Posted on 02/06/2006 9:18:49 AM PST by flevit
Dec. 10, 2004 | IBIZA, Spain -- By their eighth night in the West End, Ibiza's low-rent nightlife district, the members of the 24-7 Prayer team don't flinch at anything they see: not at the woman lifting her skirt to ask a group of men what color panties she's wearing; not at the guy with papier-mâché breasts strapped around his waist, standing beside a sign that says "Dexter has the clap"; not at the guy mooning the girl who just spurned his advances, or the one across the street, pulling his dick out of his pants and flopping it on the table for the viewing pleasure of two horrified, delighted young blonds.
They press through the crowds, four sober people among the drunken masses, looking for openings: a friendly face who wouldn't mind a little unsolicited conversation; a swerving body that could use a steady arm to help it home. The bar promoters are the easiest ones to approach. They'll talk to anyone -- most of them work on commission, and every conversation is a potential sale.
forgot to check the Excerpt box...rrrrg
December 10, 2004...aw c'mon.
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