So is the title of an article I recently read.
The article is from one of those free alternative newspapers/magazines and is from a Miami magazine named “Miami New Timesâ€.
My conservative self is not much into “alternative†crap; but this little mag actually publishes some good articles and they have done some investigative pieces that have broken some big stories.
Anyway – this story is about cunning prostitutes that troll the trendy spots in Miami and Ft. Lauderdale looking for well-off unsuspecting PLs that they subsequently drug and still tens of thousands (and even hundreds of thousands) from.
Some may remember the events mentioned in this article being discussed in a TUSCL thread a while back.
The article is a bit long but I thought a pretty interesting read – below is the start of the article followed by the link to the article:
Scott Rosen thought he had sealed the deal when the pretty blond 20-something got up to use the bathroom. The 55-year-old with a receding hairline and freshly pressed shirt downed a $12 vodka cranberry as he waited for his target to slink back to the wicker sofa he occupied on the patio of YOLO, a tony restaurant on Fort Lauderdale's Las Olas Boulevard.
It was almost 2 a.m. — closing time at the nightspot — and the white noise of postparty plans and meaningless bar banter filled the otherwise quiet Saturday night. The table was adorned with a candle, and Rosen's trademark custom Rolex reflected the flame into a brilliant gold mosaic.
Rosen, whose taut, wiry frame resembles that of Sopranos wiseguy Uncle Paulie, would never speak to that blond again. "In about 30 seconds flat," Rosen recalls, a different woman joined him on the wicker sofa. The striking, five-foot-six Rihanna look-alike wore her long, curly hair pulled to one side. Moments later, she beckoned a blond bombshell in a light-blue dress.
Rosen wasn't much interested in Rihanna, but the fair-haired, lithe one was just his type. He didn't want to show his cards too quickly, though, so he issued an invitation. "Hey, do you guys want to go have a drink at my private bar?" he asked.
Then Rosen turned to his bodyguard of eight years, Scott Hostler. "Bring up the car," he said. Soon the white Cadillac DTS with a license plate reading RUTHLES rolled into the circular driveway outside YOLO. As Rosen clambered into the back seat with the girls, the only thing the blinged-out bachelor could think about was what would happen back at his waterfront condo once they peeped his 60-foot yacht. …
Hoes will be hoes so he couldn't blame candy.