Burnt Out

I have returned to LA where I am back to worrying about money, as the whole brothel experiment has actually cost me money instead of made me money. Reading about different things that have been posted on BNG about my posts, including one other former fellow sex worker activist trashing me and a brothel hobbyist review board owner. I made the mistake of trying to post on another review board. Legal or not, don’t I realize that I am not a hobbyist’s girlfriend experience? I don’t do bareback blowjobs,  I don’t deep french kiss, I don’t live and die for the customer satisfaction of the client in exchange for ratings, and I DEFINITELY NEVER GIVE REFUNDS.  Anyway, I’ve realized that in my anger about the situation, I’ve revealed too many personal details about folks and used inflammatory words against brothels which could be easily used against our movement, which is what I have been working to change for the better. Pimps who are not abusive are offended, sex workers who have worked in brothels are offended..

But how can injustice be published in a way that holds people accountable?

I think when looking at situations that we don’t have direct experience in, we have just minimized conversation about it because we didn’t want to talk about what we didn’t know. But once I have experienced and I know what wrongdoing is being done, I speak out about it.

Do I get 15 minutes of FAME like the dickmouthed Nevada brothel board owner says? Doubt it. I get nothing. I went there to make money and experience new environments. I got the latter in ways that were worse than jail (and I’ve been to jail) and I lost money trying. Am I asking for sympathy? No, I’m asking for justice. I have re-edited my blogs to omit personal names and details and try to address some of the concerns of critics around the picture I found of the brothel from google image search, but at this moment, I don’t feel like taking my blogs down and censoring my experience which may be beneficial to someone who may be on her way to trying out the Nevada brothels and has time to read some blogs about other people’s experience.  If you are set in your mind to go and do something, nobody’s blog is going to really stop you because you will probably think it’s just their opinion.  This is what happened to me as I read Amanda’s blog.  I was scared, but I was already committed.

Freedom, Independence and Autonomy

as I drove along the open road the next day away from the brothel, away from all the bullshit I had endured, every tree, every mountain, every cloud seemed to reach out and give me a hug or a high five. I got out of my car and took a photo of myself: free, independent and in control of my body and sex work once again.

Cautionary Words from a Brothel Survivor::but still a sex worker activist

Sitting in a motel head spinning from what just happened. I had just been kicked out of B’s brothel. While I was in my room with a customer, someone had opened my laptop and poured tabasco sauce all over the keyboard and trackball pad. Mostly the latter, which was good because only the spacebar is the most damaged. I ask the people in the kitchen if they had seen anything. They all acted dumbfounded. I go to the living room. Lisa gets up and starts to get angry for me. “who the fuck spilled tabasco on Passion’s computer?? That’s some SHADY ASS shit right there, you BITCHES.” She is moving through the house asking everyone for me.

The computer was open to the post page I was writing, entitled “DAY 7: military and 6th grade classroom detention.

I was cleaning my laptop and girls took turns getting things like paper towels and q tips and I asked ALL of them if they did this as they interacted with me. All were empathetic and helpful. I sat in my room shaking. I did not know what to feel. I was angry but just in shock. I called Scarlot Harlot, my whore mother in crisis moments and beyond. “So, you’re going to leave, right?” she said. I sighed and accepted this as the last straw. “Yes. I said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” Start to make plans to exit. Call Sharon in Vegas and arrange for a place to stop on route back home to LA. While I am talking on the phone in my room, bar manager comes in seeming concerned. “what time do you think this happened. When was your computer in the kitchen?” she said. I put the person on hold. “between when I was in my date and 10pm. “I said emotional but not in any tears. I am making frantic arrangements to kick my [trouble making] subletters out early so I could return home.

15 minutes later the bar manager opens the door. “S was just here. She wound back the tape [of the camera in the kitchen] and you were the only one near your computer. No one was in kitchen but you during those times. So I get to ask you to leave. I get to watch you pack and make sure you return the remotes. I get to check you out and give you your money WITHOUT taking the 25% for being asked to leave.”

“Wait a second.” I am even more in shock. “You think I did this to my own computer?” I said.

“I’m not saying what I believe or don’t believe. I am just doing my job.” A TRUE HENCHMEN SPEAKS.

“wow. This whole house is fucking crazy. That’s fine. I was going to leave tomorrow anyway.” I say and start to head to the closet to slowly process what is happening and start to pack. My heart is pounding out of my chest in the way that it does when I am about to get into a fist fight, when I got robbed, when I got arrested by 3 male cops busting through a door…The adrenalyn was making my head spin and my body tremble.

I am now in a motel, unwinding by writing all of you “conscious sex workers” out there who were seduced by the charm of the seductive sales pitch of a manager disguised in feminist clothing, to SLAP YOURSELVES ACROSS THE FACE, because you don’t even have to be similar to Amanda or me to see that labor violations and militant management are not a good addition to intentions to adventure and prosper in sex work settings.

S asked me if I had ever had a pimp in her office, and I was thinking in my head,“Yeah, lots of mostly stripclub managers, but never someone like you who truly believes that they are the total opposite, but are exactly the same evil in a different outfit.” She then showed me photos of the other woman’s face all beat up to scare me out of being an “independent.”

“You wanna take customers to your house and see them on your own??” she said,” You wanna know what happened when B did that a customer damn near TOOK HER LIFE??” waving the photos at me.

The women here are sleep deprived and working around the clock for about $2000-$10,0000 a week for 130 hours of work (emotional, body movement control for 13 hours a day x 10) in 10 days. Most make about $2-3000, which means about $2-300/day. Can you make that much or more as an independent or even agency escort? Many can. In fact, many street workers can make more than that, but there are that come with it the increased risk of arrest and [different kinds of] violence. The legal brothels waive their legal status as their carrot so that you feel like you NEED them to make that money.

Now I know how WAGE BONDAGE (keeping wages until the week’s end to make sure you follow rules), light deprivation mixed together with FEAR conditioning and bodily control by restricting freedom of movement and REQUIRING movement at the sound of a loud FIRE ALARM like BELL every 20-40 minutes does to you. I too was still thinking of staying a few more days,making just a few more hundred in exchange for my freedom. But the tabasco incident happened, which was all the better but still really really dirty and stupid. Amanda’s window to her room opened onto a padlocked and gated “patio.” I read this and still I went. (Maybe we are two very different people with different boundaries..I’ve never worked with Amanda…in fact I don’t even know her that well!) I cleansed my mind to open, even after reading her blog, but still the same, if not worse of the nightmare ensued for me. This and even worse is going on in legal brothels all over Nevada, Australia and more.

I’ve had my period for several days while working there. Today I bled a little puddle on a customer and he wanted a damn refund. The Instead cups sometimes get tilted to spill when a penis is thrusting it. Oh well, he sees blood. He had already fucked me though! I usually tell fools like that to eat my bloody pussy or “Hey,surprise, female prostitutes bleed sometimes. Sorry to break the fantasy for you.” There ARE NO REFUNDS in prostitution! But management gave him a damn refund. This is where the ambiguity of charging for the hour not the sex act comes in handy. In that hour, you can give head or a hand job if you are bleeding and they don’t get recourse because you never promised any certain kind of sex. Well, that’s how I roll anyway. I don’t love all my clients, especially when it means I would have to compromise control over my boundaries during periods or not. In most sex work establishments with fucked up management, expect the customer to always be right. However, in the stripclub that I worked the longest at, working girl was always right. Bouncers would usually take out issues on drunken customers who exceeded a girl’s boundaries, this might seem like a good thing, but, bouncers can easily take this one out of control as well. But this practice, in general, meant that clients were always TRICKS at the end of any argument, and your pussy power was kept intact, in control and in the highest regard. This is not the set up for this brothel,and I get the feeling that most are built on a reputation of customer is always right, which doesn’t always stand in line with sex workers rights.

Another part of S’s lecture was about how “you will give that customer an $80 party and give him the best party of his life,(meaning you get $40 for fucking) and not complain about it because he might come back when he has more money and give you a $2000 party.” speaking of the girls who complained about a customer only having $80 in his wallet.

Aunt D called us all in to the kitchen and swore up and down that Bellas would never take your money for that kind of thing..we all bleed. She said she gave HALF of his money back because he would spread word to all his trucker friends, so she took money out of her own pocket to keep his mouth shut. But we will never take money from you girls for that..” When I was checked out they charged me $150 for bleeding on a customer. That was my 50%. They issued a refund from my half!! I didn’t argue as I left the office with my measily $600 for 7 days of what I deemed as emotional hell. (this was not even my expenses for getting licensed to be a card carring ho, gas money to get here or gas money to get back. My rent is due again on September 1st and my lawyer needs to get paid by the 5th. BUT, I am free. A sex worker activist brothel survivor. Getting abused by pimps or systems of abusive pimping does cause trauma in the same way that any other domestic violence or workplace violence would, especially if you have previous stuff to deal with. Melissa Farley has bits of truth in her very one sided view, except that it isn’t the sex work itself that was traumatizing, but the way that it was mandated to be done. Bella obviously does NOT understand the concept of sex worker rights. They tried to destroy my laptop, but I it didn’t stop me from writing THIS BLOG to the rest of cyberspace. She doesn’t know that I have successfully filed LABOR CLAIMS and WON against EVERY strip club that I have worked in. So this brothel shit is LEGAL. Great. That means I can get my money back for the sex work I did, and charge you for damaging my laptop and hold you accountable for the rest of your BULLSHIT. Management is ex cop and ex military. She used to dress up like a ho to ARREST guys and now she is literally wielding her power trip on the other side of the tracks in a little family owned brothel in nowhere, Nevada.

I am on my way home. I am not worried about money. It will find its way back to me. I have my freedom. I would take working illegally and getting arrested ANYDAY to being enslaved by bonded wages, (they keep your money til the end of each week, so they can DEDUCT heavy fines out of it as a threat) lockdown house which is like JAIL anyway just more time. I know that this brothel is not unique in the system of legalization and now I know that I am not cut out to work at another one, which I’m sure owners and brothel hobbyists will be more than happy that I plan to not try again. Amanda said that she will try another one, which is great, like I knew before, we are different workers and you, reader are also another person who may feel and experience differently. However, I hope that you can take a stand against abusive, extorting stripclub managers, escort agencies, brothel owners and recognize the difference between abusive pimp and sex work manager. Stand against debt or wage bondage and psychologically abusive work environments. Sex work does NOT ever have to be like this.

Alright drivers, 10-4 good buddy, I’m headin home. Back to LA. OVER AND OUT….

Can’t post day by day-but IT SUCKS-don’t come here.

Don’t come here if you value your sanity, freedom, and self respect. Rules have changed and it has become like a boot camp, 6th grade classroom and jail. I don’t feel safe posting here while living and working here. It’s hell and I am really unhappy. Hoping to last until Friday. I cry all the time. Will post in detail later, after I leave as I will probably not return here or ANY legal brothel in Nevada again. Amanda, you were right…

DAY 5 and 6: Rules, Regulations and the Red tide..

Yesterday I did about 7 or 8 line ups and still not picked! I would come through to the bar to see if I could talk to the couple of guys that were in the bar, but the other girls would tell me that the guys in there were local firefighters and didn’t have money to spend. They usually come in and try to sleep with the bartenders (who aren’t that hot) for free. What a great hustle that is. I guess it does start to get to you any time you aren’t making money in any sex work situation, when people around you are making money and you aren’t. It also starts to get to you when you can’t even get laid in a whorehouse! So I stayed in my room and got more creative work done. It costs $35 for room and board here (3 non vegetarian meals included).

This house has been full of non stop emotional turmoil since I stepped into it. One of the girls is a street survivor with four kids. The only other way that she has worked before this was with a pimp that she had for 17 years. She just got a phlebotomy degree and I told her it would be great if she started her own business going around to all the brothels in Nevada and doing those damn mandatory tests that they need to get done monthly. I really want her to become an activist and am going to try to recruit her to do some work i harm reduction at the Sex Workers networking event that we are having in Miami. I see her light and hope that she follows me out of this place…

Another one of the girls, who I found out is going to start singing in a show in Vegas 6 nights a week lost her mother TODAY. She was crying too. Yesterday I, too was barely holding it together because I also just broke up with my boyfriend of a year and the lockdown and constant supervision doesn’t allow me to medicate my depression with marijuana like I am used to doing at home. Smoking helps me not get to susceptible to the harsh edge of life’s ups and downs. I can handle life sober, and am doing so here, as well as playing the guitar about an hour every day which is great because I had gone at least 4-6 months without touching it once. I didn’t think that it was too unbearable…until today.

New rules and regulations and a house meeting which lasted almost 2 hours. S was chastising the captive audience of 10 working girls and 2 staff like we were in 6th grade detention. It went on for almost 2 hours without any dialogue or debate. On and on she went about how ungrateful some girls were for complaining about the food, or the lack of customers or the lack of money that we made. On and on she went about how some of our rooms smelled like trucker asshole and how we never took out our garbages. She made comments about how if we were on the streets we would probably get arrested 7 or 8 times and we would probably get HIV. The fear factor was definitely a huge part of this lecture. Instilling the fear that there was no way that we could ever find any better working conditions than where we were right now, and if we dared to complain about it, we could pack our bags and try to find better. On and on she went about how drinking and smoking pot made us fat and lazy. On and on she went about how people need to keep their mouths shut about other people in the house. On and on and on… How we wanted to be in our rooms all the time and use this like a hotel. She had said that only one other house had more customers than this one, that was the Asian brothel, and all the girls there were from overseas and had to pay huge debt bonds. It was the most blatant example of how pimps and madams become trapped in that power position where they feel that talking down to, criticizing or literally beating up their workers is the only way that they are capable of listening. I’ve yelled at my students like that a few times, but only for 15 minutes max. This was why this house will never grow and the girls who live here will continue to behave in the same way and the lectures like this will repeat endlessly. Growth, dialogue, social justice and mutual respect are non existent. She used to be in the military, she used to be a cop and now she was a madam. Go figure. Her background is totally evident and well suited for the brothel model of management.

So new rules required us to stay in the lounge or bar during the hours of 11am-6pm. From 6pm-3am Thursday-Saturday we had to be in the bar, Sunday-Wednesday in the bar until 1am. This was incredibly painful for me, except that I had my guitar and could ease my mind on practicing my chords endlessly instead of do nothing, since I don’t smoke cigarettes or like to hang out in bars drinking. I DESPISE 2nd hand cigarette smoke actually, and being in Nevada where there is alcohol served 24/7 and smoking allowed in bars and casinos statewide, I would just have to power through it.

The neighboring brothels manager came over and tried to get into it with S about our girls being on their CB radio time. That was a totally immature scene where she kicked the other woman out even though our girls were in the wrong for being on their radio time. I’m learning that arguing with her is a waste of time, even if she is wrong. Everything is always your fault or your lack of following directions or trying hard enough. She waits for you to get riled up and start raising your voice and uses that as an excuse for why she doesn’t need to listen to you anymore.

I just got a fine for “dirty hustling” a customer, which means simply allowing him to touch you in the bar or during negotiations in your room. The bartender accused me of allowing the customer to touch my pussy, which is complete bullshit because I just got my period today and hiding the big red tide is the whole point of prostitution on your period. In the bar I put my leg between his legs, and apparently that is not ok either. Coming from a stripper background and being that the bar part of this hustle reminds me so much of stripping, it’s hard to imagine that you have to keep your hands and their hands away from you. I wore my “whore” bling necklace to line up and they told me to take it off. Apparently, even in brothels the word whore is not ok.

3 wasted redneck brothers came in and harassed/entertained us while we doing our mandatory bar time. I got one of them for a quickie and another trucker with tattoos like me and got the small hot tub room which was great so I made a little bit of money today finally. No impressive amounts of money yet.

I learned more brothel wisdom about kitchen sponges and make up sponges as tampons you can use and have sex with. On my first day of my period I bleed through most heavy tampons pretty quickly so make up sponges weren’t really cutting it. A taught me how to put the dental floss around the make up sponges to make a make shift tampon. Aunt D was tutoring me on cutting the green part of the kitchen sponge, but thankfully one of the girls that I gave the dental dam to returned the favor by giving me Instead cups which last all day, you can fuck in them and its been tested to be used in the vagina, unlike the first two. When I escort, I cut the string on a tampon and just do hand jobs and blow jobs instead of full sex but I knew that in the brothel I wouldn’t be able to get away with that. Today was full of bullshit. I am dreading the reprimand conversation that S is going to have with me tomorrow where I will have to fight for my right to keep my 50% of the money I earned. My patience is being tested further and I feel like my brain has been sucked back into the brothel cavity where it had been succeeding in resisting. Now it is feeling more like a mix of jail and boot camp. One of my only friends in the house, the only other woman of color, is leaving tomorrow.

DAY 4: 10 girls now, no dates yet

Today was a healthy day if anything. I did 30 minutes on the treadmill that they have in this room with the tanning bed, crunches and some exercises with the 5lb weights. I played the guitar and watched the winning Gold medal women’s volleyball game against China! I LOVE the olympics in case you haven’t figured out. it’s the only time that mainstream America is actually watching all these sports that I actually like. I don’t give a shit about basketball, football; I kind of like baseball but don’t follow it, but every four years America is watching swimming, gymnastics, volleyball and diving. These are all sports that I used to actually train and compete in high school or jr college (long ago..) so it’s really personal to me to be watching these matches. Everytime someone cries win or loose, I cry. Crying for me is like sneezing. If an actor in movie or an athlete on screen starts crying, so do I. It’s also the only time you will see me actually watching prime time television every night.

google image search: Nevada brothel line-up

I have done multiple line ups and not gotten picked. I’ve done a couple of tours with guys who weren’t interested in “partying” or with one who pretended he only had $100. This really hot blonde girl from Reno gets picked a lot, a tall thin Black girl is doing really good here and a lot of older “down home sluts” who are older, heavier but have what I’m thinking are trucker girlfriend looks–are also pretty popular today. Getting picked is totally random, not based on race, age or body weight but so far, does not include me.

I sold a SWOP-LA t-shirt at least to a guy I took on a tour who was buying up Bella’s t-shirts by the armful. At least I made $20 today.

So far on the CB there every day there are either really hateful guys who are either racist when I’m on (sucky, sucky, me love you long time comments) or “shut up you stupid fucking whore cunt bitch!” which is crazy because these guys walk through the door and I know that this is the group that they are coming from. The other extreme is the literally Holy Rolling trucker who starts preaching the gospel to block us from advertising. Both the local brothels on this block do this every other hour. There is a script to read and we all take shifts doing it.

The girls in the house has increased by 4 and now there are at least 10 of us in line ups which makes it even harder to snag the 2 guys that come through the door every other hour. Looks like its going to be a late night up again. A couple came through this afternoon and she picked the only black girl in the house, who I’ve befriended a bit. I gave her some of my dental dams to prepare for her date, but they never came back. A lot of the girls refuse to do couples and a lot of them do not know anything about domination even though we have an equipped dungeon in the house, which seems to freak out most of the guys that have come through. I’m hoping a sub comes through the door so I can snag him.

Aunt D announced that T, someone who had worked recently overdosed after her abortion and was dead. She started to cry in front of us before line up and it was a very shocking sad start to the day. I didn’t know T, but its always tragic to me when a fellow sex worker falls.

Some of the girls started whispering in front of me so I just walked back to my room so they could talk their shit out loud. I’m trying not to get sucked in to any girl drama, but I always have been a target for some bitch without anger management to feel that she has to confront me. I’ve not yet gotten into a fight even though plenty of girls have gotten in my face and wanted to (but not in the last 10 or so years). There used to 6 or 7 of us and most of us were nice, but now I fear that the estrogen chemistry is about to change.

One of the girls kept saying ‘faggot’ and fag boy and fag over and over again so I had to call her out on it. I did so very calmly and non confrontational like I have done many times as a high school teacher and Gay Straight Alliance advisor. “Wow. You’ve used the word fag like 10 times in just 1 sentence, that’s pretty amazing.” I said. “It seems like you don’t like fags.” I said as I was getting hot water for my tea. “does that bother you?”she said as I was walking away. But me and her have been cool so I didn’t know if my intervention would be considered a confrontation, nor do I know if it would make my rep worse in the house or not.

11pm. no dates so far. at least my cervix gets to heal up.

DAY 3: Card Carrying Prostitute

Today I drove 80 miles round trip to get decent groceries at the Albertson’s at Elko. Shaunia said she was going to shop for me, but I just needed to get out and also telling her everything that i needed might be impossible. She was trying to discourage me from going in a passive-assertive sort of way. I needed to get out. Plus I wasn’t cleared to work and grocery shopping is sort of an obsession that calms me. I like to shop for food. I do it constantly. I am a Trader Joes nut but the best we can do here is veggie patties and my Morningstar Farms vegetarian junk food bacon. Now I can be totally comfortable.

I THOUGHT THE LINE UP WOULD BE DEGRADING..
but it actually is not that bad. You are sitting in your room doing your thing and then a long annoying bell rings. Well, that signals to you the potential of income. So you stop what you are doing to greet the new person and line up in the front bar. There are about 5 girls working tonight and everyone just introduces themselves, with their hands behind their backs. the guy picks one of us and the rest walk back into the house to continue whatever it was that they were doing. Ideally you are supposed to go back and mingle because chances are you can get a tour if they don’t pick someone right from the line up. Maybe the guys are intimidated by the line up process too.

HOnestly, I think when I worked at the stripclubs going around asking every single guy in the room to dance once and the same reply “maybe later.” and then sitting with a few for a while, getting closed with the same “maybe later” and then FINALLY after an hour of straight hustling getting a $40 dance is MORE DEGRADING than this. Going around from club to club and meeting managers of stripclubs only to have them look me up and down and tell me to come back tomorrow at 9am and then NOT EVEN show up at said meeting is MORE DEGRADING than this. But then, I’ve always thought that full service sex work was easier than stripping.

My first client today was for a 30 minute show that seemed to last FOREVER. He was a ruff and tuff young cowboy, who said he was a local guy from Wells. But then you never know what their story really is. He fucked me like a jack hammer and I didn’t realize how not into the whole thing I was. This guy was harder than any client I had had escorting in at least a few years. Usually they cum so easily its fucking laughable. It’s easy, quick and painless for me. I’m not used to the ones who can last…

My cervix is injured. I got a coposcopy 3 days ago, which is a scraping of the cervix to screen for cervical cancer. I was part of a clinical research study. This was a DUMB thing to do before committing to work at a brothel. I could feel throbbing where I wasn’t supposed to have nerve endings..I wondered if it would hurt every time like this.

Today I went to the sheriffs department of Wells to get my official work card. I got fingerprinted, asked about my criminal background and then paid $75 to get a work card that stated that I was a “prostitute” and has my picture and thumb print. I wanted to take a picture of it but had to turn it into management when I got to the house. They don’t even let you keep it at all. It belongs to the house that you work at. The women who work there were trying to be nice. One of them made a joke that she knew that Wilshire was in LA because of the movie “Pretty Woman.” the other female worker smirked and said,”I don’t like that movie.” and I remarked, “We [most conscious sex workers] don’t like that movie either…” and I could tell they were utterly confused by my remark.

2nd client was great. A group of fire fighters came in and I think only my guy spent any money. I gave 3 of them a tour..he was nicer. We talked a lot at the bar. I really do ease into my escort sex through the whole hour and I think that that is really important when getting busy with complete strangers. But some whores are different. I think because of my recent procedure I am really needing to do some serious harm reduction to make everything really worth it. I am strong like a female cat. (Have you ever heard a female cat screech in agony when they have routine mating rituals with the male cat’s barbed penis??  Well, it’s not nearly that bad, so I figure I can be strong like that). I meditated on my strength to Mexican prayer candles I bought from the grocery store. It helped. the next guy was a college guy and was more on my spiritual level. At least he was sober. we talked for a while. All getting to know each other is not pillow talk or massage talk, like I am accustomed to, it is bar talk. But girls don’t have to, or don’t even really get to drink very much alcohol, which is another difference from the stripclubs who could give a shit if you become a coke addict just to keep up with the amount of champagne you are supposed to be selling for them.

So I’ve only had 2 clients since I hit the floor at around 4pm. That’s 12 hours. I did 3 line ups without getting picked and the one that I did get picked for before midnight happened when I was in my casual clothes just watching and I wasn’t cleared to work yet. Go figure. I’ve been dressing like a stripper here, but that gets a little tiring. I keep switching from glasses to contacts and stripper heels to flip flops. Caring to not caring about how I present.

I’m not sure if the trucker types like me. They are a need breed of client. I am getting a TRUCKER 101 from all the guys I talk to. I act wide eyed and naive about their jobs and most of them love my naivete. We all take turns reading a script on the CB radio and I find that fun and easy since I’m really a vocalist anyway but no one really knows that here. I haven’t yet touched my guitar yet, but among music, I have brought plenty of art and grant applications to work on while I have alone time in my room. This part is good…at least you get a lot of work done. I can see it like an art and work retreat where I make $$ in between.

4:50AM-they wake me up to go do a tour for the same cowboy and his wasted friend.  I am the only one in the house who will get out of bed, says the bartender.  I know that I don’t want to be ruff pawed by drunked cowboys at the crack of dawn, but I am used to working at this hour and in this manner, so it isn’t that bad to me, especially if after the negotiation i jump right back into bed.  If i were doing outcall it would mean driving somewhere and back for a potential no show, which is way more trouble than walking down the hall to the bar.

I give them a half assed sleepy tour in my glasses and shawl.  they are acting like fools and I just want to get it over with and see if they will pay me my minimum, which i doubt.  I am not fucking anyone right now for any less than $250 for ME.  (which is $500 for 30 minutes for them).  They want to do me at the same time.  $1200/hour.  ($600 for me).  They do not accept.  FINE.  I am not going any lower..they are drunk and his friend was too much so I feel that my price is totally fair and this is what I assesed it was worth, since my first client, the cowboy on the left got away with a great deal.  I usher their drunk asses to the bar and head back to bed and am thinking there was probably a way that I might have been able to get some of that money…tomorrow is a new day.

B’s brothel::Day 2

Today was medical clearance and business license day. I set my alarm for 8:30am because the manager said that we would be leaving early in the morning but she didn’t get me out of the house until around 12pm. I drove with Aunt D to the biggest town, which is about 40 minutes West on the I-80. This is the biggest town in the area and is where Wells folks go to Albertsons, Bank of America, Home Depot and all the corporate amenities that Wells doesn’t even offer close to. Everything was easy, cost money but was not a problem. Most importantly, I was treated with respect by every single person that I had contact with and no one flinched or looked at me any differently as Aunt D ushered me through the new girl process of being a working business woman in a brothel..

I got to talk with Aunt D for a while and get to know her which was nice. She is a spiritual person and a philospher type. “Girls come here to heal…”she tells me. She cooks meals for girls here and does a lot around the house, kind of a house mom type and has been doing this for about 15 years.

Medical Clearance consists of HIV/Ghonorhea/Chlym/and HEP A/B if they workers have never been to Elko County before. However, after reading what Amanda had written on her testing experience, I wonder if they only wanted to run a Hep test on me cuz I was ASIAN. I told the nurse that I had been vaccinated for HEP A/B but she didn’t tell me whether or not she was going to run the test anyway or not. The policy of the brothels is to let the girl work when she is waiting for her test results to come back. This means that she will have seen 3-5 guys if she is positive for any of the above diseases and the brothels and customers wouldn’t know (or care). This could read to some as a horrible red flag, but then when thinking about how non brothel sex workers work constantly without knowing their status or the status of their clients, or how workers work while positive for any of the above, it shouldn’t matter under the sex worker rights stance of social justice, right? There is a WINDOW PERIOD for everyone, mandatory testing is NOT fail proof and is actually just a form of harm reduction to be used in addition to condoms and other barriers so why should I or others trip if I am allowed to work during the waiting period? In fact, mandatory testing is VEHEMENTLY OPPOSED by many leaders in the global sex workers rights movement.

I’ve met more of the girls today, talked with a few of them, watched the daily procedures, sat and ate with some of them, learned how to do a brothel standard “dick check” with wet naps/alcohol and gloves and got a sense of what at least one girl was charging ($800/hr, $400 for a half hour) and what girls were NOT accepting ($150 for sex/bj for 30 minutes). I got a sense of their attitudes around “tricks” by listening. One super hot blonde girl walked in today. She is the hottest girl in this house so far. (besides me, of course It was too hot to use my magic Client oil to invoke the power of the universe for prosperous clients…but upon my first bath here, probably tomorrow, I shall..

I have been in my room doing the same computer research and writing and art that I would be doing if I was in LA. There isn’t a proper desk so my back is killing me but I think I could easily keep myself busy here between line ups because management doesnt mind if you retreat into your room and do whatever you do. At Sherri’s ranch, they take your laptop and apparently you must wait in the common waiting room for 12-13 hours with the rest of the girls. (no,no,no couldn’t do that for long..) Today I posted on the nvbrothels discussion board and on Reno’s craiglist (it’s 300 miles west but hey, people are travelling, surely).