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Skin on the Strip -- Writer's Poke #174

One of the little things I like to do when I stay in a hotel is check out the number of escort services listed in the town's yellow pages. Any city that's moderately big has at least a few, but probably no place has more than Las Vegas. Hell, if the phone company was smart, they'd create a whole separate directory -- maybe instead of the yellow pages they could call it the black book (or the red-light book?).

Las Vegas is one of the few places where such matters are not just hidden in phone books and industrial areas. Skin is advertised right on the Strip. Of course I've noticed that the farther north on the Strip you go, up around the Stratosphere, for example, the more likely you are to find Mexican-Americans handing out baseball-cards of Veronica and Amy, and maybe the twins -- Misty and Sarah. 

Most people tend to walk on by, ignoring the outstretched offerings of the smut peddlers. But the last time my wife and I hit the Strip, we collected all the cards we could. That's rather unusual for my wife to get excited about naked bimbos, but our plan was to put a bunch of the cards in an envelop and mail them anonymously to a friend, or maybe to a friend's wife. Imagine the joy of sharing Las Vegas with an unsuspecting loved one, or loved-one's wife.

That's who Linda and I are, really. Givers. And more than anything, that's what Las Vegas is, too. It's a town where a lot of people have a lot that their willing to give. To get an idea of what they're willing to give, just flip the cards over to their backs. There you will find a comprehensive list of services. 

Do your values change depending on your location, or who you're with?

"I just knew they should have made her naked." -- Mark Cuban

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