I got an email the other day from a man going through a divorce. Frank said he is feeling old as he nears his 30th birthday and would love the company of a younger woman — not just to fuck, but to hang out with as well.
Yesterday was very nice. Because I got a client Saturday night, I wasn’t worried about the time I’d spend with Frank because he’d be the only one I’d take for the day.
We met up at 11:30, where he spent more on our brunch than I spend in groceries a week. Me being terribly nosy, I noticed he tipped over 20%. The food was wonderful, and I asked to have a doggy bag for the pastries.
I totally had the wrong idea about what this man wanted. I assumed we were going to have a swanky brunch and then fuck. He asked me if I could do anything in the city today, what would I do. I answered truthfully, and to my surprise, we did it. Unfortunately, it was an outside attraction, and we got caught in the rain.
We didn’t end up having sex because I was soaked and wanted to go home to change my shoes (I changed from high heels to some flimsy fold up ballet flats), but I’m betting next time sex will happen… Which is reassuring to me, oddly enough.
Last night, I made a huge mistake concerning a client. I didn’t set a price with him. I totally thought I had, but after being stood up a total of four times yesterday, I guess I confused him with a should-have-been client.
He was super polite, though, and gave the money. But it was a scary moment for me. Some people tell me I’m not worth the price I give, but I definitely think I am. And I’m fine if people don’t feel the same way.
Stupid luck. I won’t make that mistake again.
One was Adar, who already paid, so that’s fine. When the second guy canceled on me, he kept trying to dirty talk me. I got pissy with him and asked why he was continuing to dirty talk me if he wasn’t going to pay. He started laughing, and I told him to fuck himself.
He actually said to me, “But you’re just a hooker.”
I’m a hooker who knows his real name and where he works. The stupid fucker used his real email address.
Now, I’m not going to track him down or call where he works, but this guy is a fucking moron.
On Sunday, I was to meet with Adar, a doctor. Because of his job taking him away to other cities and making him have strange work hours, he doesn’t have time for a relationship. I was excited because doctors are usually loaded, and maybe he would want to make meeting up a regular thing.
I wasn’t disappointed. He was sharply dressed when he picked me up in his silver sports car. However, when I got into his car (leather interior!!), he said a patient had called him while he was driving to me. He didn’t have enough time to “spend time” with me.
But he asked if he could pay me and take a rain check. I suddenly got nervous, because I’m always concerned that the people I meet with might be with law enforcement. I asked him to touch my breasts.
"Sorry, I just really need to make sure you aren’t a cop…"
I have no idea if a cop would touch you or not, but that’s one of the reasons I only take money after I’ve had sex with someone.
Anyway, Adar gave me the money. I’m supposed to meet up with him tomorrow. I am confused and a little touched by this leap of faith.
So, you got to know a little bit about me… Now you get to know how I got started with being a lady of the night!
The story’s kind of weird. I didn’t go into this on purpose. It did come as sort of a blessing, though.
In the middle of June, my hours (along with the hours of everyone else I worked with) got cut at my job. I was already not making a lot of money and barely making my rent. Having my already meager hours cut was devistating. So, I applied to different places. Then I answered someone’s craigslist ad.
Kevin was a guy in his mid-fifties who was just visiting town on business. He was being put up in a ritzy hotel by his employer, and he was feeling generous.
Shit, I thought. I could use someone who is generous in bed. And I’d love to sleep with an older guy. So, we exchanged pictures. He was cute and pretty in shape, so I was excited. Kevin kept asking about cab fare, saying he knew how expensive traveling around the city could be. I explained I had a bus pass and that it would be easy to get to him. He kept asking if I was sure, which I thought was courteous, but unecessary.
The sex was good, and he was very generous sexually. I really enjoyed it, though our pillow talk was a bit strange. He told me a story about buying a prostitute in Thailand and how every time he visits a new city, he sleeps with a new girl. He wasn’t rude or anything, and his story about Thailand was pretty interesting. After a bit of banter, I told him I had to be going.
As he went to the bathroom to wash up, he mentioned he left me cab money on his night stand. I thanked him and put the money in my pocket. I didn’t check to see what he’d left me; I assumed it would be around $20 (I saw the $10 bill on top and expected a five and some ones).
It wasn’t until I decided to buy a sandwich from a street vendor that I saw he had left me A $100 bill and two $20 bills under the ten. That’s when the light went off.
So, before I delve into the deep and the dirty, I suppose I should tell you all a bit about myself and how I got into sex work. I mean, I want this diary to be scandelous and sexy, but I think a foundation would help.
So, about me. I’m 20 years old, and I live in a fairly large city. I’d rather not get into too many specifics about where, as I know internet detectives can find people with a single picture (I’m looking at you, 4chan!). I weigh, currently, roughly 250 pounds, though my weight tends to fluctuate.
Because I’m not much of a fashionista, I only have two dresses. And I have only one pair of high heels. I’m really not into dressing up during any other part of my life. If I’m supposed to be wearing something nice, I’ll wear dress slacks and a button-down shirt. And I’ll wear flats. I’m awful with high heels.