It Is A Funny Job Sometimes

I had a bit of an incident recently with a couple of my escorts who were visiting one of my incall venues with a pair of clients for a small party. They had been driven there by one of my most reliable and street smart drivers. Who more than earned his money that night and also left me with a bloody funny story.

So the two guys get into the apartment and no sooner do they do that, they start kicking up. And one of them – a big nasty looking muscle bound piece with a number one haircut, tattoos, the lot, you know the type – begins effing and blinding and getting steamed at the girls and the driver. Why? Simple enough. He and his mate will not cough up the fee they have agreed. The Las Palmas escort girls are getting understandably unhappy, excited and loud. And neither the girls or the guys (you are not a client if you are not paying) are giving an inch. Or taking an inch, either!

It is a standoff. Neither side is giving in and the stalemate is starting to escalate in a potentially nasty way. Then our driver steps up joins in the conversation.

“Look guys,” he says in a very relaxed and reasonable tone “it´s not the girls fault that you do not have the money. So why don´t you just back up, leave and let´s forget about it. If you want I will even give you a lift to a taxi rank, alright?”

Neither the big cock ring are his mate are having any of it. But they both stop in their tracks – which is a good start – They look at each other, then at the girls. And then back at our driver. Who looks as calm as if he was ordering a Big Mac and had just been asked if he wanted fries with it. You could hear a pin drop as they look from the girls to the driver. Finally the bid tattooed cliche speaks.

“You fucking want some then, you bastard?” he growls.

“Erm, yep actually I do.” He replies calmly. “But not in here. The boss would kill me if I get any furniture broken or stain the wallpaper or annoy the neighbours. So not here, hey. Lets have at this properly. Outside in the car park. Then we can sort this out.”

The girls hold their breath as he gestures to the apartment door and actually takes a step toward it. The two guys look at each other and, ready to rumble in a big way, step out into the corridor.

At which, our driver slams the door, engages the security bolts on the steel door and hit the panic button summoning half a dozen scary looking members of security team who will make any noise outside stop very quickly and with little fuss.

“Get into the fridge and sort us all out a cold one, would you girls?”

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