For the right type of woman, sex work is contagious. Maybe she can’t resist stripping after finding out a friend is doing it, or maybe, if she’s like me, all it takes is one article about an upscale escort to render it a personal life goal. I think of myself as relatively well-rounded in the sex industry because I’ve worked on webcam, in a sensual massage incall, done fetish sessions, and (obviously) prostituted. But there are still some things I haven’t done and want to try. I asked around a little and apparently I’m not the only one with a burning curiosity to explore more aspects of the field. Welcome to our new Tits and Sass column, My Sex Work Bucket List.
1) Work in a ritzy Australian brothel. This one’s all on you, Satisfaction. I guess it’s true that those glamorous TV shows make innocent girls want to become escorts. (Innocent, already-escorting-but-not-in-Australia girls.)
2) Strip. It’s insane to me that I’ve never done this. I almost feel like escorting without having stripped first is like smoking crack before even eating a pot brownie. (I say that as someone who has actually smoked crack, and yes, the experience is exactly like escorting! Just kidding; crack is more fun. I’ve also never eaten a pot brownie but I’m open to the idea.) Given that I’m so goddamned old (30) I worry my time has come and gone for this one. Could I take 6 hours of hard physical labor surrounded by girls just out of high school, only to earn less than I would from a two hour full service date? Could I incite anyone to give me money at all given that I’m Demi Moore levels of bad at dancing? Would I even make it past one shift during which I had to pay to work, or would I get into an intense screaming match with the manager that ends in my first physical fight? We don’t know the answers to these questions, but please don’t take my dream away from me. In my head, I’m a confident young thing with plenty of time to learn spectacular pole tricks, and $20 is the most I’ve taken from the sweaty hands of a sexually aroused man. Plus: the camaraderie! The outfits! The sweatpants boner guy of legend! If I die without having stripped, I’m coming back as a ghost and haunting all the Portland clubs. I mean it.
3) Hustle in a bar. I’m a shy, insecure person at heart, which is why I will be in a wig for every moment of my stripping experience. Lots of makeup and neon diamond net stockings with 6” platforms will make me feel safe and secure. But to have to pass myself off as a sexy chick without those aids? Erm…seems a little anxiety-inducing to me. This is why I don’t have any unpaid sex; I’m bad at picking up men. But successfully scoring a trick at a bar is a huge dream of mine, especially in Vegas, which seems like the big leagues when it comes to in-person hooking. (And trust me, I’m letting my imagination run riot here because I’m sooooooo far from being Vegas hot.) I think it would be a huge rush.
In some ways, hustling in person seems like accepting a kid’s dare to run up and touch a haunted
house strip club. I’m not even interested in the the money, which is sacrilege to admit, but it’s all about satisfying my own curiosity and affirming that I’m a real hooker, worthy of joining the pantheon of hard working women from the pre-internet days. I’m proving something to myself with this one — not having fun, not making bank, but testing my own mettle. Maybe we could make a movie about this? And it could have a scene near the end where someone tries to stop me from going up to the hotel room with a cheap guy who insisted he only has $150 and I say, “no, Angelique. I have to do this. FOR ME.” It’s going to be epic. Who wants to be my mentor?
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