the diamond solitaires were dingy with detergent residue.
my mother hadn't wanted either me or my sister to date in high school -- not becase she was afraid it would lead to sex but because she was afraid it would lead to marriage.
i wonder how much of what i've done with men is just a way of following my mother's instructions: get what you can from men, enjoy them, but don't let them get in your way.
by living off the money men gave me for sex, i was able to achieve the independence from men my mother had always wanted me to have.
i never lived beyond my means, but i was living right up to the edge of them.
being a hooker, i found, is like minting money.
some of the prostitutes used to sit around and make shoptalk: fingernail polish and fellatio were the big two. a hooker wanted to find fingernail polish that would never wear off, and she wanted to find a way to suck a guy off in the least time possible.
when i went home for some r&r in atlanta, however, everyone commented about how the structure of my face seemed to have changed. my cheeks seemed leaner, my jawline tighter. i knew it was from giving head.
first, she explained, you put the rubber in your mouth. "hide it in your cheek like this," linda said. she opened her mouth to show me she had kept it hidden the whole time we were talking. "use the unlubricated kind," she said. "why?" "have you ever tasted a lubricated rubber?" she asked, making a face. "then, when you're ready, flick it to the front of your mouth with your tongue." she showed me that the rubber was now right behind her lips. "it's important to put it in to that it's ready to roll right down." "how do you get it on him?" "you just put your head down like you're going to do a blow job, but just before your lips touch the head of his cock, push the rubber out of your mouth so it lays on the tip of his dick. then purse your lips against it and just suck. then all you have to do is inch it down with your tongue." "that's all?" i was skeptical about it being so easy. "well, it helps to touch him somewhere else while you're working it down. that'll distract him." i still looked doubtful. "it really works," she said. "they never know it's on until you take it off them."
it was pretty mind expanding to have an experience i had not even realized was possible.
but if i denied these people their sexual expression, if i made them more frustrated or guilty, they were just going to divert this sexual enegry into something else.
weird experiences, the strange clients, the endless supply of innocent country boys and tourists and sailors, new hookers working at the black angus, the red lights in the bar -- these became like an addictive drug to me.
to most puerto rican men, i reasoned, taking over a whorehouse was the likely first step to seizing power in a country.
the street welcomed everyone democratically.
when you work the street you make your money on your feet; don't forget that.
the women who approached me had a simple political creed: that a woman has a right to sell sexual sevices just as much as she has a right to sell her brains to a law firm when she works as a lawyer, or to sell her creative work to a museum when she works as an artist, or to sell her image to a photographer when she works as a model or to sell her body when she works as a ballerina. since most people can have sex without going to jail, there was no reason except old-fashioned prudery to make sex for money illegal. therefore they wanted prostitution decriminalized (not legalized, which would make it subject to state regulation, like tobacco and alcohol -- thus treating women's bodies as another controlled substance).
the front of my white cadillac would rear up and over the go-slow hump in the middle of the garage drive, and then i would nose down into a deserted parking garage, where amber lighting made everything sepia toned and there was no such thing as a friendly sound, not even my own. the acoustics would amplify my door slamming, my spiked heels on the concrete, every little scrape and thump. if i saw anyone else in the garage at that hour, i paid attention. after all, i knew why i was there, but, hey buddy, what are you doing here?
i was shaken up, but you do the best you can not to let it destroy your life or even the rest of the night.
nearly all men convicted of serially murdering women confess that they practiced first on prostitutes because "i knew i could get away with it."
historically, society has blamed prostitutes for spreading all kinds of disease.
the main request i had of him was that he not take on the defense of rapists. his
main request for me was that i not behave rudely with waiters.
prostitution education network - aside from a lot of distracting images, there are a lot of good links near the bottom of the page to many other prostitute's rights groups, like coyote.
.jpg)
0 comments:
Post a Comment