How Dumb Do They Think I Am?

Now, down at work, they have a sort of lottery type thing. You buy a ticket for a couple bucks and, if you win, they give you a night on the town with a hooker. You know the type of thing, hit a couple of strip clubs, drink some cheap champagne and get laid. You don't have to play, but guys tend to avoid you in the restrooms if you don't. At least the guys don't let you get behind them in the restroom.
You can also choose to win some cash in the lottery instead of a hooker, actually quite a bit of cash.
I win the lottery in September just after my 18th birthday. I tell the lottery guy that I'm gonna take the cash.
The guy who runs the lottery and the union rep brace me. They tell me that I gotta take the hooker. It seems like nobody takes the cash. If I take the cash, the other guys will run me right outta the shop. I gotta take the hooker. They ask me, “What's the matter with you?”
I sigh and tell 'em that there aint nothin' the matter with me. I let 'em know I'm gonna take a hooker. Not the cheap, factory-boy bitch the lottery wins me. Instead, I'll set up a weekend cabin in the mountains, with pussy. I'll use the rest of the cash to get me a real high class hooker. I add that the hooker will serve me champagne in bed after I fuck her. I'm on a roll here and I say, “It'll be real good champagne too, not the stuff in the strip clubs where you wonder what it tasted like before they removed the varnish with it.” I finish by asking, “You get the picture here, guys?”
The guy who runs the lottery looks like he chewed a lemon.
The union rep laughs and tells me, “The boys in the shop are gonna get a kick out of your plan!” He grins from ear to ear and continues the analysis; more pussy and better pussy out of the same winning ticket. He wants a report from me, on Monday when I get back.
I tell 'em, “Okay, but it's gonna be so good I don't think you'll be able to stand it!”
The word about my plan gets around the shop. Hell, the guys that I work with think I'm a fucking genius.
Flush with lottery cash I make arrangements for the 'ho' and the cabin. I load my 57 Chevy up with steaks, Idaho potatoes and champagne. I also pack a shotgun. (If you wonder why the shotgun, I been to the hills before!) I have to drive a ways to get to the mountains, but it aint no problem. I got a 400 horsepower 383 cubic inch stroker motor in old paint. I also got a handling package that makes the sports car boys green with envy.
I stop at a place in a little college town, where the mountain road comes down to the interstate. I meet up with Phil The Pimp in a coffee shop. He got a college girl 'ho' named Heather. Yeah, that Heather. Turns out that the best sorority in the college where Heather goes has a sort of unusual initiation. The girl has to rent out as a 'ho' for a weekend, sos she can get a little sexual experience. (Apparently Heather's sorority don't want no lame lays in their house.)
Now, Heather don't have to fuck me. She also don't have to join the best sorority on campus. If she don't fuck me, she don't get in the sorority. In either case, I know Heather agreed to be a 'ho', at least for a weekend. I mean we're talkin' here I done seen her hole card! I play it cool and say hello to Heather like I never seen her before. I get up and Heather, with no real choice, gets up with me. I give her my hand and Heather swallows hard, takes my hand and walks out to my car with me.
Oh, Heather will pay back all of the money; she'll even let me make a little profit. Heather asks me, “Don't you see, that it can't be this way?”