I Was a Prostitute for Halloween
Here’s what I learned about humanity
“What are you going to be for Halloween this year,” a friend asks.
“A whore”, I reply.
“Ha, aren’t we all! But what’s your costume?”
“No, that’s it. I’m going as a hooker.”
“Oh.”
Fast forward to Halloween day. I put on my pink bob wig, a leopard print bra, fishnet tights, a pair of skimpy underwear, and black thigh-high leather boots. Not quite Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman more Natalie Portman in Closer but you get the idea.
It was going to be a chilly night and the party was mostly going to be outside so I added a purple fur jacket for good measure and stuffed my pockets with 20s and condoms just in case anyone questioned my credentials.
When we arrive at the house party, my friends and I make a beeline to the bar. As we weaved through the crowds, I spotted scantily clad women everywhere…A sexy ninja turtle, a sexy bunny, a sexy vampire, a sexy cop, and sexy Harry Potter.
Ah, I love Halloween, I thought to myself as I quickly realize for adults, jello shots had replaced candy and masks had been replaced by skin. As I squeezed out the last remnants of the jiggly cherry gelatin in my mouth, a group of guys approaches us.
