A Different Kind Of Hooker

A Different Kind Of Hooker

I know nothing about this except the knowledge of having done it once before. A long time ago. It's nothing I want to talk about. Or write about. As far as you're concerned, I know nothing about this but what I've heard.

Okay, the theoretical qualities make up a certain kind of knowledge. That's a bit more of what I know.

Porn makes me a hooker. Capitalism makes one of us all. But there's a certain kind of hooker I don't know how to be, don't want to be, and find fascinating all the same. Some day, I'll purchase one. From what I hear, it's often terrible. Though my life is so much about sex, I figure the experience is inevitable.

Here are the differences I can make out by myself. I'm doing this for someone else and I'm being paid by someone else. So is she. I've not paid to fuck her and she's not given me a dime. I can't take her out to dinner before. We won't cuddle after. Neither will she spend the night. And all that shit I should be telling a therapist; she won't even pretend to listen. It's not what she's paid for. Neither am I. Like I said before, we're a different kind of hooker.

The ones I hear about are capable of both kinds of hooker(ing). Not everyone wants to. But the economy's rough and there's no room left in the world for porn “stars.”

A surge of Twitter feeds display pornographers' “vacation pics” from Monte Carlo. Young, white girls start to make claims of friends overseas. Family in the middle east. “I'm leaving tomorrow to meet my agent in Dubai,” a nineteen-year-old tells me. “We're going to discuss my makeup business.”

“You have a cosmetics line?” I ask.

“No, I'm a makeup artist.” Flying first class to oil-rich countries. To expand clientele on which to apply lipstick. Likely story.

Really, I don't give a fuck. It's just funny to be lied to so consistently by my sort-of peers. I guess if some Saudi prince was hitting me up for a $15k weekend, I'd be jetting around the world too.

At least the money's a nice thought. The memory of the thing I don't want to talk about... it keeps me on my side of the fence.

Occasionally, people do open up for real. I hear from the girls who turn tricks and the people who set this shit up (the new world pimps). Rarely is it Craigslist-style sex work. Porn girls already make decent change. To bend or break the law, the cash needs to be worth it.

When someone mentions a Vegas weekend where men pay around $150k to fly in, party, fuck hookers, and do drugs, I'm sort of impressed. But it's another reason I can't do it. Nothing against the hookers. More power to 'em. The clients are what put me off. Anyone who can drop that kind of money on something so frivolous is part of the “run the world” population. An elite fraction of the 1%.

Internet culture has helped with the fitting disrespect for these people. But every time I hear stories on set from some girl who sucked a senator's dick while he was rolling on MDMA, I get a little more pissed. Political lobbying, economically crushing corporatism, and all the other bullshit my generation complains about on Facebook; it's part of what feeds this monster. I guess I should be happy because it keeps some of my friends above water. But when I hear about a politician taking a bribe to ruin a much needed social service, I can't help but imagine the end result of that money. Drugs and a discreet place to blow a load.

Sure, it sounds like I'm stereotyping. But as a sex worker, you don't see the best sides of socially respectable people. You see the side that's never heard the word, “No.”

Of course, not every john is a prince, politician, or corporate powerhouse. Some are just rich and lonely. Or rich and bored. Girls tell me, “It's not so bad. A lot of times they just want to talk and maybe get a blowjob.” This is another reason I can't do it. Listening to rich people complain is not my idea of a good time. If it gets emotional, even worse. I've already had to deal with the meltdown of a cam-to-cam relationship. Experiencing that in person has got to be awkward as fuck.

However, there are clear benefits. There's anonymity - for those who are into it. Also, for someone who gets fucked (physically) for a living, this other kind of hooking is probably easier work. Porno requires big cocks pounding holes for long periods of time. You get sore, you get BV, you get yeast infections, you take antibiotics to clear up the problems and it makes everything worse. If you want to make a living, you can't take much time off. The cycle can wear you down.

A night with an old john who does a lot of coke can be a break. I mean, how long can he possibly keep his dick hard?

I remember talking to a couple of young hustlers who told me the best way to deal with a john is bring your own drugs. Get the guy completely fucked up so he passes out. Then go shopping. In the morning, tell him how great he was in bed and take off with the money.

My most recent conversation centered on the topic of Charlie Sheen. There's no secret he's a grade-A drug user and hooker connoisseur. So I don't feel the need to make the guy anonymous. After all, he's got enough money to deny this shit and have the right people believe him or make it all disappear.

Anyway, the conversation was mostly a joke, but all based on supposedly true information. A group of us guys were discussing our friends, girlfriends, and boyfriends who've shared their experiences. This game of telephone suggested Sheen was “not gay, but currently into dick.” Sources claimed he smoked a lot of crack, or maybe meth, so couldn't achieve an erection. He would just lay back on his desk and ask to get fucked. Strap-on or flesh penis, it didn't really matter. Someone added that he would also require a portion of crack to be blown up his butthole via the hooker's mouth.

“How much money would it take for you to blow crack up Charlie Sheen's ass?”

I settled on a theoretical $20k. Luckily, the man's not blowing up my phone.

All this is to say that the other kind of hooker(ing) sounds like a really weird job. I know most people don't find having any sex for money all that normal. But my in-front-of-the-camera gig has become a way of life. I have sex for a living, but always with a buffer: other people in the room who know the point is not that I have a good time. I don't have to deal with rich assholes, only normal ones (porno millionaires either don't exist or never go to set). And the scene ends when the camera stops rolling.

I'm not trying to say my way is better. Just different. And yeah, my perception of this other world is probably somewhat off base. I know sex work comes in wide varieties, and even normal people pay to fuck. Just not as often with porn stars and not for excessive amounts of money. I know people who make less than I do who've toured red light districts and massage parlors, and dropped a few hundred dollars on an American boy or girl.

When I'm old, I probably won't be rich. Hopefully taken care of enough for the food, bills, and rent. Maybe I'll even have a house (with a mortgage extending into the afterlife). If there's enough left over, I might contribute to the part of someone's life when all possibilities are open, when doing something crazy sounds like fun. I could be that something crazy. That's the best case scenario. If I'm the thousandth trick, then I'll just have to say, “I don't understand what you're doing. Even though I used to be something like you. But tell me what the kids are into. Because there's nothing I can teach you.”