Anubis wuz here.

Lost of times guys that have out of town jobs..like jobs that take them away from the city for months at a time, hire prostitutes. Fishermen, oil rig workers, tree planters..anything like that where one would be in the middle of nowhere but get paid tons of money for it. Usually these guys like to "go off" as soon as they get back to town. Like go off in the chemical substance sense. Especially crack..they love that sh*t. These men tend to have a connection in the underworld (the red zone), some drug addict that will let them use their room, will have a connection to get dope, and also will FIND a girl for them to violate. Many occasions I had acquaintances come up to me telling me they had this "friend" that wanted a girl to get high with and could I come with them (the junkie) back to his room to meet this guy. This guy with tons of money.

Sometimes there is no need for a middle man though- I had this fisherman pick me up once. He showed me his wad of $28,000, I actually WATCHED him cash a check at Money Mart for that amount. Can you believe that? What an idiot. Turns out that I may have gotten syphilis from him..but I can never be sure. But I WILL tell you that when I found out I had it I told the nurse his name and the city he was from so they could contact him and tell him HE had it, or may have had it. See, when you have a thing like syphilis or HIV or anything serious "they" (the gov't) need to know your sexual partners so they can talk to them and try to stop the spreading of it. I gave them only one name. His. I would tell you that name now but I won't. Though I should.

Oh, I should really include this next bit because it is totally relevant to that last paragraph and totally effing hilarious. I knew this Asian guy that drove a truck. He had a business that was all about delivering plastic bags. You know, those crappy, cheap ass, only good for one use plastic bags that you get at corners stores? Well, next time you get one, it may have been handled by him or one of his affiliates.

This guy was one of the worst. I mean, he would pay okay but would always pay the girls in coins. Do you know how degrading it is to be paid in coins? I don't care if it is 50 two dollar coins or what but it feels pretty lame. This guy, he had zero loyalty to any one girl, he would pick up who ever, didn't matter. He was sure to always use a condom but MAY have gone without one a few times. I know he did with me maybe once. So this one day he pulls up and he tells me he just wants to talk to me. He tells me that he had gone to the doctor and found out that he had caught something from one of the girls. He said he had something called "clem-dye", he pronounced it just like that. Clem-dye? I'm like what the f*ck is clem-dye? I told him that he didn't get it from me because I didn't even know what it was, I had never heard of it and thought he must have been misinformed. And then it came to me. He meant chlamydia. English was his second language so it makes perfect sense that his brain would have computed it incorrectly.

CLEM-dye. Chlamy-dia. Clem (silent y) dAI - he got the i and the a mixed up. Clem-dye.

Hil. Ar. I. Ous.

One chilly winter evening I was approached by one of these out of town working guys. I had originally been with him months before, we hooked in a manner previous mentioned in the first paragraph of this post. His name was Ricky (that was his name for real. I hate that name, by the way. I always have and I am sorry if that happens to be your name). He was into the up, they usually are. I ran into him in an alley behind this old folks home on Cordova, just off of Gore.

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*At this point I feel the need to say something: This alley I'm writing about right now wasn't super harsh and gross like the alley one's imagination might conjure up. It was harmless, wide, in the back of a few businesses..what else can I say? It wasn't totally used-needle ridden with piss and feces everywhere, etc. In fact it was my most frequented alley. It was spacious and most of my dates knew that I did a lot of my dope there. There were stairs behind the old folks home that people could sit on. It is gated now but wasn't when I was there. My Dad actually knew of this spot too and came to find me there on at least one occasion that I remember. Did I ever tell you about the time my Dad came to see me down there and at one point we were crossing the road and this addict saw us and actually asked us if we needed a room? How humiliating, I was like, "No, this is my Dad".*

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Back to Ricky. I ran into Ricky in this same alley. Like I said it was cold and wet and gross out and I was sick as f*ck. Like very sick, sickness amplified by the weather. It was early evening and pretty much every girl out was hurtin'. I saw him and was thanking the heavens...He was doing fine, had obviously just came back from months out working (I assumed) and was smoking tons of crack and wanted me to do things to him while he smoked. He said he would share his dope with me and would give me money for heroin. I was so happy (relieved) but still very sick.

I got no relief from the cold because what he wanted was to be done on those very steps, the steps that I was just describing. (This was not a busy alley, just so you know, it's not like there would be Christian families driving by on their way to drop off the kids at youth group. The only guys that drove through it were trolling and if a cop DID go by you could hear it coming. A police car motor sounds like no other and I can still hear one before I actually see the car) I wanted my $$ first but he only had a hundred dollar bill. He did show it to me and told me that I could hold on to it until we were done doing what we were doing (I wasn't having sex with him on the steps in case you were wondering, it was just a ******). Fine with me. He made it seem like afterwords we would go get a room, warm up and all that nice stuff.

I did what he wanted, I smoked some of his dope (which only made me feel worse. Crack does that when a person is dope sick, at least that is how it was with me), and then I said that I HAD to get some down. He said fine that he would wait for me in the alley since I was literally going to run to score. There was this pizza place 2 blocks away that sold relatively good dope so that was where I was planning to go. I left him my winter coat so he would know I would come right back. This coat was my only means of protection from the cold. I had a toque, I have always been a toque wearer, but the jacket was key too. It had everything I owned in it. Pipe, rigs, water, chap-stick, condoms, whatever. I run to the pizza place with the hundred dollar bill in my sock. I can't even describe how sick I was. I mean, I was soooo ill. I think I hadn't even used that day, I had woken up in my friend's room in the afternoon with nothing and had been wandering the streets waiting for a regular when I had bumped into Ricky.

I get to the pizza place, told the guy what I wanted and gave him the hundred dollar bill. He looks at it and tells me "this bill is fake". Crash, burn, implode, ....my world is destroyed in about a millisecond. "Fake?" I asked him. "Fake. Watch this" he says and proceeds to put a tiny bit of water on the bill and the ink started smudging only slightly but enough. I couldn't believe it. I was devastated. I mean, I had just given this a guy a bl*wjob in a f*cking alley in the middle of a snowstorm for nothing. Sure I got a few hoots but that didn't count, just common courtesy if you will. FAKE??

I ran back to the alley and of course he was gone. Not only was he gone though, he took my f*cking jacket. Can you believe that? I found remnants of my pocket contents strewn throughout the alley. He had obviously rifled through the coat during his escape. I felt like a fool and a dirt bag and totally worthless.

No happy ending this time. I ended getting helped out by another working girl, or at least she had intentions of it. She had heroin and said she would share it with me (this happens down there, I help you out, you help me out). She wanted to go to her friend's room but on the way she wanted to smoke some of her crack. I had no idea how she was after smoking crack but I was soon to find out that she was crazy. She starting thinking that the buildings were out to get her and that they had a very ominous feel when she touched them and basically begged me to stay with her while at the same time telling me that she had changed her mind and would not be sharing her heroin.

Bad bad bad bad. I would bust out yet another f-bomb whilst summing up the events of that evening but I fear another one may not be entirely ladylike.