Archive for the 'sex' Category

26
Aug
16

Japanese Men-Stop Giving Me a Bad Impression part 3 (more Hiro Factor)

I came to Tokyo with an open heart and an open mind.  But in the 3 months that I’ve been here Japanese men have given me some pretty bad impressions.  Last night, Im walking around Shibuya without a bra because I hate wearing them and can only handle about 8 hours in them. i am reminded that i’m not allowed to do that in Japan. Showing your tattoos is a stretch enough but no bra as well is more than anyone around these parts has ever seen so boldly in public.   Hiro walks up to me as I am wandering around looking for my next adventure and asks if I want to have a drink. I’m happy when a Japanese person is so bold, and the last time this happened the guys who did this turned out to be NICE GUYS. Real HEROS. They helped me try to find a hotel when I got into town late at night and most of the places available did not accept women in their hotel and the others were way too expensive. We chatted and laughed and language exchanged, they shook my hand and bid me sayonara as I walked alone, completely unoffended and unmolested up the stairs to my love hotel room.  They were both Japanese men who just approached me on the street to converse about my tattoos.


The Shibuya HIRO is now walking quickly up this street and I’m asking him to walk slower and wait for me in Japanese.  When a dude doesnt stop and wait for me when we are supposed to be walking together is going to be my new indicator of the Hiro factor. I follow him up the stairs to one of these very popular private karaoke suites that you can rent by the hour all over Japan.  I hate singing karaoke recreationally but since I agreed to the drink I’d participate in it I supposed. He speaks no English so I was excited for the opportunity to try to learn more Japanese.  it didn’t take too long trying to get through the first Alicia Keys song I chose which I sounded badly singing that he led my hand to his erection, trying to feel me up, down and sideways and now i’m doing my sex worker defense skills which look like me trying to sing while grabbing his hand and making sure it stays away from anywhere I don’t want it, and of course that’s when he puts it on his dick. A REAL FUCKING HIRO.  Have we been in this room 10 minutes perhaps?  He lays back and rests his head on my thigh. I place my head on his forehead and gaze at him with loving, nurturing energy trying to calm him down, a failed Tantra Ninja attempt. He’s unable to control himself and starts to put his hands down his pants. I get up and and pull my phone out of the wall CONSENTO (the Japanese word for wall socket is consento but most Japanese Hiros dont really understand this concept of sexual consent as its totally screwed up in Japan worse than in America, just watch 10 min of Japanese porn or anime porn and you’ll see just how NO, STOP, DON’T!! mean YES! YES! YES! to anyone watching, mostly HIROS. So I dont want to confuse the guy by saying Stop or trying to negotiate the boundaries in any way. I tell him I’m leaving. he opens his arms and tells me to come sit down with him with a smile.  NOPE. LEAVING. i say. For a few seconds he is actually chasing me around the table in the tiny room. i open the door of the room and rapidly walk, in disgust disappearing quickly through the crowded sidewalk weaving up the footbridge and making quick turns through thick Shibuya crowds in case he decided to follow me even though I knew he wasn’t because he had to pay for the room.  I stop to lean over the rail of the footbridge and stare at the traffic and bright lights, crazy Shibuya streetlife.  I take several slow deep breaths of calm and slow myself down. I am more disappointed than traumatized when this happens now.  I pull my bra out of my bag and put all of its ridiculous uncomfortable binding straps and padding back on my always erect but not horny nipples.  Maybe this will buy me some peace so I can pass out on the hour long train ride I have back to my suburban room.

22
Aug
16

I was actually a FREE INDEPENDENT URBAN OIRAN not an urban geisha!!


For the years from the time that I started this blog, I branded myself for many years as the “Urban Geisha,” an “Educated Whore Revolutionary.”  I knew even then, that I was nothing near a “real geisha” but I was fascinated with the idea that part of the geishas art, aside from enticing men was to learn instruments, dances and traditional arts, including the art of conversation.  I prided myself at being the Urban artist of conversation because in honest reflection, I was never really that great at sexual acts during my escort years. Unless of course, I was attracted to the client or sometimes a client would surprise me with his abilities which didn’t match my usual “type.” This is what I liked about prostitution. It allowed me to experience people I wouldn’t usually allow in and, they had a 50/50 chance of doing me right despite the attraction factor.  The majority of time, I was really being the “2pac of prostitution (activist/musician)” character and many of my clients were urban homies, non violent criminals, drug users and other exiles of society, like I was. We would do a bunch of lines until the sunrise and I would entertain them with my art of conversation while making money. Sex was maybe 25% of the SEX work that I did.  Drug users were my favorites because of the fact that sex wasn’t so much a big part of it but keeping their lonely heart company while playing a facade was. And this was my definition of urban geisha. The other part that made me adopt the geisha moniker was because I was of Japanese heritage and I had the PASS TO CLAIM rights to my ancestry in America that the political activist community fights so hard to own and protect according to whichever heritage you can say you are part of. I HAD THIS PASS AND KIMONO CLAD KATIE PERRY DIDN’T as far as I was concerned.  But, I was no different than any other displaced descendant of a home country than the Black African American who tries to remember Africa by wearing an emblem around his neck and changing his name to something more African. The reasons we do this in racist America are evident but often our efforts fall short of accuracy.   I actually wasn’t any different than a disrespectfully appropriating Katy Perry who was just taking something she thought was exotic (and geisha are indeed RARE and Mysterious, even to Japanese today) and beautiful and creating a show around it for your pop culture entertainment and for you to be attracted to.  But when white American people do it on stage though…!!

An apprentice Maiko giving the EVIL SIDE EYE at a performance in a Kyoto tourist show copyright MPassion 2016

Now that I’ve spent some time in Japan, in actual observance and research of the true Japan and its culture I can see that many foreigners wear kimonos and the Japanese people are renting them to them for profit, but also to SHARE their culture correctly. Most Japanese would probabaly be happy and proud that Katy Perry  were wearing kimono on a big U.S award show, except maybe for the fact that she is mixing a Chinese brocade neckline and high cut waist of a cheongsam with a Japanese kimono in her outfit. Hey, shes mixing BOTH OF MY ETHNICITIES! I should steal that dress from her! Did Katy wear white face and try to imitate a geisha, or is that what the media called it (because all kimono clad women are geisha apparently)? She was actually just a white foreigner appropriating Asian fashions and aesthetic, something that can be super controversial and oversimplified on both sides of racist America.  Tourists rent kimono 100s if not 500 times on a good busy day throughout Japan as part of their sightseeing activities. Most of the kimono clad tourists in Japan these days are not even white folks, they are Chinese from China or Taiwan, but the point being that Japanese are happy to share and teach their kimono NOT their geisha customs.  There are dressers in tourist shops who help foreigners put kimono on and they style all the accessories so the foreigner doesn’t fuck it up. It’s not a cheap Halloween costume by any means, and its usually very authentic.  It is meant to be completely respectful sharing for tourists of Japan, as well as a profitable business to be in.

GEISHA ARE NOT PROSTITUTES and this was the biggest mistake I and other foreigners (mostly men who wish they were) make. They might get together with one wealthy client who becomes her sponsor/partner but mostly they are true entertainers, who are definitely erotic objects of desire but whose austerity around sexual partners makes her that much MORE attractive to seekers.  An Urban geisha might be similar to a true burlesque entertainer who could climb a 50 foot pole and do gymnastics tricks to entertain in a g string and feather costume but who also never really had sex with those they entertain. Certainly that was NOT what I was trying to do. i was turning TRICKS. Having quick and dirty sex for profit and I saw my HUSTLING (business street and survival savvy) also as part of MY ART.  The other part of my art came into play through writing my blog, speaking my activist truth, performing songs from the Whore Revolution.  THAT WAS ALL MY GEISHA-NESS, as I saw it then.  I only recently learned about the OIRAN, the kimono white faced entertainers that resembled the geisha in many ways except they were FLASHIER and THEY HAD SEX! Now THAT was more MARIKO PASSION for certainly. To my pleasant surprise, the Oiran traditional shoes were 8” platforms that required a male assistant to walk, which I would often recruit a random “escort” to help me not eat shit in heels on concrete. I regularly performed in 6” platforms in those days and I even had some “taka geta” (tall wooden slippers) of my own that I just threw away before I came to Japan but had owned since I was in my 20s before I even knew about Oiran (unconscious cultural memory!).  In Japan, there are regular parades celebrating the Oiran Dochu and Edo period costumes without shame around the association with prostitution because many of the Oiran and Geisha at the time were sold by poverty stricken parents who had no choice for survival. The sad truth behind these parades is that they do not reference the truth of the women who lived these lives of sexual slavery, yes I really called it that.

Real Oiran of Edo…not ideal working conditions

Movie set at Toei Kyoto studio park copyright Mpassion2016

Yoshiwara Dori Pleasure District

The Oiran lived in a gated area, and they were not allowed to leave except to view cherry blossoms once a year. The photos that I’ve seen show them behind wooden bars over the windows. Many of them died of venereal diseases and were wrapped in straw and dumped in unmarked graves at the Buddhist temple Jokan Ji. Jokanji temple has the spirits of 25,000 Edo era sex workers buried there. i have plans to visit and report on it in a future blog.  The Japanese government is known for the war crime of making Korean women into sex slaves for the Japanese soldiers, but what is also not said alongside the comfort women stories is that Karayuki San were the Japanese women who were indentured sex workers that were sent to other countries to service Japanese soldiers and other races of men overseas. I believe that karayuki san were also used for a short time to serve U.S military soldiers during their occupation in government sanctioned brothels as well. Many feminists in Korea and the U.S demanded the Japanese government apologize to the Korean comfort women, which occurred just in January of this year, 2016 but really, the Japanese should have to apologize and give reparations to the Karyukisans as well, but that would probably never happen as it was hard enough to get the apology and reparations to the Korean women. The government did actually put an end to the pleasure quarters of the Edo era, probably much in the same way that the sexual woodblock Ukiyoe prints became outlawed and banned so did the Oiran houses.  The mizu shobai, or sex industry of course never died in Japan, it just changed form.
But there is ALWAYS  MUCH BEAUTY in the darkness, darkness and light, yin and yang, just like in African slavery there were rich cultural traditions that survived and remained as a result of the struggle, oppression and captivity.  If you are not allowed to leave an area and can’t choose the amount or safety of your clients or you will be punished with death or a beat down, you are or were a sexual slave.

I owned shoes like these in my 20s!! Quickie Insta Oiran Portrait at Toiei Kyoto Park 2016

I did an Oiran portrait at a Kyoto amusement park and I was excited and am excited still about looking into getting involved in participating in the parades in April 2017 but in reading more about the truth of the lives of the women and girls I wanted to ALSO be sure not to gloss over the facts, the way the Japanese government and many people who are fans of Oiran Dochu do so often. Having lived the beautiful struggle of a FREE and INDEPENDENT URBAN OIRAN for years, you can see just by scrolling through my escort entries that my life was no parade, but it wasnt slavery, and I suffered and struggled through some of it but there was much JOY, TRIUMPHS, LESSONS AND PLEASURE TOO. Music, art, activism and community WERE the things that I loved in sex work, FUCK THE SEX.  Perhaps this was also the attitude of the Oiran and they poured their PASSION and life force into their arts in spite of it all.

What used to be the Yoshiwara Dori of the Edo Era is now Soaplands (kinda like massage parlors but soapier and mostly only for Japanese clients not foreigners). the women are free sex workers NOT and I say this too, NOT SEX SLAVES. They freely come and go to work, have families, test themselves and have safe sex so they don’t have the same UNHAPPY ENDING as the OIRAN of Edo did.

21
Aug
11

Before you get vomited out, you must first pass through the belly of the beast

it’s official.  i hate sex work right now.  and i think i have for quite a while now.

but i am not trying to “get a job” either.  I am working hard on my art, submitting proposals, actively seeking new opportunities on a full time basis, doing the work to become the artist I want to be, as Gandi would say.  I wish that I wasn’t such an idealist, i am so suprised it hasn’t been burnt out of me.  I remember this feeling of nausea, of hatred of each day…of the impatience at the same shit on a different day.

2 bum calls and one Black guy who had such scary energy I was super glad I got out of there when I did and not a second sooner.  He was the kind of man who looked like he wanted to kill me but couldn’t find a reason to.  I shined all my golden light into him but he never received me.  He was evasive and didn’t want to answer my questions and he had the death look in his eyes.  This death look is what you see when you think someone could kill you.  You may have seen this gaze in a lover or a partner’s eyes before.  I’ve seen it before.  Nothing that I could say, me the master of de-escalating myself out of violence over and over again, was going to make this guy WARM UP to me.  And that was what made me nervous.  I did not want to have sex with him.  I upsold the sex so he wouldn’t do it.  The truth was I was sick to my stomach of Asiaphile Black dudes with their Asian fetishes and varying annoying personalities.  I did a hand job/body rub with one and then actually turned down his money because I just would not allow myself to sit through a situation where I would feel molested for money again.  At least not in such a short period.  Is it their racist imperialism?  Or is that I can’t stomach faking it more than once.  I’ve concluded that that was part of it.  I actually kind of HATE regulars.  And the guys that I am actually attracted to, I just end up trying to date or discount and so it doesn’t really last long either way.  But fucking the same dude that I didn’t like the first time gets super hard for me pretty quickly.  I remember doing mushrooms with one of my sugar daddies who insisted saying “I love you” to me all the time and I literally started vomiting.  It was a great way to get out of having to be close to him or have sex with him.  I chose to hang out with my best friends instead of make $1500 a day.  They thought I was crazy.  They were worth more to me though.  I know more than ever since doing so much sex work what in this life is PRICELESS and what is not.  I knew i couldn’t stomach him anymore is why.  Throwing up was the last resource I had.  I used that money well.  But it’s gone now.  I launched my solo theatre show with it and funded a cabaret.

This Black guy wanted me to be his personal travel assistant, around the world rubbing his shoulders, Thailand, Japan.  Bleah.  That would be my equivalent to sex slavery.  I can barely work a regular job with a boss., let alone be a sugar baby for longer than a week.  My true colors shine through and I throw off their patriarchal (they usually can’t help it, they’re in their 50s) shackles and usually walk out with my last donation liberated and relieved.

I drove to this tweaker’s house 30 minutes away and the way he talked to me was so cold.  He did not care that he had wasted my time.  He didn’t have weed, or a beer to offer me, nor gas money for my time.  He wasn’t going to give me shit.  just a bongful of shit.  Bleah.  No thank you.  I just gave that up for the last time, nasty horrible fucking shit.  I won’t even try it for kicks like I used to.  Sometimes I would do it just to see if it would do anything for me.  I would take it in a few hits and marvel about how I felt nothing, compared to a few hits of smoking a bong of weed.  I was boggled by how much power it had over so many people!  I use it as a tool of hopeless self injury when I have done it, not in the ways of how many tweakers use it.   I tried to understand the mind of a tweaker but I could never do it.  I am too strong and healthy.   Never again.  The vultures they call you to partake, they have no intention in paying you.  Just getting you high and fucking you to death.  I’m so sick of all the toxic drug addicts.  I am no longer content to just take their money and exploit their addictions, because this becomes my addiction too.  It’s a form of codependency that I have…and I am trying to kick it…Because the nature of SEX WORK includes dependence on money, it a really hard addiction to kick, especially in my personal economy when love and money are in constant need.

When you are doing sex work with a partner that you despise and you hate every second that they are intimate with you, it feels like you are being molested.  (I have only been date raped so I can only imagine this is what it feels like).  Me, the survivor is always trying to push myself to the limit, to the edge….I have pushed myself for nearly 5 years now and now I would like to be done.  I have danced with the devil and burned in the belly of the beast, fought off its invitations, corruptions, and henchmen.  I have seen my potential and realized some of my dreams with this work.  I have fought hard to create normalcy and justice for myself, for other sex workers who hated me, for those that never knew.  I’m done.  But i’m just done in my head, because as you know this transition can take months or years.  I did almost transition in 2009 when I was on probation, I quit one of my agencies and had a hard time of going indy and faced the famine which led to the nearest I have ever come to suicide in my life.  I have NOT truly considered it since but i often use it as a reference point so it concerns people sometimes. I was on probation, had just lost my teaching rights and just ended a horrible relationship and quit swop-la the first time.

My facebook friend Wendy Babcock recently died.  They said she committed suicide but I don’t believe it.  She was alive and well when I was “talking” to her through her facebook posts. She was actively writing, being interviewed, doing activism and reaching out to me.  Not the kind of person who is hopeless, depressed or suicidal.  Perhaps we don’t really know what suicidal really looks like then.  It scares me.  She was born on May 29.  We have the same birthday.  When she died, a part of me died too.  She was a valiant sex worker activist in Toronto, Canada.  She and I had just connected on how negative I felt about sex work and she was a thread of hope and support for me in this time when I do need it and continue to need it.

I am trying to date men and women on various internet dating sites with very little luck.  I am experimenting with telling them I am a sex worker on the second date.  I don’t blast it in my profile.  I used to just say, fuck you, i am a sex worker, love me or leave me!!! but the kind of men I attracted were just losers and abusers so I thought I’d try a different approach…

last nite someone stood me up and I knew it was NOT about me but it just bummed me out hard because I have been working so hard on creating these loopholes, revising my profile, trying to ease someone into the idea of dating a sex worker, testing the boundaries by talking about porn, hiding the true details, accentuating the minor into major to cover up the sex work…

there are still good days and good clients.   great clients and good times to ease the pain.  thank the universe for that.   Unlike my stripper days, I am older and wiser and I know how to take good care of myself better…but it is still hard.  I am single and dealing with this on my own.  It is sort of unfair to bring a new romantic date into my chaotic mix because I am really negative and emotional…it’s hard not to just unload on someone that I want to just hold me…

I think my reverse escorting days are done too.  I tried to make it work time and time again, but in the end, it never did.  It was just a long, drawn out, unpaid or low paid session.  I was never their girl.  Never qualified and they let me know it.  In Gun Hill Road, the trans woman character (who is not a sex worker) has a lover that just fucks her but won’t take her out to restaurants or movies.  Sadly, I could identify with my last lover that I would find myself gushing wetness under every month.  twice a month at most. I knew it was abusive.  But more self abusive though.  I was complacent in going over there and indulging in what he was offering.  I do not blame myself at all because I WAS better off than alone.

I still stay in their arms if they’re decent and willing and we are exchanging good energy.  I ended my 9 month unhealthy affair with the above mentioned former client turned lover who was really just a PnP addiction.  It was just a little bit of money, lots or orgasms, affection, and a little bit of drugs.  I trained him to go from 0 to hero in 3 sessions.  I used to hate having him go down on me and soon i begged for it.  9 orgasms was the most I’d had in perhaps ten years!  Do you blame me?  In my 30s, the combo of sex love magic stays in my body and warms my spirit for a good 24 hours afterwards.  I don’t remember being that conscious of it in my 20s of even having the kind of relationship I have to body and energy as aI do at 35.

Gay boys and hookers PnP for the same reason.  Toxic people, mutual loneliness, trying to live up to beauty and sex machine standards, remnants of past trauma and the emotional deficit collide.  he didn’t call me for the last time and I wanted to injest him for the last time until he cut through my veins and caused every muscle in my body to hurt and tense up in soreness for over a week.  And then I blocked him from being able to call me (My wireless carrier allows you to do that now! I wished they had this service when the crazy white trash girlfriend was texting me cussng insults once she found out i was fucking her man).

I did a cathartic sort of Amy Winehouse-esque memorial ritual the weekend she was found dead and I learned that I was stronger than letting your addictions kill you.  stronger than drug addiction.  stronger than sex work.  stronger than rape. robbery. arrest.  racism. conspiracy theories.  mental illness.  rape culture.  pimps.  I’ve learned my lessons and it is time to move to a different chapter.

04
Jan
10

Happy New Year! 21 year old ExCons and Snowboarding Bliss xoxo

if you’ve been reading, you know it’s been a fucking hard year…

thanks for reading…it really helps me cope to write and know that you are reading…

I got all dressed up and went to a dancing party downtown with adult raver DJs.  A very hetero mainstreamy event, but I did NOT want to go very far from my house nor deal with traffic or too many abnoxious crowds.  I was fixing to go snowboarding at Bear Valley with my 21 year old BFE (boyfriend experience) for a couple of days so I was actually turning down guys for one nite stands so I could roll out of bed on time to kidnap this boy I met (as his escort) so I could turn him into MY escort for a few more days.  (we’d already seen each other once after our initial date and confirmed that there was some magic worth spending time to explore…)

I invited my actor neighbor for a drink before I left for the party in this outfit and he did NOT understand why I didn’t just want to suck his dick right then and there!  Too funny.  “I’m sorry,” I thought,”I’m a WHORE, not a slut!”  ha.  If I don’t want to fuck you, it’s really hard to fuck me without paying me first.  Sorry.  That’s just the way it is.  And I especially can’t get down and fuck in the first 15 minutes of talking unless there’s money involved.  Jesus, what do you think this is?

For some reason of all these guy that wanted me and have wanted me lately, I chose the least likely candidate to spend my time with.  One that just got out of prison, 21 years too young for me, white trashy, tooth missing, drug addict history and likely future, nothing to brag about except that he gave me amazing love and care and attention everytime I held him close.  And when we kissed our lips and tongues fit together without worrying about whether or not he had a tooth missing or not.  I didn’t even care about it.  All I knew was that his skin was super soft and that I had missed kissing and making out with someone..He had a couple really key things more than my ex-boyfriend though, a G.E.D and a good construction job and most of our escapades didn’t come out of my pocket, even if he was 12 years younger than me.  Well, if my ex boyfriend didn’t set my standards down to the ankles, this one surely takes his place at the soles of my feet supposedly, except it was me at the soles of HIS feet in my memories.

I know that it is wrong and it is going nowhere…but I chase after it like a drug.

Our worlds were so far apart from each yet they could conventiently be drawn together for a few moments, a few days…and I have been experimenting with this A LOT in my last few partners.  Because they’ve all been taboo and “wrong” for me in every way…but I’ve exchanged amazing non judgmental, apolitical love energy with them and it’s been amazing.  rejuvinating.  but how could you get that from someone that is supposed to be a society throw-away?  or a couple of Asiaphile white guys with a long string of ALL Asian ex girlfriends? what the fuck have I been thinking?  But I fucked these white devils and they made me cum really really hard!  Hah.  But also, and most importantly they made me feel *genuine love energy* which is that thing that I seek, that I chase that I try to hold in my essence and breath it in continuously for as long as possible.  If we don’t have discussions about race, privilege, age, gender, homophobia or transgender politics then I can just make you a fantasy and all of the wrong will be right in my mind. I can tell you after bedding these ‘terrible’ guys that I proved that love really can be blind.  It is true what liberals and Michael Jackson have sung about for YEARS!  You can bond and exchange love energy if both are open to it regardless of age, gender, race, politico, class…for at least a little while til you get bored of having sex all day and nite and have to go out into the world.

My 21 year old ex con has this magnetic cock that can make a safe sex slut want to take it deep inside her without a condom or an STD test and impregnate her with a baby that would make his 3rd child…before 22..in case you didn’t understand WHY people who shouldn’t have kids end up having kids…(it’s something in the fucking semen).  I didn’t do it without a condom, but he tried to push the issue into me and was so almost convincing I almost came imagining the consequences.

It was a running joke between us..”My lifelong ambition in life is to get a hotel room with you tonight and make sure to get you to parole officer on time tomorrow.  You can even use my hand to do your piss test in..”  This after he had made me finally have 3 orgasms in a 2 our morning session that was long overdue after he had fallen asleep on me at 8pm in our $125 hotel room suite..I was kicking myself for not bringing my laptop because I thought we were going to be too busy fucking for me to blog.  But I wished I had brought my computer or something to read cuz now I was actually ‘bored’ and i try to make sure that never happens to me…I forced myself to sleep at 12am.  i watched TV about Cougars.  About Madonna being 53 and her lover being 23.  Ha.  I wasn’t so bad.  I am only 33.  but I feel like I could be any age from 22-33.  The show said that it was a good thing that older women were with such younger men and that they weren’t demeaning themselves because when a young guy chooses an older woman over his peers, it is a great confidence booster for the older woman (who is supposed to wish that she was his age).  I have loved 20-21 year olds since I was 25.  sexual energy combined with naive romanticism and adoration.  that’s what i look for in a young buck.

Don’t ask me why.  I reflect and blog, I am not really seeking answers.

I think I kidnapped him from a girlfriend.  Since I’ve been talking to him, some wifey character out of the Raising Arizona movie has been blowing up my PHONES with crazy tweaker messages about him being her man, i’m a whore,  etc etc.  I turn my phone off when I am with him, too bad for her.  Too bad for her too that I make a living out of being with other people’s men and that it doesn’t make me feel guilty obviously to do this…especially when I have the better half of the deal.  I’ll drop him off when I am done with him, don’t worry.  (and I literally dropped him off to her and she had NOTHING to say to me). I am not trying to be his girlfriend.  You take him to see his parole officer.  I just want a BFE (a boyfriend experience) not a real boyfriend!

Just for the record, the last taboo “white devil” was a law firm lawyer and an ex-mormon, just to lend some contrast to the guys I’ve been sharing pillows with.  they’re probably polar [bear] opposites but equally deemed “bad” for me.  (P.S I know my “reverse racist” humor, may not be funny to some but it’s pretty amusing to me. LOL.   For this piece, “white devil” refers to any white guy that you would tell who he is to your p.o.c friends and be embarassed of some of the facts that you are explaining..) i.e “Well, he has this nazi memorabilia plate, but its his step father’s..”

Another girl had 3 DUIs and multiple other alcohol related arrests.  I met her online… All I can say is that what we truly need is very simple.  What people think they are after when they hire an escort, is sometimes called a GFE or a BFE, but what they want is an “experience” of a relationship without the drama and the work of a relationship.  Sex workers, especially single ones, need that too and clients can be converted into “reverse-escorts” pretty easily if you are not ashamed of this idea to begin with.  I had a 2 year relationship with a stripper customer when I was 22.  This guy reminded me of him I think mostly, which may be what I was chasing..but in general,  I don’t usually get “this” from my clients as I am not open to it.  It is a rarity actually because I am so mechanical with some of my work to defend myself.  I LOVE BEING SINGLE.  My last relationship just ended in July and I am now finally getting myself back…The ex did not call or leave sentimental messages this Christmas.

It was the day after doing ecstasy and there’s nothing a girl wants to do than lay around, smoke weed, cuddle, be adored and get fucked!  LOL.  That’s how he became my BFE…

I hear in general,  in fact, that client/provider real relationships are actually pretty common.   Former clients became  a few of my friend’s boyfriends or girlfriends…It’s not what I was after here, but i know it’s possible.  In fact, I HOPED that this would be able to just be a casual fling without turning into something obsessive and over my head but knew that that is not something that I could control..

I need love too, even if it isn’t real L*O*V*E.  And this boy was willing to pour it onto to me, in just the right amount and way that I needed.  and i opened my mouth and took it in.  It was not pure sexual and I’m not sure why I was drawn to it.  It’s just something that he had to give.  But not from anyone!  It doesn’t work with anyone.  My neighbor is a handsome Black actor with his own aparment and a good job too, but pure sex is not what I am after.  I guess  It helps if you have addictions or are codependent identified! Ack.  but i wish it didn’t.  I recently had a lover who was one of the original Broadway cast members from the musical RENT in New York.  That was a winner, right?  He was a self proclaimed Asia phile (the 2nd one in a row) and when he asked me,”Do you like sex?” all I could say, even though I ended up sleeping with him and liked it, was,”That’s a really weighted question.”  because I don’t just like sex.

I figured it out.  It’s not shallow and empty NSA sex.  Although he was a “good catch” I knew he would be on his way any minute and that any bond created could be special but was transient.   I do that for a living.  I crave something more, something different, love that isn’t for sale but that leans towards the impossible abyss of real love, whatever that is.   The more wrong and impossible the connection, the better for the gravitational pull of it, it seems.  It is that pull that makes me LOVE sex.  Which i do.  with someone that I am EMOTIONALLY ATTRACTED TO.  That someone who makes me pull over and start to go down on them on the side of the road just because I want to be that amazing girl in their life, that pull that makes me want to risk my future, my life, my health..that pull which makes you an exhibitionists just cuz you don’t care who the fuck sees… for if I never get my logic glasses back on..THAT pull, combined with hot sex, I love.  All other sex is either just work or a utilitarian activity.  (just because you NEED to cum, which believe me, I have THAT kind of get laid sex hunt streak too, don’t get me wrong, but..)

His one hour turned into five hours and I drove all the way back to this middle of nowhere LA suburb for more the next week.  and it wasn’t just for the sex.  The sex alone could not have that power.  It is some crazy combination of phermones, affection, genetics..I don’t fucking know.  But he wasn’t too good looking, was missing a front tooth and had no real esteeming qualities, except that he was extremely loving and willing to give and receive pretty fully without the fear that men usually have.  He was pretty good loving for someone who had a crazy irritating wifey and many other glaring issues that I chose to ignore.  We made each other feel special and loved in ways that NO ONE in our regular lives was willing or able to do at this time.  This is why we were drawn to each other I think.

[HIS TEXT MESSAGE:] WE HAVE SOMETHING SPECIAL.

[ME: No, It’s not something WE have…it’s something that YOU have.”

I told him he could be a male escort because he was so sensually seductive at times.  You just have this power, I would say, to make a girl strip off her clothes and start riding your cock within 15 minutes of meeting you, if you wanted.”

Can you imagine that ex-cons would be great at using manipulation, seduction, emotional attraction to get things out of women as a survival mechanism?  It’s almost the perfect pairing for a sex worker actually, now that I think about it.  Wandering, searching, traumatized souls connecting…needing to believe in something…

I draped my naked body over his lap, exposing my pussy from behind in a very deliberate way as he sits on the edge of the bed waking up, drinking hotel coffee, smoking a cigarette in a non smoking room.  He puts down his coffee to finally give me what I want and need.  He fingerbangs deep in my g spot with my face down at his feet, ass up, fucking my pussy and spanking my ass as I cum in less than 60 seconds.  My pussy reaches the orgasmic frenzy that it has patiently waited all night for all while he is still smoking his cigarette…A pile of good weed gets knocked on the ground because I am wildly whipping my hair in thrusting ecstasy..”i’ll get it later..”i said.  “is this what you want?” he says to me, becoming my ultimate dominant, confident White trash molesting uncle asshole fantasy.  He thrusts his fingers to finish me off and I gush liquid all over his hand,” Good girl, is that what you wanted..?”  even my weed is inconsequential to this…”Yes.  It is.” i utter breathlessly from his feet.  Why i get off on being so demeaned is beyond me..he talks to me and makes me beg very specifically for it, which is a rare and powerful skillset for someone his age…(we even made a joke that he could have been talking to his girlfriend on the phone while fucking me and I would have liked it more..)

I’m writing in past tense, because I want to wrap this chapter up and hope that it will just neatly end.  I got what I wanted (past tense!!), it was filled with red flags and bad news if it were to continue but as I am doing edits on this entry I still want him to come over and fuck me and make me beg for his dick.  sex and snowboarding in the sun…So glad I went back to agency work and I can afford to even do anything for the last week.  I could have had a lot more sex and someone better looking and who wasn’t coming down off drugs but hey, we can’t all have what we ask for..

My facebook ID: mariko pasion

i’m far more open and spontaneous on there…it’s real and it’s not.  join me?

07
Jul
09

I know you’ve been missing my heart felt..

sacrificial lamb crying in the night blogging…I left it for the short documentary video that I produced with my partner which talked about the joys of public health care, STDs and our relationship.  It was in Sadie Lune’s curatorial creation for the 12th annual San Francisco Queer Arts Festival How timely of a campaign when it all seems to be on Obama’s mind as well.  funny how we are all connected (by Facebook).  I’ve been really trying to get on top of this online marketing bandwagon.  I’ve gotten savvy to Facebook, twitter (in 3 different personas) and it’s added an even deeper incision into the mainline of internet addiction that I have had for the last ten years.   I did a background singing gig for this neo soul singer on the 4th of July to boot.  I’m not sure if it is internet or computer addiction.  It started when I started doing paid freelance photography and graphic design jobs in San Francisco.  I became accustomed to a life of either sitting for 12 hours at a time in front of a computer screen or drinking 2 cans of Dr.Pepper and doing 7 hours of hustling and lap dancing for $500.  My life is somewhat still similar except that instead of the monotonous “Hi, do you want to dance?” I have to do the fun grueling early morning/late night drag through the “game” world.

I get woken up at 6:30am by my agency.  This is the only agency I work for now.  They are a national VIP level bait and switch, which is different from the local Craigslist bait and switch work that I was doing before…I wanted the bullshit and drama to be fewer and far between, I guess.  With this agency, I’ve gotten Malibu suites and mimosa clients who have left me thousands of dollars without spending time with me..through an agency placed Craigslist ad, I found a 3 month long sugar daddy..

I ‘ve quit the bread and butter of my livelihood, which was essentially like living the life of a cowgirl in a wild goose chase 3 nights a week.  I’ve tried to be strong with staying out of that work, in an effort to replace that income I’ve started to do phone sex and domination again, as well as break my webcam cherry!  this is the reason why I’ve been doing so much internet marketing you see..

Phone and webcam girl life has got a learning curve to it.  Niteflirt is the leader in “start your own” style phone sex operations, which I’m actually on, but they’ve lagged in making me an affiliate so, I highly recommend “Sugar Talk” as a better site, because if you click on the link, and sign up to be a phone operator with them I’ll get $45!  And the same can happen to you if you join!  This service also boasts a lifetime residual plan which is pretty unique for the adult industry.  Niteflirt takes 50% of your call rate and also CHARGES YOU to BID FOR PLACEMENT on their website.  It’s a bunch of crap really, but the more money you spend the higher placement you are in their roster of 1000s of women home alone…Just different ways to PIMP you.   But what can a working girl do?  Sometime in life, you just need to have a pimp of some kind.  I already knew this, so it isn’t much of a shocker to me.  Sugar talk calls their affiliate program Pimp Dollar!  But at least it’s an accurate portrayal of Pimp.  I don’t have a problem with some pimping.  Especially when I’m doing it.

I did my first webcam show, it was awkward.  My boyfriend keeps coming home to me dressed in lingerie in front of my computer holding a dildo and watching internet porn (which is not usually how I used to hang out while blogging for instance).  He’s seen me unplug my laptop, disappear into the bedroom for 10 minutes and then come right back and plug back in to continue my work.  The crazy life of a work at home professional masturbator!

Some guy wants me to sneeze while I call him and another guy totally educated me on being “chemically castrated” using Depo Provera, a chemical which when given to biological men renders them impotent and uninterested in having sex.  The court can order it for chronic public masturbators, child molestors and rapists.  This man told me he was a chronic masturbator and had been arrested 5 times, but since doing a regular shot of Depo every 3 months for the last 10 years, he’s been completely asexual but content..(aside from the fact that he needed to confess that to someone like me for money occaisionally).  It was the most fascinating conversation I had had yet, and one that would be unlikely in a live escort situation..

My most recent story was yesterday morning, waking up at 6:30am, driving 40 minutes to Orange County to this deliciously innocent and cute looking hapa (half Asian) crack smoking hustler.  But he didn’t look life a crack head OR a hustler.  His words, I look like “I just fell off of a Christmas tree.”  and he did.  I have a B-I-G weakness for both hapa people and especially 20 year old guys for some reason. Why? It’s from experience of course.  Some of the best sex in my life has been with 20 year old young men..the perfect Abercrombie model come to life in a insatiably horny and energetic fucking machine.  How perfect indeed.  In gay male sex culture, they call this guy a twinkie…

But this boy, lied to the booker about the fact that he was using credit cards, WAS USING HIS DAD’S CREDIT CARDS which were expired or voided anyway and gave me a pen which did not have the barrell to it, because he had already tore it apart so he could smoke crack with it.  He did NOT look like a crack head at all..Imagine if the boy in this picture was the baby face of this 20 year old smooth talking stud…

He knew EXACTLY what he was doing.  Some young guys have the knack for getting in the sack with hot older women from the gate and other guys with twice their experience and money still can’t get laid to save their lives.  The 20 year old was starting to see that his dad’s fake credit cards were NOT going to through, he lied to the booker and told her he was paying cash.  He was totally flirting with me and trying to get me to stay with him, on his full mattress futon bed in the converted dining room to stay with him, even though he just tried to credit card fraud me for $1000!

I JUST CAN’T SEND YOUNG MEN THAT MESSAGE!  I’m a courtesan with standards dammit!  At least give me SOMETHING!  hahaha.  Sometimes standards go out the window in this “game.” I’ve traded for a [broken] air conditioner, for quantities of weed (large and small)..This boy was trying to give me the keys to his truck (without the title) as collateral that he would be able to get my money if I stayed with him for 2 hours and then would go to get the money afterwards.  It’s 8am by this time, and here comes his Filipino dad who is about 55 coming in from rolling all nite with his friends at the Avalon in Hollywood!   I should have known when the address was TOTALLY DEAD WRONG.  The dad pops his head in and says Hi to me through a parental disdainful gaze.  I’m sure he has no idea that his son is using his credit cards with a hooker.  I grew up in a mostly Filipino suburb of the Bay Area, so most of my friends parents were Filipino immigrants, so it had such an eerie dejavu to my childhood having some Pinoy father say Oy to you while you were about to do something sexual.

But I didn’t let him get me.  He was slick and smooth and he tried hard, but I left him shaking my head..”Call me when you have money, babe” I said.  I left thinking dirty thoughts but it was mostly because he tried to rip me off that I didn’t stay, and it was also because he was so fucking HOT (even his little scam was kind of hot, like that Tom Cruise movie where he is a teenager seduced by an escort, remind me of what that is..?) but I just left it as a fantasy.  Don’t try to credit card fraud a hard working girl!  I’ve keyed up cars and kicked people’s doors in for moves like that!  The BEST sex I EVER had with a 20 year old happened one night when I was still just an outcall stripper (who staunchily did NOT have intercourse or even handjobs) with any of her clients under any circumstances, but one guy, a roadie for a rock band had gotten me so hot and I wanted to get laid anyway and GOOD LORD What a great decision that was!!  I remember feeling all sorts of guilt over doing prostitution, even though I justified that it wasn’t prostitution it was just an outcall stripping client that turned into a consensual sex date for free.  He had only paid for the stripshow, the sex was free.  This is what we are supposed to tell the cops in a court of law..I was so uptight before I was actually doing full service.  Really.  I was.

20
Nov
08

Miami Harm Reduction

I’ve almost been in Miami a week now.  The Harm Reduction conference was last thursday-Sunday in downtown Miami.  There was lots of amazing community building between drug users, needle exchanges, HIV prevention groups, sex workers and more..And the usual debauchery and meeting of activist/friends from all over the U.S as well.

I have stayed on to relax and enjoy the city, but also to work here.  Business is very scarce.  The phone barely rings.  I have NOT even paid for my visiting ad.  That is really sad.  The ONE guy I did get I picked up at a bar that has a rainbow flag outside of it, go figure!  This club seems to have a good mix of gay, bi and transgenders hanging out and flirting with each other.  It’s RARE to see all of the orientations dancing together unless it’s Gay Pride.  Even in SF and LA, transgenders prefer to have their own clubs.

My guy was bisexual, staying at the same hotel as me, but was a bit misogynistic and rude.  Pretty low paying as well.  But, truly since I am here dependent on this work, I see it as survival sex. I have tried to work the bars here, and have been extremely bold while soliciting guys that I think might be interested.  So far, I have not had any luck doing that either!  It is quite humbling.  There are LOTS OF WORKING GIRLS ON THE STREETS HERE.  It reminds of Waikiki in the 90s!  A limo driver told me that half of them are cops.  But I think that most of them are real working girls.  I see pimps out here with them too, so I know they are real.

Placing an ad on the internet as an independent, trying to work the streets and clubs of South Beach (low asking prices and high arrest risk) has yielded nothing.  Happy hour at my hotel with the wanna be hipster types–nothing.  Makes me grateful for the first asshole that came along, which I shouldn’t be.  But, if he didn’t come along, I would be unable to eat in the morning.  Since my “personal bailout” from credit card debt, I’ve also had to pay everything in cash.  the last time I was here I worked for an agency and rented a car.  But still, I don’t think I made that much money either.  The most I made was because I got a date hooked up by a stripper that I met through a lover here.  A job for 3 girls in a high rise tower of million dollar condos.  She was fucking gorgeous.  Smashing the ‘Black Girls don’t Make Money in This Business’ stereotype right through the fucking roof.  She was another hot bisexual stripper that teased me to death with no intention of being my girlfriend or having sex with me for that matter for her own amusement…

speaking of lovers…I managed to snag a 20 year old French boy from the service industry while happy houring at this hotel.  He was fun and cute.  He wasn’t really my first choice from all of the beautiful service professionals that I have flirted with while here in Miami…but he did well.  I didn’t make money off of him. But it was a very anonymous type of encounter, which might have well been sex work.

I’m glad that I have barely enough money to last another 1.5 days here.  Things would all change if I just got ONE appointment.  I HATE living on the edge like this.  This is the reason I work for agencies.  Everyone who says to me, “why don’t you just work on your own??” well, this is why.  Because when I work alone, I STARVE and turn into a DESPERATE whore.  And no one likes a desperate whore.

20
Aug
08

DAY THREE: 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.




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