All Seasons, Buenos Aires, had it all.

We spent hours down at the Lagoon pool drinking Coronas and watching the talent catwalk too and fro.

It was also where the Nazi hookers worked.

They'd hang out at the Lagoon Bar and waited for a bight.

This joint was frequented by gunslingers, drug runners, politicians, spies, spooks and the degenerates wanting to get a taste of those German jugs that hailed from the Motherland.

'What is a nice guy like you hanging around such a dive like this,' asked Ingrid.

Long wavey blonde hair, big tits, oh didn't she look great in aqua blue bikini and a face that would look comfortable in any of the perfume advertisements.

She knew she was a stunner.

'And I'm not a spy.'

'Didn't think you were,' she said.

She was looking at my Rolex and the wads of notes stuffed in the pocket of my Hawaiian shirt.

'Want some of these,' I said and handed her a greenback.

'I only take fifties,' she said.

So a tenner wasn't enough for the high-class whore.

'Go figure,' said Max, who handed her a hundred dollar note. 

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