Sex-workers have been in the media a lot lately.
Be it Showtime's Secret Diary of a Call Girl or the Elliot Spitzer scandal, it seems that escorts are quickly moving into the mainstream -- at least in terms of media coverage.
For the record, I think Ashley Dupré is gorgeous. I wasn't surprised at all to hear the kind of money she was charging for her companionship. I didn't have much sympathy for Elliot, however. For a man to rage against prostitution only to get caught with one was one of the better cases of irony I've seen in recent years.
So, now that the cat is quickly coming out of the bag, where does that leave escorts who are still working in the biz? For starters, it makes us even more vigilant. Okay, I know that writing a blog about my experiences might seem foolish, but thus far no one even seems to be reading the damn thing.
When I say vigilance, I mean screening clients more carefully and having them agree to multiple conditions. Some girls -- the smart ones, anyway -- are now refusing to see politicians. That may cut into their revenue (along with businessmen, politicians are well-known for using escorts for a quick fuck rather than go home to their wives), but the peace-of-mind is priceless.
No one is going after a private citizen who sees an escort for sex. It's the public figures, such as actors, musicians, CEOs and politicians that get the media salivating over the possibility of breaking the story. American has a long established lover affair with seeing public figures fall from grace. Screwing a whore in a hotel room goes along with that.
I, on the other hand, have sex with women. Fortunately, this protects me a lot from the prying eyes of the media. As I said before, most of my clients are private citizens, either divorcees or neglected wives of successful men. I've never been with the wife of a public figure -- not that I know of, anyway.
Furthermore, women don't seem to make the kind of bizarre requests that men do. No one has ever asked to film/record me, or even ask that many questions abotu where I'm from or if I've ever been to such-and-such place or know so-and-so. They mainly want sex, companionship, and a sympathetic ear.
And while blogging can risk revealing my identity, I feel pretty secure. These days it seems blogging about one's ventures in escorting can lead to a book deal and a prime-time drama on cable. I've read Belle de Jour: Diary of an Unlikely Call Girl and believe it to be true. This is the book that inspired the BBC series that crossed the Atlantic to the US on Showtime.
As for other memoirs? Not so much. A "woman" by the name of Miss S. wrote a book called Confessions of a Working Girl, a book I found to be utter crap. Who works in a brothel to pay for some sort of study abroad program in Venice, Italy? The mere word "brothel" was enough to make me cringe. Anyone who's seen HBO's Bunny Ranch knows that the kind of girl you get at a brothel isn't exactly high quality.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: You get what you pay for. And when it comes to sex, it's all money well-spent.
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