My boss walked over to my desk. "Could you do me a favor?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "What's up?"
She handed me a white envelope full of cash. It needed to be deposited into the bank, she said. As to why a client paid in cash I have no idea -- assuming it was payment from a client to begin with. I wasn't busy at the moment, but she had to hop on a conference call.
"Not a problem." I grabbed my bag, my i-Pod, then threw up my away message on AIM. "Be back soon."
Even at half-past ten in the morning, the streets of Manhattan were still crowded. New York never really does die down during the work week. As I strolled through midtown Manhattan, I couldn't help but remember what it was like to deposit and envelope full of cash back in Miami.
True, this money wasn't from whoring. Well, at least not to my knowledge. But even so, a feeling of nostalgia washed over me. I missed that feeling of walking through town, looking at the "regular" people while I had the satisfaction of knowing I had a job that I loved.
Sex. Money. More sex. More money. It was an intoxicating (if not complicated) time in my life. Now that I'm on the straight and narrow, I look back on it even more fondly than when I was still on the game.
When I returned to my apartment, I even flipped through my old client spreadsheet in Excel. I still had their numbers. Some of them had summer homes in New York, Massachusetts and Maine. And with my escorting clothes still in the closet, as well as a healthy supply of condoms and lube...
No, I thought to myself. You wanted a regular job and you got one. Stop trying to fuck up your life on purpose.
Only time will tell what happens. But one thing is for certain: this blog isn't as dead as I thought it would be. Because even though I'm no longer in the game, escorting will be a part of me for a long time to come.