Back when the first indictment of Jimmy Dimora went public and everyone got to read about his alleged taste for hookers and sex with woman who are not named Mrs. Dimora, we had a half-cocked idea to go find the ladies he allegedly slept with and grill them.
Logistically, how did that work?
Was there a contraption to hold up his stomach?
Was it worth whatever you were paid? Seriously, was it worth it?
It never happened, mainly because we really didn't want the answers to any of those questions.
Testimony the last two days in Dimora's trial, however, indicates we would not have had to look very far to find one of these women: she was an escort who advertised in the back of this very magazine. You're welcome, Jimmy. And here we thought we weren't friends. Turns out you were leafing past all the pages where we eviscerated you and flipping straight to the boobs. Jimmy, maybe you would have known people were onto you earlier if you had just taken the time to actually read the stuff in our paper before looking for nookie. Oh well.
Details after the jump.
