- Getting stared down when entering a hotel. When you’re all done up in heels and a dress, standing by the lobby all by yourself, everyone knows what you are.
- Urinary tract infections...
- Having to ask “I don’t mean to be awkward or rude… But could you please take another shower?” - Because I guess washing under the skin is so hard..
- Bad breath… & Terrible kissing
- Very large clients (doing the splits whilst trying to mount the penis of a fat guy isn’t an easy task)
- Wondering when the guy’s gonna cum after nearly an hour of fucking, sucking, and wrist work...
- Dirty talking. I never understood it. I try not to laugh and cringe at the same time.
- Awkward moments between when a client finishes and when he’ll be out the door? Or when I should say “well, it’s time for me to get going!"
- Roleplaying. This leads back to dirty talking. I once agreed to a roleplay where I had to be this guy’s 12 year old daughter, and I enslave him to be my fucktoy. I guess he was just a pedophile dealing with his fantasy in a ‘normal’ and ‘legal’ way. That was the first and last time.
- Clients bailing on me. You could’ve told me before I got out of bed, showered, shaved, put my face on, curled my hair, and chosen my negligee... Not 10 minutes before.
- When I get asked for selfies....
- This doesn’t happen much to me, but when I was pimping I’d get heaps of clients trying to bargain for a girl’s rate. Some of their excuses were that they’re students and couldn’t afford much. I’m sorry… I don’t think there’s any Donate-Some-Pussy charities out there.
- Kissing and cuddling. I have clients that love doing that for hours. The most mentally draining part of the job. I guess that’s the ultimate girlfriend experience.
- Receiving head. Most men don’t know what they’re doing. I’ve achieved the ‘O’ before, but most of the time I would rather give than receive.
- Asking for unprotected sex. Now this astounds me...
- Dating. Probably one of the hardest challenge. Do I hide my profession? Or let guilt get the best of me, confess, and cross my fingers hoping he’ll accept me… Or get ready to be dumped?
- Telling men that you’re a hooker. I mean in everyday civilian life when you’re out and socialising. I get asked moronic questions like how much I’d charge to take me out, would I fuck them for half price, and then get sexually cracked onto in every single way. Being open and honest has its set backs. Common sense tells me to just say I flip burgers or something… I know, and I should.
Sunday, 23 November 2014
It’s A Hard Knock Life
Even though I enjoy this job, it’s tough being a hooker sometimes. Here’s some shit I have to deal with.
Monday, 10 November 2014
KACHING CHING
ARGH I love money. I love the security and the freedom.
This job buys me so much freedom. I can afford to be lazy. I marvel at the fact that I don’t have to haul my ass up every morning for measly pay. I can sit around all day thinking about my next type of security.
The future is a scary, I don’t know what’s in store. I look back on my life sometimes, and map out the jobs and occupations I have been, and how far I’ve come. Money had been a struggle growing up. I really wanted to get a job as soon as I was legal. I worked at Dominos for my first job, that was alright. Then I was at Mcdonalds, which was horrible. But when you’re a kid, you feel grown up and independent for earning your own money. No matter how shit the job and pay is.
After I turned 18 I became a stripper (you could read all about that in my other blog). Then I became a pimp. The highlight of pimping was giggling at the lovestruck email/messages, and perverted requests from sexually frustrated men that wanted to get their dick wet. Telling people I’m a pimp was the coolest shit ever. But at the end of the day, it was just a mundane office job. In this case, an agency. I didn’t even get to keep the money the girls handed me! That’s what a true pimp does right? I was simply a ‘connector’. Connecting the girls to their clients.
The REAL pimp was keeping an eye on things while doing lines of the coke around the office. We also have a madam keeping an eye on things, whilst liaising with one of her boyfriends.
Being envious of what my fellow hoes were making, and seeing how most of them piss away every dollar they make… I was pissed. I was pissed that I could be making what they’re making, and be putting away a shitload! Taken the plunge I did, and haven’t looked back since.
I can buy nice things I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. Like my cute little laptop.
Decked in pink and plastered in girly stickers (I love anything that’s pink and adolescent. Yeah never want to grow up).
Back when I was 10, I discovered the internet after my bro bought a computer. The internet was such a fucking exciting thing! I’d spend hours chatting and trolling randoms on Chat Avenue until my brother would kick me off. Then I'd go and make myself a paper laptop and start typing away to my imaginary internet friends. If my 10 year old self could see me now..
I was a wannabe ‘scene kid’ in the Myspace era that adored Jeffree Star, Audrey Kitching and dreamt of having pink hair. Now I take a $300 trip to the hair dressers to maintain my pink mane. I also think it’s really wild that professional & serious businessmen are willing to see a pink haired hooker. I took a gamble when I got into the game (the escorting business) that no one was going to take me seriously, and wouldn’t survive long in the business. Especially when you’re advertised as a ‘High Class Escort’. Surprisingly it turned out.
I guess I don’t have many things I want to have. I own a few designer labels that was gifted to me, and those are nice but that’s not what gets me going. I’m more of a Vans and Doc Martens type that likes to roll around in dirt while on a psychedelic journey.
This job buys me so much freedom. I can afford to be lazy. I marvel at the fact that I don’t have to haul my ass up every morning for measly pay. I can sit around all day thinking about my next type of security.
The future is a scary, I don’t know what’s in store. I look back on my life sometimes, and map out the jobs and occupations I have been, and how far I’ve come. Money had been a struggle growing up. I really wanted to get a job as soon as I was legal. I worked at Dominos for my first job, that was alright. Then I was at Mcdonalds, which was horrible. But when you’re a kid, you feel grown up and independent for earning your own money. No matter how shit the job and pay is.
After I turned 18 I became a stripper (you could read all about that in my other blog). Then I became a pimp. The highlight of pimping was giggling at the lovestruck email/messages, and perverted requests from sexually frustrated men that wanted to get their dick wet. Telling people I’m a pimp was the coolest shit ever. But at the end of the day, it was just a mundane office job. In this case, an agency. I didn’t even get to keep the money the girls handed me! That’s what a true pimp does right? I was simply a ‘connector’. Connecting the girls to their clients.
The REAL pimp was keeping an eye on things while doing lines of the coke around the office. We also have a madam keeping an eye on things, whilst liaising with one of her boyfriends.
Being envious of what my fellow hoes were making, and seeing how most of them piss away every dollar they make… I was pissed. I was pissed that I could be making what they’re making, and be putting away a shitload! Taken the plunge I did, and haven’t looked back since.
I can buy nice things I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid. Like my cute little laptop.
Decked in pink and plastered in girly stickers (I love anything that’s pink and adolescent. Yeah never want to grow up).
Back when I was 10, I discovered the internet after my bro bought a computer. The internet was such a fucking exciting thing! I’d spend hours chatting and trolling randoms on Chat Avenue until my brother would kick me off. Then I'd go and make myself a paper laptop and start typing away to my imaginary internet friends. If my 10 year old self could see me now..
I was a wannabe ‘scene kid’ in the Myspace era that adored Jeffree Star, Audrey Kitching and dreamt of having pink hair. Now I take a $300 trip to the hair dressers to maintain my pink mane. I also think it’s really wild that professional & serious businessmen are willing to see a pink haired hooker. I took a gamble when I got into the game (the escorting business) that no one was going to take me seriously, and wouldn’t survive long in the business. Especially when you’re advertised as a ‘High Class Escort’. Surprisingly it turned out.
I guess I don’t have many things I want to have. I own a few designer labels that was gifted to me, and those are nice but that’s not what gets me going. I’m more of a Vans and Doc Martens type that likes to roll around in dirt while on a psychedelic journey.
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