I pulled up in front of the modest two story stucco home in an arid suburb south of Scottsdale’s city core and rechecked the given address before putting the car in park. Dressed inconspicuously in my Geek Squad type uniform of a navy blue polo shirt, khakis, and topsiders, and with my IT service bag in hand, I stepped out of my car into the blazing Arizona heat. I walked up a meandering pathway through a rock and cactus garden to the front door and rang the doorbell. I’ve never met Mrs. Pelley. Lord, I hope she’s fuckable.
The lock snapped open and a woman of average height who looked to be in her early 40’s opened the door. She had caramel brown hair with honey blonde highlights that framed her heart shaped face. Sultry green eyes, a pouty lower lip, dressed in a white tank top, pink sweat pants and bejeweled flip flops; yeah she was fuckable. She was curvy but toned with big boobs and a Botoxed face. Most of my clients have the same attributes as though having a Botox is a requirement to be a member of the same country club as their friend and my pimp, Suzanne Murphy.