By Ray Stern
By Ray Stern
By New Times
By Amy Silverman
By Stephen Lemons
By Stephen Lemons
By Monica Alonzo
By Chris Parker
Maybe that's why Johnson doesn't realize the het-friendly Jett is sprung on him. Ignoring her, Johnson heads over to the bar with his pals. Jett's crushed, but then two of her homies show up: Yvonne, a cutie-pie Chinese chick who just got out of an eight-year relationship and is on a tear, and Kristina, a hottie with long, straight hair who looks like she walked out of an Aerosmith video. We all hit the bar together, and start to get our groove on as the DJ drops some Snoop Dogg.
Before you know it, I'm chatting (yelling in their ears is more like it) with two lovelies, one blonde and one brunette. The blonde is Emily Straughn, and her brunette bud is Ariana Kasa. Both are 21, and are jumpin' off from the PCL to a party goin' down at The Venue. Straughn is a massage therapist and also works at Ra Sushi, and Kasa's at ASU studying poli-sci and Italian.
"Me and my best friend here are hanging out, ready to get rowdy," the curvaceous Kasa tells me.
"Think you guys'll get up on the poles or the swing?"
"Uh, I think we'd need shots first," says Kasa. "I've never been on the swing before."
"Okay, so I met a poli-sci dude from ASU a couple of weeks back, and he was into Bush winning," I relate. "So how do you feel about it?"
"It's a crock of shit!" responds Kasa. "Bush sucks." Beside her, Straughn nods her head in agreement.
"Wow, booful Democrats, that's always cool to come across," I state.
"We're over our depression now," continues Kasa. "The other day some guy told me that Democrats are just gold-digging white women who want everything for themselves."
"What?! That sounds more like bitches in general," I say.
"So, Emily, how much will a massage cost me?" queries the frisky, pie-eyed Jett, buttin' in.
"About $65 an hour," says Straughn, unaware of Jett's not-so-latent lesbianism. "I used to work at the Phoenician, but now I work out of my home. You make more money that way."
"Do you two work together?" Kasa asks us.
"Yeah, he's the beauty and I'm the brains-ses-es," slurs the polyamorous princess of P-town.
"Like J-Kwon says, ÔEverybody in the club gettin' tipsy,'" I say. "One more drink, and you'll be swinging from the ceiling, Jett."
"That's just cuz I only weigh like 95 pounds, not 395!" she cracks.
I figure we need to chill for a sec, so Jett, Yvonne, Kristina and I all head over to the area opposite where the sex swing is situated. We spot some playas poppin' bottles of Moet in the corner, but they're all uppity and don't want company. I dump my three liquored-up honeys in the corner where they start dancing with anything in a shiny shirt that's nearby. Hell, I let 'em do what they're gonna do. As long as they call me "Big Poppa," I'm cool with it.
I ease over to the sidelines and mop my brow. While I'm doing so, I chat with two African-American chaps named Freddy Phoenix and Big E, who're scopin' the lovelies. Big E's about my size, but taller and with his head shaved, and Freddy Phoenix is thin, with a mustache and goatee.
"We're just having a good time," says the smooth FP. "We came from another party with lots of sexy women."
"Get any numbers?"
"I got so many numbers, it's crazy," replies the FP.
"How 'bout you, Big E?"
"Ah, I'm all about business," says Big E, who's from NYC -- Staten Island, to be precise. "This is my boy right here."
"Yeah, Big E's my bodyguard," cheezes FP. "You see, I'm in adult entertainment."
"Get out! What kind? Web sites, DVDs?"
"We're still building our Web site, but it's going to be called Scottsdale Pink," explains Freddy. "We'll do DVDs mostly. It'll be like Scottsdale Gone Wild."
"Oooh, I like, I like."
"Yeah, we get the girls naked and do a lot of naughty stuff," smiles Mr. P. "We're shooting our first video now, which will be out in January, under the ÔScottsdale Pink' brand."
"I'm the videographer," adds Big E.
The girls love tee shirts, they love tank tops, and they love money," claims Master P. "That's what we bring to them. And they love showin' themselves off. Once we've got our first DVD, then everybody'll want a piece of us."
"Hmmm," I mutter, rubbin' my chinny-chin-chin. "I wonder if I can get in on this action."
Suddenly, Jett bumps me from behind: "It's time for the after-party, doooood," she hiccups. "And you're driving!"
"You know what, Jett," I say, putting my arm around her. "I think I've finally found you that second job you've been looking for all this time."