Society seems to have a love/hate relationship with prostitution and sex workers. For the most part, a lot of people still believe decriminalizing sex work would result in utter chaos. Sex work wouldn’t be the oldest profession in the world if there wasn’t a market for it, sorry.
Writing about sex, I have met many a sex worker. They are all different and they all have their own reasons for choosing to do the work that they do. Whenever I sit down with one of them and ask them how work was, the answers always vary. Most of the time, I find myself falling on the floor laughing from the sheer lunacy of some of these stories. So, I decided to embrace society’s love/hate relationship with sex workers by sharing some of the oddest, funniest, and most head-scratching tales I have had the privilege of hearing.
First of all, for those of you who procure sex workers on the regular, for God’s sake, get better at it. My favorite client fuck-up story was from my friend Linda, who was doing incalls. Incalls are when the client comes to the sex worker’s house, or wherever it is they see clients from. Outcalls are when sex workers go to the client: their house, hotel, etc.
Linda wasn’t an amateur; she screened him, they set a time, and he was prompt, which is always a plus. Part of her routine when clients came in was to give them a quick hello and then let them know that they could place their donation on the dining room table. Linda watched this very well dressed man put his hand into his coat and out came a check book. Linda look puzzled as he said, “Who do I make the check out to?” A check, Linda thought, are you fucking kidding me? What do you put in the memo, for sexual favors? Linda politely said: “I’m sorry, but I don’t accept checks or credit cards; this is a cash transaction.” Because I really want you to have my real name, and God knows whose check book this is, Linda thought. The man looked surprised and said: “But, the money is in the account; what’s the problem?” Linda firmly said: “If the money is in the account, I can direct you to a nearby ATM so you can bring it to me.” He was very put off by this. She quickly escorted him out the door and, shock of shocks, he never returned.
Now let’s discuss the things men tend to request on top of sex. Sexy dates are not just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am situation. I find it fascinating that a lot of men don’t just want sex; they want to be dominated, peed on, spanked, and they love role play. Here are some of my favorite stories about men who had some very specific requests.
My friend Susan, who is long retired (but has never forgotten her time as a sex worker) was kind enough to recount one of her funniest and/or most embarrassing stories from her days as a working girl. “I was scheduled for an incall in Beverly Hills. The agency I worked for was like: ‘Oh, this guy is super easy; all he wants is for you to sit on his face and then pee on him.’” Susan thought: Nice, this will be easy money. Mind you, this was the first time she had ever received a request like this. But, she thought, how hard can it be? Apparently for her, it was a lot harder than she anticipated.
“Vanessa, this was really one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. For twenty minutes, I tried to pee on this guys face. I drank a bunch of water, and tried and tried—and my body refused to cooperate. I could tell the guy was getting really frustrated and irritated because I just couldn’t pee on him. Finally, he’d had enough and I was sent on my way. I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t just pee on him,” Susan told me.
On that note, I have another friend, Michelle, who was a dominatrix. She never had sex with these guys, but she did some of the oddest things imaginable to them. One of her specialties was peeing on command into a client’s mouth. She called me one day, when I was a newbie sex writer and curious about everything. Michelle said: “Vanessa, I have a client who wants to be humiliated, peed on, and spit on. I can’t spit on someone; I just have to draw the line somewhere. Do you want to come with me and watch—which adds to the humiliation—and then spit on him when I tell you to? Obviously you can write about this, as long as you change the names,” Michelle said.
I remember thinking there had to be a catch, so I asked some follow up questions. “What exactly do I have to do? Do I have to touch him, or let him touch me? Because I’m not comfortable with that.” Michelle assured me there would be no touching involved. “I just need you to look pretty, laugh at him while I humiliate him, and then spit in his face repeatedly.” Then she told me how much money I’d earn, and I was totally on board.
We went to the house she worked out of and got the room all set up. The gentleman was in his sixties and she stripped him down to his underwear, pointing out all his flaws, while I laughed in the background (looking fabulous in what I deemed appropriate spitting attire). After she worked on him (but before she peed on him), it was time to spit. Now I was up to bat, so to speak.
I felt nervous, and I drank some water so my mouth wouldn’t go dry. Michelle directed me and I began to spit on his face, then of course it got a bit weirder. He opened his mouth and asked me to spit inside of it, which I did, but that almost made me gag. My mouth never touched any part of this man’s body or face, but this definitely took more out of me than I anticipated. The session ended with her peeing directly into his mouth and then it was over. I remember being exhausted afterwards, and I thought: Wow, this is a lot of work.
Being a sex worker requires you to think on your feet quickly, as my friend Rachel shared with me. Rachel used to be a sex worker, and remembers one of her D.C. trips very well. “I was on tour in D.C. and I was working out of one of the hotels in a business district. Clients were coming to see me on their lunch break: Go for a long lunch, get a blow job, everyone’s happy. This one particular client really wanted face sitting, and he was coming straight from work. I let him in the room. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, blue dress pants, and looked very tidy and professional. Since we only had an hour, we wasted no time and got down to business.” Rachel had his pants off at lightning speed and she began to suck his cock, which he was very happy with. “Then it was my turn to sit on his face. He had a pretty good mouth and without realizing it, I came and squirted all over his face and shirt. Upon dismount, I realized that I had also started my period early and—on top of the squirting—I had covered his face and shirt in blood. At first he just froze, and then we had the safe sex/biohazard talk. As we were discussing test results, I took his dress shirt and washed it in the hotel sink with hand soap, then dried it with the hair dryer. By the time I was done with both the hair dryer and the test result discussion, I realized that the shirt was in better condition than when he arrived. He had just enough time to grab his shirt, button up, and rush back to his office,” Rachel recalled as we both chuckled.
I was super curious about role play requests. I came to understand that role play was a huge money maker for sex workers. People pay a lot of money to live out a fantasy or three. The kind of role play I’m talking about goes way beyond a Catholic school girl outfit or trotting around like a cheerleader. It gets a lot fucking weirder than anything you can possibly imagine.
Let’s revisit my retired friend Susan. Susan got an outcall request from a very wealthy man in Palos Verdes. When she arrived, he was dressed like it was the 1970’s; it reminded her of Elton John’s old album covers. Susan was a bit perplexed, but he was very nice and they had an easy session. An hour later, she got a page from the agency, asking if she could see him the very next night.
Susan said, “Sure.”
She arrived the next night and, true to form, he was in something straight out of the 70’s. They sat down and he said: “How do you feel about role playing?” Susan said: “What do you have in mind?” and he said: “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m obsessed with the 70’s. I want you to be Farrah Fawcett and I can be Charlie.” At this point, Susan is thinking, You want me to be one of Charlie’s Angels? Sure, why not. So, they role played and the session concluded. He booked her for the next week and she prepared to be an angel again, but when she arrived at the door, he was dressed as Luke Skywalker. Clearly, this man had a lot of fantasies to play out.
Mind you, Susan was a huge fan of Star Wars, so she thought, Oh, this will be easy and fun. Then, he told her that he wanted her to be Princess Leia to his Luke Skywalker. If you are familiar with the Star Wars trilogy, you know that in the third installment we all find out that Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker are brother and sister. This was kind of creepy for Susan, but being a consummate professional, she made it work. He then proceeded to book her for the following week, and she wondered what this session would bring.
This time, when he came to the door, he was dressed like Michael Meyers from Halloween and he wanted her to be Jamie Lee Curtis. This was when a chill came over Susan, and she said “Absolutely not.” In that moment, her client went from being a bit fetishy to scary as fuck. She terminated the call and never returned, because she could tell that whatever he wanted to play out, she wanted no part of. I don’t even want to imagine how that could have gone.
Being a sex worker is a very complex job, and they deserve every cent they make. For all of you who enjoy the company of sex workers, learn from this article. Personal checks are never okay, trying to get phone sex for free is unacceptable, and pretending to be a serial killer may end your role play fantasy before it even begins. Lastly, don’t be cheap and tip your sex worker: nothing about their job is easy, no matter how they make it look. There you have it: face sitting, golden showers, role play, and the ability to take blood off of clothing quickly. Lots of love to all the sex workers out there; good for you and I hope decriminalization happens in my lifetime. A special thank you to all the folks who allowed me to share their war stories with you.