I am a prostitute. I have sex with men but instead of hearts exchanging love, we have hands exchanging money. I think it’s a pretty straightforward profession. The job is challenging but it has its rewards. Although there are days when you don’t want to get up to go to work, but I think that is a feature of most, if not all, jobs.
It all started when you broke my ego. The truth was that I wanted to give you my heart. I was ready to fall in love with you. But you weren’t ready for my love at all. So instead of doing something stupid such as going for another guy and hoping that he will fall in love with me, I decided to play sex smart.
There is a difference between being a victim of the crime or being the perpetrator of the crime. Assuming that all crimes are well-worth the effort, you can clearly choose to get the best out of the situation by being the perpetrator rather than the victim. Granted that victims will not be going into jail but seriously, if you knew it was a crime, you have got to be willing to give the time–whether it is spent in planning, its execution or your incarceration. Only the pussies cry when they are brought into jail. They were the ones who have what they call “regrets” or that they were too stupid to see so far ahead of what they’ve done. As for me, if I were to be led to the slammer, I’d get into it with my head held high. After all, I was working in a good profession and I very well knew that I was good at it!
So it was the 29th of December when I picked up my first customer. I had just left my friends, tipsy from our latest bout of drinking. I was smoking my cigarette and walking none too steadily. I took a particularly deep drag and to savor it, I stopped walking. Interestingly enough, I was right beside a huge sign that said, “TONIGHT: Lady Boxing and Midget Sumo Wrestling”. It was interesting and I laughed out loud to myself. Then I decided to wait at that spot for a taxicab to take me home.
A car stopped in front of me and the window rolled down in front of me. I wasn’t looking into it and I even stepped aside. My soaked up brain thought that he must want to read the sign I was blocking. Then the driver called out, “Wait!” That was when I knew that I had to make a choice. I didn’t have any intention of being a prostitute that night but when it was right in front of me, I knew that there was nothing to it. I knew that it was an honest mistake. I had walked into the red light district. I had regular party clothes on. I was smoking on the sidewalk and the place I stopped in front of was not the most sedate place in the area. I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I laughed aloud and said to myself, “What the hell?” I smiled at that driver and gave him a sassy wink, “Are you sure you want to play this game?” I knew that that wasn’t a particularly sophisticated thing to say. I knew now that I should have haggled my price then and there, but the truth is, I didn’t even care if I got paid. I would have gone home with any John tonight–the payment would have been just an added bonus.
I got inside the car. It didn’t smell clean and I knew that he was drunk. More drunk than me. He was about late 50’s but then again, all old men looked much older to my mind.