The Clothes Make the Professional Escort
An open letter to the girl I saw in the elevator:
Look, can I tell you something? You're a very pretty girl, and I expect you know it, because you're the width of my leg and have the bone structure of a giraffe.
But it's -36 degrees Celsius out there.
I don't want to embarrass you, but I get the feeling that you've been walking around here all morning and no one's troubled to point this out: You're wearing a skirt so short that it must naturally become a belt when you sit down. You are wearing a sleeveless shirt made of some slippery material that makes it slide about your shoulders. You are wearing stiletto heels and no stockings.
IT'S -36 DEGREES CELSIUS.
Now, I appreciate that - particularly in that outfit - you'll have no want for offers of rides home. But I'm sure you have a car safely tucked into a parking garage under the building, and you don't anticipate being anywhere near actual outdoor air, today.
But know this.
I am not a hateful, mean-spirited person by any means, and I never wish ill of anyone (unless they happen to be a bus-strike prolonging, arts-funding slashing mayor of my town), but your own mother, if she had the slightest idea what you are... I hesitate to use the term, but "dressed" in, would wish that your car would break down, to teach you a firm lesson.
There is a time and a place, kid, and you're not on prime time. You look like a stripper that someone may have misguidedly hired for a retirement luncheon who has popped downstairs for a quick coffee break before her performance.
Yours respectfully.
-Ess
Look, can I tell you something? You're a very pretty girl, and I expect you know it, because you're the width of my leg and have the bone structure of a giraffe.
But it's -36 degrees Celsius out there.
I don't want to embarrass you, but I get the feeling that you've been walking around here all morning and no one's troubled to point this out: You're wearing a skirt so short that it must naturally become a belt when you sit down. You are wearing a sleeveless shirt made of some slippery material that makes it slide about your shoulders. You are wearing stiletto heels and no stockings.
IT'S -36 DEGREES CELSIUS.
Now, I appreciate that - particularly in that outfit - you'll have no want for offers of rides home. But I'm sure you have a car safely tucked into a parking garage under the building, and you don't anticipate being anywhere near actual outdoor air, today.
But know this.
I am not a hateful, mean-spirited person by any means, and I never wish ill of anyone (unless they happen to be a bus-strike prolonging, arts-funding slashing mayor of my town), but your own mother, if she had the slightest idea what you are... I hesitate to use the term, but "dressed" in, would wish that your car would break down, to teach you a firm lesson.
There is a time and a place, kid, and you're not on prime time. You look like a stripper that someone may have misguidedly hired for a retirement luncheon who has popped downstairs for a quick coffee break before her performance.
Yours respectfully.
-Ess