her to another branch in another city. I simply said, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you because I don’t have a car”.
But judge for yourself the sophistication of the approach as I posted her note on the blog. It even mentions her preference of bed size. I digitally removed her name in case I am wrong, which I doubt. I am curious to know what she saw in me that made me a good potential client – a John? Did I look starved for affection? Did I look like I had the money? That would be an interesting demographic study. Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to conduct market research about the oldest profession.
This information is being forwarded to the proper authorities.
I was at the library watching the business news. It has been a routine for me for many months now trying to keep apprised of market developments and to watch the spectacle of TARPS and ALFS and Senators grilling Captains of Industry. I was being my usual self, acknowledging people around with a smile. It really never mattered whether I knew them or not. I sat across a lady reading the OC Register and every time she would turn the page we had a short glimpse of each other. If I had to make a guess, she was probably a teacher – clothed very simply and not flashy with a reserved demeanor in her mid-30’s. On one of those page-turners she got my patented smile.
I noticed her leave but returned a few minutes and handed me a note. It was amusing because the note was an example of deniable communication – code in other words. It was an offer to have an illicit encounter with her. I finished the television program and went outside where I found her waiting for me. After a couple of questions, I confirmed my suspicions. She was trying to convince me that the Bank of America right in the heart of town could not help her and she wanted me to drive her to another branch in another city. I simply said, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you because I don’t have a car”.
But judge for yourself the sophistication of the approach as I posted her note on the blog. It even mentions her preference of bed size. I digitally removed her name in case I am wrong, which I doubt. I am curious to know what she saw in me that made me a good potential client – a John? Did I look starved for affection? Did I look like I had the money? That would be an interesting demographic study. Unfortunately, I haven’t the time to conduct market research about the oldest profession.
This information is being forwarded to the proper authorities.
