CHLOIE: SOMESING VERY SPECIAL

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Tags: Mr Gobbler, Chloie, French whore, BJ, Hermosa Beach, pimp, driver, gypsy cab, factotum, jarvis, viral video, marquisdejolie

Somesing Very Special For The Gobbler

Call six was Mr. Gobbler in Hermosa Beach. The streets are narrow, barely wide enough for my aircraft carrier. The houses crowd each other in competition for the best view of the ocean and there’s no non-resident parking.

After cruising the neighborhood a few minutes to find no parking, I pulled the big Buick back to where I had dropped Chloie and turned off the engine. All was quiet, except that I had unknowingly parked right under the customer’s open bedroom window.

“Oh no,” I heard a familiar voice protest, “Zat is somesing veerry special. Zat is not included in zee fee.”

It was Chloie. Oops, I thought. I guess I should move the car to another street. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, I told myself, but this was too interesting. I had never heard a girl negotiating before and my prurient instincts took over.

I heard the customer mumble something and then the unmistakable sounds of crisp money being counted. I couldn’t have found a better place to eavesdrop if I had planned it. The sounds from that bedroom window dropped right down into my very own lap.

The following sound was something akin to a kid slurping up the sides of a leaky ice cream cone on a hot day.

At first I didn’t recognize it, but then came the moans. It’s an agonizing thing to be sitting in your car late at night listening to the sounds of some stranger getting a first class blowjob, especially if you haven’t had one yourself in a good long while.

It went on and on and on. Finally, after two eternities, came the happy ending. Somehow, it was a hollow event for me. Just as the damned thing was reaching its peak, my pager started beeping and I had to drive off to find a payphone. The sound of my pager going off right outside the bedroom window must have been as loud as an alarm clock, I mused. Hope I didn’t break his concentration.

When I returned, Chloie was standing in the poorly lit alleyway stiff and unmoving, her dollface eyes wide with perpetual surprise. She reminded me of a little girl waiting for her mommy, who was running late, to pick her up in a scary neighborhood.

Chloie got into the car coughing. I had to repress the urge to ask if something had gotten caught in her throat.