My stories, “The First Time” and “Samantha” explore the world of escorting or, not to put to fine a point on it – prostitution. In “Samantha”, Sam is forced into prostitution by her brutal pimp, Barry. While in “The First Time”, we meet Becky, a young graduate who enters sex work in order to clear her debts and avoid homelessness. All of my stories are fictional as are the characters portrayed in them, albeit based on extensive research into the world of sex work.
Below is a guest post by a young woman who is engaged in escorting in Australia. As a writer it is important to listen to people with knowledge of the subject matter about which one writes. Information gleaned from the internet can be extremely helpful. There is, however value in hearing it from the horse’s mouth so to speak. I am, therefore grateful to Sydsugarbabe (not her real name) for taking the time to write the below guest post. The article below reflects the experiences and opinions of the author (Sydsugarbabe) and does not, necessarily coincide with my own. As a writer receptive to the lived experiences of others I do, however believe that the below piece contributes to our understanding of the world’s oldest profession.
For Sydsugarbabe’s blog please visit (http://sydsugarbabe.com/author/sydsugarbabe/).
The Escort Life
Desperation. One word that sums up what it took to finally make my plunge into the realm of pleasing men for money. There’s no real way to sugar coat, I
felt trapped by my circumstances, lack of time, lack of money and couldn’t see another way out. To be entirely honest though, the adult industry has always
been somewhat alluring to me, tempting me from the ripe young age of 18.
When I was young I lingerie and topless waitressed, the thought of becoming a stripper or a prostitute intrigued me though I never really thought I might
actually do it. I, like most escorts I know, have deep seated self esteem issues, I didn’t think men would pay me.
One year ago, I began a business quickly, with no money and little planning…. rookie move… but I was sick of living week to week, scraping together
dollars and cents at the end of each week to buy food. Something needed to change and I set out to change it. Once realizing my business needed more capital
than I had, I began looking into escorting.
I wasn’t game enough to meet anyone from an agency, I would get sick with anxiety at the thought, I wasn’t ready but goddam I needed money. I fell into
Sugar Dating and dabbled there for a few months. Sugar dating was more appealing because I didn’t feel like I was a hooker… sure, in essence it’s the
exact same thing. I am selling my time and my body to men for cash. How I justified it was, I got to choose them unlike in the escort world. These men
wined and dined you before bedding you. It somehow seemed to satisfy my mental anguish in some regards.
Still, I was extremely nervous upon starting. I wasn’t too sure how I felt about it all. It confused me to no end when a man paying for pleasure could make
me wriggle, squirm and moan in what would be called ecstasy if it were a partner of my choosing. I had no attraction to these people, how could my body
betray me like that and enjoy the moment?
I made the transition from sugar baby to escorting when I began dating a male escort. I fell for him because I didn’t need to hide anything. I had no
need to hide my raw sexuality or the fact I too fuck for cash. He began pimping me out in the most basic fashion, but as everybody knows business and pleasure
aren’t supposed to mix, even when your business is pleasure. Tsk Tsk.
I joined a long standing and reputable agency once joy turned to tears with the escort. I began seeing a lot more clients, for a lot less money. I was
very happy with my decision, but a down day as an escort is a seriously down day. There is no real efficient way to articulate just how empty you feel.
All your energy goes into turning into your escort persona, turning on the charm, and becoming a man’s play toy for hours on end. They all begin to look
the same, they are a blank face with a cock, which you are there to fawn over and excite. You are theirs for that time. You have to mentally detach and
go somewhere else. This is easier in some bookings than others of course. Some clients make you focus and discuss the whole way through the sexual act.
This is draining but this is their time. You must look as though you enjoy every second of it.
It makes my stomach turn with particularly sleazy men, you can watch their eyes turn from corporate profession to this particularly glazed over look, deep
with desire and sexually driven. They don’t see you, they see sex, you aren’t a person, you are a piece of meat.
On the opposite end of the scale there are a few lovely, lonely and old gentleman that require more company than pleasure. The polar opposite to the other end
of the spectrum. The young men. It’s quite crazy to think that a prostitute would rather work with an old man than a semi attractive young one but it’s
true.
Young men are watching every second of their time and make sure they get their money’s worth. Hard, fast and full on for the entire time. Most certainly
not easy cash made in ANY regard.
Regardless of their age, the one thing I despise is a client making me cum. I can’t enjoy it, I don’t want to enjoy it, it’s a service and the situation
would never have happened without the exchange of cash. It is the one time I feel dirty. I understand this is hard for people to comprehend though a friend
worded it well
“Every escort keeps something from their clients, so they can remain detached, something anything. In your strange case it’s your orgasm”
Unfortunately however I can’t keep it away from them all the time.. such is escort life.
K Morris - Poet 