Liz at the Q. Try Elsewhere (maybe next door)
First off, Yes, I know there was just a big discussion about what a dangerous cesspool the Q in Danbury is for those who participate in the Hobby. I DID park at the Applebees, buy us dessert to go, and walk across the street as a safety precaution, and that part of this adventure worked out. As PA says, we take our chances. But, fellow mongers, don't bother with this one.
Tragifunny story (tragic for me; funny for you) -- Despite the mixed reviews, I thought I'd take a shot, so this would be my first time seeing Liz. The transaction isn't especially smooth, but after some delay getting the dessert and all that, I misremembered the room number Liz gave me and accidentally knock on the door next to hers. Remember, I'm holding an Applebee's to-go bag, so the person behind the door opens. It's a provider named Kikki. Gorgeous. Toned body. Full make-up. Sequined Lingerie. Total package. (apparently, she does Camming.) She says, "I didn't order takeout. Why are you here?" In a stage whisper, I say, "no, Liz, I'm your date!" She says, "My name's not Liz, it's Kikki, and you must be mistaken; I don't have any clients right now. " I look at her uniform, the brown hair, slim figure. I now think that this is clearly Liz, but she thinks I'm her Long Lost Uncle LEO, and she's trying to get rid of me. So I respond, " no really! It's me! We've been texting! Let me call you. " so I do, and I hear a phone buzzing. NEXT DOOR. Kikki's eyes roll. After profuse apologies to Kikki, I slide three feet down the hallway. To be met by a slightly younger version of the "Where's the Beef" Grandma!
The REAL slim shady is in sweats and a hoodie. While she is slim-ish, she's also a head shorter than Kikki next door. Fingernails way too short for a provider, and they're dirty with chipped nail Polish. Hair disheveled and scraggly. Her complexion, clear, nevertheless looks somewhat dehydrated, and one gets the impression that Liz is a once-beautiful woman who has been brined in pickling solution and left out in the desert to dry. Smelled not-so-fresh, particularly in the fragrant southern region, which is where the malodorous brining / pickling solution seems to have pooled. For all the letdown of her appearance, however, I press forward, if for no other reason than to mask the embarrassment of being tagged as an incompetent Uber Eats driver. The toll is $. For hhr. Steep for this provider, but happily given w / o question given the debacle that just preceded.
Now the fun begins. Another 15 min (off the clock) of her "getting ready" in the bathroom. If by getting ready one means feeding the pet demons. Then we try to set the mood for about 10 min. As she's laying face down on the bed, here's some of her actual mood-setting dialogue, as best as I can remember: "Remember, you're big and I'm tiny, and I screwed up my back" "I don't like it when people touch my breasts. " (me: huh? "well, you can cup 'them, but don't touch the nipples. I recently had a traumatic experience where I was attacked. " "Also, don't touch anywhere near my butt -- that's where I was attacked. " "I don't like it when people touch my vagina. " (me: nothing at all?) "no. I don't want you to touch me there; I'm still a bit freaked out from the attack. " (me: can I at least try to get you off?) "It wouldn't do any good. I haven't gotten off in years. ".
So then I suggest that we order pizza. I go to pick up pizza, saying that I'll be right back. But instead of returning to the room, I bail. My pizza is much better company than Liz. YMMV.
