You would think a girl raised in a strict Baptist church and sent to a Baptist school would be appalled at the thought of prostitution. And you would be right. I was that girl, once upon a time. I would not say that my life has been filled with great adventure, but I WOULD say that it’s been filled with enough whatever to completely change the way I look at things.
Long before I married my husband, I promised myself that I would never have sex with someone until I was married. No, I wasn’t a virgin when I got married, in case you were wondering. Now I would tell you that I would never marry someone I HADN’T had sex with. According to the Bible, that’s a sin, but hey, nobody’s perfect. And as far as prostitution goes, my thinking has changed enough from that Baptist girl that I once was, that I in no way judge a person who will perform sexual acts for cash. I’ve not quite decided on whether it should be legal or not, though I can see the many benefits of making it so. Anyhoo, I’m getting off-track.
I know, you’re all chomping at the bit to find out what my greatest fault is, since it’s so obvious that I have none, right? 😉 Kidding. I believe that any cell phone that takes pictures is the invention of Satan himself. Because, really, who can resist sending nudey pics to horny boys everywhere? I certainly cannot. Yes, you all now know that I am a cell-phone exhibitionist. Perhaps it’s my histrionic personality disorder, or the secret desire I have to pose for Playboy, but ever since I’ve had a picture phone, I have made it a habit of sending nudeys to anyone who requests one. Surprisingly, for not being very photogenic, I’ve taken quite a few nice pics with my phone- maybe because the screen is so small one can’t notice the size of my ass. This in itself is perhaps not a great fault, but the fact that I do this sometimes when I’m in a relationship is. I’m not proud of that fact, but I have promised to tell the truth in this blog. It may be a surprise to you to find out that this little habit has gotten me in some strange situations. Moving on.
Once upon a time, I received a text from a random unknown phone number, asking who I was. Being the friendly person I am, I started a text conversation with this person. It turned out this person was a massive, body-building black man who had spent 13 years in prison for shooting a man when he was 17. Yes, I know. I should have been done right then. For the purposes of this blog, we shall call him Darkness, because that’s what I called him. (Taken from a simple-minded series of books by Laurell K. Hamilton I had been reading at the time.) Anyway, the man seemed highly intelligent (from his texts) and I found out it was because he spent his 13 years in prison reading. We sent occassional texts back and forth, and from what he could tell (from my texts) I was a classy lady who knew her shit. To make a long story short, I ended up sending one of my lovely nudey pics to him, which turned his attentions from intelligent conversation to trying to get me to do him.
One thing I must point out here. I have no shame in sharing unclad pictures of myself, but that in no way means I want to screw every guy I send them too. I just like to be appreciated….
After many weeks of dealing with texts from Darkness telling me what he wanted to do to me, (which I ignored) he asked me if I wanted to make some money. This intrigued me, since I was broke at the time (what am I saying, I’m still broke) Darkness informed me that he was the owner of an “escort” business, and thought I could rake in the cash because of my tremendous talent to converse on any subject, as well as my other…assets. I asked him how much his clients paid, just because I was curious, and he said $500 per time and his cut was $350. I pooh-poohed his offer, saying that I would never let a pimp (because that’s really what he was) take that much of my earnings, and anyway, I would charge 3 times that for my services. He said ok, nevermind.
A few days later, he texted me and told me he had a potential client that had been shown one of my pics, and was willing to pay my exhorbitant prices. He said he could set it up for the next day if I was willing, and to let him know.
The idea of making $1500 an hour appealed to me greatly, but the reality that I was in a relationship stopped me. Perhaps it is because I have known so many people that fuck so many people that they’ve just met in bars, or go home with people on a first date, but screwing a stranger for money makes more sense to me than doing it for free. Wouldn’t you say? Anyhoo, I never did become an escort, and I no longer hear from Darkness, but I will always wonder, “Am I really worth $1500?” Because that makes me feel kinda good.
P.S. My cousin says prostitutes have no souls. I think he has no soul for saying so.