Total Pageviews

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Liberty, Vanity, Iniquity: Discovering My Power in the Surreal, Glamorous World of High End Escorting

I am such a lucky blogger! I get the BEST guest entries for my blog! This is an article written by Nomi DeGuerre, a former high end escort. It's a fantastic piece and needs no other introduction! Enjoy, and many thanks to Nomi xoxo

Escorting is a lot like working in the world of covert operations: you spend most of your time trying to decode cryptic signals from an elusive  man who's convinced himself that he's James Bond and  therefore can charm any lady faster than you can say "Octopussy".  Spy and sex worker alike assume secret identities. After zeroing in on our targets, the diversionary tactics of negotiation, conversation, misdirection, and  seduction are employed for the pursuit of information and financial transaction. If the mission is successful,  everybody gets what they needed, walk away satisfied, and vanish into the veiled miasma of the pre-dawn stillness, emerging later, on another secret mission. 

A lot of people probably are probably aghast at my comparison. Prostitution is viewed by many as a sleazy dangerous vortex that sucks ladies, gentlemen, and transgenders into a  void blackness replete with drugs, STD's, violence, jail, and certain premature death. I will admit that in some cases, it is. Sex trafficking does exist, and society has done such a great job of disenfranchising sex workers from poor areas, that the aforementioned is a self fulfilling prophecy and fate. perhaps there needs to be more compassion and concrete, practical solutions to help these workers into a more stable situation, rather than harsh sex trafficking laws and fraudulent false prophets who claim to rescue street girls through exploiting the name of Jesus Christ. 

Escorting is a real job. It involves negotiation skills, diplomacy, quick wit, ability to upselll, resourcefulness. It's a profession that at it's higher levels demands far more than just showing up and performing a sex act. There are standards to adhere to in appearance, deportment, and sexual prowess.  Intelligence and listening skills are a must. Being able to rapidly adapt and survive in any situation that gets sprung on you is the best quality a sex worker could possess or develop. Aspiring to be the best hour or so of a client's life no matter how well you're being tipped ...these traits are way more useful over time than fake tits.

I speak from experience. I worked as a high  end escort from 2007 to 2009. Those were the halcyon days before the economty tanked, the worlds of porn actress and career escort hadt 'totally converged yet, and Craigslist hadn't fucked up fair wages for all of us by posting ads by girls who weren't farsighted  enough to realize that they were reinforcing a lot of negative stereotypes by willingly selling themselves for so cheap and driving down wages AND expectations  industry wide. When i answered the ad in the paper, I truly had no idea what to expect. A booker interviewed me, hired me,  and i was going to see clients an hour later.

First lesson I learned:EVERYBODY GOT THEIR SOMETHIN'. I might not have boobs, but I was blessed with legs that can strangle a giraffe, and an ass that stops traffic.I eschewed low cut tops and stuck to very expensive mini dresses and five inch stiletto heels.  I learned to stand up straight, walk like a supermodel, and whenever i needed to distract a client, crossing my legs usually worked just as well as cleavage in the face. if you lack something, figure out what you have that is worthy  of being cultivated.

Second lesson I learned: Men are not nearly as picky as women when it comes to body perception. I was usually the only nude woman in the room and a real naked woman sitting there  is worth more than a picture of some bikini model who exists by Photoshop.. Being naked in stiletto heels six to seven times a night will rid anybody of self consciousness AND fear of  public speaking.

Third lesson I learned: Conversation needs to be as stimulating as the service... The better I listened to verbal and non verbal cues, the information  i picked up, More INFO= enabled me to customize the experience for the customer, make him super happy, and i was more effective in my strategies to get better tips...meaning less arguing, and upped the odds of repeat clientele. At one point 80% of my VIP list were devoted regulars

Fourth lesson I learned: Know who is worth the time and who isn't
. Certain types loved me. A few hated me so deeply at hello that i basically cut my losses and politely thanked them for their time. Wasting time on jerks who were out to project their own hidden issues on me didn't strike me as smart. especially when their bullshit cut into a later appointment with a great guy who paid well.  Some mysteries were not meant to be taught to Fools.

Fifth lesson I learned: Most guys aren't these evil bastards that women tend to make them out to b
e. However, take most of the things men tell you with a grain of salt. What a man says and what a man does are two  very different matters.

Sixth lesson learned:  If you worked for the right agency, had a dedicated booker for shows, and played your cards right, the earning potential was virtually limitless. Sure, there were power games and more drama than Lindsay Lohan and Courtney Love starring in a Mexican telenovela that was directed by John Waters. In the sex industry, that's inevitable. Not to mention annoying...I just wanted to go to work, be charming and sexy for the clients, make my money,  then settle up with my agency and driver and go home. Wisdom truly was learning what to overlook!

The agency had very strict rules about appearance and behavior. The girls who met the standards got rewarded by being sent to better clients. The girls who  didn't spent a lot of time in the back office. They were the ones who bitched about how they were treated by the agency and the clients. I'm not trying to be a snob, but if a girl wants to be sent to Raffles L'Ermitage or  The Fairmont Hotel, she better look like she belongs there. Spandex dresses and stripper platforms  are not going to get you past the concierge. My agency didn't really like me, but I never lost a show at a fancy hotel or wealthy neighborhood due to my wardrobe. Overall, clients treated me a lot better than most, and that's because i arrived looking like I was worth paying a thousand dollars to. I used to joke that i had the best job in the world: I got to play dress-up every night, I met interesting and attractive men and women in very cool locations, and i was being paid to spout random trivia, flirt, and make my clients see  God. It was the only time I truly fit into a work environment and was able to rise in the ranks to where i had almost total control of my working co-workers, and clients. My innate ability to not piss people off yielded considerable dividends....although there was the one time i practically had an orgasm pissing one asshole off....A very high profile movie producer said to me , " You seem...overeducated for this line of work."  I smiled real pretty, and replied with lightning speed: "I didn't make $150,000 in the last six months by being a dumbass." Perhaps my flippant candor directed at a clearly backhanded compliment offended his gargantuan ego. My appointment with him didn't end quite as he had intended. He thought he was  calling some dumb blond hooker who couldn't see through his patronizing bullshit  and was desperate enough to do anything he wanted for the minimum fee. With sadistic glee,I quickly disabused him of that notion. When he tried to electronically lock me inside his mansion, my overeducated ass was able to deprogram his ENTIRE home security system and walk out of his house through the fortress-like gate, singing AMG's  " Bitch Betta Have My Money"   under my breath, two thousand dollars cash in my purse, having kept my clothes on...the entire time.

When the average man hears a story about prostitution, in most cases, he's bombarded by messages about how she's a helpless victim controlled by the psychotic whims of a crack crazed pimp. How she was abused by her daddy (reported in that unctuous faux empathy tone of voice that always used to piss me off.  How her desire for sex is so overpowering that no man will ever satisfy her and she needs as many men a day as she can fuck. How she has been so downtrodden and desperate, that she'll take any trick that she finds on the street, and will give him all she's got, for half her rate and no condom...maybe a hit of smack or coke. With all the hyperbole and exposure of the most extreme cases, it's no wonder lots of folks make stupid assumptions about who we are and what we're about. Ladies And Gentlemen: Don't let the door hit your Ass-umptions on the way out.

I really enjoyed my time as an escort. And I've been privileged to meet other ladies who have also worked in the sex industry by volition rather than desperation, who have been empowered by the experience instead of beaten down. As a society, let's work to erase the stigma of sex work, deactivate archaic laws that only isolate those who need support and guidance most, mentor those who are new to this world, and have prostitution, porn and exotic dancing treated exactly like what they are:  a job that one can take pride in.. No more, no less, no regrets. Thank you for opening your mind. That's where all positive change starts, babydoll...

Monday, September 10, 2012

Consent is SEXY, Creeps Be Warned. Snap That Photo & Risk Losing A Nut

Twitter is a great place to find douchbaggery of all shapes and sizes. What’s great about Twitter is that the stupidity has to be condensed into 140 characters, so people tend to show their true colors rather quickly. There’s no time for pleasantries on Twitter, but there’s always time for boobs and booties. Oh, did I mention that nothing is censored on Twitter? Perhaps this is why I have heard it referred to as “Twatter” (BRILLIANT!) It’s a great way for porn performers and other types of sex workers to promote themselves without having to be all lame and PG-13 about it (ahem, Facebook sucks, ahem). Of course, this also makes Twitter/Twatter a breeding ground for the sort of buffoonery that I saw today.

Some roided out muscle head twatted a picture of his (supposed) girlfriend’s crotch. He was quite proud of the fact that he got to take this “creep shot” (yes, he really called it that) without her noticing, and even tweeted it to I’d never had the pleasure of seeing this website, so I checked it out. Basically, it’s a collection of candid pictures that guys snap of unsuspecting women, usually in public. That’s right, taking pictures of their asses, tits, (and probably every other body part that one can imagine) without their consent. The website even has a list of helpful tips for the aspiring creeper, such as:

“Closer the better.  Far away CreepShots are just annoying.  If you are too scared or lazy to walk over and get a closer shot, then maybe creeping is not for you.”

“An almost fail-safe way to get a good creep of a moving subject is to take a video instead, then do a screen-capture pic from the video.  It works amazingly well and is a great way to avoid the blurry pic.”

My opinion on the matter: Completely fucked up. I would love to hear what others think of this. I am well versed in the world of internet pornography, fetish, and a whole bunch of creeptastic stuff. I understand that this is a fetish for some people, and am not at all opposed to the idea of a website such as this one existing, where the women actually DO consent to the pictures. The people who frequent the website do not need to know that they aren’t ACTUAL “creep shots,” and will likely be able to happily jerk away. I will compare this to staged rape scenes in pornography; they depict rape, and this type of porn isn’t for everybody. Many people find the concept to be repulsive. Personally, I don’t want to get my rocks off to a fake rape, but there are some people who enjoy this type of pornography and I am not going to judge them. As long as all of the performers have given consent, then why not? Sex sells, even fucked up weirdo fetish sex (actually, ESPECIALLY that type!) That’s part of what is so fantastic about pornography- creativity, expression, exploration, and performer consent. It can make for some great art. Yes, I just called pornography art. Get over it.

So, back to the creepy bullshit. I think that is vile. CONSENT IS SEXY. CONSENT GETS ME OFF!!! I took it upon myself to tweet the roided out muscle head who posted the picture of his girlfriend, at which point he told me to “cry a fucking river” and insinuated that my own Twitter avatar was slutty, so apparently I had no right to judge him. Interesting logic on his part, or rather, just complete and utter stupidity. Oh, and the best part was that he called me a “prude.” Me, a prude? Please take a moment to laugh hysterically, and then resume reading.

Ok back to the creep show. Another creeper ran to his rescue, and pointed out the obvious- that if the girlfriend had consented to the photo, it wouldn’t be a “CreepShot.” Oh…I see. So, the consent would have been an immediate turn-off. Wow, good to know.


Note to self- turn around more frequently when I am walking around in public. If someone is going to take a shot of my ass, I better be getting paid for it. If I run into a “creeper,” I’m going to punch him in his delicate man parts.