Bar Fly

Maybe I'm a little weird, but I like sitting at the bar. I'm not a bar fly, I mix it up, so I'm not really a regular anywhere, but doing shit like writing a blog, is more enjoyable in a social environment. I'm a social person. 

I've had three jobs since I've gotten back in the game, and oddly enough two of them were at the same 5 star hotel down town. Last year, I think I had four jobs here total. It's also the same hotel my former boss works. Point being: I heard they have a delicious late night kitchen, and my favorite bar tender Pierce Brosnen (yes, I'm still in bar tender love) is not working. So here I am, at this hotel bar chattin it up with the bar tender. Hotel bar tenders have the best stories. 

He's telling me about this pimp who stays at the hotel quite regularly, and although the hotel is super expensive, he's total white trash, and there was one point where he called down to room service asking for tin foil. Just tin foil. That’s the funniest thing ever. If you don't get it, I'm sorry, I'm not explaining it to you. 

He would also have his prostitutes in his room, and things would get a little kinky. He would tie them up then check out of the hotel, leaving them to be found by housekeeping. 

The bartender tells me this story, with a facial expression of, "Can you believe there are prostitutes here?!"

"What shocks me of this story," I said, "is that the girls are allowing themselves to be tied up!" Seriously. Prostitution 101. 

In Poor Taste...

Rape is not funny. It's not. A few weeks ago a comedian made some jokes about rape, a couple women walked out, and he started heckling them about how funny it would be if they were gang raped. I read about this and was appalled. Under no circumstance is rape funny.

Later that day I saw this comic. It's a little funny. I may have actually laughed out loud a little. Am I going to hell???

Diversifying

The emails between Derrick and I have continue to go back and forth, and it seemed as though we were not speaking the same language. I sent him an email he didn't receive (although the email saying so was a reply from the 'missing' email... I don't know). He was also worried that he'd offended me in some way. We decided to meet for lunch and just talk in person.

I had pretty much made up my mind, and told him as much, but like I say, we didn't seem to be on the same page. What originally swayed me into talking to them, was the idea that I could just sell my used gotch, but they informed me that even with that there'd be some on cam time. I don't want my face on line, even for my escort website. I pretty much told them that, but the emails went back and forth anyway. I wanted to find out how much money I could make, cause if it's anything like escorting, or better, then maybe.

We sit down and start talking, and he's talking about all the semantics, and all I want to know is how much money?!?!?! Derrick tells me that Marcy gets a "Real nice cheque every three months." A: How nice? B: Marcy does it more than I'd ever want to. C: Clearly it's still not enough for her to quit her day job. So, How much money??? What they are looking to do is a regular weekly show with this mother (Marcy) and her very naughty daughters (me and someone...?). Bottom line, it would end in spankings and what-not. So after artfully navigating his avoidance, he finally told me $20-$50 an hour, plus royalties, "And, who knows how much those could add up to!!!"

Seriously? Like, are you kidding me? $20-$50 an hour... with sex??? I would get more out of it if I just went on a Plenty of Fish date, at least then, I'd get a few drinks and a meal out of it. Fuck. Are you kidding?

We still had the rest of our meals to finish, so we made super awkward conversation, while he tried to give me the hard sell. The thing is, and I don't mean this in a bad way, but Derrick is a business man. He's an entrepreneur. And good for him. I am not. But to me that means, he's looking out for his business, not for me. And if we can make money together, that's awesome, but he's looking out for his business, and himself first.

So, alas, my future in porn... a no-go. Probably for the best though. I can't act worth shit...

I've Got The Sickness

I was at Jakes when I got a call. I had mentioned to him that I was going back to work, but that was a while ago. He hadn’t heard much since. So tonight, when the call came in, and the job was confirmed, I confided in him how nervous I was about going back to work. He expressed concern as to whether or not it was a good idea.

            “Well, do you think you should go then?”

            “Yeah, it’s going to be fine. And I need the money. I’m just feeling antsy”

            “Antsy how?”

            I couldn’t really explain it. I felt like I did on my first job. False confidence, bravado, fear, and the knowledge that I was over reacting and everything would be fine.

            And it was. My client was in his late forties, not much to look at, but nothing that really made him ugly per say. He was kind, and happy to see me. That’s all I really ask for. I hit the ground running, and it felt natural. I enjoyed myself. And I enjoyed my time with him. I was thinking about it. Am I enjoying this sexually? No. I wasn’t. But I was enjoying myself the way you would when you know you’re doing a good job. I knew he was certainly enjoying himself. I even upsold him to GFE.

            Originally I thought that I wasn’t going to do GFE. I didn’t like having it on my profile, and walking in blind, being committed to it before laying eyes on the guy. This guy was clean, normal, and respectable. I was comfortable telling him, when he asked what was offered. He tried to bargain; wanting to pay half the GFE amount and only kiss, rather than receiving all things oral. I held firm, then regretted it, thinking I may have lost some easy money, but he went for the full deal.

            What’s silly is I was disappointed he paid me in hundreds. I was hoping to be paid in twenty dollar bills. I miss having the stack of cash. Ha! I feel ridiculous saying that. It’s just nice to have money again. That’s what I mean when I say I’ve got the sickness.  Tonight in 20 minutes I made more than last weeks paycheque, or half my rent. THE KEY IS… do not go back to having my old income’s spending habits. I can not be spendy-spendy-spendy like I was. I need to pay off my visa. I need to save for tuition, and… well that’s it for now, but it’s a tall order. And if I could discretely sneak down to Mexico for my friends wedding in February with all my friends… well that’d be nice too. 

Profile

No calls as of yet. Which is fair. I booked on around 2ish, the booked off again at 5 until 11:30 PM. What? I had ultimate Frisbee! These things are important.

I got a call from the office this afternoon about my profile and name, and so on. I’ve decided to do away with Alison completely. I had to come up with a name on the spot, so I said Megan, but now I’m thinking Carly… but I keep spelling it Carley. That would be incorrect. I actually googled good escort names. Most of the names I found were not good. I loved the comment from Ted, about how hookers names were either a car, type of wine, or gem stone. Hilarious. I’m not doing that. I’m an escort; not a whore. Ha ha, I’m such a bitch.

Awesome thing, those photos… those infamous mysterious photos that the boss had done over a year ago, that never saw the light of day, are now up. I had a friend accuse me of being narcissistic. There may be truth about that… I do write a blog about my life for the world to see. My point is these photos are incredible. I’ve never seen photos of me that are so hot! And the only reason I say that is because I often don’t think I’m that hot. Self esteem issues, being bullied in school… whatever… seeing these photos are a nice stroke on the ol’ ego.

HOWEVER

They’re posted without hiding my face. The photos are so hot they don’t even really look like me, but still, really not happy about it. I told them to take them down. Hopefully they will.

I work my real job tomorrow until 2, then I’ll book back on. Rumour has it I smell like pub after work… but that’s what perfume is for, right? Clearly.

Booked On

I booked on earlier today. I've been wet all afternoon. I'm ok with my freakiness.

Earnings

My ex was over last night, and she commented on how there was a five dollar bill on my bed. 

"Oh, yeah.” I said casually, “That was from my last client.”

I think I’m hilarious. She… not so much.