Writings about my thoughts or experiences in and about the adult industry. Although I stripped and worked as an independent escort, my interest in the adult industry extends to all parts of it. Just FYI, my usage of the term “adult industry” means all facets of adult entertainment, not just limited to strippers, prostitutes and porn stars.
For once in my life I’m exceptionally free. I have my books, but that is a very portable business. So I can indulge my wanderlust like never before.
I’ll spend the next [insert time frame here] exploring sex work. Since I would probably be a target if I publicly did this in the US, most of my new experiences will be in other countries.
But there is one experience in the US available to me: Nevada brothels.
One side effect from all the slanted attention lately could be disappointed readers and bad Amazon reviews.
Depending on where they heard of the book, if their hands aren’t burned when they touch it, will they be disappointed? Or if I don’t start out telling them how to be a whore and how much to charge and where to find good pimps, are they going to be disappointed? Will my serious discussion on STDs lack the bimbo quality they were hoping for? Will they not appreciate the dearth of “sex with clients†tips? Or my lack of discussing the good strolls in major cities? Are they going to be mad I don’t tell them which brand of stiletto is most comfortable for standing on concrete? Are they hoping to be brainwashed into selling their bodies for money and think the book sucks if they don’t decide to put an ad on CraigsList?
Just an idle thought…
There was a radio show that I should’ve called in to. It featured two pimps discussing their business. I listened to the podcast until I got so mad I couldn’t listen any more. So the following is based on a small part of the show. Not my most informed moment, but then, I can’t say I really care if I somehow harm the perception of pimps with my ignorance.
The whole Spizter mess has thrown the division between civilian women and sex workers into high relief, moreso than the DC Madam thing. (Maybe I’m more aware of it.)
Growing up, I participated in school sports. At the end of every game, the teams would line up and pass each other, hands out at waist level, meeting palm-to-palm and say “Good game†or “Good job†(imagine a really gentle high-five at waist level). Prayer started every game; this little ritual ended it. Most of the time the coaches would join the end of the line. Sitting out of the line was unthinkable – I don’t remember anyone doing it (though some girls didn’t touch everyone’s hands). It would’ve been heresy. Both boys and girls teams did this starting in Little Dribblers or T-Ball and all through high school.
I have to wonder, if I did the line today and the other players knew my history, would they still touch my hand and say “Good game� Would they refuse? Would they say other things under their breath? Would some of them turn away because they had secrets? Would they see me as an equal player, though not equal in life?
Of all the girls’ hands that I touched, how many of them would be willing to extend it again in the spirit of sportsmanship and acknowledgement of an equal?
These two random memories surfaced a few weeks ago. They both happened while I was stripping, though the incidents were separated by a year or more. What I find interesting in revisiting the memories is my angry non-reaction. I think it’s a woman-thing more than a stripper-thing. You be the judge.