Larissa perched her cute, well-dressed ass on a padded stool in an MGM bar and awaited her next client.
Times were tough for the divorced mother: prices were up everywhere and her old Honda was on its last legs: she needed a big score.
A likely dupe approached: "Want a date?"
Jason stopped, eyed her, and thought "Whoa, is she talking to me?"
They chatted, he bought her a drink, and he soon realized that Larissa wasn't a horny weekender looking for a new boy friend: she was a pro.
Their talk got serious.
Jason, a pathological liar and long-time bullshitter got to work:
"I gotta tell ya Larissa, I bring nine and a half inches to the party: can you handle THAT?" He smiled wolfishly.
Clever girl that she was, Larissa said "Sure, but you gotta pay extra, for 'hazard pay:' that's gonna hurt."
A price of two grand was agreed upon and off they went to build the beast with two backs.
While disrobing, Larissa noted that Jason had not been honest about the size of his manhood: "Nine and a half inches? I don't see any more than three, but that's OK: give me another five hundred and I won't tell any body."
Oops...bad play, Larissa...bad play.
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