“ It’s driving girls places and stuff “ and so I immediately thought of the young girls academy just down the road that had recently advertised the need of a gardener. You know, take em to museums and sporting events, other campuses, etc. Later the “woman in charge” explained that what it “really was” was that they were a group of strippers and pole dancers and I’d be required to transport them and their “equipment” to the clubs……and as I answered yes to the “ Are you allright with that?” question I was granted an interview and consequently awarded my new position..
Turns out they weren’t really dancers…they were hookers and I carted them from job to job discreetly in my 1962 Volkswagon Beetle. It was an ok gig until one afternoon I got a call to pick up a girl I’d not seen before. Upon entering my beetle I couldn’t help but note her size, she….it …they… made the little beetle appear so much smaller. And so the conversation turned to the fact that she was halfway through her operations to become a “real” woman, all the while preening herself in my rearview mirror.
As we sat first in line at a red light “she” caught me giving her the sidelong fisheye and so responded with “ And the tits ain‘t bad either honey.” As she pulled up the tight tank top to expose a truly magnificent breast regardless of its origin or gender…she was right. The delighted and not so delighted pedestrians paraded past the beetles windshield and I sat and begged to Christ that he “please don’t let any one I know see me now” .
And so I dropped him …..her, at the motel rendezvous and instead of waiting the normal hour I drove away, thus ending one of many interesting though short lived career choices.
