“You need a pimp right?” I asked, “How would you like me to be your pimp?”
“You!” she laughed. “So what do I do all day?” she asked. It was a regular evening in Pine Ridge Nebraska and as I enjoyed a well earned beer in a bar just down the street from my temporary home so a wizened old guy said “Excuse me sir,” real politely, “You work for Jenkins Logging?”
“Sure,” I agreed, work for it, I damned well owned it. “See that’s why I need a pimp real bad,” she admitted. “So what gives Mr Jenkins?” Lt Parker asked, “Not quite your usual style, white trash?”
“Trying the merchandise,” I said casually, “I reckon this little lady will make a mighty fine company whore.”
“You know that paying an unlicensed whore is a felony in this state?” Lt Parker asked. “You want to kiss me maybe?” she asked, “Before I give you a blow job?”
“Sure,” I agreed and I held her and pressed my lips to hers. “But you don’t know that you’ll like it,” I pointed out. “What really?” she gasped. “Sure am, see the horns and forked tail?” I asked, “Devil incarnate me.”
“Jee I sure am sorry sir,” he said.
