I think many of us broke ass bitches in New York City have either playfully or seriously considered trying the escort route. One reason is thanks to campy chic flicks that may have the average broad thinking that being an escort is just serving as an eye candy wedding date for a guy who doesn’t have a plus one. Truth is, it’s far more raw. Sex is expected and you have to risk going to stranger’s homes and fend for yourself once you pass their door.
I’m doing the reading, thinking thing on vacation here and I just read an October ’09 Vanity Fair article about the Craigslist killer investigation. I don’t like following sensational media frenzies, but the murdered girl was giving sensual massages, not even sexual favors and managed to lose her life. In desperate times, I’ve responded to ads like that on CL.
Craiglist is a scary venue and one I’ve come dangerously close to using for very wrong reasons. One night, I booked work with an escort service right before rent was due. I was nervous as hell and knew I’d be an emotional wreck if I had sex for money. I could almost feel my Dad’s heart break more than any stripper revelations would induce.
My first call was a guy who just wanted me to dance for an hour. The guy actually behaved, but when I arrived, I went down to his basement level place that resembled a mob killing setup and had his pit bull run up to me the minute I walked in.
He offered me an extra $150 for sex and I turned it down. He wasn’t offended and didn’t pressure me to have sex. He had just nonchalantly put the offer on the table, literally, in bills. The fact he smoked me up got my racing heart down and I was able to think clearly and calmly about continuing making calls that night.
I was supposed to have another call with greater expectations and canceled on the woman running the escort service. While my financial issues remained in tact, my emotional baggage lifted instantly. I feel grateful I quit while I was ahead and I might add that of the $150 paid by the customer I danced for, all of $60 went to me. A huge cut went to the driver and the agency. Had I accepted the $150 and done the nasty, I could have pocketed all that extra money, but why go there when $150 is just the take for a decent lunch shift waitressing at a high volume restaurant. Who needs to cross that line for chump change?
I think I’ve been naive to even entertain the escort idea and I’m glad I’ve made a point to read things that are scaring me away further. Beyond the article about the Craigslist killer, I also made a point to read American Psycho recently. The main character kills homeless people, animals and other Wall St. bankers, but he has the most disturbingly entertaining time torturing and murdering call girls.
So many strippers seem to have no qualms about working as escorts outside the club, but while activities inside the club can get sketchy, there is a metal detector, regular bag searches, security and liability. Some sexual conduct may occur that is not within the law, but working as a stripper that’s the most you have to worry about. Working as an escort, you have to rely on luck to live. I’d rather pay the minimum balance on my credit card than lose my life for a 10K check I’ll never cash.