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the right to say no – days 6 and 7

Monday and Tuesday were extremely slow. Not only did the bell not ring a lot (I spent most of my time napping or doing my day job), but I wasn’t closing the deal. Too many Larry the Cable Guy truck-drivers who wanted the world for $100, ideally $20 if they could get it that cheap.

I wasn’t being a team player, but I needed to find the balance of feeling good about myself, making money and taking care of the house. It’s not an easy spot to find, especially since the house encourages you to go ahead and have sex at what amounts to street prices. If I wanted to be sucking dick in a car in an alley, I’d already be doing it. Yes, this is some of the class issues I was talking about. For an American in the US, it’s easy to spot class (might not matter or be so clear-cut in another country). And I know what sort of class of man I like best, and who appreciates me properly.

Besides, I grew up with those redneck, trailer-trash, KKK-loving bastards and I really have no intention of giving them pussy if I can help it. Not mine, at any rate.

No, some things I cannot put aside. That is me and has nothing to do with sex work.

The most disturbing thing so far happened Monday night. A man who had already seen a girl was in the bar while I did a lineup. He saw me and another girl came to get me for him. Not only was he full of bullshit (I could stop this work and come live with him – he felt he could cover my expenses – ha!), he had been drinking and was utterly annoying and cheap. But I finally got him to agree to my price for sex.

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Posted on by Miss Brook$

the wheels come off — day 5

Sunday did not start well. Two young guys came in and one wanted me. We did the tour, we went in my room and spoke. He wanted 30 minutes of sex for $100. Not going to happen. Hell, I was giving him a deal with my counter offer, not that the dumbass was capable of realizing this. He claimed someone had done this deal for him before at this place. (This is possible, it’s also possible she lied to him about the 30 minutes to take his money, but it leaves idiots like him thinking he can get away with this shit all the time. Again, the whole “negotiate down” thing endemic to this brothel is not really in our best interests.)

I left him sitting at the bar.

Later that day, I had a guy choose me and I booked him. I had gone through a couple lineups by this point and the young guy I’d turned down had taken to making remarks under his breath while I was in the bar. After I processed the payment, the bartender started my clock. It’s unclear what happened after this.

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Posted on by Miss Brook$

pavlovian prostitution – day 4

In case people aren’t aware, Nevada brothels work on a system of bells. There’s the doorbell that people ring to get in. There’s the lineup bell (long, loud, clanging) and there’s the mingle bell (two or three short clangs). Mingle is no lineup, but a customer in the bar who is fair game. We usually ignore the mingle bell, unfortunately for the lineup-shy guys.

When I’m lying down, attempting to sleep, the doorbell awakens me (as it’s meant to); the lineup bell is a nuisance and impossible for me to sleep through. I’m a light sleeper; I’m sure some girls aren’t. Even when awake, the bells make me jump, as I guess they’re meant to.

Though everyone’s shift is officially 1pm-1am, we’re really on call around the clock anytime we’re there. Yes. My sleep schedule is destroyed and I’m spending a lot of time taking terribly interrupted naps.

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Posted on by Miss Brook$

i’m legal — day 3

I was busy yesterday and did not get a chance to make any notes other than into my voice recorder. Bedtime was after 2am. And I was awakened this morning before 6 for the possibility of a customer. So….going to run and fully wake up, get ready for the day and write about yesterday.

Doing good, just tired.

Posted on by Miss Brook$

cramming my head – day 2

last night continued…

After making my post last night, I went out to the common rooms to socialize. The girls were friendly. There is Katrina, a semi-finalist on America’s Next Top Model (or one of those model shows) – she told me after I said she looked like a model. She’s done print and promotion work in Vegas as well.

I watched a couple line-ups. From my vantage point (making sure the men didn’t see my medically-uncleared self), the line-ups were not in the least degrading and had a laid-back, high-school-dance charm. Every girl in the house is different, so men can easily pick their “type.” It also keeps anyone from being offended since no one person is direct competition to another.

Katya, our resident Russian, talked to me at length about policy, procedure and how she conducts her business. She’s older, but is a degreed engineer. She has her accent and big blue eyes. Her success (and she does make money) is due to her personality, intelligence and sexual skills. She tells me this. She’s quite proud of her abilities. Why not?

I listen to Katrina at the CB radio. Not too bad, but it’s generally really fuzzy and hard to hear. There’s a script we get to work from.

I watch The Colbert Report and go to sleep. (There’s a TV in every room over the bed, kind of like in a hospital or some motels.)

thursday morning

I wake up bright and early. I have to go out for my run, then get back to get ready to head into Elko for my medical exam and paperwork. Instead, I end up talking on the phone and just walk around, no running. Since the food here is rather processed-carb-heavy and not as many whole grains, light proteins and fruits as I want, I need to run.

Fix my own breakfast and take a shower. I’m ready to roll, it’s 9am.

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