‘So you’re a pimp then?’ he noted brashly.
I squinted my eyes. I didn’t like that word. But I guess that’s how the world would see it.
The time had come to consider getting out of the game, moving forward, planning a wedding, deciding to come off the pill and actually spend time with my fiancé. I knew that this was a game that I could no longer play. So my date for retirement was set and I would help others navigate the murky waters of the sex industry. Yep, that was the plan.
‘I’m an agent!’ I laughed slapping more baby oil on one of the male escorts who had decided to join the agency.
‘But won’t you miss it?’ he pressed.
I was on the set of the C.A.N companions photo shoot and the spotlight, coupled with the camera crew, was testing my patience.
Fuck, anyone would think that he wanted me to remain a prostitute. But he hit a nerve. Of course I’d fucking miss it. There’s a lot to be learned, friends to make and a plan to be developed, if you’re a smart whore. Don’t get me wrong; I know a lot of people who use prostitution a means to an end. But there are many more who don’t have a plan and will remain in the market for as long as their grey haired genitals will let them. This is one business where there is a market for everyone and OAP’s sure as hell make a lot of money. But could I see it for myself?
‘Not really.’ I lied.
I’ve always seen it as a business. The sex industry has been so kind to me. I’ve met men who, beyond orgasms and GFE’s, have changed the way I see shit. What’s been most touching was the offer of start up money for my own agency. Which I took of course. With my perception of prostitution changed due to first-hand experience, I am now able to lead others onto what could be a rocky road if the right mentor weren’t around.
I stopped reading comments on these weeks ago. I found that the most hurtful came from men. I quickly realized that most want a sob story, a broke bitch with no sense, a good old depressing story they could giggle at come teatime. Unfortunately that’s not even my personal life, let alone my professional one.
It’s a wonder to me that the one industry that is highlighted as demeaning has made me evaluate my worth. You train people how to treat you. I’ve never met an abusive client, or had anyone display bullshit to my face. The Internet has forever made people keyboard bullies. Admittedly it was my choice to ‘confess’ but some of you just sound bored and scared shitless.
You’re too scared to step out of your comfort zone. Too scared to imagine that some people sell their bodies by choice. Too scared to admit that you’ve once thought about but don’t have the balls to do it. And that’s ok. There’s enough ‘emotionless, nameless, whores’ doing that job for you.
So I guess that all there is left to confess is that this was all a plan. And I’ve pulled it off very well. I can now move forward in running my own agency having experienced what those on my books, will in time, come across.
There will be a smelly client, one who can’t kiss and a few who just want to rub their stubble across your clit for an hour. But beyond that, there will be ones that gift you material goods beyond what your mind could conceive, men who genuinely seek solace in the company of a stranger and, if they're really lucky, they’ll catch the attention of a rich business man who wants to exude the notion of being charitable. He may offer them a leg up out of post coital guilt or maybe he just wants to encourage a relationship. Much like prostitution, apart from the cold hard cash the details are irrelevant. If they are anything like me, they’ll take it and run. Their own agency, that is.
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