In the meantime, I have begun to date Ivy. She is young, still only a teenager, and decades younger than me, but I am totally infatuated with her. Ivy understands that the way to my wallet is through my heart. So, with Ivy’s kiss here and a stroke there it seems like the most natural thing in the world for me to not only to rent a luxurious apartment for her, but to furnish it completely as well; not just the sofas, tables and chairs, but the towels, appliances, and dishes too.

I enjoy spending a quiet evening with Ivy. Her apartment is comfortable and she makes me feel right at home. One night while we’re lounging, watching TV, I notice a heavy object sitting inside the open top drawer of her bedside table. A closer look reveals that she’s packing a pistol. “Hey Ivy,” I ask, “what’s up with the gun?” I don’t remember or didn’t quite decipher her answer but she promises to get rid of the weapon the next day.

About a week later, I drive over to Las Vegas’ McCarran Airport, just a five-minute jaunt from my home, to pick up two of my Los Angeles bankers who are considering lending me some millions of dollars to expand my casino operations. They’re in town to complete their due diligence inspection of my properties and to develop a personal opinion of me and my lifestyle. As bankers and financial people have told me many times, “Money is loaned to a person as much to a business. The honesty and integrity of the individual means as much or more to us as do the financial statements of the business.”

At curbside, the older of the executive lenders, the Senior Vice President, gets into the front and his younger assistant seats himself in the rear of my Mercedes Sedan. While driving them to their rooms at Caesars Palace, the Vice-President in the rear, picks up one of Ivy’s misplaced possessions; her fully loaded 9mm semi-automatic handgun and says to me “Say, Herb, must be one of your kids toys. Sure looks real.”

 “Oh my God,” I scream,

It’a a damn serious business with millions of dollars changing hands every day by those wishing to take part in the pay-for-play game, There’s no shortage of buyers willing to shell out enormous sums to jooin in th ee]sexual hi jinks provided inside my strip clubs in Las Vegas and New Orleans. And there more than enough nubile nymphs willing to stuff their personal kitty with the unending slow of “Benjamins.”

THE  STARTLING EXPOSES OF STRIPPERS FROM LAS VEGAS TO NEW ORLEANS IS CONTAINED IN “STRIP CLUBS EXPOSED”

FAMOUS ALUMNI OF ZBT