Being a Broke Hooker Makes No Sense.

            I made rent on the last call of the evening on the last night I was able to work this month. And by make rent, I mean I didn’t have it prior and I made it all in one call. I was going to have to break into my do-not-spend-under-any-circumstance-not-even-for-booze five year savings plan jar. It’s for a camping van. Work has been so dead. How dead? Two to three calls a week - in a good week, kind of dead. Having to borrow money from my mom to take a class kind of dead. I never borrow money from my mom! Getting called out an hour past what’s legal kind of dead… and going! It’s bullshit. And this has my sleep schedule completely fucked up. I hate getting dragged out of bed to go to work, so I’ve been staying up. Then I fight sleep worse than a six year old, so once I’m in bed it still takes me an hour to turn out the light. My sleep schedule has switched to 5AM-1PM. I feel gross all the time.

            So I’ve been job hunting. And going to luncheons and meeting executives. I’m taking a two day class (that cost as much as a university course) in fund raising. I think I’d kill at it. Hopefully something comes of this. I have a job interview on Monday for a slit-your-wrists-accounting job. Right now, I don’t care what the job is as long as I can pay the bills. Cause this is bullshit, and it’s going to get worse after Christmas.

            And once I get a real job, men will be able to reject me for me and no longer be able to hide behind my career! I’m so excited. Actually, I have no idea how I feel about this. Scared? Yeah. Scared. I had a shitty love life before I took this job. I had a shitty love life with this job. Why should anything change? I’m PMSing aka feeling super lonely and pathetic.

In Bed With Crazy

            The phone was ringing when I arrived at his door. It was his home line and he let it go to voicemail. It was actually one of those old school recordings where you get to hear the message as it’s being left. I thought those only existed on TV. I collected my fee and called into the agency. As Tina answers the phone a loud screeching noise goes off to the left of me. It’s his ring tone. It screams “Danger, danger, danger!” and I see the face of a woman on the display. Without acknowledging me he takes the call outside but returns quickly.

            He has booked me for half an hour, which irritates the shit out of me because I have to do equal work for half pay, so out of spite I give him 20 minutes. We go upstairs and get to work. The phone continues to ring. Incessantly. It alternates between his cell and his home phone and it doesn’t stop for the duration that I’m there.

            It’s a shitty call. He can’t get hard, and he keeps pushing for more than what he’s paid for. When my time is up I go to the washroom and I notice a hole in the wall. Well really, it’s more a dint than a whole and it’s slightly above eye level. It wasn’t caused by a fist; that’d be bigger, lower and tends to go through drywall. I turn my back to the wall, stand on my toes and lean back. The crown of my head fits perfectly in the dint. Time to go. I walk out, and quickly start getting dressed. He tries to convince me to stay, but I’m not having it. In the short amount of time it takes to get out the door his pleading has turned to yelling.

            By the time I’m in the car, I have Tina on the phone and she has crazy dude in the black book.

Trash

I went to see a client the other day that had this sign outside the motel. I wanted to keep driving so bad. The red neckery in this area is thick! AND NOBODY SAYS ORIENTAL ANYMORE!!!

Vindicated

Ok, So this is quickly becoming a dead horse which I chose to continue to beat. And beat I shall!!! Hanging out at the STI clinic again. You know. Cause it's where the cool kids hang out. I'm chatting it up with my nurse. Firstly, I love how they treat my job like it ain't no thing. I never bring it up but when they ask how many partners I've had since my last visit, my standard answer is "lots".
Then the job topic comes up. We were talking about the types of sex I have, and I answer, "Vaginal and oral"
"Not anal?"
"No." Mostly true. True enough that it doesn't need to be talked about.
"And you use condoms?"
"Always. Well, during vaginal, and when I go down on him. Not when he goes down on me."
"Really?" She asked. Not like she didn't believe me, just more as an exclamation. "I find girls who work in the sex industry are such sticklers for condoms. Much more than the general population. Women who are having one night stands never use condoms when giving oral "
"Like ever? Zero?"
"Zero," She tells me with her serious face. "Not one."
"Well that's funny 'cause I don't use a condom when it's oral with a personal partner. I know, I'm a hypocrite."
"See!" She said, proving her point.
I don't know why. I know how STI's work. I know it's not a trust or intimacy issue. I just think work cock is the most disgusting thing in the world, and there's no way one could pay me enough to put my mouth on it. Swallowing is an intimacy thing for me and I would never trust a client to pull out. I was out on a two girl call a little while ago (two girls and one guy) and she let him come other chest. We were both lying on our backs, side by side with him kneeling over top of her when he squirted his sticky white puss all over her chest and she rubbed it around her breasts. I caught a whiff of it and literally nearly puked. That's how I feel about strange cum. I have made great strides to get over my cumphobia, but I'm not there yet.
"However, thinking of us as being conscientious is one way of thinking about it," I said wanting to bring it back to that topic, "but if they are health conscious then they show up here and take care of themselves. If they're not then you don't see them and who knows what they're doing."
"True," She acknowledged.
She had me scoot a bit, but my hamster was running.
"Since we're making generalizations about the sexual health of girls in the industry..." I said as she swabbed, "Would you say that girls in the industry are generally more or less healthier?"
"More," She said without skipping a beat. "They may be having more sex, but they tend to be a lot more careful."

VINDICAAAAAAAAAAAATED!!!!

I WIN SUCKAS!!!

I'm so self righteous about this. I love going to the clinic. They're so great there. Even since my last blog post I had another play partner decline claiming fear of STI's. I kind of want to take this and rub this in all of their faces, but the truth is, none of them are worth it.

I'm Icky

            I ended my relationship with Logan a few weeks back. Logan and I have been friends for three years or so, and decided to start sleeping together back in March. There have been a couple bumps along the way, but over all it was good. It wasn’t the sex that kept me coming back, it was that Logan was safety and comfort to me. When I think of him I think of the scene from Traffic where the kid with the invisible cape saves his father from being shot. When Logan wraps his invisible cape around me nothing else matters.

            The thing that ended it was Logan told me that he though we should stop having sex. I knew he was ‘snuggling’ with someone else and that was totally fine with me and I knew that she didn’t know about me, but what I didn’t know was that she was married. Logan was cheating on a woman who was cheating on her husband with a woman who is very sexually active. Logan decided to stop sleeping with me because if I got an STI, it had potential to destroy her family. It’s not the fact that she’s cheating on her husband, and not the fact that he’s cheating on her that puts this whole house of cards in danger. It’s my sexual proclivities. I’m the only one being honest here! So I said go ahead, keep her. I’m out. And I cut the whole relationship. I was angry about the fact that he chose her over me for a couple days, and when I got over it, I thought about sending him a message or calling him or something. I deserve better though. Now I’m just upset that I’ve lost a dear friend.

            I’ve been dating quite a bit lately and the STI issue is becoming a real issue. And I fully respect an individual for wanting to keep themselves healthy, so when they opt out, what am I supposed to say? I’ve heard it so many times, “There’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Apparently the “We need to talk” line is out. I cut it short and just tell them not to worry about it and looked for our server so I could split the check.

            “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I really am”

            “I really value our friendship”

            “We can still hang out though, right?”

            Seriously. Why can’t anyone have an original line? I’ve had to sit through this same fucking speech three times in the last six weeks.

            It’s just getting tiring. I try not to let it hurt, because I know it’s not personal, but it still stings. I feel like it’s discrimination. And that may seem ridiculous to some but what else would you call it? Yeah. I had chlamydia. I took a pill and it was gone. Zero damage done. I’ve had sneezes that were worse. The thing is I caught it because I get tested often. I’m responsible for my own personal health. If my partner gets tested often too then there’s no big deal.

            I think I’m just really frustrated because I want to quit and I can’t. The amount I owe in taxes is huge, and it has a 17% interest rate. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to pay it down in a year. A year seems like forever working in a job like this. Maybe I should just adopt a fuck and chuck policy.

Unexpected Exploration

I wouldn't say the first first time I saw him was unsuccessful, but I certainly wouldn't call it smooth either. I arrived at his hotel after midnight and had to be buzzed in by the front desk. I don't look like a hooker so I approached the desk with confidence, fulfilling his role as gatekeeper.
"I'm here to see Rob in room 1101."
The front desk man types into his magic box and replies, "I'm afraid we don't have a Rob in room 4201."
"You don't have a Rob or you don't have room 4201?" I was already suspicious of the room number as it would imply there are 42 floors, which there were clearly not.
"We don't have that guest."
Fuck. Fuck. I couldn't see anyway around this that wouldn't blow my cover. Fuck it.
"Hold on a sec," I tell him, and pull out my phone.
"Hi Rob? Yeah, hi, it's Alison, I'm just in the lobby and they say you're not in that room. Yeah... I had to talk to the front desk, they had to buzz me in... What room are you in honey? ... 4201? Ok, they say that room isn't registered to that name. What is your real name? ... Yeah, I need to know your real name if they're going to let me up. What? Say it again... Ok, hold on."
Fucking hell. "It's Gedi," I told the front desk man, "Yeah, G-E-D-I"
"You can head on up," He said kindly. He totally knew what was going on. Ugh.
When I left he was there at the desk with the security guard.
"Leaving so soon?" He asks.
What do I say to that?!
"Yup."
He said goodnight, then followed it up with, "You're very pretty."
Ugh. Unsolicited comments like that just creep me out. I gave a quick thanks and continued across the massive lobby for the door.
"Come here,"
No way! I slow, and turn my head to look at him, "Yes?"
"Can I get your number?"
"No, that's ok" I chuckle. How fucking weird?! But then I wonder, he knew what why I was there, without a doubt, so did he want the number for himself, or did he want the number for future guests? Oh well, I guess we'll never know.

I want to say that Gedi was a sweet young boy, but he was probably close to my age. Twenty-eight or nine, I'd guess. He was East Indian, and had the meticulous and paranoid traits of someone who was from India, but the last few years in California had really rubbed off on him, and he had a cheerful and slightly flakey disposition about him. I liked him. He was shy but very very sensual. He spent most of the hour exploring my body with his lips. Not kissing or licking, just... tracing. My head wasn't in the game, and I thought it was weird. I made all the appropriate oo's and ahh's while I thought about whether or not season three of Boardwalk Empire had finished downloading on my computer.

The second time I saw him I was more prepared to enjoy his attention. When I was there tonight, seeing him for the third time, it was game on. I reveled in it, I did my best to reciprocate, but he didn't want me to. I don't think I could have even matched him on his level if I tried. The man spent 12 minutes exploring the back of my right leg. Twelve! He found an erogenous zone on the back of my calf muscle. He made out with my knee pit. He spent a considerable amount of time focusing on the bottom of my heal. Who does that?! Then he moved on to my left leg, and repeated the whole thing. It was amazing. He barely paid any attention to my naughty bits, and the sex lasted less than five minutes but it didn't even matter.

Felony

     “If you could have sex with yourself, would you?” A question posed by a friend who has a fondness of in-depth conversations via facebook chat.

     It doesn’t require a lot of thought, “Yeah of course. I’m not my type at all, but I love to flirt, and I love the attention. My own vanity would just eat it up!”

     “Ok then, at what age would the other you be?”

     “Like future me or past me?” I never thought of that, I saw the question as being only pertaining to current me. I didn’t give future me much consideration, instead I thought of at which time I could most use some self love, in the literal sense.

     “Thirteen,” I said without thinking of the paedophilic consequences.

     “Seriously?” He asked, then went on to say how he would fuck his future self and why.

     I feel like I take the perspective of Sappho and Plato with their approaches to sexuality. We all know that teenagers from the very beginning are raging balls of uncontrolled hormones. I know that I was! And this is why I say thirteen. I would have liked someone to show me about my sexuality. It would have been nice to learn about masturbation and safe ways to play. I tried to fuck everything as a horny little kid, and there were a few times where I’m pretty sure I did some damage! That being said, I was too shy to discuss anything pertaining to my sexuality with anyone. I hid my period from my mom for months until I finally ran out of underwear that wasn’t stained. So yes, if I could fuck myself, it would be my thirteen year old self, and it would be theoretical and practical class in sexuality 101.

     The reason why I tell you this is because I have a new regular who has more than his fair share of sexual issues that I’ve been helping him with, and he wants to hire me for his fifteen year old nephew. Judge me if you will, but I see no harm in this. Apparently the kid is super shy and awkward and needs a little help. He sounds a lot like me when I was young. I’m not coming at this from a predatorily perspective. I don’t lust after children. However, sexually speaking, I don’t think fifteen year olds are children. Most of my friends were starting to lose their virginity at that age.

     After briefly mulling it over I agreed to do it, but my regular would have to phone the agency and set it up himself. The nephew couldn’t be involved with that part. I was heading away on a vacation and we would discuss it further when I got back. This gave me time to thing about it from a more practical sense. I go back to my babysitting days. Lesson #1: You cannot trust children. Telling them to keep a secret is the surest way to get them to rat you out! And in this case, the boy is a child and I would be trusting him to not turn around and charge me with child abuse. And the fun part of it is, say I go through with it, he consents, I consent, it’s all well and good, and we have a great time, until a couple years down the line, he decides that that was really fucked up and rats me out. Meanwhile, I’m living my life, going to school, in a relationship, who knows maybe I have kids of my own, then there’s a knock on the door. There’s no statute on that sort of thing.

     So from my perspective, I don’t see anything wrong with it. It would be safe, it would be consensual, and it would be fun. I know a lot of adults who wished they had an uncle that cool. However, it shall not be I who plays that game. No Sir. 

Renewal

     I probably shouldn't talk about money as much as I do but it's been on my mind a lot lately, and it's not like I have work stories to post about.

     My work is always ebb and flow, feast and famine, but I think this is the worst famine I've been through. I had to get and overdraft to pay my rent. I went on my road trip which was amazing and theoretically affordable, however my city was struck with a bit of a "natural disaster" and sex seemed to be the last thing on everyone's mind. Things from that have settled down but now we are having our annual summer festival, and you would think that business would pick up with the increase in tourism, but with that comes an influx of co-workers. More competition. Less work. Almost no work.

     I was also informed that my license expires in a week. I carry the thing with me but I never look at it. Totally forgot about having to renew it. So that's what I'm doing now. I think it will cost $200. I hope to god they'll just hand me a new one and there doesn't have to be another back ground check. That can take up to five weeks. If I have to go five weeks without working, I'll be sunk!!! Oh the suspense!

     Other than that things are good. Like I say things have been rather unexciting. I had a client this morning, he was an outta-towner which was good. That means more money. He was so coked out. He referred to coke as yale. Is that a thing? I've never heard that before. He reminded me why I quit coke. His eyes are all squirrelly and jaw all chewey. In my six years of casual coke use, I don't think I've ever been like that, but seeing it is such a turn off.

     Further to being in line. I don't think I'm the only one with an expired license. Is it terrible that I think every stylish attractive female is here for the same reason I am? Not very feminist of me. Maybe they need a permit for the new deck they're building. Could be anything. I doubt it. Summer has been beautiful and I'm wearing a strapless dress. If I have to get a new photo taken for my license I'll look topless. So classy

Everyone Loves An Infographic!

Work has been surprisingly dull lately. Not that I have been doing a lot of it, but the clients that I have had have been entirely 'usual', and not worthy of blog posts.

So.

I give you this infographic. Enjoy!

http://jonmillward.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Life-of-a-Call-Girl-785.gif

Despite Temptation

     My number one top sexual fantasy these days is a threesome with two dudes. Specifically two dudes who are very comfortable with each other. There are far too few bisexual men out there. By the time they’re looking out the closet door, they’ve often already decided to bound, prance or swagger out.

     However, yesterday I got a call for two guys, one girl. This was a first. I accepted the call from the agency largely because I was just super curious. The guy sounded super cool. He had a confidence in his voice that told me that he was probably pretty hot, and sure enough he wanted a threesome. My inner slut shouted, “Do it!!!!” But the safety whore said no. I told them that I would see one at a time, but not both together. They agreed.

     It’s not that I thought that they had malicious intent, I just didn’t trust that they might not get carried away. For example, last week with the guy who bit me, I easily maintained authority. Perhaps I shouldn’t have treated him like a child the way that I did, but it was effective. I made it clear that I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me, and I new he wouldn’t do it again, but nevertheless he crossed a boundary and I wanted to make it clear to him that he was not to do it again. We cuddled for a while, I pet his hair and he ended up hiring me for a second hour. My point is, I’m not sure I’d be able to maintain authority and control of the situation with a second man there. And if I was… if he accidently got a little rough and I had to assert myself, what if I emasculated him? How would he respond if I inadvertently made him feel little in front of his friend? This was my concern. Too many variables.

     In the end it was all for not. The address they gave me was for the Rugby Club.

     “This is not an appropriate venue!” I said to them as I was driving by.

     “We’re the only ones here though.”

     “That doesn’t make it better!”

     Are there even beds in a Rugby Club? What if the whole rugby team was in there. No. It was too much. And probably a sign that I shouldn’t be entertaining the idea at all. I can only resist so much temptation and if was two hot guys, two rugby players, wanting to fulfil my dirty little dreams… yeah, I don’t need that kind of temptation.