PART 1 (2)
Like many of my Iranian compatriots, I frequent Las Vegas for three primary reasons: gambling, alcohol and a hooker named Seema.
If hookers were rated based on appeal and performance, Seema would have been up there with the best of them. Seema is beautiful -- damn beautiful. She looks something like a malnourished Bollywood star blended with Selma Hayek and a drop of Kate Moss. If that look does it for you, Seema is your girl.
Her best features, by far, are her eyes. They are dark and mysterious. Her long legs, perfect nose (nose job) and bodacious tatas (implants) make her stand out in the crowd.
Seema came to United States from Iran when she was fourteen. With IQ of a cotton ball and self esteem of a door knob, she dropped out of high school and partied with rock stars. She went on road trips with rock band wannabes and slept in tour buses and cheap motels with anybody who resembled John Bon Jovi.
Becoming bit of an old face in the Rock and Roll landscape, she eventually was replaced by younger girls eager to make their marks on the groupie scene.
Short on cash and already a hardcore drug addict, Seema moved back to LA and took on exotic dancing.
Dancing brought her cash … lots of cash. Not knowing the value of hard-earned money, she blew her currency on drugs, fast cars and fast guys. Life was almost perfect for Seema. She had her own place, a German car, worked only three nights a week and slept all day. Dancing was so easy, even she could do it. Seema learned to hustle older guys for money and occasionally fucked rich guys for additional perks and travel.
Seema’s divorced parents blamed each other for her lifestyle. Her mother worked at a Supercuts store in West LA and her dad owned a gas station nearby. Starting from zero and working every day of the week to chase the American Dream left no time for Seema’s immigrant parents to nurture a young, occasionally impressionable offspring. But her father simply believed that Seema was a bad seed and she would have ended up a hooker no matter how much time and attention she received from them.
As far as Seema was concerned, life was peachy.
Working in a club in North Hollywood, brought Seema the unwanted crowd … the Iranian crowd. Older Iranian men from Beverly Hills to as far as south Orange County came to see the goods.
Some Iranian men came to see her dance to gratify their deepest fantasies and some came out of curiosity. No matter what the reason was, Seema didn’t seem to mind—as long as they brought in the dough.
Drinking, drugs, age and nonstop parties took their toll on Seema’s good looks. That and boredom pushed her to give prostitution a try.
Seema joined a classy Escort Service in LA and started to cater to sexual needs of Hollywood celebrities. Occasionally she performed at high-end nude clubs for additional cash and PR.
The more Seema drowned in the world of prostitution, the more she enjoyed the work. It sure wasn’t as easy as dancing, but money was better and the Hollywood crowd was nice, clean, loaded with cash and always a phone call away from quality drugs. But the best part, by far, was the celebrity gossip.
Seema specialized in threesomes, bondage, fantasy roll plays and bestiality. She seldom agreed to do anal, unless she was treated to a weekend of resort vacation with full spa treatment.
But since Hollywood has a short attention span and always searching for new faces, Seema’s loyal clients (as she liked to call them) eventually moved on to newer, fresher talent, leaving Seema cash strapped and mostly out of work. The adult movie industry in LA was pumping out new faces everyday and everybody wanted to fuck a Porn Star. Since Seema never performed in adult movies, her status as a working girl was reduced to the “flavor of yesterday.” Things started to look grim.
Like any desperate hooker, Seema decided to jump start her career by relocating to a more desirable location. Las Vegas, here she comes…
Seema worked the strip and hit ten to twelve casinos per night. She also worked for an Escort Service that served Japanese businessmen and CEOs of high-tech corporations on business trips. Las Vegas was her kind of town. It was easy, drugs were plenty, clients were there to blow money and the cops were friendly.
I met Seema at Bellagio on one of my frequent runs to the ATM machine. Being a lousy poker player and not knowing my limit, I spent more time pacing to the ATM machine than at the poker table.
One look at me and Seema knew she had a customer (sucker) for life >>>Part 2
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