A Match Made in Jacuzzi Heaven
Some days even I have to pinch myself and say, "Trevor. Trev, how is it that you are so unbelievably lucky."
Then I take a look in the mirror and at my Swiss bank accounts and realize that luck has nothing to do with it.
But, even with my stunning looks and even more stunning portfolio, I was still a little surprised by last week.
The band headed down to the Hard Rock, our favorite corporate rock hangout, after a
grueling few hours at the office. Instead of a happy hour band to laugh at, there were video monitors on the
stage, and a covey of techno-geeks trying out some new game. Just as we were about to head to Spiro's, Deuce
noticed a Playboy.com banner in hanging from the stage. Turns out the game company hired the Playmates to
help launch their game. Or so they hoped.
When the ladies strolled in, their lack of enthusiasm was readily apparent. Even their young,
pert tits seemed to sag a little. The Playmates were not amused that the pasty gamers were paying more
attention to the greasy buffalo wings than their sweet asses. Well, the Pricks didn't need more of an
invitation than that.
We headed to the table where the lonely ladies were waiting to autograph their photos.
Poor Miss July, Lauren Anderson, finally had something to smile about. "I have a feeling that you're
not here for the games," she said. "Hey, not only hot, but smart, too. Why don't I call home and have
my chef prepare a meal for you and your fellow Bunnies? You could join my bandmates and I for dinner,"
I said, gesturing to my comrades.
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"Wow, you're in a band, too. You look way to successful for that, I mean." That was the
Texas representative for the Girls of the Big 12. "That's right, baby. We're the Yuppie Pricks," Preston
chimed in. "We usually play to a much lower financial strata, so you probably haven't seen us."
"Gosh," said Lauren, "I really wish we could go, but we wouldn't want word to get back to Hef that we flaked on this."
"Ladies, ladies, ladies. The Deucemeister and Hef go way back. I know you are new to the Playboy life,
but Deuce has been to the mansion many a time. Trust me, Hef won't mind if you leave with us." That a boy, Deuce.
"Well, oh, fuck it. Let's go." That a girl, Lauren.
Now we're not going to go into the particulars of the evening. Go to Playboy.com if you're
looking for some whacking material. The Pricks aren't ones to eat dinner, heat up the jacuzzi, get tanked
on champagne and coke, screw all night and tell. Let's just say that "stock tips" can have more than one
meaning. Ah, another success story in the life of the filthy rich. I love myself.
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