His question gets you thinking.

“I suppose I do need a car don't I?” You ask back, thinking out loud.

“Excuse me?” He fires back.

“Call me a cab please.” He does as you ask, and you stand there patiently till the car arrives, just watching people come and go. Several men flash you a look that tells you just how sexy you are, which is kind of nice, and weird. Hell a girl or two even give you the same look. A few minutes later you are leaning against the wall, one leg bent with your foot balanced on the toe platform. A man dressed in a business suit walks up to you, he isn't bad looking but not exactly handsome either. For nearly a minute he stands about two feet from you just staring at you, when you finally can't take it any more and ask, “Do you want something?”

He licks his lips, smiles, and says, “How much?”

This asshole thinks you are a hooker, you realize. Granted looking down at yourself you have to admit you do look a lot like a hooker, well other than you aren't wearing any makeup. Slutty at any rate. “Sorry I am not a hooker.” You say flatly back to him.

He rubs his chin, smiles, and says, “Every girl is a hooker, the ones that say they aren't just haven't been offered enough money yet.” You want to slap the smile off of his face, as he lets out a disgusting laugh as he adds, “How about $20,000 to let me fuck the shit out of that tight ass of yours?”

“What ever asshole. You don't have that kind of cash.”

“Actually I do. I have exactly that much cash, I was planning on playing some poker, but after spotting you standing here I think I might have more fun poking you.” Laughing once again at just how funny he finds himself.

“So lets see it then.” You fire back.

He lifts up his briefcase and clicks it open. Staring back at you from the case are twenty bundles of hundreds, neatly stacked in two rows of five, that he lifts to show you are stacked two deep. “Like it?” He laughs again, “Well, how about it. I wasn't going to win anyway, at least this way I can have some fun. So, are you a hooker now?”