While living in Las Vegas, during my reign as one of Vegas's top paid Male Escorts, I was able to find the time to add another profession to my resume: Pimp. I don't think anyone ever truly intends to become a Pimp. The only young boys that aspire to enter the world of Pimping are the ones whose daddies are already sporting furry Kangols and drinking from a Gold Chalice. My dad was homeless, so he wasn't teaching me the ways of Pimpdom.
A few things had to happen in order for my journey to lead me to join the society of Pimps. I can think of a few things that led me down that path, but mostly, it was just location. Location, location, location.
I moved into a weekly efficiency after spending a few months on Miss Pat's couch. To be able to move into my own place was another step along my comeback. Only a few months prior I had lost everything. The House. The Dog. The Car. The Girl. All Gone. I walked away from everything because I couldn't handle her anymore. She lost jobs, she stole money, she cheated, she lied, she crashed cars. It was too much. Her addiction to pain pills was so far gone, I just gave up hope and left.
Only two weeks after I moved in with Miss Pat, I decided that the best way for me to ease the pain of finding out my girlfriend was a female escort, was by becoming one myself. I quickly learned the tricks of the trade and was able to save up enough money to get my own place. It was a weekly efficiency right next to the Stratosphere hotel & casino. It was the seedy part of Vegas and that meant I felt right at home.
Only days after moving in, I had the fortunate pleasure of meeting my new neighbor, Cat. Cat was a 6'4", 300 lb black guy that smoked weed like he was in a 'Weed Smoking Contest' and he was trying to get the blue ribbon. So naturally, I was drawn to him. Pat and I became good friends immediately. He was one of Las Vegas's biggest drug dealers and I was getting an education daily on how to really hustle and make money.
Cat would move from 'weekly' (furnished apartments that rented on a weekly basis) to 'weekly', always getting the apartment in someone else's name so the cops could never find him. He'd stay for a couple of months and when he felt heat, he moved on to the next one.
Since having my heartbroken by my ex, I was still searching for ways to ease the pain. I think I had just found it. This guy was like my knight in shining armor, if such a thing exists in a platonic kind of way.
Cat was not only the biggest Crack Dealer in that part of Vegas, but he also kept a few females on his payroll. Most of the girls that worked for Cat, lived with him and they would turn tricks just so that they could continue to smoke crack for free. He would find girls with a small habit, turn it into a big one, and then they'd move in with him. When he stopped smoking them out for free, they'd have to find a way to pay him. Cue prostitution.
Cat would run ads in weekly flyers and post the girls on Craigslist. His phone rang non-stop. He had a crack hotline, a hooker hotline, and a personal hotline. Cat was the Donald Trump of Hustling. One of Cat's ho's, named Chocolate, caught herself taking a liking to me and only a few days after I met her, I couldn't get her out of my apartment (not that I was trying). She'd hang out at my place all day and we'd fuck (free of charge, of course), drink, and smoke weed. When it was time for her to go on a job or to smoke crack, she'd go back over to Cat's for a little while. When she was done doing whatever it was she had to do, she'd come back over to my place.
Chocolate was a dark-skinned black woman in her mid thirties. She had a kindness in her heart that would surface every now and then, but her addiction didn't like for her to show it. She had an amazing smile, a beautiful face, and eyes that looked as if they'd seen too much evil. Her soul was calloused after years of working on the streets, spreading her legs, just to quench her thirst for Crack. On several different occasions I tried to talk to Chocolate about going to school, getting a job, or actually doing something with herself, but she didn't want to hear it. She accepted who she was, and she was honest enough to tell me that she would die with a crack pipe in her mouth. She loved that drug more than anything in this world. The 'Old' me would have spent countless hours trying to convince this girl that there was more to life than drugs and prostitution, but the 'Old' me was nowhere to be found. I was in my own self-destruct mode and I didn't feel like helping out another addicted soul. Big Mike's Help-a-Ho Foundation was temporarily shut down.
So at first, Chocolate was just one of my neighbor's Ho's that happened to like me so she hung out at my house all the time. I got unlimited, free sex and she got to be my number one girl. I was working as an escort myself at the time, so our relationship worked out perfectly. The sex was great and Chocolate was the perfect rebound girl (i don't think that fucking a crack whore classifies her as a 'rebound girl', but she most certainly served a purpose).
Cat got a tip that the cops were watching his place so he walked out the door and never looked back. Less than twenty fours later, he relocated to another 'weekly', located only a few miles away. Chocolate was upset because it meant she wouldn't be sharing a bed with me every night and she wanted me to do something about it. She wanted me to talk to Cat.
I had already made arrangements to talk to Cat about taking over his drug business in the neighborhood he just fled. I wasn't nervous about having my talk with Cat, but I was definitely uneasy. Although I considered Cat a friend, this was still a business, and Cat was always business. No matter how many times I replayed the conversation in my head, it never quite sounded right.
Me: Can I borrow your weed wacker and the dark-skinned good looking crack whore?
Pat: Can you what?
Me: Let me hold the Ho, man.
Pat: Are you fucking with me?
Me: Man you know I'm good for it. I gave you back the Monopoly Game I borrowed two weeks ago.
I arrived at Cat's new place, and after he gave me the 12 second grand tour of the place, we sat at the table and I sparked up a blunt. We spent the first thirty minutes discussing how I would take over the drug business that couldn't follow him. I purchased 3.5 grams of crack from him and he was excited to see that his new Caucasian friend was now his protege. Cat the Mentor.
As he began to roll another blunt, I took a long swallow and began the unenviable task of asking a Pimp for his Ho.
"Cat I want to talk to you about something else, man", I said.
"What's Up?" he responded.
"It's Chocolate. She wants to stay with me." I shyly stated.
Cat looked across the table at me out of the top of his eyes, as he licked the weed-stuffed tobacco paper. "She wanna do what?" Cat exclaimed.
"She want's to stay, man. You know that girl caught herself liking me man. I'm not trying to steal your girl Cat, I'm just telling you what she want to do. I'd rather you hear this coming from me so you don't think I'm trying to take your shit. She can still work for you Cat, because I still work during the day. So she can come work for you while I'm at work and then she can come stay with me, at night."
"You know that girl going to smoke all your shit, right?" Cat boldly stated.
"No she's not, Cat. I'm not going to let her." I replied.
"So you just going to give her the shit for free? She ain't got no fucking money."
"I'm sure we can work something out." I actually already had a few ways planned out.
"Oh, you gonna put her to work?" he asked, as he lifted one brow and cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, indicating that he was very interested in hearing my response.
"Cat she's going to be out there helping me to move product. You know when she's turning tricks, it's with a 'Mark' she found to get high with. The more business she finds for me, the more i sell. The more I sell, the more money you make because I'm buying all my shit from you." I stated in a slightly pitched tone. I continued speaking because I could tell from his body language that he wasn't convinced this was a good idea, "Cat, you know she can help bring me work and you know her feet can't hit the floor in the morning without taking a blow (a hit of crack), so I have to make my money back somehow. She's yours all day everyday, just let her stay with me at night. If she makes me a few bucks along the way, then so be it. But that money's still being put in your pocket, regardless".
A strong closing argument on my behalf and I felt as if I'd won him over. He let out an exhaustive sigh, crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair. I mimicked his actions (minus the exhaustive sigh), and gave him a half-hearted shrug which basically said, "Come onnnnnnnn.....", without actually saying it.
"Alright man, she can stay with you", he stated hesitantly.
"Alright cool. Good lookin out Cat", I said as I tried to suppress a grin.
Cat got up from the table and headed to the back room to put his drugs back in his safe. I headed for the door and grabbed Chocolate along the way.
"What'd he say, baby?" she quickly stammered as we exited the door.
"You're with me now baby. You're with me"
"Oh Daddy, I'm so happy. We're going to have so much fun" she stated between giggles. That was her first time calling me 'Daddy'.
I grabbed her by the hand as we crossed the street. Big Mike was now officially a Pimp. A Pimp with a conscience. A Pimp that cared. I sucked at it already.
A few things had to happen in order for my journey to lead me to join the society of Pimps. I can think of a few things that led me down that path, but mostly, it was just location. Location, location, location.
I moved into a weekly efficiency after spending a few months on Miss Pat's couch. To be able to move into my own place was another step along my comeback. Only a few months prior I had lost everything. The House. The Dog. The Car. The Girl. All Gone. I walked away from everything because I couldn't handle her anymore. She lost jobs, she stole money, she cheated, she lied, she crashed cars. It was too much. Her addiction to pain pills was so far gone, I just gave up hope and left.
Only two weeks after I moved in with Miss Pat, I decided that the best way for me to ease the pain of finding out my girlfriend was a female escort, was by becoming one myself. I quickly learned the tricks of the trade and was able to save up enough money to get my own place. It was a weekly efficiency right next to the Stratosphere hotel & casino. It was the seedy part of Vegas and that meant I felt right at home.
Only days after moving in, I had the fortunate pleasure of meeting my new neighbor, Cat. Cat was a 6'4", 300 lb black guy that smoked weed like he was in a 'Weed Smoking Contest' and he was trying to get the blue ribbon. So naturally, I was drawn to him. Pat and I became good friends immediately. He was one of Las Vegas's biggest drug dealers and I was getting an education daily on how to really hustle and make money.
Cat would move from 'weekly' (furnished apartments that rented on a weekly basis) to 'weekly', always getting the apartment in someone else's name so the cops could never find him. He'd stay for a couple of months and when he felt heat, he moved on to the next one.
Since having my heartbroken by my ex, I was still searching for ways to ease the pain. I think I had just found it. This guy was like my knight in shining armor, if such a thing exists in a platonic kind of way.
Cat was not only the biggest Crack Dealer in that part of Vegas, but he also kept a few females on his payroll. Most of the girls that worked for Cat, lived with him and they would turn tricks just so that they could continue to smoke crack for free. He would find girls with a small habit, turn it into a big one, and then they'd move in with him. When he stopped smoking them out for free, they'd have to find a way to pay him. Cue prostitution.
Cat would run ads in weekly flyers and post the girls on Craigslist. His phone rang non-stop. He had a crack hotline, a hooker hotline, and a personal hotline. Cat was the Donald Trump of Hustling. One of Cat's ho's, named Chocolate, caught herself taking a liking to me and only a few days after I met her, I couldn't get her out of my apartment (not that I was trying). She'd hang out at my place all day and we'd fuck (free of charge, of course), drink, and smoke weed. When it was time for her to go on a job or to smoke crack, she'd go back over to Cat's for a little while. When she was done doing whatever it was she had to do, she'd come back over to my place.
Chocolate was a dark-skinned black woman in her mid thirties. She had a kindness in her heart that would surface every now and then, but her addiction didn't like for her to show it. She had an amazing smile, a beautiful face, and eyes that looked as if they'd seen too much evil. Her soul was calloused after years of working on the streets, spreading her legs, just to quench her thirst for Crack. On several different occasions I tried to talk to Chocolate about going to school, getting a job, or actually doing something with herself, but she didn't want to hear it. She accepted who she was, and she was honest enough to tell me that she would die with a crack pipe in her mouth. She loved that drug more than anything in this world. The 'Old' me would have spent countless hours trying to convince this girl that there was more to life than drugs and prostitution, but the 'Old' me was nowhere to be found. I was in my own self-destruct mode and I didn't feel like helping out another addicted soul. Big Mike's Help-a-Ho Foundation was temporarily shut down.
So at first, Chocolate was just one of my neighbor's Ho's that happened to like me so she hung out at my house all the time. I got unlimited, free sex and she got to be my number one girl. I was working as an escort myself at the time, so our relationship worked out perfectly. The sex was great and Chocolate was the perfect rebound girl (i don't think that fucking a crack whore classifies her as a 'rebound girl', but she most certainly served a purpose).
Cat got a tip that the cops were watching his place so he walked out the door and never looked back. Less than twenty fours later, he relocated to another 'weekly', located only a few miles away. Chocolate was upset because it meant she wouldn't be sharing a bed with me every night and she wanted me to do something about it. She wanted me to talk to Cat.
I had already made arrangements to talk to Cat about taking over his drug business in the neighborhood he just fled. I wasn't nervous about having my talk with Cat, but I was definitely uneasy. Although I considered Cat a friend, this was still a business, and Cat was always business. No matter how many times I replayed the conversation in my head, it never quite sounded right.
Me: Can I borrow your weed wacker and the dark-skinned good looking crack whore?
Pat: Can you what?
Me: Let me hold the Ho, man.
Pat: Are you fucking with me?
Me: Man you know I'm good for it. I gave you back the Monopoly Game I borrowed two weeks ago.
I arrived at Cat's new place, and after he gave me the 12 second grand tour of the place, we sat at the table and I sparked up a blunt. We spent the first thirty minutes discussing how I would take over the drug business that couldn't follow him. I purchased 3.5 grams of crack from him and he was excited to see that his new Caucasian friend was now his protege. Cat the Mentor.
As he began to roll another blunt, I took a long swallow and began the unenviable task of asking a Pimp for his Ho.
"Cat I want to talk to you about something else, man", I said.
"What's Up?" he responded.
"It's Chocolate. She wants to stay with me." I shyly stated.
Cat looked across the table at me out of the top of his eyes, as he licked the weed-stuffed tobacco paper. "She wanna do what?" Cat exclaimed.
"She want's to stay, man. You know that girl caught herself liking me man. I'm not trying to steal your girl Cat, I'm just telling you what she want to do. I'd rather you hear this coming from me so you don't think I'm trying to take your shit. She can still work for you Cat, because I still work during the day. So she can come work for you while I'm at work and then she can come stay with me, at night."
"You know that girl going to smoke all your shit, right?" Cat boldly stated.
"No she's not, Cat. I'm not going to let her." I replied.
"So you just going to give her the shit for free? She ain't got no fucking money."
"I'm sure we can work something out." I actually already had a few ways planned out.
"Oh, you gonna put her to work?" he asked, as he lifted one brow and cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, indicating that he was very interested in hearing my response.
"Cat she's going to be out there helping me to move product. You know when she's turning tricks, it's with a 'Mark' she found to get high with. The more business she finds for me, the more i sell. The more I sell, the more money you make because I'm buying all my shit from you." I stated in a slightly pitched tone. I continued speaking because I could tell from his body language that he wasn't convinced this was a good idea, "Cat, you know she can help bring me work and you know her feet can't hit the floor in the morning without taking a blow (a hit of crack), so I have to make my money back somehow. She's yours all day everyday, just let her stay with me at night. If she makes me a few bucks along the way, then so be it. But that money's still being put in your pocket, regardless".
A strong closing argument on my behalf and I felt as if I'd won him over. He let out an exhaustive sigh, crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair. I mimicked his actions (minus the exhaustive sigh), and gave him a half-hearted shrug which basically said, "Come onnnnnnnn.....", without actually saying it.
"Alright man, she can stay with you", he stated hesitantly.
"Alright cool. Good lookin out Cat", I said as I tried to suppress a grin.
Cat got up from the table and headed to the back room to put his drugs back in his safe. I headed for the door and grabbed Chocolate along the way.
"What'd he say, baby?" she quickly stammered as we exited the door.
"You're with me now baby. You're with me"
"Oh Daddy, I'm so happy. We're going to have so much fun" she stated between giggles. That was her first time calling me 'Daddy'.
I grabbed her by the hand as we crossed the street. Big Mike was now officially a Pimp. A Pimp with a conscience. A Pimp that cared. I sucked at it already.
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