When I worked as a street prostitute, men paid me to do
> things you'd never imagine -- like pretend to be their
> girlfriend and take me on all-expense paid trips.
>
> This is Part III of a series in which the author chronicles
> her life as a street prostitute. Read Part I here. Read Part
> 2 here.
>
> The lives of women who trade sex on the street for survival
> is very different than the idealized Hollywood treatment of
> sex work: less Pretty Woman than Monster, the story of
> Aileen Wuornos, for whom hooking was a kill-or-be-killed
> situation.
>
> Survival prostitutes are the most easily and frequently
> killed of all women. They lack the glamor of call girls and
> the "victimhood" of trafficked women since their pimp is
> their drug habit itself. They have been abandoned by their
> families, their communities and the other people on the
> street. Even law enforcement and social services slighted
> them until recently.
>
> The author spent time as a survival prostitute driven by
> her drug habit until she found recovery in a 12-step
> program. This is the second excerpt from a diary she kept
> while getting in cars.
>
> A Lexus stops. The guy is dark haired, maybe 40, a little
> too distracted for my comfort. I go with him to a room
> though I worry he is a nut. We get to some small room on the
> West side and his thing is making me wear a negligee and act
> like I enjoy it. Why does he pay for this? I don't relish
> this silk, lace, oohing and ahhing routine but there is
> nothing perverted about it. You'd think he'd get a
> girlfriend. He says he's single. He is a medical supplies
> salesmen and I let him pay me in syringes.
>
> It's like the guy who comes to my apartment Saturday
> mornings with bagels and lox. His thing is setting up the
> brunch spread and having sex before we eat it. Where is the
> trick? Sure this food makes me sick, especially
> because I am a speed freak, but there is nothing inherently
> tricky about this. Not like the extremely icky guy I had
> yesterday whose house I had to go to. Even though he had a
> nice house and seemed like he might have a normal wife, he
> wanted me to strap on a dildo and tell him how tight he was.
> I could not do this work straight.
>
> Another one that makes me sick is Jim W who operates out a
> roofing office in uptown. He actually created a peephole so
> his buddies could watch while I was working on him. He is
> missing digits on his fingers. He says you was and yeeewww
> for you. He's the kind of person you would cross the street
> to avoid.
>
> I have had two trips out of town. Dick K. who is a client
> of my printer took me all the way to California with him on
> his business trip. I can't figure out why. He doesn't touch
> me though we sleep in the same bed. Does he think I have a
> disease? He moved his seat on the plane on both trips and
> wouldn't even talk to me. Why did he bring me? One night we
> went to a party with normal kids my age who were watching
> videos, eating a stir fry and barely drinking. I felt like a
> ridiculous idiot in my hooker garb, all dressed up with no
> johns in sight. I couldn't even manage the most basic small
> talk with these kids. I didn't fit in with the wholesome set
> even when I was straight. I got really drunk and he conveyed
> he was disgusted. He has a New York accent and is cute.
>
> Then my printer Keith took me with him on an all expense
> paid trip he was given by his paper mill. It was in the
> middle of the woods, very pretty but very stinky from the
> wood pulp. There were a lot of people there in a lodge and
> we all ate elaborate meals together. There was also a pool
> table and an open bar. I didn't bring enough speed and began
> crashing. I drank too much and began saying and doing
> embarrassing things. He told the group I was ill and he was
> going to put me to bed. I thought when we got the room he
> was going to hit me but was amazed that he didn't. In fact
> he was really nice to me and we even did it. Now I like
> him.
>
> None of these johns make any sense to me. Some of them are
> paying for things a girlfriend would do. Many have told me
> if they were a girl they would be doing just what I do. They
> know all the hookers and know who is charging what. In fact
> many see as many hookers a day as I do johns. They're just
> as addicted but not getting paid. Most are more polite than
> guys I've dated either because they respect someone who
> makes more an hour than they do or because they know they're
> going to get it so they don't have to be defensive. I
> sometimes think they pay so they don't have to feel guilty
> about just lying there and making someone else do all the
> work and not returning the favor.
>
> I was starting to get ahead economically and then they cut
> off my phone and electricity. I had a leech line to keep the
> lights on but they found it and yanked it. George said I
> could use his phone but the johns have my phone number not
> his. So I have lost a lot of them unless I see them on the
> streets. It is very hot and the bugs are really coming out.
> They are even eating the toothpaste.
>
> I am trying to think of better ways to make money. Danny, a
> very cute dude who tends bar on the corner, also tends bar
> at Big Daddy's and said he could get me a gig there. I went
> to check it out and it is very depressing. You've got some
> wastoids at the bar and girls on the stage picking up Coke
> bottles with their vaginas. You get some pathetically small
> commission on each drink you can get the john to buy you and
> the house keeps most of it. If the john springs for a bottle
> of champagne you go in the back with him and have sex with
> him and get to keep more of the money. This whole routine
> could take an hour or more and the john has paid a huge
> amount of money and you get little. Worse Danny says they
> were busted last week so losing all that money to the middle
> man doesn't even make it safe.
>
> I had my own run-in with the police two days ago which was
> very humiliating. It was a night off and I was with one of
> my few girlfriends at a bar. Her name is Sean. We barely
> know each other. We were in the bathroom doing a line. The
> bartender called the police saying there was a city
> ordinance against two people in a bathroom at one time. The
> real reason is he's in love with the other bartender who
> likes me not him. I wasn't worried because I thought I could
> flirt my way out of it and I was very drunk. But the city's
> finest were two gigantic female cops and they took my money,
> my drugs and threw me in the squad car. I was pleading with
> them to just let me pee because my bladder was bursting so
> they created a torture for me. The took me to the city park
> and said I had to walk all the way through it without
> stopping to pee or they would book me. They trailed right
> behind me the whole time probably doing my drugs. I don't
> think they had any idea what my
> day job is. I think they just hate me because they think I
> am street trash.
>
> As soon as the squad car disappeared and I peed, I got in a
> car. I felt it was like getting right back on a horse again
> after you fall off.
>
>
>
>
>
>
all of his numbers continue to improve. He also said ...
http://tech.groups.yahoo.com/group/MisfitsCafe/message/168
The Most Astonishing Health Disaster of the Century !!!
==> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPI7zdGdqo4
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Thank You & Looking Forward, StumpySteve MD
(\__/)
(='.'=) Dear Dorothy, Hate Oz. Took the shoes.
(")_(") Find your own way home!!! xoxo Toto
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