Client No. 8: The Unluckiest SOB on the Planet!

We've all had days when luck seems to leave us. When nothing turns out right. When everything we touch falls apart.

Days like the day Elliott Spitzer -- a.ka. Client No. 9 -- had yesterday. And days like the anonymous Client No. 8 is having today.

Yesterday morning, Client No. 8 was a man in charge of his privileged world. Fat bank account. (Well, fat enough to bankroll an evening with a $5,550/night hooker.) In all likelihood, a man of some power. (Well, powerful enough to get himself a membership in the Emperor's Club.) A man some may have looked up to. (Well, assuming none of his friends or colleagues knew he had to pay for sex.)

Today, Client No. 8's world fell apart. More below:  

Today, Client No. 8 probably knows the gig is up. Thanks to fellow Emperor's Club frequent flyer Elliott "Client No. 9" Spitzer, Client No. 8 may well be facing federal prosecution.

He's just a guy. Granted, a really rich guy. A guy lookin' for love. And he's not greedy. He just wants that luvin' for one lousy night at a time. A guy who's just too damned busy to meet members of the opposite sex the way the rest of us do it, sitting in a crowded meet market or trollin' the supermarket aisles.

Yesterday, he put on his Armani suit and headed to work. Today, he put on another Armani and headed to his attorney.

Yeterday, "johns" in sex stings -- even federal sex stings -- rarely were prosecuted. Today, thanks to Client No. 9, all the other clients -- 1-8, 11 and up -- are surely bound for prosecution, unless Spitzer figures out a way to avoid indictment. And the odds of that are less than the odds of George Bush ever stringing together five complete sentences that aren't scripted for him.

Yesterday, that $5,500/night call girl probably felt like a god-given right. Client 8 had earned it. He had the scratch on-hand. He knew where to go to get what he wanted.

Today, thanks to sharing the same taste in women-for-hire with Spitzer, Client No. 8 is fucked.

Now that, my friends, is a bad day.

Client No. 8? The unluckiest bastard on the planet today.