the best pie in Los Angeles...

this is entirely about the best pizza you can find in Los Angeles. nothing else, remember that.

tonight started out differently than most mid-summer nights. it started in the morning around 10am when I got an email back from Julie saying we could meet tonight at 8:30pm. this made the whole work day very challenging. I slept-walked through most of it, my imagination on my upcoming date with Julie. I had never seen her before but all the reviews were very promising.

around 8:45pm I turned onto her street when my alternate cell phone rang. it was Julie wanting to know if I was still coming. "I just turned onto your street," I reassured her. she told me parking in the valley at this time of night might be tough but I found a spot and she gave me directions through her door. it struck me as a surprise that she would give me her secret code to open the front gate, "don't press the pound key like it says," she instructed. she gave me directions as I walked to her door, "the door will be ajar so just come in." she wants to keep a discreet profile to her neighbors.

when I walked in I saw the epitomy of a MILF. a short, blonde soccer mom in a black audrey hepburn dress and high heels. we had a little chit-chat in her kitchen then she showed me to her bedroom. unlike most providers I've seen Julie keeps a clean house. her bedroom was clean and neat. for a hooker how can she be such a neat-freak? clean white carpet, warm lenin sheets, XM radio, etc.

on her bedroom TV a porno was already playing. she invited me to lay on the bed so she could give me a massage. quickly the massage turned into a blowjob that was perfectly staged so I could either look at her, look at her sucking me off via her closet mirror, or simply watch the porno. Julie doesn't have an once of silicone in her but her lips still look amazing sucking cock.

Julie is a real woman, not an overly-thin type with enhanced juggs. she has a normal body with some naturally sized D-cups. although humbly she reported they were only C's. no way they were C's.

she turned over for me and draped her head off the edge of the bed so I could fuck her face. this didn't last as long as her initial blowjob because the blood was rushing to her head and she finally begged for mercy. I gave it to her in the form of a facial spraying her face by the light of the TV. she rested on her knees on the floor but brought me completely to climax with her mouth and stroking my shaft.

with a hug Jenny checked the hallway. the coast was clear so she ushered me on my way. on the way back to my car I walked on a sidewalk but was dimmly lit and scared a tall babe on her way home. I calmly said hello and somehow realized that she turned and looked back at me from the shadows on the sidewalk. if I had been a little more clever I could have called it two-for-two.

I drove back home. I changed my underwear and soaped my cock over. I changed my shirt because now it was time to drive all the way to Abbott Kinney for a midnight drink. it took me almost an hour to drive there but the two Venice bars on the street made it worth it. I skipped The Brig for the higher-classed theotherroom. I easily found a parking spot but avoided the shirtless Venice beach freak beating his tom-tom on the street corner. I ducked into theotherroom and ordered a vodka tonic.

"we're wine and beer only," the bartender told me as politely as he could. I saw an array of beers on tap and couldn't decide. the place was hopping with elite chicks and dudes who were on their game. the place was noisy but not too crowded. still I only had a moment to decide. I saw the Delirium Tremmens tap handle and placed my order.

there was an open barstool and I feel right into it. I paid my nine dollars and took a sip. I hadn't had dinner yet so it hit me like a bullet. then I noticed two babes next to me. one blonde, one brunette. but the conversation that I sprang upon was with the bartender. he was flying to Roma the next morning and I gave him some recommendations on wine and cheese to seek out. I told him my experience with flying the house wines back and why they are the best. I asked him if he had ever heard of Brachetto.

the two babes left without warning. the bartender and I kept talking. we had a lull in our conversation when a guy came from the shadows and slapped my back, "you could'a had a shot at those two girls man. now they're headed to The Brig." I slammed my empty glass on the bar, after all The Brig is a meat market. my Bartender asked me if he could buy me another. I was already wasted but obliged his offer. he poured me a tap.

out of the corner of my glazing eyes I saw the most amazing bag hit the bar. I looked over and saw a woman's purse, black and snake-skin design sitting next to me. it was not oversized and it outdid all the latest fashions I have seen at Barney's and Neiman's in one look. a small gold fob of a penguin fell from the loops, it had the designers name on it and to me it translated, "the queen bee," wow.

I looked over and now saw seven pussies sitting side-by-side-by-side next to me. all natural women, all slender and tall taking a seat at the bar beside me. the bartender and I looked at each other as if to say, "what just happened?"

the owner of the bag was a black woman from Italy. "you didn't buy that in the states did you?" I asked. she smiled, "no, I got it in Filiona." off my drunk stare she broke it down for me, "near Milano" in her heaviest local.

after a beer or two the company of women called it a night. this time I struck out but not before another Delirium and by now I was feeling it. I left unannounced without thanking the bartender for his hospitality. I drove straight up Main Street looking for a place, any place that could feed me after midnight.

for a second I seriously thought I should screw looking for food and just drive on to Eros Station for round two. there I could get my second crazy slut of the night -- then in my drunk state I thought better of it.

by the time I reached Mulholland and drove the last quarter-mile home I would see a parked Lamborgini Diablo at one overlook and a relic of a late-80's Crown Victoria at the next. from the curving roads my headlights shined into the Crown Vic and I saw two hot blondes asleep. their heads resting onto one another in the front seat. one looked like she barely had any lipstick left on but my headlights didn't even bother them. I thought about stopping but on second thought that was the exact overlook where they found one of the Manson Jane Doe bodies.

but before that, back in Venice I suddenly I saw the neon sign that read, "open late." I pulled an illegal u-turn and parked curbside. I walked in the place, a pizza slice joint. perfect. the door was held open to the night air by a long tube of discarded batteries. the proper way to dispose of your Duracells is not to toss them in the trash but give them to a Radio Shack or something like that. "I should have brought mine," I told the guy across the counter.

he shook his head in annoyance, "people come in here with three bags full, I don't know what to do with them. what can I get you?" I shook my head understanding his pain to do the right thing versus the plethora of evil it caused. then I looked into his case of pizzas, "I'll take that mushroom," I said.

"just one?" he asked. "I better have two," I told him and then he said, "I better give you one of these cheese slices too." he tossed them all onto a small plate. by now I had half of a pie. "that'll be $8.12," he tossed them in the oven and I took a seat at the bar.

"where are you from? you know, you're the most polite person to ever come in here," this didn't surprise me. after all I was in Venice, CA. "Missouri, I told him," now I was perplexed that two people had asked me my roots in the same night -- my hooker and the pizza owner.

"you've been out here eight years and you're still nice?" he said. I asked him where he was from. "I was the son of a dairy farmer in upstate New York," he said. that was when we bonded. over cows. I told him about my first time birthing a dead calf and he upped me, "I once had to take a calf out with a tractor. it was either the cow or the calf. we didn't have much but its always better to take the calf. ruined the mother when I did it and she died in about two minutes."

he gave me my pizza and I walked back out. for two seconds I forgot where I parked. getting back onto the 10 freeway I took a bite of the mushroom slice. holy shit. holy shit. it melted in my mouth, no need for a napkin, no dripping grease. this is not how Mulberry makes it. now it all made sense -- the guy was from upstate New York, no wonder he knew how to make a real slice of pie.