“Why would she bring her baby to a trick’s room?” a woman wonders aloud while we were in a presidential suite of some hotel. “Trick?” I wondered. “Oh! The guy that paid us to be here.” Then it dawned on me that she was a hooker. Then it dawned on me that I was paid to be in that hotel room. Then we ordered chicken wings and shrimp cocktail from room service.
One 40-year-old man and a handful of twenty-something year old women were there. I should have been suspicious. We were a hired harem. One woman shows up to the room with a baby that I would estimate to be about 18 months old. Basically everyone was asking, “Are you freakin’ kidding me? Leave it at home.” I mean it was a real pretty kid and everything but just out of place. Its father is presently in jail, I’m told.
On this night, the most interesting piece of information I learned was that prostitutes who lurk around Las Vegas casinos are vastly more organized than one might think. The woman who shared room service hors d’oeuvres with me was my informant. She was only 20 years old and had been in prostitution for four years. Do the math. Then do the research if you plan to get a hooker. A key word in “consenting adults” is “adult.”
“In all those years, you’ve never had a problem with the law?” I ask her. She tells me she hasn’t. She tells me that many casino hookers know the vice cops and even have nicknames for them. They call each other to give each other information about where the cops have currently been spotted. They inform one another to steer clear of certain hotels that night. “Backstreet Boy” is a young vice cop with short spiky hair. “Sarge” is a black man who acts like a pimp. There is even a lady vice cop. She is described as having a red backpack. She tells the girls she is a tourist and looking for someone to show her friends a good time. The 20-year-old prostitute tells me that they have to pay attention to changes in appearance. The streetwalker community evolves against the attempts to eradicate it like a virus evolves against a cure.