Reflecting After A Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers
2009 seemed like it was filled with trauma and violence of non physical proportions. Lots of drama with the escort agency job and the boyfriend. I quit both in July and stepped down from directing the non profit I founded for sex workers in LA. My relationship to my own surprise, officially ended when the cops at my door were asking me the question,”Are you still in a relationship with this guy?” I was the one who called 911 to get him to to stop knocking on my front door incessantly when he wasn’t supposed to be there that day. I was trying to exercise my space boundaries and my right to not pick up the phone when my boyfriend calls when I didn’t want to talk to him. If someone doesn’t pick up the phone and you just come over, then you are unwanted. Go away.
I even Facebooked it almost at the same time as it was happening: If you call the cops on your partner, does that mean the relationship is over?? I didn’t know the answer then, but it answered itself by surprise and slowly over weeks to come. One day, all of my phones were ringing and there was an incessant knocking (banging? It felt like banging, but I don’t remember..) on the door. I felt like my boundaries were literally being attacked in my own home and either I am just a post traumatic stress disorderly who is triggered to calling 911 too easy or I felt like I needed help with a situation that had gone too many months out of control. No one was willing to step in and help, not my friends, not his parents…I just wanted this man out of my house and I didn’t know how else to do it.
We haven’t seen each other since. But, if I hadn’t called the cops, he’d still be living with me. I’d be blogging about wanting to break up and he’d be in the bedroom, watching Southpark. I had asked him to move out and it took 4 months. I asked to give me space and he was banging on my front door calling all my phones trying to “give me something/hang out another day.” I called the cops on him, and they cuffed him in the back of their car. It was sad and frightening. I would have more regret had the xboy not subsequently been such an ass between then and now to make me not feel sorry for what extreme measures I needed to take with someone who was so blinded by his own definition of “love” that he simply could and would not respect my boundaries. We’ve talked a few times since and every time he’s disrespected and offended me each time more. He still has some of my stuff that he holds onto like the hope of us getting back together but our conversations make it very easy to never talk to or allow myself to be sucked into a place I felt stuck in for over a year. He owes me money for back rent and he has a cheap PC laptop of mine, but instead of continuing to let him take cheap shots at me so that we could be drawn into the same pattern of fighting and fighting, I said, “Keep it. Fuck you and your mother (he loves his mother lots).” I proceeded to cut him out by letting go of the stuff, the last thing he had to hold me. Although I didn’t really want him to keep my stuff which I couldn’t really afford to replace but would have to, I needed to be the one once again to be the bigger person and let go first. It’s just stuff. I don’t want to love or hate this man anymore. I don’t want to fight about the same things. I don’t want to raise a baby man. I need an adult in my life who will support me, emotionally, financially and spiritually and he was not it.
As an agency girl, I work side by side with escorts who hustle hard, EXPECT you to tip high and DON’T believe in having sex for money in most cases. Sometimes, if you are lucky and tipping well, a hand job or a blow job may be in order. The average agency girls can be a ruthless hustlers, shameless liars, rip off bitches, good at running in heels, and usually roll with drivers who are thugs and ex parolees ready to mace a fool for wanting his money back. It makes a decent amount of cash most times and some of the time, it really isn’t that bad and it can be quite exciting, fun and lucrative. Sometimes, guys play along with our game and don’t complain. Other guys would call those guys suckers, but they get the best end of the deal, if they just pay the toll. But then there are the guys who pay the extra tip money and still get ripped off because their girl doesn’t do nothing for her money. It’s a damn shame that most agency girls have no appreciation for the art of sex work.
What makes me unique to the agency scene as far as I’ve observed out there, is that I actually fuck. Funny how, what made me unique in the stripclub stripping scene was that I didn’t do anything in the private booths EXCEPT STRIP! I was so whoraphobic as a stripper! Now, I am an upsell prostitute. This is subject to change, however because I have recently been observing that it is much easier to just join the shameless/ruthless club than it is to be the hooker with the heart of gold who feels sorry for the johns who don’t get laid when they pay $500. Some of the agency calls that I do, I look around and I am the only one actually fucking or sucking and I’m a tad bit embarassed! Most of the time, it’s just easier for me to screw them, and screw them as fast as I can for the most money possible.
You have two choices. You can be REALLY evil or somewhat evil, which in this game is not really seen as evil AT ALL. OR, you can be successful as a high class independent escort just like some how to book tell you to do. Many women work the review boards and are very successful. There are madams with exclusive Tiger Woods type of clientele and there are agencies like the ones that I work, so many different ways to work, all of which are not accessible for all. I used to think it was all just a matter of changing numbers on your website which would be the secret to making 6 figures in this business. But it’s much more than that. Just think high roller and you will meet high rollers! Some of us are pretty happy making $500 a night regularly and other people scoff at that amount. Some escorts make $500 a week! Everyone wants to charge $2000/nite but how many of us actually do? I have only made steady regular profit off of agency escort work. Late nites, longs shifts, bait and switch, upsell tipping, quickies and stacks of cash. But because it is a feast or famine profession usually, the average middle class sex worker is never wealthy, usually not a home owner but usually RICH in time flexibility and control of a certain level of job freedom that is usually only attainable to people who make six figures… Yes, I wanted to be Eliot Spitzer’s whore but I couldn’t make myself into “that girl” even when I put my mind to it. It’s not how much you make in a night or an hour, but how much you make in a week, a month or even a year. Freedom to travel and take time off for your family or for your own self preservation is WEALTH. And most wealthy people don’t even have the luxury of schedule that sex workers have.
I guess I feel sorry for the agency tricks a little, and I figure I don’t mind having sex for money, so if they tip me at least $200 over the show fee, they can usually have 20 minutes of sex with me. This deal is not only a rarity in the agency escort world, it is generous. I feel I am preserving the sanctity of prostitution but no one knows or appreciates this..
Most girls take the tip, hand it out to the driver (who gets 30%) and then she proceeds to do all of nothing for the guy. I have recently been feeling like I want to be more cruel! I give A LOT of myself to a good amount of ungrateful tricks who just as well deserve to be burned once in a while. Why am I so nice sometimes and so mean other times? I wonder. I have gone back to the car to fetch condoms when I already had the money and tips in my purse. I went back to the guy who was in the house or hotel room to finish the safe sex that they paid for upfront when I could have just as easily driven off into anonymity and not looked back.
This is what I do as an agency girl a lot of the time. So I suppose, in the end good karma equals out with the bad karma and you get a neutral year. If I was just a do nothing girl, I wouldn’t have a bag full of safer sex supplies which would be used as incriminating evidence against me to prove that I was a prostitute. I could simply avoid the risk by not doing it at all, just pretending and resisting every time. I did actually do that very thing for a while, before I turned out as a full service worker. I did it sort of slowly..I think it only took a couple of weeks or months into the work, one handjob, one blowjob and then the dramatic missionary position deflowering of the non whore into the wild shameless asian jezebella that she is today!
2 girl or multiple girl shows with an agency are a nightmare almost always. 2 girls who aren’t even bisexual or sexual for that matter, usually in a roomful of horny dudes who think they can do a line up for $100 each guy, I suppose they deserve to be ripped off even if that was what the booker on the phone told them. They paid $500 for 2 girls to show up but they didn’t have tip money to keep us there so we ended up leaving after about 5 minutes. Our ex-con bouncer distracted them while we went down the elevator and then he was unable to extract any more money out of them of any significance to get us to do anything with any of them. If you don’t have tips for an agency girl, she is leaving as quick as she came in. And you don’t get your money back. That’s right fools, my bouncer just got out of prison for voluntary manslaughter. It seems completely counter to my feminism, as many things that I do are sometimes, but I felt safe with that guy and it felt good to have a bouncer type for once, when usually I attend my escort calls alone with a security person I hire to stay awake with me and monitor my check ins to addresses that he gets by text message.
Naturally, the agency deal makes some guys mad.
They tell me to get my clothes on and get [the fuck] out of their houses. One guy stole my cheap Boost mobile phone in exchange for the $300 that I refused to give back. My job is the same as the drivers job when we hire drivers. Don’t get hurt and don’t give refunds. It’s scary as fuck sometimes taking the heat as a female from angry testosterone charged blue balling male gorillas but most of the times I deal with it by not responding verbally and just turning by back and heading out towards the exit. No argument. They wouldn’t understand my position at this point anyway.
“Look, it’s just a job for me! I just work for them! They TAKE 66% from ME.” I try to reason with some of them. “So in a way, we’re both in a bind.” A somewhat overly- intellectual response for the situation, certainly not one other girls use, but true enough to work. It does work most of the time. They then say,”You should work for yourself.” And then I say,”I do. But you know, the economy is really bad. If you want my direct number you can have it and I’ll only charge you $300 flat.” This tactic works well for me too, and I have gotten repeat clients using this line.
One time me and this girl Britney from the agency had a show in the Valley. There were about 5 guys in the house and they had just given us $500. It became apparent that they didn’t have tips. Britney told me in the bathroom that she was going to take off. I told her to go. I thought it would be fine if she left and I stayed because I would be able to make more money off of them because I offered sex. This was so not the case. AS soon as big brother found out that Britney had left he came storming out of his room in a half sleep rage, shouting curses at us and demanding all his money back. “THAT BITCH IS NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE UNTIL I GET THAT MONEY BACK!” He was like an angry gorilla beating his chest and tearing through the house. I immediately put the stack of cash on the counter and headed out the front door as he chased me and verbally assaulted me the entire way. “Is your fucking driver outside?” he demanded obviously all coked up and wanting a piece of another man since I wasn’t giving him much to fight. Sometimes I DO man up with them and face their anger with my resistance and I ask them to STEP THE FUCK BACK. Sometimes I talk back to them. Sometimes I steal their money and their drugs from their counters and their pockets when they’re fucked up and passed out and treat it like a pirate treats booty. YARRR, FUCK YOU PAY ME!! They call me fat and pregnant and tell me I’m a bad person and I try not to let it get to me. I smoke away the stress and anxiety when I get home from a hard nights work and my then boyfriend never understood why I just couldn’t go to sleep when I got home. I’m not using the girls in the office enough. I have been taking the guy’s abuse alone at times when I didn’t have to. But it’s so very hard to think so fast all the time. I think that I may have come up one night, then I get out to my car and there is an $44 ticket on my car for prohibited overnight parking in a completely residential area and no posted signs anywhere.
Is it more violent to feel as if she HAS to be a gold digger in order to meet her basic survival needs? To have to meet clients who don’t pay you professional rates, but gold digger rates which usually requires more time, overnight stays, etc. A girl who wants to get a bill paid usually means a cool $100-150 not the $300 an hour that you might be used to. I have charged up to $1000-1500 for an overnighter (low end for some VIP escorts) but now taking whatever came my way, I’ve had strangers sleep in my bed for $200 and endured their company for way longer than I would have like all in the course of doing what some call ‘casual prostitution.’ Some don’t even call it anything. It’s just a way of life. Especially in the low income neighborhoods. “You tell him,’If he wants the pussy, he needs to give you some MONEY.’ These are words I’ve heard the ghetto daughters tell me they learned from their mothers or aunts. Ex-husband with benefits usually means a bill or two gets paid for mom AND the kids.
Is it more violent for me to endure the anger and resentment of men who feel like they are being ripped off and lied to once I tell them that I am an agency girl and that they have to tip me at least another $200 on top of the $2-300 they just paid in order for us to have sex. Some guys don’t get mad. Some of them don’t blame me. They tip me. And we fuck. And everyone is happy. Those are the shows that I live on. Believe me, I DON’T like to be in confrontations with angry dudes who are almost always bigger and stronger than me in their homes. (Or maybe I do?) Some get mad though. They don’t get a refund. My job is to not give the money back or else no one gets paid for dealing with the bullshit transaction. Once you step in the door you feel entitled to something. Such is the demented power dynamic that occurs in most sex work, in my experience (but also why I have done it for so long—for the love of power and the healing it brings). I am superwhore and you can’t fuck with me. You need to pay at least $40 just for making me go through the trouble of knocking on your door.
I reluctantly sucked the dicks of 2 Black college boy clients that I would rather not have earlier this year, just to appease them. I felt like I wouldn’t be able to leave safely without doing something. I remember trying to bargain with them with the line,”Look, we all went to good schools here..” They were treating me like a bitch and I got up and went for the bathroom to assert a sudden exit. I wished I had left earlier. If it were me today, I would have used the office girls to deflect them not my oral sex skills. It’s hard to think when you are naked and trying to make a quick exit out of a gated condo. My boyfriend remembered this incident later one time when we drive past their gated condo complex. I felt loved somehow that he remembered how badly it affected me, that morning I stayed up smoking weed til 8am and when he mentions that we should still kick their asses, I am almost in tears because it makes me feel like he gets it…
Last nite I used the bitchy cunt appointment booker to call off a client who wasn’t going to tip and who wouldn’t let me leave with his show fee. He was holding my Hello Kitty purse hostage. An older Indian guy with a show fee of $200. I knew he wasn’t going to have any more money and that $200 was a fortune compared to prostitutes in India! I broke the news early. He tried to kiss my lips. I get up and ask the office to call the client, an emergency tactic that I have to say, I’ve never used but would like to use more after last nite. I wasn’t really that afraid. The exit went smoother than any other I’ve had recently. The old man was small enough for me to knock down if I had to. Whatever she said to him made him give back my purse kindly and let me go after he heard what she had to say to him.
The office calls the client and usually says that they are recording the conversation for the police when they just asked for prostitution services. They know where he lives he says and that he just needs to let me leave safely and quietly without refunds or altercations. I’ve been in a room where the booker has made the guy pay me $100 as a cancellation fee, even when I was definitely not the girl in the photo that he thought he called. I’ve seen bookers make a guy cry! LOL. Everyone has their niche power position in this industry. I could never be a booker even though technically I’m part of the same fucked up system, but really WHO ISN’T part of some fucked up system in order to survive and profit?
I quit working for this agency 9 months ago after doing it continuously for about 3 years while running my non profit during the day. The last straw was when I thought this jack ass had taken the money he had paid me out of my purse. I looked in the pocket it was supposed to be in my purse and I thought it had gone missing! I told my boyfriend/driver to go back to the house and told him we were going to confront his ass and that he didn’t have a choice that he would have to have my back on this one. He was by now aware of the theory I hold of robbing a sex worker is equivalent to rape and that I took being robbed very very seriously. I expected my boyfriend/driver to have my back if/when I ever got raped or robbed on the job. We confronted john, fairly calmly and he denied ever taking the money, which we of course didn’t believe him. My xboyfriend threw in a little threat from shadows and the poor john picked up some of his fireplace pokers to defend himself! We ended up keying his car and almost threw a brick though his window. After we drove away, I discovered the $300! Oops…
I have been hustled by a client, one new years eve. He said he was going to get his car out of the garage and then he went inside and locked me out! I ended up kicking his truck door in a few times and took off when I saw a neighbor switch their light on.. that wasn’t an agency job. I shouted crazy recordable psychotic evidence into his voicemail. Very amateur. I was a lit fuse! Remember that robbing me is like raping me in theory, except that getting done over by customers occasionally is definitely an inevitable cost of doing business each year.
I needed to get out of this work. I felt like I was ready. (Wrong). I felt like I wanted to have strong boundaries towards a work situation and exercise my right to choose other ways of working safer. It wasn’t sustainable. The violence from poverty is a different violence and in looking at the stacks of cash and weed on my desk now, when 2 weeks ago I was in the food stamp line for 3 hours waiting with the rest of LA county poor folks.
The drama and danger of this job is just like working on the streets but indoor. (Similar to indoor and outdoor basketball? No more similarities between street fighting and professional wrestling) Except, no regulations, no protections, no rights. Confrontations and quick get always are part of the job.
I didn’t like that I had my xboyfriend key up his car and it turned out that he didn’t deserve it. He just thought it was funny and felt no remorse about what he did. I felt bad of course. I quit agency work for what I thought would be good, but it turns out that it only last 8 months before I had to come back. My car was impounded and I needed $1500 to get it back. I wasn’t going to do that at $10/hr. The negatives of this life seemed to outweigh the more glaring negatives of being unable to pay basic survival expenses and watching your livelihood burn down like a house on fire trying to be controlled by a small 12oz water bottle. Being a gold digger who can’t pay her rent and needs to ask guy “friends” to help her do that IS pathetic. And she is usually truthful about this. She lets these guys know the situation and they leave a small donation not because they are paying for a service, but usually because they feel like they are getting the better end of the deal and it shuts the bitch up and gives them what they want. I realized that it was the opposite of the sex worker that I had always been. Especially the opposite of the agency hustler. Take no shit girl. Steal your weed when you turn your back girl. Kick your door in if you try to rob or rape me, kick in your car door, make your life a psychotic whore’s revenge story…
Independent escort work can be just as dangerous and bring equal shady characters who are just as ready to disrespect and fly into a rage, but the added drama of the agency girls who work with you assure situations that can only exist in the classic 2 girl agency scenario that is a regular occurance for most girls who work together. I refuse to do 2 girl shows after that incident, except that I just did one the other night, which I knew was a recipe for disaster. You have to assert yourself and tell these bitch ass bookers “NO. FOUR guys and 2 girls with just 1 driver is not safe. Especially when you know that you have to ditch because she plans to ditch and even though you might hoe, she doesn’t so you have to do what she does, unless there is a way to separate in different rooms. And the other scenario of sex work I’ve also had a taste of has been brothel prostitution. The customer is always right. And your co-workers are also scandalous bitches. Some can be nice, but none can really trusted. Is getting Tabasco sauce poured on your laptop and then getting kicked out of the brothel for “lying about it” violence against sex workers? Brothel life gone bad looks like a jail cell and that has to do with the systematic violence that allows brothels to operate the way that they do legally. It works like a cult or a gang does, playing favorites and pitting the workers against each other, hoping they break each other down…
After leaving LA to go to the brothel to earn money where there wasn’t any in LA, I arrived home and found the agency that I worked with for over a year. I left that life because the violence and risk was too much for me to handle and I was holding up my relationship and a non profit with this income and I just could not do it any longer. Especially when other crazy sex workers are constantly being so ungrateful and bitching me out and blaming me for various things, pulling me into their violence, acting out on me..
Violence Against Sex Workers is the Green River Killer and the Canadian pig farmer but, it is the serial killers and Barb Wires within us that boil with rage like the movies Highway and Monster that fight to the death for decent human treatment and living wages (or donations). It is the agencies, pimps, brothels and management that police and the government defer to to control us. It is the criminalization of our very need to earn a living in a sexist world. It is the anger I face everytime a guy yells at me for not fucking him for $60, it is the anger that tests me to kill a man when he puts his fingers on my chest and pushes me out of his door…It is the violence that is acted out on ourselves, punishing ourselves with drugs and bad relationships repeating the cycle of destruction on our selves, taking out our rage on our community members and co-workers. There were so many conflicting feelings that filled me as I reflected this December 17th. But, aside from this blog, I don’t think I have ever really yet had a space to sum it all up..