*Warning: This one’s a little dirty, so if you get offended easily, move it along.*

While lounging in a sparsely furnished living room in West Philly, my roommate Brooke and I found ourselves mesmerized by – wait for it – a “Girls Next Door” Marathon on the E! Channel. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular program, it follows Hugh Hefner’s 3 big fake booby, peroxided girlfriends as they go about their unproductive day in the Playboy Mansion. Clearly, not only is this show way overdue to win a Peabody award, but if these girls would just take the time out of their busy schedule of seeing who can fit their fist in their mouth and fill out an application, I’m sure the MacArthur foundation would gladly hand over a grant. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m being sarcastic. It’s so hard to tell on the paper.

Anyway, let me assure you that I was not the one who chose to watch the program. It was all Brooke. Brooke is currently pursuing her PhD in Visual Anthropology, but still has a soft spot in her heart for bad television, and occasionally exploits that love when she needs a distraction from studying. Which is great for me – we have easily bonded over “America’s Next Top Model” and “Kid Nation”. But today, she is studying “Girls Next Door” with a slight tilt of the head and an analytical eye. She finally asks me, “So, why do they do it?”

“Well, because they’re set for life”, I reply, “They have a contract with Hef, free room and board, a monthly stipend, and when he kicks it, they each get a couple mil.”

Brooke thought for a moment, and then, with a completely straight face, said, “Y’know, to be set for life, I’d suck old dick every day for a year.”

Amen, sister, amen.

Needless to say, this brought up a lively debate in the household. Would you be willing to *be* with a rich senior citizen for security? And how long would you be willing to do it for? What’s your line and what’s your rates?

Since I don’t start working for a couple of weeks, I’d have to say that my standards have probably lowered a little. Look, I’ve been with older men before, but we’re going even further than that. We’re not debating a measly twenty year difference. We’re talking late seventies and beyond, to the point when gravity has seriously taken it’s toll, and there could be some diaper changing involved. Plus keep in mind that at that age, things might take a wee-bit longer to, how shall I put this, finish up? Think about all the work you’d have to put into it. And what if he’s on Viagra like Hef? Ay, yi, yi. Man, there’s so many things to consider!

I refuse to believe that no one doesn’t have a price. Unless one is so well off that they never need to consider such things, but even those privileged people must at least hypothetically work it out in their heads out of boredom while lounging by the pool. I also am not presenting this as a life or death situation, like you have no choice but to make money by prostitution. I just want to know for my own wild fantasies, what’s the price?

I finally decided on one million dollars to make mouth sex with a senior citizen once a day for a year. But if he missed out on the day’s sexual gratification, he wouldn’t be able to roll it over to the next day – these ain’t no Cingular minutes, Grandpa. And he had to inform me before he finished so I could get the hell out of the way.

Brooke was a lot more laissez-faire about the whole thing – she didn’t have as many rules, but believe it or not, she’s also seems a lot more comfortable with sex than I am, so maybe that has something to do with it.

Perhaps we should give the “Girls Next Door” some credit. Maybe they’re just savvy business women who know how to play the game.

Nah. They’re still dumb whores.