Like a Hollywood movie, this episode seems to have a sequel which takes place the very next day!
I went through my now sold iphone’s phonebook to look for names of old regulars that I could do a desperate begging to and see if that would work to get more business, even though that has never worked in the past. Although, it does work with the one regular law firm benefactor that is keeping me afloat barely but regularly..we’ve become good friends and I am completely honest about everything except the sex! He’s easy. He is not a vulture, he is like a savior for me right now. But, his 2 appointments are not enough to pay for too much in the month so the trolling through the old phonebook still has to happen. There was one old regular drug user fuckhead that I dropped because he was becoming more trouble than he was worth. He would always text me incessantly while he was coked out about 100 stupid questions that I would try to answer because putting up with him was a good injection of cash, and he was always so high he was impotent so we would explore different ways to sexually please him. Mostly by sticking most of my gloved hand into his ass which because he was high as a kite most of the time was like 102 degrees in there! This is something I never hear people who fist people talk about..it’s like a frigging oven inside the human body, it becomes too hot for the hand and you actually need to pull out so that you can cool it. Or at least I do. But I had fun. I like anal domination.
As a favor to him, I decided to screw his friend for a mere $150. A fraction of what I would get from my regular Ass Slave, Kenny. Big mistake. His friend was immediately too buck wild for me to control and it just became too much of an ordeal as soon as it started. he was the one who tried to stick in my ass instead of my pussy, on accident, like 3 times. I get the feeling most escorts like their sex easy. It’s the porn stars today that need to be super fuck machines. Escorting is barely about being a fuck machine. Sex is like 35% of it actually. I like my escort sex as a receiver to be EASY and QUICK. (when you see a lot of people it’s usually about preserving your body. A wear and tear issue). Unless I like the guy and am having lots of fun. Or there’s a girl involved, then there’s no clock! Mostly, I am a big fan of the 35 minute hour. I know I am not in this work because I like sex. I am in this work because I am regaining power from times I was assaulted, one night standed, sexually harassed or otherwise disempowered. And I believe all sex workers have this in them too, because 1 out 3 of us have been sexually assaulted by 21 but most of us more. I am here because I like to be in control sexually, and to experiment while the ball is in my court, when my experimental time is compensated. I LIKE TO LIVE, IF ONLY TEMPORARILY IN A WORLD WHERE FEMALE SEXUAL POWER IS NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT COMPENSATED. WHERE WOMEN FUCK LIKE [MEN]..out the door without a second thought of the name of the person.. I am also here because I like making money off this work (even if I’m not lately..). Because I want to feel the power I knew that I had and make him pay for it. I like to fuck but only when I like you or when I am sexually deprived (like now!), but I wasn’t really having very real sex with clients during the 2 years that I was the busiest AND had a live in boyfriend. Client sex was always quick and easy. Boom. Shower. thank you. Door. Personal sex is totally different. I’m actually submissive and more passive. I’m tired of working. I like to lay back. I like to GET fucked. And if you can’t FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME when I need you to, then I am totally and completely bored with you, because I’ve no patience for another pathetic penis in my week. (I sleep with more men than women, not by choice but we’ll use that organ..)
Lately, however, since being single and getting kicked off of internet dating sites that I was getting laid on for selling webcam services to ugly dudes I’ve had to make my client sex my sex life. I make them work me and they are the luckiest clients I’ve ever had because i am really insatiable for once because….It’s all I get for days.
But this fool was a girls worst nightmare. Coked out AND potent! Oh no! They have a saying that the less money you get, the harder you have to get fucked, and often it is true. After borderline violating me he would call my phone offering money and trying to see me again, but I never wanted to see him after that for any money. I jumped out of bed when I could make a good exit, locked the door and jumped into the shower. I could hear him grumbling and complaning. Drug users are either unable to ever cum or unable to get erect. Of COURSE you prefer the latter, because for some reason they pay better and are easier. All you have to do is digest their mindless questions and repetetive chatter. This vulture accepted that I was leaving and it wasn’t uncomfortable or dangerous which is why he was confused. He was talking about “If you got a boyfriend or if you’re under 18..hey I ain’t mad at you.” That was another line that this vulture just drew. This guy was over 30 fucking 17 year olds. I have ALWAYS detested that. When I was 15 my 25 year old boss tried to sleep with me and date me when I was just trying to be his friendly co-worker, I thought. He didn’t get me, but he tried really hard to court me at 15 like I was such a hot item.
The vulture would call and try to dangle promises of money for me, i would still not give in. Because my caller ID had been cancelled, screening calls was harder. Every time I would be confronted with him, circling over my head, the offer, the juggling of power..I imagined how he would prey on those underage girls who may have run away for the night because they get into a fight with their parents and he swoops down gives them drugs and alcohol and fucks the shit out of them. Roman Polanski in a Latino tweaker.
My finnancial desperation makes me vulnerable to all kinds of pimps and vultures…Good thing I still know how to defend myself even when I am at rock bottom. I would rather be flat broke and home alone on a Saturday night than in a fucked up situation. And pimps hate me when I am unhappy with them and the work. I am not profitable, so they fire me. I got kicked out of Bella’s brothel after one week. I get fired from office jobs for not engaging in Starbucks banter AND I get fired from massage parlors and stripclubs. I am not a conformist, even as a sex worker. I am certainly not a harem pony gawking over one guy with three others. This has hurt my money I’m sure, but the ONLY way I have profted is when I was totally in control, if not disproportianately so, with their consent of course. And years of this has healed me. I walk down the streets of LA without a bra (cuz I hate them and my boobs are small) and without fear of men. If they look at me, I look at them back and then they usually look away or say hi. I might wear a look that says ” Yes, you know what I’m about..I know you have a dick and to me it doesn’t mean shit,so, what?” even in glasses and sweatpants. Working girls make eye contact back usually. Matching the gaze. “Go Ahead. Ask me what my name is.” The superwhore eye contact is an amazing language. Try it when you drive by the boulevard at night. If you were wondering if she is a working girl, you will be able to tell if she makes eye contact with you as you drive by. Works everywhere you go. It fascinates the shit out of me…
So I call Analboy kenny and he pretends he doesn’t know me. “Wrong number,”he says when I call. Later that night I’m getting a series of crank calls, but I don’t answer my landline anymore because that is the main number that most of the creditors call on.
My tutoring client is a Korean graduate student ane she cancelled on me, so once again I had no money coming in, gas light still on. A weed client calls! (I’m not a big pot dealer (so don’t come after me!), someone fronted me some of his stuff and it kind of acts like my social security check..It is not even the type of marijuana that medicates me (need indicas only), so I just sell it off. This weed client is a tweaker. He thinks that I don’t know but I have been around 3 years of drug users and late nite escorting so I am well versed in the signs and behaviors. He is a nice tweaker, if there is such a thing, a student. He buys my mediocre weed and it helps me have that $20 in my pocket every week but I usually try to hang out for the obligatory 20 minutes talking politics, philosophy, whatever. He’s too broke to buy sex so this will have to do for him. and me.
kenny calls back and pretends to be friendly. He says that he’s moved 40 minutes north of LA and that he had a bunch of coke and his friend was there..He is talking the way a DUDE talks when he is in front of his BUDDIES. “I’ll just give you a buck fifty to hang out with my friend.” he says,”You did it before right?” he laughs. “You don’t have to do much, just hang out and party..”he says. This is usually what we would do anyway. kenny was easy, but Vulture was not. You would think, as an escort that I have to put up with this kind of crap all the time, but really the specific type of banter that goes on before men date or gang rape or the language that is common in rape culture scenarios is NOT something that I call normal or really tolerate for long in my sex work. Many many of the men and groups of men that I fucked with were reasonable, humble and not vultures, even in groups. There was a lot of crap to put up with, no doubt but fear and anxiety were not common or normal. This is why I did it for so long. To find this out. To dance with rape culture, unconscious exposure therapy to try to make sense of the world that I feel was given to me.
All of what the guys that talk like this is just a FANTASY to them as well. I once tried to have sex with 2 guys at once, the way they do in the porn movies because after seeing a double penetration so many times, you are actually conditioned to think that you want to try it! And while I say i’m not in this work for the sex, the benefits of being a sex worker who is enticed with way more than usual combinations of sexual situations than the average suburban bachelorette party girl has its advantages. So I did a DP for about 2 minutes before guy#2 gets flaccid and taps out. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna go chill in the other room..” he says and since my ULTIMATE goal is to make money over pleasure or experimentation I let him go. There goes my porno gang bang fantasy.
The reality for MOST MEN is that they cannot do what porn stars do. This is the reality for many women too. I will be the first to admit to you, unless you are an escort client that I cannot legally talk explicit details of sex with, that I do not give PORN STAR EXPERIENCES (listed as PSE on review boards, even nastier than GFE). I don’t go ass to mouth, I don’t do anal for dayz, I don’t do uprotected, I won’t eat your ass without a dental dam and I don’t like to blow bubbles with your semen..Sorry. After watching all the porn that I do, I don’t really have a desire to be a porn star. It seems more demanding than I am willing to be. But for them it seems so easy and natural, so that’s why they do it and I don’t! when I wanted to go into porn, when I was 23, in Jenna Jameson’s day, it was easier physically, glamorous even.
Being a superwhore is more a state of mind versus how freaky the sex you are having or how much money you are making…but don’t get me wrong, the MONEY IS ESSENTIAL. This is why I am having so many problems with vultures and pimps. If I was already making money they would have no power. Annie Pannie was a sex worker I also recently mentored, 62 years young, powered by crystal meth and a superwhore always, even though she only made $10-20 per date. She was insane but a true inspiration in small doses.
A 50 year old rocker woman just TRIED to pimp or madam me. She showed me the garage to the apartment complex. “You can park in the maintanence spots, they’re always empty.” she said. “There’s my red corvette.” she said pointing out a 2005 or later model red corvette. “It’s like my 5th one..” I was viewing her 2 bedroom incall. It was dirty like the last space I shared with the borderline disorder masseuse that I hated. I am not the cleanest person at all but these bitches are always filthier than me. Dirty toilet. Never dusted. One cheap unfluffy towel. “I make sooo much money on Fridays. I love it. If my friends want me to go out, I tell them, ‘it better be worth $2000!’ and I listen to her tell me how her main advertising sources are Craigslist and Cityvibe. I have worked Craigslist through an agnecy for almost 3 years and I know what people are paying and the type of clientele that she sees. You cannot make $2000 being straight up and not doing the hustle that we were doing. Collectively, my old agency was everywhere at once. We were doing incall and outcall in every suburb of LA county with drivers to drive us. That’s the only way you COULD do it and never with just one body in one place. No one person makes that much, just being incall for $200 a pop without tipping. That’s 10 guys in 12 hours! Not even brothels try to promise that, although they would wish it upon you. You could make half that at best running around all night, and in this economy it’s even doubtful they’re making 1/3. No one is making $2000 on one Friday nite off of Craigslist and Cityvibe. but I let her talk her talk. I would have to see it to believe it and she was the one asking me to work for her, so if she had the clientele she said she did I would give it a try. The next day we were supposed to meet at around 5 pm turned to 7:30 turned to 10pm. When she finally picks up the phone she says,”Oh hey sweetie..Do you have a credit card with $5 on it so we can place an ad?” WTF?? “No.” I said,”Sorry.” I hear a voice in the background like a woman is at her place, probably another prospect. “Well, do you have a friend who does?”she says,”It’s only $5.” I am so glad I am home cooking a meal instead of over there at that ratbag’s apartment. “I’ll call you back.” I say hanging up Ms.Red Corvette that probably wasn’t even hers. Jesus. If you are trying to pimp me, you have to have MORE than me, not LESS. Why would I give someone a part of my income if they didn’t have their shit together TIGHT. My old agency had the pimp game tight with CUNT BOOKER BITCHES who would even make money being the voice of “me” demanding $100 cancellation fees from dudes that called a different picture off of Craigslist. And sometimes these guys would hand me $100! (Of which cunt booker would take half) and that was the kind of typical agency hustle that would happen. If it weren’t her, then you would have some goon driver to back you up. I never did it that way, I preferred to endure all the verbal and possible physical confrontations myself. Exposure therapy. or something else I haven’t processed yet.
I tell Kenny I am going to deliver something first and I’ll call back to get the address. It took about 30 minutes for the anxiety attack to come on…I imagined attempting to have to tell Vulture no and how irritating and potentially dangerous that could be. I imagined just getting fucked up and putting myself in a risky sexual situation because my life was so depressing and perhaps I might go home with some money…Drugs would be nice..Money would be nice.. but vulture, he would never be nice. And vulture + kenny would not be nice. They would be irritating and annoying, and I would be high on drugs, far away from my house.
I facebooked my process. Insatiable pull to do something risky. self destructive. I wanted to go there and make money and come out ahead. I did not want to let those fools get to me. But I was having a PTSD attack and starting to feel sick to my stomach. I was smoking bong hits to calm my nerves. I finally got the nerve to get up and get to my delivery. I resolved that I was not going to see kenny and vulture. While almost to my delivery spot, a car came out of nowhere and I almost hit it 10 minutes away from my destination. This is how I know it is what I call a PTSD attack..it becomes unsafe for me to drive because I start to dissassociate, to leave my body. I usually come back pretty quick, but its better if I’m not driving. It’s scary. Your body is trying to protect itself but it doesn’t do a good job of it when it’s in this mode.
I get to tweakerkids house..”Hey,” he says and I’m glad to see him.
He hops in my car and he pays me.
“You got any other drugs?” I ask.
“Yeah, [thought you’d never ask] You wanna come in?” he says.
He’s chillin with a Latino 20 something, smokin a little meth and watching music videos, nothing too crazy…
I need to decompress my thoughts with someone, anyone. Facebook helped a bit but I could tell I needed more…The idea of the proposition of going to see Vulture and kenny actually sent me into a post traumatic anxiety attack and I didn’t even go over there! It was the prospect of having to face someone that had violated you again. I’ve done it before and i don’t like it, although in my case it was at a funeral and it worked out well but still clearly my body did not like it judging from how much I was freaking out.
I wanted to do drugs to escape these feelings. I knew that he would have something. Not my drug of choice but something. I was seeking safety. this concept is straight out of a clinical book I am reading to heal myself. We call it “medicating” even though it is drinking, smoking weed or something else because it is how we have coped.
I hit the glass pipe and watched the white meth smoke make a long cloud…bigger than the exhale of marijuana smoke. I did that about 7 or 8 times and told them about my definition of anal violation and why I was even tripping. 2 other guys listening to my story and not hurting me. My weed client and I were used to having intellectual conversations about various things and that’s why he liked me but I’m sure his best friend was shocked by me. “I’m an escort, right,”I say,”and I’m having this dilemma…” i know it’s not a normal intro to someone but I’m far from normal most of the time. I stayed for another hour, the drugs were weak. I wasn’t getting that high. I suppose I was supposed to stay all nite and all morning. “We can go out and get some more.” he said but i didn’t want to. “I didn’t know you do this..”he said smiling..
“I don’t.” I said. “Tonight is just crazy. I need something, that’s all.”
I drove away from there, straight to the gas station to make my needle go from E to F with glee, and realized I wasn’t tweaked at all. In hour later I was in bed. I thought I set my cell phone alarm but apparently I didn’t press the DONE button. I woke up late and with an $80 ticket on my car. the 2nd one in a week. My therapist tried to blame it on me smoking meth, but smoking meth with them was my harm reduction. It was the best thing I did for myself in comparison to going to try to fuck with the original proposition of seeing if indeed they wanted me to come over there to just “hang out.” I texted him before I went to bed “I CAN’T FUCK WITH YOUR FRIEND.” I didn’t even know if it was a real proposition either, because Kenny didn’t even call again after I went to sleep. and usually he would call back a million times but he didn’t. It made me think in the morning that it was all a hoax. They were going to lead me 40 minutes into a fake address for nothing.
Everyone is so freaked out by crystal meth. Having hung out with queen of long term use, Candy, the one I was an unofficial social worker for, I should be freaked out by it too. Having overdosed in the desert and landed in the emergency tent with a rehydration needle in my neck, you would think I’d be freaked out by it too.. But it doesn’t call me to do it. I do it so very rarely just to triumph over that time I did it in the desert ten years ago. In total I’ve done it less times than you are probably thinking right now. The side effects are so major and long term compared to the high though. For the next two days my throat was soo insatiably dry. But I didn’t even get high, which what was annoying. I went to sleep! My anxiety was gone, and perhaps that was the high. Like Ridlin for the ADHD kid. I talked and these boys listened and maybe that was the high I needed. I had no fear and no regret and that was the best thing that I could have done with the way I was feeling. In some people’ (like my exboyfriend)’s minds I hit the evil crystal pipe and I was on my way to hell. To me, I sought safety in it and in these other strange dudes who I was more sure were not trying to hurt me. And I sat there smoking and educating them for a minute and then I went home calm. I sit here blogging it trying to explain, but hopefully someone out there reads this and has been through something similar. It’s called Seeking Safety. It’s a book I’m reading about PTSD and drug use, but I’m adapting it to marijuana use which I don’t actually see as drug use… I smoke weed everyday and I don’t see it as a drug. Other drugs I might sell or do with clients when they come around, but I don’t usually seek them. They fall in my lap. This particular night, however, I sought them to block my path to self destruction. It was a substitution reckless for another reckless act, but since i didn’t really get high, it was not that destructive. I fantasize about being on the border of creating a new sickness, an addiction which countless drug addicts have done to make sense of all in life that is so troubling and so traumatic but not physically visible. So they create diseases and absesses so the world can see them suffering, or at least if not the world, they themselves can see it. I am not there. or even close. yet.
i may likely indulge in recreational/casual and impulsive drug use (like this) well into my late 50s or beyond as long as it is around me. Meth is just another drug, not more powerful than the others but one I stay away from because of the harsh side effects to my singing muscle (so drastically even after one use) and my real dreams. i remember Candy used to call me and he voice wasn’t understandable, the meth smoke had mangled her vocal chords for the week and maybe longer, the words fading in and out with so much strain. Listening to Whitney Houston’s voice after cocaine is such a shocker. She was the greatest love of all! A gold medal Olympic level vocal athlete..and on this tune “i didn’t know my strenghth” she sounds like older Patti LaBelle. or Taylor Dayne. Worse.
Sex work does not always have to be risky, deceptful or include drugs. But for me to usually profit, it had to include one, the other or both. Right now, I am not advertising, work is slow so risks are cut down, I’m not on Craigslist cuz they blocked me, I’m not on the corner… or crusing bars in downtown hotels even. I cut out bad regulars like Kenny (again) but mostly I quit my traumatic and risky agency job. Independent escorting doesn’t pay the bills for me, unfortunately I only really made most of my money being the “bait and switch” closer who stayed up and drove 3 nights a week til 6am.
I should be rewarded for reducing risk, but instead I am paying the price of retiring from a lifestyle that I struggled to hold on to as long as I could..making money was constantly traumatic like this…that’s why I quit. this is why I am broke. If I could work for a real madam or pimp who booked Elliot Spitzer types of clients then I’d be happier. But there are also risks there. now you’re in Federal outlaw territory where speaking out will land you tied to a roof with a noose around your neck and suicide note in your handwriting that you didn’t write. (DC Madam, Brandy Britton) But I like pure risk free non dangerous clients that compensate well too. And I feel like I deserve them but don’t know how to get them. And of course everyone knows what I am doing wrong but me and how I could or should be making more money like them. Instead I’ve been a hustler on the agency circuit, craigslist hustler, internet whore…Any big money I ever made always included one of us fucked up on drugs or alcohol. And it usually wasn’t me. And I don’t feel bad for it at all because if it wasn’t me collecting their money during their blackouts, it would some other bitch.
#2 HOE COMMANDMENT
If you are in it to win it, you MUST remain MORE sober than them. If you stay slightly in more control than them, you will usually profit triple. Do drugs to socialize and gain trust but not to get fucked up. If you sell it, don’t carry it on you, cut it down and tax it triple. (Buying from me is like buying a beer at a football game. You willingly and repeatedly consent to any inflation.)
Everyone has PTSD. The world is so traumatic. We seek to replay these traumatic sequences and do something about them, to regain control. And I like a superwhore trying to save myself and the world, could have it no other way which is why I never felt like sex work is always a choice. I was like one of the superheroes who found out about their super power when animal hairs started growing on their back..and my fate also has been very similar…stripping started to set me free, and real sex for money set me more free. Smoking meth and going to sleep is not the usual prescription for harm reduction, but I have to say, I am very glad that I resisted all I did and came out ahead without even fighting.