Rarely does a simple NYPD prostitution bust turn deadly – unless the perp jumps out a window and falls to her death in a vain attempt to “beat the rap.” And so it was two days ago, when one (or a group) of New York’s finest put the wood (not literally) to an Asian flatbacker out in Flushing whereupon she hopped out the window in a vain attempt at escaping. Apparently, the girl neglected to take that paratrooper elective while pursuing her degree in Suckology and somehow managed to die jumping out a third story window.
Now that would take some doing. Like you’d have to land on your fucking head – which I’m guessing is exactly what happened. Probably got her foot stuck somewhere along the line (a la John Wilkes Booth) and oops! Actually, this isn’t a funny story at all. Imagine being an immigrant (and very likely an illegal one) in fear of deportation. You could make the same mistake!
Ho’s running from busts is certainly nothing new. Happens all the time as a matter of fact. Does anybody actually get away? Apparently, yes. Three stories on the subject:
Back in my taxi-driving/work at the taxi publication days, my boss had an office on 23rd Street from which he ran his empire. One floor below, the old tenant left and an Asian whorehouse took up residence. Mikey (the boss) became friendly with the caucasian security guard and one day the latter paid the office a visit from the fire escape! Mikey opened the window in a state of some confusion to discover that the joint downstairs was crawling with cops and his boy had successfully evaded the long arm of the law by hopping out the window and into the safety of Mikey’s office. Mission accomplished.
On another occasion, I was visiting a dirty/nasty Asian place looking to get paid for my weekly Village Voice ad. The boss was a one-of-a-kind derelict and nothing like the current (or recent) wave of professional owners and practitioners we’ve come to take for granted. Not a place I liked to hang out. Predictably, when I arrived, she was off somewhere avoiding payment. So I sat waiting to get paid for what would be an hour according to the sloppy woman who was answering the phone.
Watching the operation’s MO, I became something less than comfortable. Their mess of a Craigslist poster had written “$100 special” on the ad to generate a barrage of phone calls. And the phone girl did no screening as she answered the deluge. Sitting there impatiently, it suddenly occurred to me that this shithole was ripe for a bust and that I might be well-advised to get the fuck out and come back at a later date or time.
And so I bid the crew adieu and took my leave to run smack dab into the vice squad entering as I walked out the front door of the building. As intent on condescending to my shitty-paying customer as I was issuing a warning, I called upstairs to inform the phone girl “You’re about go get busted Einstein! Keep answering the phones the way you do!”
And guess what happened! All the girls jumped onto the fire escape…down to the back yard…and into the cleaning establishment next door, successfully avoiding capture. When the boss told me what a hero I was for helping the girls get away (not necessarily my intention), she proffered a free session with any of the girls I chose, an offer I declined with the rejoinder “How’s about you just pay your fucking bill, sister?” As if I’d want to be anywhere near one of her halibuts if I weren’t looking to collect on an ad I’d already ordered!
And finally…there once was a big operator who called herself Lisa. She ran a multiple-room factory staffed with drug-addled mostly American hoochies of the not-very-appealing variety. So eventually, here comes the vice squad while the boss was on premises. Being a big fat blob of a woman, there was no way Lisa was gonna evade apprehension, and opted to simply sit there and shit in her dress as the cops swarmed into her place of business.
But some of the more agile girls decided to make a break for it out the back door…into the yard…and over a fence. Small problem, though. Said fence featured barbed wire. And one of the girls (Keisha pictured above) got caught up, actually injuring her inner thighs and vagina – and had to be taken to the hospital to get stitched up! Ouch!
I heard this crazy story and then months later, ran into the injured party when she began working for one of my Village Voice and New York Press clients. She confirmed the rumor and showed me a recent tattoo, a spider web type affair etched on her inner thighs in an attempt to camouflage the scars. And no, I did not ask to see her you-know-what to inspect it for scarring.
So there’s your three supporting stories on the subjects of ho’s who try to get away. Two were successful – and one was spanked by a barbed wire fence for her indiscretion. But go splat on a sidewalk and die? That one takes the prize. Kind of a harsh albeit self-imposed sentence for simply offering to suck some guy’s dick for a benji. Oh well! She made her bed. And now she can sleep in it eternally. May she have a wonderful afterlife. It’s about all we can hope for.