It was Christmas Eve a couple years ago and I had to be in LA for work. I
was flying home the next day so I could be with my Mom on Christmas in New
York. I was in the same little boutique hotel in West Hollywood I always stay
in and felt as at home as was possible for me to feel in LA.... Which isn't
very... and certainly not on Christmas Eve. Sportscenter wasn't helping, nor
was copious amounts of chocolate cake. I didn't have any booty call girl in LA
at the time and all my friends were either with their families or already
back East for the holiday. I was lonely beyond belief. Often I get poignantly
randy around the holidays. My ego tries to trick me into thinking that sex
will get me love. And that's even when I'm home in New York and around my
family and friends and can get some real love, let alone when I'm in LA. I had
only one choice. Buy some.
I looked in the back of the LA Weekly. I didn't have a laptop and don't
think I had even been educated about Eros.com and other Internet search engines
for whores at that point anyway. I rarely actually get prostitutes because
usually something bad happens and I never get what I'm after: Love. But my
loneliness conspires with my libido and convinces me that this time it'll be
different and Julia Roberts will show up and maybe even, we'll fall in love.
Or at least she'll be nice to me like a real girlfriend for an hour.
I found a picture I liked and again, my wishful thinking trumped my common
sense and I believed that the girl in the photo was actually the girl that was
going to show up. I called the number and she picked up.
"Sherry?"
"Hey! How's it going?" She sounded young and cool and like a girl I would
want to go out with.
"Great. Is this actually Sherry?"
"Of course."
"And you're the girl in the picture?"
"Of course, baby, who else would I be?"
"It's just that I've had some weird things happen..."
"That's me. You can send me home when I get there if I'm not. What's your
name?"
"Eric."
"Hey Eric. Where are you?"
"In a hotel."
"Great. You want me to come over right now?"
"Yeah. That would be great."
I gave her my phone number and she called me right back to verify that I was
who I said I was and was in the hotel I said I was in and said she'd be over
in twenty minutes tops. I was excited. She was hot. 5'5". Slim, nice 36C
tits, kinky blonde hair and a button nosed Irish face. 22 years-old and
full of spit and vinegar. She sounded like a lot of fun.
A half an hour went by... then 45 minutes... then another 15 minutes. I
called back.
"Hello?" A different girl answered.
"Hi. I called for Sherry an hour ago and she said she'd be here in twenty
minutes..."
"She's on her way. She had to stop and get gas. She's so sorry. She'll be
there any minute, I promise." The girl sounded sweet and innocent. They
sounded like a couple of non professional college girls augmenting their work-study
jobs posing naked for art students by being hookers on the side.
"Okay. Thanks."
Another half an hour went by. So now it had been an hour and a half and I
was getting really annoyed. It was like, "Vegas, baby." The luster was fast
wearing off this already marginally lusterless idea of fucking a whore on
Christmas Eve in a hotel room 3000 miles away from home. I called back.
"Hello?" Fucking Sherry answered!
"Sherry?"
"No, I'm her roommate, Brooke."
"You sound like Sherry."
"No, baby, I'm Brooke. Who's this?
"This is Eric. Sherry was supposed to be over here an hour ago and a half an
hour ago I called and she's still not here and I talked to another girl who
wasn't you-"
"I'm so sorry. She must be stuff in traffic."
"It's 1am on Christmas Eve. There's no traffic."
"Well, she was coming from the Valley."
"Okay well, if she's not here in ten minutes then I'm not interested."
"She'll be there."
I was so fucking pissed. They always bait and switch. The chick on the
phone was definitely the first chick I spoke with who said she was Sherry even
though she denied it, so who knew who the fuck was going to show up. I was
getting really demoralized really fast.
KNOCK KNOCK.
I went to the door and looked through the peep hole. It was a brunette. Not
even close. I opened the door.
"Hi, I'm Sherry."
"Hey. Eric."
"Can I come in?"
She was 33, dressed like a raver, 20 pounds too fat and sort of cute but
definitely not really pretty and nothing like the picture of Sherry in the
paper. But I was lonely and had waited for 2 hours and figured I might as well.
"Sure."
"Can I use your phone to call in?"
"Sure."
She sat on the couch and called her people.
"Hey, it's Sherry... Yeah, I'm here. Everything's cool... okay, bye." She
hung up.
"So what's your name?"
"Eric. I told you."
"Oh right."
Having to ask me twice and now seeing her in the living room light, I was
just suddenly over it.
"You know, Sherry, you're not the girl in the photo."
"Yeah. That's not supposed to be me."
"Well, I talked to a girl on the phone who said she was you, who wasn't, and
also said that you would be the same girl that was in the photo."
"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."
"Yeah, I don't think I'm into it anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd like you to just leave please." She turned fast. Her smile was gone
and she got street in a hurry. Whore or no whore, a girl doesn't like to be
rejected.
"Well, it's a two hundred dollar cancellation fee."
"I'll give you 20 bucks for gas but...."
"No, pal. It's a 200 dollar cancellation fee. That's the rule."
"Well, nobody told me any rule like that. I'm going to call your people."
"Fine, but they'll tell you the same thing."
I picked up the phone and called.
"Hello?" The girl who answered was definitely the original girl who told me
she was Sherry.
"Okay, so you're not Sherry. Sherry's here and you lied and I don't
appreciate it."
"You never talked to me Sir, I just started my shift 5 minutes ago."
"Okay, I'm done playing games. I asked you to be honest with me and you
weren't and I'm sending her home like you told me I could if she wasn't you and
I'm not paying any 200 dollar cancellation fee."
"Well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding but those are the rules."
"That's not what you told me when we talked."
"I never talked with you before. I told you that."
"That's bullshit."
"Can I speak with Sherry please."
I put back on Sherry on the phone.
"Uh-huh... Uh-huh.... Yeah, that's what I told him."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!! Who the fuck was that. My heart instantly started to
race. I really don't like confrontation and any threat of violence scares the
shit out of me. I'm a pussy that way. Sherry smiled an evil smile. I ran
to the door and looked through the peep hole. There was a huge, white guy
nervously stalking the outside of my door and even though I was in a hotel, I
felt like I was the only person for miles. They must have beeped him when they
thought I wasn't going to pay.
"Who is it?"
"It's Sherry's driver! Open the door please!"
"No,"
"You're in trouble now fuckhead!" Sherry screamed from the living room.
BANG BANG BANG!!! On the door.
"Open the fucking door now!!!!!!!!"
"I'll call security."
"Go ahead you pussy!" Sherry yelled.
"Just open the door please. I just need to see that Sherry's all right."
The guy said in a suddenly conciliatory tone. For some reason, I decided it
would be okay to open the door. So I did.
To be continued...
Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 1:14 AM