Sex Worker Reveals What It’s Really Like To Be A Stripper & Prostitute

Here’s a submission from one of my readers. Enjoy!

Stripping and prostitution aren’t all bad, but sex work is no walk in the park.

Being a sex worker can be a blast.

Easy money that’s fun to make. Partying for a living. Getting a great workout, and sometimes even having great sex, on the job. Going to great restaurants and staying at nice hotels on someone else’s dime. Meeting lots of cool people and making them feel great. Fulfilling clients’ fantasies while escaping your own troubles. Having the opportunity to travel all over the country and even the world, while remaining gainfully employed and recouping any costs incurred.

One of the biggest perks working as a stripper and prostitute is the high earning-to-time-expended ratio.

Students, single moms, and aspiring artists can literally buy themselves time to live the other aspects of their lives, such as supporting dependents and pursuing higher education.

Writing has always been my greatest talent, and I have a sensitive writer’s temperament. Stripping and escorting have helped inspire and sustain my writing, but they’ve also exposed me to genuinely heartbreaking things.

Sure, there are things about stripping and escorting that irritate me — like people not tipping at the stage when I’m working the pole hard and Johns canceling appointments last minute — but then there are things that have an emotional impact on me as well.

Here are the ten most heartbreaking aspects of being a sex worker.

1. We see clients (mainly men) at their most vulnerable.

Guys really spill their guts to you and it can be quite draining. Sometimes you just smile and nod at inane rambling, but other times the conversation gets pretty damn real.

You see guys who are mentally disturbed, addicts, and physically disabled. But most of all, you see guys who want to vent about their marriage issues or drink their pain away, using you as an enabler.

2. Law enforcement treats murdered or raped sex workers as sub-human.

There’s a degrading expression among cops. The term “no human involved” (NHI) is utilized when a murder victim is a sex worker, especially if the victim is a trans woman of color.

We don’t get the Natalee Holloway media treatment if we go missing. And crimes against only make the news when someone famous — like Eliot Spitzer, Charlie Sheen, or an intriguing serial killer — is involved.

3. Feminists don’t have our backs and drown out our voices with their own.

I’m a bit sick of Tina Fey being lauded as a feminist when she thrives on jokes that shame and dehumanize sex workers.

If you watch “30 Rock” or read her book “Bossypants” from a sex workers’ point of view, you’d be shocked by how little she thinks of us. Other feminists who hold higher degrees and teach at prestigious institutions have gotten the general public, federal government, and chief executive officer himself on board with the conflation of sex trafficking and consensual sex work.

You’ve noticed what a trendy topic sex trafficking (modern slavery) is, right? It’s really hit the mainstream, but feminists, law enforcement, and federal lawmakers don’t have a damn clue how to actually distinguish voluntary sex workers from exploited trafficking victims.

Instead, by enacting bills like FOSTA-SESTA, they’re letting the bad apples make it harder for the rest of us to do things such as bank and avoid housing discrimination.

4. We are disenfranchised from mainstream society.

A few years back, Chase Bank was accused of shutting down the bank accounts of adult entertainers and their spouses, even when the work they do is legal.

When porn star Teagan Presley received a letter from Chase saying accounts belonging to herself and her husband were being closed, she was told in person by someone at the bank it was because she was deemed to be “high risk.”

Soon after, Frank Keating, CEO of the American Bankers Association, wrote an op-ed for the Wall Street Journal in which he claimed the US Department of Justice was actively involved in the situation.

“Operation Choke Point,” he wrote, “is asking banks to identify customers who may be breaking the law or simply doing something government officials don’t like … Banks must then ‘choke off’ those customers’ access to financial services, shutting down their accounts.”

Sex workers have used other services like Paypal, Bitcoin, GreenDot Cards, MoneyPaks, and more to obtain deposits from clients, and law enforcement keeps catching on to us and shutting down various resources. The closures of Craigslist’s adult section, Backpage, and websites like MyRedbook (where sex workers could advertise), have forced some of us onto the streets to survive.

Federal authorities portray these moves as ways to protect underage sex trafficking victims and bust money-laundering pimps, but what they really do is endanger consenting sex workers who are of age and willingly involved in the industry in the process. This kind of discrimination is why a lot of us, including myself for a time, literally live out of hotels.

5. We will forever be defined by our time as sex workers.

I’m not fame-obsessed like most Americans. I don’t care about celebrities and I don’t care to become one. However, now that I’ve worked not only as a stripper but as a full-blown hooker, I’m terrified of becoming a successful writer or public figure. I’m worried that a single Tweet or viral blog post could put me under the microscope and do me in.

Aside from certain careers where a sex worker’s past isn’t such a big deal, our career options can be severely limited for the rest of our lives.

People like writer and producer Diablo Cody (whose real name is Brook Maurio) are burdened with having to forever field interview questions about stripping. Olympic runner Suzy Favor Hamilton, who briefly worked as an escort, had her name stripped from the Big Ten female athlete of the year award and has been burdened with having to explain that part of her life using another stigmatized subject, mental health, to explain her actions and make them somewhat more acceptable to society.

6. We watch people do themselves in with drug addictions.

You meet a great deal of proud recovering alcoholics and addicts as a sex worker, but you also meet tons of clients and colleagues looking for an enabler or looking for a place to drink or do drugs with someone.

I lost one stripper friend to a heroin overdose, and she had a somewhat rapid unraveling. Her first relapse was booze, and the needle soon followed.

Hearing girls in the dressing room boast about being off “H” for a few days was depressing, to say the least, as was seeing others zoned out of their mind on Xanax or booze, moving about like numb zombies.

I’ve personally abused Adderall when stripping, causing me to act strung out, and I’ll see people taking higher-stakes chances with their lives.

I’ve tried to help out strippers who were living out of hotels by offering them accommodations with me or offering to loan them the house free for the night. It’s draining to repeatedly try in vain to help people who won’t help themselves.

7. We lead double lives and have to lie all the time.

There are some out and proud prostitutes, while others have been outed against their will.

Lying is both exhausting and something that doesn’t come easily to me. I gloss over discussions of work with my family and steer conversations toward my hobbies, volunteering, and culture consumption, and inquiries about other family members.

When it comes to dating, I’ve disclosed to several men that I stripped (and even met some men I’ve dated at the clubs), but I’ve never disclosed being an escort to any guy. Not getting really serious with guys is a defense mechanism; I fear domestic violence or retribution like online shaming.

On a day-to-day basis, I’m always fudging my work situation a bit, sometimes in front of people who know the truth. These days, I’ve made progress proving to my family that my mental health has improved and is being better managed; however, it’s hard to have the weight of hypocrisy on my shoulders as I lie about my main source of income.

8. There’s rampant racism.

There is tremendous pressure for escorts to lower their price points and sell themselves short, thanks to the internet keeping prices competitive, just like it does for other industries.

And as is the case in other fields, minority women are often under more pressure to resort to this than their white counterparts.

When I work at the strip club, it seems like guys consider the minority girls more “attainable” if they’re thinking strictly with their penises. On the flip side, tons of white escorts have “No Blacks Allowed” policies, in the same way, many escorts don’t “see” men under 30.

While I’m all about sex workers setting and maintaining their own boundaries, having a blanket “No Blacks Allowed” policy seems a tad overzealous.

I admit I’m guilty of racism at times. I too often ignore black customers at the strip club, even when there are no other customers or I’ve already tried all the others. I’ll sometimes roll my eyes when young minority men get bottle service and make it rain on the big booty girl, while not tipping me a single dollar for hanging upside down on a 20-foot pole.

9. People feel entitled to our bodies outside of respectful parameters.

I refuse to work at full-nude strip clubs and was reminded why the other night when both of my first two lap dance recipients tried to sneak their hands under my thong.

There are a ton of guys out there who think buying a $20 lap dance entitles them to finger us, touch our breasts, whip their penises out, or even get a quick blowjob or handjob.

Before switching to escorting, I remember a guy ejaculating after two lap dances and thinking to myself, “How is getting a guy off for $40 any better than turning a cheap trick? If I’m going to get guys off, I should charge what an intellectual college grad deserves.”

All sex workers have different boundaries, but guys seem to find out what they are by crossing them instead of asking first.

As a whore, I provide companionship with a side of mostly vanilla sex acts for money. If a client forces anal sex on me, that’s a form of rape. If he forces sex without a condom on me, that’s a form of rape. If he threatens to write a bad review about me if I don’t perform a certain sex act or forego a condom, that’s a form of rape.

I’m usually able to use the internet to weed out bad guys, but this behavior knows no class or race.

10. There’s constant cyber-bullying.

A website called The Erotic Review is my arch-nemesis. Since I began escorting in 2010, that site has gotten even worse at bullying escorts into compromising our boundaries, namely whether or not we allow reviews and how we let the threat of bad reviews impact our appointments, our price points, and our-self esteem.

To earn a 10/10 on “performance,” unsafe sex is required. The term “BBBJ” (bareback blow job, i.e. condomless) is extremely in demand, and that was bad enough, but now clients can report when girls allow “BBFS” (bareback full service, as in condomless sex, and perhaps even condomless anal sex).

Girls who are naive, uneducated, or who rely on sites like these for free advertising pander to these jerks and escort agencies only contribute to the problem. Guys who pay less expect more, and they complain when they don’t get it. Guys who pay more tend to be more discreet.

I’ve worked with four agencies, all female-owned, and found that the owners are invariably in it for themselves, which means offering competitive prices and catering to review board culture. Thankfully, my agency work has never compromised my independent brand.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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If You’ve Ever Been Curious About Sex Work In Australia, Then This Book’s Got Your Name On It

CONTENT WARNING: This article discusses heavy topics including rape and suicide.

A new book from Aussie sex worker Rita Therese might not be the book you’re expecting, but it’s the one you should probably read. Come: A Memoir isn’t the glamorous tale of rich clients, jetting off overseas, and being paid $1000s to just listen to a man talk (although it includes that, too); it’s dark, brutally honest, and a book you won’t be able to put down.

Rita doesn’t leave anything out. In parts, Come is like a big sister guide to the sex industry, explaining the difference between “t0ppies” and “strippers”, how to control a boozed out Buck’s Party, why having sex on camera is different to fucking a client in a hotel room (which may or may not be haunted), and the unique social rules in a strip club.

In others, it’s a deeply personal account of a woman who has experienced trauma, addiction, violence and death – and come out the other side.

“I wanted to do right by my peers,” Rita told PEDESTRIAN.TV, when asked why it was important not to glamorise or gloss over the sex industry.

“I really wanted the reader to decide how they felt and try to not lead them in a direction. I just wanted it to be relatable for workers – I hope it is! It has made me feel much less alone having other SWs [sex workers] read my book, and say. “I’ve felt that.” I don’t think the book is unbiased but I tried my best to give it balance, and show the spectrum of experience.”

Rita, 25, entered the sex industry at age 18 on a whim, answering an ad for topless waitresses. It wasn’t long before she happy to go a step further and do fully nude waitressing at bookings – for more money, of course.

“It was the snowball effect,” Rita writes in Come. “Academics and anti-sex work feminists like to attribute these kinds of things to sex workers becoming desensitised to the horrors of the industry, but all that’s happening is you’ve realised it just isn’t a big deal to get your coochie out for money.”

From there, Rita worked as an escort (both privately and in brothels), a stripper, and for a time, in porn.

In her professional life she was (is) Gia, the glamorous, heterosexual babe of every man’s fantasy, who doesn’t have a worry in the world and exists to give men the hour of their lives.

In private, she’s Rita, a bisexual woman who’s survived abusive relationships, tackled substance abuse, navigated mental illness and yet still manages to make you laugh with her no-holds-barred sense of humour. Come is about grief as much as it is about sex work; Rita lost two of her older brothers to suicide within eight months of each other. Her pain seeps through every page.

“It wasn’t until I finished my book, and during the process as I shifted through my grief and into myself, I realised how much I had buried,” Rita said.

“It’s an ongoing process, and one I would like to write about. But at that time, last June, I wasn’t there yet. I don’t even think I realised what else was going on after I was done speaking about sex work, what else existed.”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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8 Surprising Things That You Will Know After Hiring An Escort

Nowadays, most of the wealthy businessmen prefer to hire a pretty escort girl for their pleasure and there are lots of differences between an escort and a traditional prostitute.

People who go for escort service are generally more exclusive as compared to those looking for a prostitute. Escorts are not only used for sexual pleasure but even for various business promotional activities too.

If you have never encountered an escort
girl in Paris then below are some relevant things that may surprise you.

  • Escorts make serious money

Often people have a stereotype thinking that all these escorts are from a broken family who are financially very weak and forced into this profession.

On the contrary, you will find that few of them are very well educated and earning a very good amount of money in this profession and will never like to enter into mainstream life.

  • Escorts can be intelligent too

The common perception is that these escort girls are uneducated and engaged in this sexual service as they could not get any other employment.

Quite a few of these escorts are university graduate and they have not entered into this profession out of any compulsion but love and enjoy what they are doing.

  • Rules for escorts may be different in a different country

Rules governing the escort service may vary from country to country based on the culture and social customs of the country. In certain countries, the escorts profession can be legal.

However, in certain other countries, it may be illegal to have sex with an escort.

  • Escorts may have secret lingo

As people generally look down this kind of profession and therefore the escorts are very careful about their identity.

Often, they may use different lingo while publicly discussing with their agency in their phone, so that people may not really understand it.

  • Escorts are different from a prostitute

Often people tend to think that escorts are another version of a prostitute. However, escorts can be more glamorous as compared to any prostitute.

Prostitutes are usually meant for sex against money however escorts can provide much broader services and they will not be ready to do anything that you ask for.

  • The verification process will be very important

When you contact any escort agency then they will also try to verify your backgrounds and after checking all authenticated details about you, they will be ready to provide you their service.

So, don’t get surprised if the escort agency demands your passport number or driver license details.

  • Escorts can be a real people

Remember these escorts are also a normal human being and they too have emotions and feelings like any real people. So, you need to treat them appropriately and do not try to rub them in the wrong way, otherwise, you can be blacklisted.

In that case, no escort agency will like to entertain any request in the future.

  • Certain bedroom protocols 

Often both men and women may hire an escort due to different reasons – sometime it may not be sex but companionship. Therefore, there are few bedroom protocols that you must know before hiring them.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Buy Phicklephilly THE BOOK now available on Amazon!

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How to Make a Date With an Escort over the Phone

Whether you’re feeling lonely or you need a date for a big event, there are a number of dating services you can call to request a companion for an evening. You might feel intimidated about making the first phone call, but think of it as any other date. Before you call, stay safe by researching the escort agency and the laws in your area. Then, be confident and straightforward while speaking to the escort to set up your date successfully.

Part1

Finding an Escort

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    Review local laws find out what services are legal in your area. Calling most escort services will not get you in trouble with the law. What does have the potential to get you in trouble is offering to pay for sexual contact, which is illegal in most countries. Anyone you call, even if they claim to represent an escort service, can get you in trouble by mentioning illicit activities.

    • Phone conversations are not illegal unless they involve offers to exchange money for illicit activities. As long as you don’t do this, you are allowed to have a phone conversation and even meet up with an escort.
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    Avoid calling an escort for selfish reasons like making someone jealous. Make sure an escort service is something you truly want and that you feel comfortable going through with the call. Escorts are people first, so they are not there for you to abuse or use to hurt someone else. They are professionals who make a living out of providing companionship to others.

    • Think of meeting an escort as a regular date. Many escorts do things like provide companionship through talking or eating dinner with you. They call this the girlfriend or boyfriend experience.
    • Respect the escort’s wishes if they aren’t able to accommodate your requests.
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    Look up agencies or ads online to verify their authenticity. Escorts often advertise on websites where classified ads are permitted. Depending on where you are in the world, you may see some ads out in public or in the back of small, alternative magazines. You should take the time to read the ad, get pertinent information such as customer reviews, then select which one you feel comfortable contacting.

    • A quick Internet search will direct you to the websites with classified ads and groups of people familiar with escorts. They can help you identify what you want out of an escort service and give you recommendations on how to proceed.
    • Many escorts also post ads on dating and companionship websites or apps. Be sure to research a person or agency before contacting them through these methods.
    • Keep in mind that high-end escorts often aren’t on review sites for privacy reasons. Look instead for a consistent online presence, such as in ads and on social media. The escort should have several authentic photos available.
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    Read the escort’s ad for prices and other terms of service. The information is there for a reason and can save you a lot of hassle during your call. Most escorts post the important information relating to their services directly in their ads. If the escort doesn’t have all their personal details, rates, rules, and instructions listed directly in their ad, they may include a link to their agency’s website displaying everything you need to know.

    • Some information to look out for is the times you can call, how much the service costs, and the escort’s characteristics.
    • It’s important to get on the same page as the person you’re calling. Reading up on the escort or agency can help you get a picture of who you’re talking to.
Part2

Calling an Escort Service

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    Calm yourself before you dial the number. Take a few deep breaths and remind yourself that this will be like any other date. Most escorts are professionals and won’t judge you for feeling nervous. Many people have that feeling before a date. The important part is to focus on what you need to say.

    • Express yourself. This is your date, after all. You may not have fun if you’re trying to be someone you’re not.
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    Be friendly no matter who you talk to. Put your best foot forward as soon as someone picks up the phone. Escort services get all sorts of callers who don’t respect the well-being of their employees. As professionals, they know how to handle these sorts of calls. If you’re rude, expect to get hung up on.

    • Being friendly includes taking a conversational tone with booking agents at agencies as well. They have the power to prevent you from reaching an escort you wish to speak with.
    • The escort or booking agent should be friendly as well. If they seem rude or questionable, you may be better off going somewhere else. Make sure you trust them before you do business with them.
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    Ask for the escort you chose after someone answers the phone. You can simply say, “Hi, my name is (your name). Is (escort’s name) there?” You may end up talking to a booking agent before you reach the person you intended. Expect this to happen if you call an agency.

    • Booking agents are there to screen calls and set up schedules. If you have any questions about escorts or the agencies, take the time to ask them.
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    Tell the escort or agency that you would like to make an appointment. Saying something like “What’s up?” isn’t appropriate. Talk to the escort or agent like you would any other professional service. If you remember where you saw the escort’s ad, mention it as well to start the conversation.

    • Try to be straightforward with what you want. The escort or their agency experience all sorts of calls. They want to get a clear representation of who you are as a customer to avoid problems.
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    Avoid using code words or asking about possible illicit activities. Read between the lines of the ad. Smart escorts will not answer questions about explicit acts or payment for them. Most people will hang up on you as soon as you stray into that territory. Use the ad as guidance for what the escort is willing to do.

    • Trying to argue or bribe an escort or their agency won’t work. They don’t want to get arrested or risk meeting up with a bad customer
Part3

Scheduling an Escort

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    Set a time the escort can come and meet you. Avoid making the escort or agency choose when you should meet up. They don’t know your schedule. Pick a time you feel safe meeting up and discuss it with the person you are talking to. If they can accommodate you, they will agree to the time.

    • For example, ask, “Can you meet me in the lobby of The Overlook at 8:00 PM tonight?”
    • You may need to negotiate on the time frame a bit. The escort may not be available at your preferred time. They will suggest the closest time that works for them. If you can’t come to an agreement, you can set an appointment with someone else.
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    Give the escort your name, phone number, and address. Use your real name! Most escorts or agencies will try to research you online in order to verify that you are not a threat. You don’t have to use your home address, but you do need to pick a safe location to meet up. Give your real phone number in case the escort needs to get in touch with you.

    • A safe location can be your hotel room number, the hotel’s lobby, or a public place like a restaurant.
    • The escort won’t agree to meet up unless they feel comfortable doing so. Make sure you also feel comfortable with the location you set.
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    Explain where you plan on going during the date. Be clear on your plans if the escort or agency asks for them. Most escorts rely on having a specific schedule. This schedule can be as elaborate as you want as long as you pay for enough time and the escort agrees to it. You might go out to dinner together or stay in and talk over drinks, for instance.

    • For example, you might say, “We will be going to the restaurant at 8:30 PM.”
    • Escorts need to know the time and place of a date for their own safety, so don’t take it personally.
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    Settle on a payment for the date. Since this is a business transaction, you should come to a pricing agreement before finalizing the arrangement. Ask the escort or agency for the price of a date if they don’t tell you themselves. Most will charge by the hour. Haggling is usually frowned upon, so avoid it as much as possible.

    • Be clear about your schedule for the date so you can come to a price agreement. You may be forced to pay more if the date goes on longer than you anticipated.
Part4

Meeting Your Date

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    Clean yourself and dress up before your date. You would never show up to a date with gnarly fingernails, unruly hair, body odor, and a ripped T-shirt. Treat this date like you would any other. Take a shower, put on deodorant, and groom yourself. You don’t have to dress fancy, but you should look presentable.

    • For example, a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt are appropriate for most casual dates. If you go somewhere nice, such as a fancy restaurant, adjust your outfit to match what you expect others to wear.
    • All you have to do is put your best foot forward. Professional escorts won’t make fun of you and appreciate when customers follow basic social conventions like proper hygiene.
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    Leave the money in a white envelope on the table. Most escorts cannot accept a bank or credit card. Go to an ATM ahead of time to withdraw the payment you and the escort agreed upon. Put it in an accessible location, such as on a table, when you meet up.

    • The escort will take time to count the money and verify its authenticity. Don’t be offended by this. They have to protect themselves from customers who try to scam them.
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    Cancel the appointment if you change your mind. Call the escort or the agency right away. As long as you explain your reasoning politely and apologize, they will understand. If the escort already went to meet you, remember that they invested time and money preparing and traveling. Consider giving them a tip for the trouble.

    • Avoid stiffing them on the bill. You wouldn’t like being treated that way at work. If you cancel at the last minute, pay for at least the first half hour and travel expenses.
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    Avoid going on the date if it isn’t what you agreed to. If an agency sends the wrong escort or the escort isn’t what their ad promised, you should not go on a date. Hold the escort or their agency accountable for the mistake. You do not need to pay for the service. If the escort or their agency pressures you, refuse and walk away.

    • The escort service should be what you agreed to on the phone. Never feel pressured to accept a service you don’t want.
    • Keep in mind that if you decide to go through with the date, you have to pay for it even if it wasn’t what you originally wanted.

     

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Meet The Tinder Prostitutes

Guess what these women on Tinder really mean when they say ‘80 roses an hour’? Hint: it’s got nothing to do with flowers

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Sarah went on Tinder for the same reason lots of women our age do – to find out how many single guys there were in her local area and to have an easy, safe way to get in contact with them. But, unlike lots of girls, Sarah doesn’t want to find single men because she looking for a boyfriend. She doesn’t even want a no-strings hookup – at least not in the way you’d think. Unlike you’re average user, when Sarah sleeps with a guy she meets on Tinder she leaves with much more than new number in her a phone and a funny sex story to tell her mates – she leaves with a pocketful of cash. Because unlike most 24-year-old girls using Tinder, Sarah’s a prostitute and she’s using the hookup app to lure in clients.

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‘It made so much sense – where else do you basically have a database of all the down to fuck men in your area?’

‘Tinder has at least doubled my business,’ Sarah, who had a job in a strip bar before becoming a prostitute four years ago, explains to The Debrief. ‘In the last week alone, I’ve seen 12 clients all from Tinder and have earned over £1,000. I got the idea from a friend of mine who’s also on the game. I think she actually joined Tinder to find a boyfriend or whatever, but was sent dozens of messages from guys asking for no-strings sex, threesomes or naked pictures – there was basically no romance there at all. She just thought to herself “I’m not getting anywhere using Tinder to find a bloke, why don’t I just use it to boost business?” It made so much sense – where else do you basically have a database of all the down to fuck men in your area? – and she found it so easy I thought I might as well give it a go. I just made a profile, wrote caption that made it kind of obvious what I do for a living, matched everyone who I was OK sleeping with and then waited for matches to get in contact with me. I know more and more prostitutes are cottoning on as well – it’s made my job insanely easy.’

SEXY SLUMBER PARTY - Picture

There have been reports for some time that Tinder has been being used this way over the globe. New Mexico State Senator Jacob Candelaria specifically blasted the app in his attempt to ‘clean up’ dating websites which allow the soliciting of sex. He told KOB Eyewitness News 4, ‘Our laws can’t and don’t keep pace with technological advancement and there will always be people looking to exploit those loopholes. We’re weak. Our courts have said our pimping laws are not applicable to the internet.’

And it looks like the same thing’s happening here, but should we be surprised? The dating app’s anonymity and pure reach make it a natural fit for sex workers. If you’ve ever borrowed your male mate’s phone to ‘play’ Tinder from the other side of the fence, you’ve no doubt come across a few of the profiles yourself. In between the ordinary profiles, you’ll find one or two pictures of lingerie-clad women provactively posing for selfies. That in itself isn’t exactly unusual, but what sets these profiles apart is what the women are offering in their ‘about’ section.

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I was blown away by how quick, easy and transparent it could be to buy sex over Tinder

The ‘kind of obvious’ messages that prostitutes use to distinguish themselves from other girls’ profiles are easy to spot once you know the (admittedly, not hugely subtle) code. In London, at least, they’re easily identifiable by a proclivity for using rose emojis. Descriptions I have come across when I was researching this feature include ‘[rose emoji] 80 roses for the best night of your life’, ‘90 [rose emoji] for BBBJ’ [meaning bare back blowjob – blowjobs without a condom – according to Sarah] and ‘80 roses for an hour, GFE [Sarah says this is for a girlfriend experience] [rose emoji].’ In case you still haven’t figured it out – ‘roses’ mean ‘pounds sterling’.

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Using my male housemate’s Tinder account, I was able to chat to three prostitues in one day and was blown away by how quick, easy and transparent it could be to buy sex over Tinder. On all three occasions, the process was the same – match with the girl, chat to them over Tinder about what I wanted and how much they would charge and then they’d send me a mobile number to ring and an address to go to. The price ranged from £70 for an hour with, extras such as blowjobs or anal increasing the price to over £100, to £300 for the entire evening and a full ‘girlfriend experience’. I was able to negotiate these prices without leaving my sofa or even speaking to the girl and that seems to be the point – it’s remarkable how easy Tinder makes it for users to skip the chit-chat and just pay a stranger for sex – all without deviating away from their iPhone.

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For Sarah, the appeal seems to be that Tinder allows her to sell sex for cash while remaining anonymous and slipping past any interference from the police. ‘I had always worked at brothels or kerb-crawled before I started using Tinder, which was a nightmare, because you’d have to deal with hassle from the police. I’ve been in a brothel once when it was raided and it’s not an experience I’d like to repeat. And being shooed away by police on street corners is fucking boring. I’ve tried Gumtree and other websites, but they’re now really hot on closing down profiles that are soliciting sex. Tinder lets me get on with it completely privately – they message me, we chat, they come round, I shag them – or sometimes even just chat because it’s not always about the sex – and then they leave. It’s not traceable.’

When anyone reports Sarah’s profile and Tinder shuts it down, all she does is make another Facebook profile and get right back on.
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The laws around prostitution in England and Wales are far from simple. The act of prostitution is not in itself illegal – but there are certain laws that criminalise activities around it. Under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, it is an offence to cause or incite prostitution or control it for personal gain, and the 1956 Sexual Offences Act prohibits running a brothel and it’s against the law to loiter or solicit sex on the street. So selling sex on Tinder is not only completely within the parameters of the law, it allows these women to bypass any legal issues they might have selling sex through ‘traditional means’. No wonder Sarah finds it so appealing. For their part, Tinder is clear that such activities are against the app’s terms of service, which forbids commercial solicitation of any kind including ‘advertising or soliciting any user to buy or sell any products or services not offered by the Company’. Not that that’s had any affect on Sarah – when anyone reports her profile and Tinder shuts it down, all she does is make another Facebook profile and get right back on. It’s difficult to see how Tinder can keep on top of policing it.

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So it certainly seems to be functional for Sarah, but what affect is it having on her emotionally? Using Tinder to solicit clients strips away what little face-to-face communication Sarah had with the people she’s about to have sex with so it becomes completely transactional – almost like doing a supermarket shop. Is she worried about what emotional damage she might be doing to herself? ‘Sometimes I think they forget that there’s an actual human behind the profile and there are times when it hasn’t been ideal,’ she admits. ‘People troll you a bit, but it comes with the territory and I just block them, because it’s a waste of my time. But even in person, people aren’t always very nice. When you meet with clients in the brothel or on the street, they obviously know what you look like in “real life”, but I admit that the pictures I used on my Tinder profile show me looking at my absolute best and, sometimes, the guys are disappointed with what they see when they arrive. Mainly all that people do is make a unkind joke about my appearance – which I can handle – but on one occasion someone actually left, which was obviously a bit shitty. And I do worry about my safety, but if I’m concerned, my male neighbor – who is a good mate – has a key to my house and I just text him if I feel intimidated and he gets rid of them.’

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Interestingly, Sarah says that the sex she has through Tinder tends to be more ‘vanilla’ than some of the requests she had when she was working in a brothel. ‘I used to get people asking for weird stuff – one guy wanted me to wank him off into his own mouth– when I was in a brothel, but because the users on Tinder tend to be predominantly men in their twenties and thirties, they usually don’t want anything that niche. The most bizarre request I’ve had from Tinder was from a banker in his late twenties who wanted a classic sub-dom scenario and for me to urinate on him, but that’s not really a big deal to me. I got into this because I love sex and I have a really high sex drive. I get to have sex for a living and I absolutely love my job. Anyway, most of my friends on Tinder have sex with guys who then disappear off the face of the planet. The only difference between me and them is that I’m charging.’

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Asian Massage Parlors – The Sad Part – 2

Massage parlors promising “happy endings” are at the center of international human trafficking schemes involving underage girls and illegal immigrants.

These establishments are starting to crop up in greater numbers across the city again after previous crackdowns by authorities in 2014, and their crimes extend far past prostitution. With the assistance of sites like Backpage.com, the owners of these sex shops can update advertisements daily and better avoid scrutiny from law enforcement.

For those who argue these establishments commit victimless crimes, authorities note these parlors are typically staffed entirely by women, many of whom are forced to live at the store and are often underage. Illegal immigrants are specifically preyed on and threatened with deportation if they do not follow instructions.

The NYPD has arrested 11 people on prostitution charges in Staten Island through April 2017. Criminal complaints show five of the people arrested do not have U.S. citizenship and five provided their work address as their primary residence. All but one woman identified themselves as Asian and/or Pacific Islander.

“Human trafficking is up 50 percent in the city alone — that’s a huge red flag that this issue is permeating and it needs to be addressed aggressively,” Assemblywoman Nicole Malliotakis, a Republican running for mayor, told Staten Island Live regarding the massage parlors. “Unfortunately, we know that this is a human trafficking issue, it’s not just prostitution.”

Authorities arrested eight members of the Rendon-Reyes gang in Brooklyn in April on charges of human smuggling and sex trafficking of minors, which they allegedly participated in for a decade. All eight members face a lifetime in prison if convicted. Detailed statistics on human trafficking are difficult to assemble, but officials estimate thousands of women are trafficked into New York each year.

Officials in New York City say poor enforcement of immigration laws is aiding the human trafficking business. Women are often kidnapped from other countries and subsequently brought to the U.S. Their lives and the lives of their families are threatened in order to terrorize the victims into obedience.

“I consider forcing a woman or a child to perform sexual acts and be victims is something that should be taken seriously and I think that’s the type of message we’re sending if we don’t enforce [people being in New York illegally],”

Authorities successfully closed six of these massage parlors in 2015, but more continue to open. Malliotakis and other local lawmakers say there has been a steady increase in calls reporting shady massage parlors popping up in their communities.

If you think human trafficking, massage parlors and prostitution are limited to urban areas, you would be mistaken.

Lunchtime two weeks ago, Lower Merion Police moved in on a nondescript building, serving a warrant investigating a suspected prostitution operation. The Rock Hill Road establishment in Bala goes by the name Therapy Zone.

“We’ve had it under surveillance for a few days, and a number of things are occurring here consistent with prostitution,” said Sergeant Gavin Goschinski.

Lower Merion Police say those things would be security cameras, a lack of formal advertising and secure exterior doors where clients need to be buzzed in.

“We encountered one female inside the establishment. She’s a Russian citizen. We were taking her in for interviews and to determine if she needs to be connected to services relative to human trafficking,” said Goschinski.

Law enforcement has also been investigating Therapy Zone and similar suburban businesses. Apparently finding a massage parlor with sexual services isn’t very difficult. We found a website which claims to locate massage parlors that engage in prostitution.

For a small fee, you can read reviews that include the names of the women, sexual favors offered and price. The site claims there are more than 230 erotic massage parlors all over the tri-state area, including over 80 in Philadelphia.

Philadelphia police detectives Ashley Capaldi and Kate Gordon are part of the department’s new Human Trafficking Unit. They say the women working in the massage parlors are often the victims of human trafficking, who come to the US heavily in debt and are forced into prostitution.

“You said it cost $70, 80, 90 for me to come here, and I’m supposed to be trying to support my family at home and here, and it’s virtually impossible to ever break that cycle,” said Gordon.

“Until now, no one is ever coming for the person who owns the house, who runs the house,” said Capaldi.

According to court records, Lower Merion Police questioned several so-called “Johns” who left Therapy Zone. The “Johns” allegedly admitted to receiving sexual favors and told police during initial visits, they were asked about what sexual favors they wanted, given a price and assigned a number for booking appointments.

Police say they watched as women of Therapy Zone would discard condoms in the trash cans of other businesses.

“Our surveillance found the women who open and operate the business are dropped off a door or two away and that they come in, they operate during the day,” said Goschinski.

Investigators across the region say putting erotic massage parlors out of business is tough.

It’s supply and demand.

They close one parlor, another opens down the road in another name.

In Bala no one’s been charged yet. They continue to investigate allegations of prostitution and human trafficking.

“This is a brick and mortar operation with a significant investment. We hope to disrupt the organization today, and then follow-up with it and see where money is traveling, who owns it and that sort of thing,” said Goschinski.

 

 

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Sun Stories: Pamela – Free Tanning Card

“Do you think I’m a prostitute?”

I was in a bar one night having a few drinks and seeing my friend, Prova. (See: Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) I was giving out free tanning cards to the girls working behind the bar, and I gave one to Pamela.

About a month or so later she came into the salon with the card I had given her. She seemed a little crazy. Just fussing over her face in the mirror and chattering about her job.

I take her back to the best bed in the house and show her how the bed works. She seems really into tanning. She’s excited to have a session in the best bed in the house.

When she’s finished she comes out and says she loved it and is going to buy a package. (The Free Tan Cards really work!)

She starts telling me how she’s going to see this guy she met on Tinder in New York. I tell her to be careful, and to let a friend know when she’s going, where she’s going and how long she’s supposed to be there.

Then she shocks me that she’s going there because the guy is paying her.

“Oh.”

“Yea. I’m kind of a sugarbaby.”

She went on to tell me about how she has a guy in Florida that pays her $2000 to come down for the weekend. He flies her in and pays her $2000 cash twice a month. She showed me a picture of him on her phone and he’s a fat half Asian, half Hispanic guy. He’s probably an IT computer guy with lots of money and no game. But hey, if he’s willing to pay…

“Do you think I’m a prostitute?”

Technically, what she’s doing is prostitution, but we’re at the salon and she’s a paying client with a premium package.

“No. You’re an adult and you can do what you like, Pam.”

“Ok. I just don’t want you to think I’m a whore.”

“You’re fine. Pam. No worries.”

“I just got this new phone. Do you have a charger?”

“I do.”

“Can you charge my phone while I go tan?”

“Sure.” She hands me the phone and I plug it in. I notice that there is no code to lock the phone. “Pam, you should put a code on this phone to protect people from looking at your stuff.”

“I don’t care if you peek.” She gives me a sly smile and heads back to the room.

Should I go through her phone and look at her pics?

Of course not! That’s an invasion of privacy. I’m employed here to protect my clients and take care of them.

Did I go look at her pics once she was back in the room?

Of course I did. She did say that she didn’t mind if I peeked.

So I looked.

There were many nude photos of Pam, of a graphic sexual nature. It was exciting to see her nude, but it was also a little gross.

When she came out of her session, she came to the counter to retrieve her phone.

“I put it in Airplane Mode. It charges twice as fast.”

“Thanks.” She gave me an approving smile. She knows I looked at her pics.

On another occasion, she was in room #10 at our old location, and I was next door in room #11 doing a demonstration for a woman who wanted to get a spray tan. Pamela must have heard my voice and opens the door of her room, and asks for an additional towel.

She was topless.

I hate my job.

 

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Johnny R. – Needle in the Groove – Part 2

I remember in the past we used to call the Gold club “The Death Star.” Johnny and I would be out at happy hour and we’d be walking around trying to figure out where to go next. After a few rounds we could start to feel the pull of the club. It was like a tractor beam that would just start pulling our little drunken rebel alliance feet over towards 15th and Chancellor. If you know anything about Star Wars, that’s what the Death Star did to the Millennium Falcon.

After our hilarious experience at Locust Rendevous, we headed over to our favorite dive bar McGlinchey’s on 15th street. McGlinchey’s has cheap drinks and you can smoke in there. I’ve written about it before. (See: Johnny R. – 2009 to Present – Dive Bar Blues) It’s a den of scum and villainy. But we love the place. The surly staff, the crashing bottles as they are thrown into the trash, and the filthy bathrooms all add to it’s bygone era charm.

We get there and we look for a pair of seats. (Just writing about this place makes me want to have a cig right now) Normally when it’s cold there are a few empty seats near the door. We’re in luck and we’re not too close to the door. We walk up to the bar chairs, and they’re empty but there’s all these bags and clothes and one crutch lying on the bar rail. (Nothing surprises me at McGlinchey’s)

We ask the guys to our left if it’s their stuff and they say no. We ask the bartender if anybody is sitting here, and he says no. Then he turns to some old coger that’s sitting around the corner of the bar and tells him to move his stuff. Why the old guy dropped all his stuff over here and then went and sat over there, I’ll never know.

So he comes and hauls it over to his area and we sit down. We look over to our right and there’s an attractive brunette sitting by herself at the bar. That’s rare for a dump like this. She’s obviously doing what most people do nowadays. They have their faces in their phones. Of course some other old guy starts chatting her up. He seems harmless enough.

“You can see that girl is visibly uncomfortable.” says Johnny.

“Agreed.”

I order my usual. Their shitty house white wine with a side of ice, and Johnny gets a bud bottle. He grabs a few singles off the bar and heads to the jukebox. He always has a good sense of what to play, and soon the music is overtaken by eighties and nineties rock. He usually spends a solid fifteen minutes over there picking songs, so I start chatting with the bartender. He’s a tired looking middle-aged guy wearing a Star Wars t-shirt. I compliment him on his wardrobe choice. We start to discuss about how we both saw the original film in the theater back in 1977.

I started to write about that experience in detail but decided because it was so epic, that I’ll give it its own space in the future. It’s a great story, but this post is about today with Johnny, so it’ll have to wait. The bartender complains about all the stuff wrong with him now that he’s old, like arthritis and what not. I thankfully have none of those problems and I’m only one year younger that him! It’s probably because I have suffered so much emotional, mental and romantic pain in my life, maybe that was enough.

Johnny and I are chatting about our usual stuff. What’s going on with life and work, how he’s annoyed by his girlfriend, music, what shows we’re watching, etc. But one thing that he tells me has struck a chord. He tells me he has started writing his blog again! I really wanted him to do it, and he says he’s written three things so far, and wants to call it Tales from the Gutter. Which I think is a brilliant title. He’s just going to write about his life experiences and things that piss him off. I love it, and I can’t wait to read and be his first follower!

He asks about my blog and I tell him what’s been going on with it. He’s amazed that I’ve completed all of my Monday through Wednesday posts for the next five months.

“What? So, if you dropped dead today, your blog would continue to publish for the next five months?

“Exactly. It’s a written and scheduled.”

“You’re a prolific motherfucker.”

“That I am Johnny. Now let’s get over to the World Famous Gold Club and do what we came out here to do today.”

Eighties hair metal band, Ratt is playing on the jukebox as we walk out the door. We walk north on 15th Street until we get to Chancellor Street and bang a right. On the corner is an Applebee’s that no one I know ever goes to. I once picked up an order of chicken fingers for one of the strippers at the Gold Club. That’s what the Gold Club is; a gentleman’s club. Funny how they call strip joints gentleman’s clubs now. I have rarely seen any gentlemen in strip clubs. It’s usually a bunch of frat boys, douchebags, sad married guys, or creepy sad old men. There is a thrill to going on occasion. I never go alone. I actually don’t really care for such places. I know Johnny digs vice and I wanted the third time I included him in my blog to be interesting. But he knows that.

This side of Chancellor doesn’t even look like a street. It’s just the side of Applebee’s and then you walk a few more steps and at the end of what resembles a filthy alley lined with dumpsters you come upon the entrance to the little strip club. If you kept walking past it you would literally enter the parking garage of the Park Hyatt.

I remember in the past we used to call the club “The Death Star.” Johnny and I would be out at happy hour and we’d be walking around trying to figure out where to go next. After a few rounds we could start to feel the pull of the club. It was like a tractor beam that would just start pulling our little drunken rebel alliance feet over towards 15th and Chancellor. If you know anything about Star Wars, that’s what the Death Star did to the Millennium Falcon.

We enter and the place is pretty dead. It’s dark, but I like that. It’s like you step out of the sunlight of the outside and suddenly enter this other world of booze and flesh. Colored lights dance about the room, and the joint smells of stale beer, cheap perfume, and shame. On the stage is some fat white chick writhing around on the floor. Johnny likes a curvy gal, so he sort of digs her. We take a seat at the back-end of the bar against the wall. If I have to sit at the bar, this is my favorite spot. I can lean against the wall and watch the dancers from the side of the stage.

I order a cheap glass of chardonnay with a side of ice, and Johnny get his usual. The bartender is a cute little black girl that looks like she’s in a really shitty mood. I mean like: “Just kidnapped and put on Le Amistad, shitty mood.”

“Day shift is looking a little rough there Johnny.”

The curvy gal approaches for tips for her dance. I always give a dollar. I don’t need to stuff it between their breasts or in their G-string. I just put it in their hand. I’m sure they get groped and felt up enough. She’s actually very sweet and friendly. Most of the girls usually are. But that’s part of their sales pitch. Their sole duty is to separate the patrons from their cash. But I believe this girl is genuinely sweet. She’s chatting with Johnny and  I glance down at her pale thigh and see that she is, or was a cutter. There is a set of  four short scars just bellow her bikini line.

Check it out here: http://www.webmd.com/mental-health/features/cutting-self-harm-signs-treatment#1

I’d write about cutting, but I don’t know much about it. Apparently it’s more common in girls than boys and they cut themselves to ease the pain of some sort of mental anguish. It’s really sad. Most of the women I’ve met that are or were cutters, suffered from anxiety and depression. So it stands to reason, if you’re an overweight girl who has had the misfortune to end up taking your clothes of in a club for money in front of dirty old men, there’s certainly something that drove you into this vocation.

I’m sure it wasn’t anything pleasant.

And you thought me and Johnny going to a strip joint was going to be fun and erotic. Well, I write what I see and what I feel.

There’s now an attractive Latina girl onstage. She’s kind of hot. After her song she comes over to us. That’s another reason to be at this end of the bar. We get them as soon as they come off stage. I actually find it sexy if an attractive girl is a little sweaty. Latina comes over to me and says hello. We do the fake name exchange. They obviously don’t use their real names.

Incidentally, in this blog all the names have been changed, and the photos are just stock pics I’ve gotten from the internet. Obviously to protect the identities of the people I write about. I tried to find attractive ones that resemble what they look like in real life. But why I’m saying all of this is, the reason I call my friend Johnny R. is because when we would be in the Gold Club he would always introduce himself as Johnny Rivers. Like the singer, who is probably best known for the song, Secret Agent Man. (Which I love! I always used it as my intro music when I used to do stand up.) There were other times he’d be hopped up on coke and Adderall and he would just yell out: “I’m Johnny Rivers!” really loudly in the bar. I always enjoyed that.

So we’re chatting with lovely Latina. Curvy Girl has gone off to make the rounds for more singles and possibly give a lap dance to some hapless gent. Latina has a good body and a nice face. I give her a dollar for her dance and so does Johnny. Both of her nipples are pierced. I suppose some people like this but I really don’t like piercings or tattoos. Does it look kind of hot on a stripper? I guess so, but it’s not my cup of tea. What are nipples for? Right. Where do nipples go? Right. I don’t want to feel any metal in my mouth at anytime. I wore fucking braces for three years. The only metal I want in my body is Heavy Metal! And that goes in my ears and into my heart! I don’t want to put my lips to some girls pert nipple and feel the click of cold steel against my central incisors.

So I guess we’re all clear that I’m not a fan of body modification in any form. Evolution made you beautiful. Leave it alone!

Johnny looks at her breasts. “Did that hurt?”

“No.” is Latina’s reply.

How can driving a sharp piece of metal through a part of your body that’s loaded with nerve endings and blood vessels not hurt?

Okay. No more metal nipple talk.

She goes on her way to make her rounds. Johnny decides he wants to get a lap dance from Curvy Girl. He feels that he can talk her into having sex with him or at least getting her to give him oral sex.

If you know anything about strip clubs, for the most part there is a huge “hands off” policy in place. If you touch any of the girls, you’ll usually be ejected. But not at the World Famous Gold Club! Johnny has had sex with like five different strippers from there over the years. It hasn’t happened in the last few years, but he hasn’t been in the city as much as he used to be.

That, and the place was raided a year or so ago for that very thing. Prostitution. But that’s the charm of this dirt hole. I never have to worry about that sort of thing because I don’t get lap dances. What’s the point of paying $20 per song while some hot nubile girl wiggles around on you and gets you all worked up for no payoff. Well, that’s true for most fellas but apparently not if your name is Mr. Johnny Rivers! He’s never paid for sex ant a strip club.

So he goes off with Curvy Girl to the back room. I’ll be interested to hear how that all goes in a little while. I look over at the stage and there is a really fit black girl sliding around the pole like a lovely ebony serpent. Her body, a lean vessel of sinew and muscle. Already she’s my favorite girl in the place. I know what I just said about lap dances, but I’m a leg man, and her legs are killer. She’s smoking hot.

She comes off the stage and right towards me. I love her! “Hi.” she says in a low sexy voice. Her body is absolutely slammin’. She looks me in eye, takes my hand, and places it on her left breast. Her nipple is like a rubber bullet pressing against my palm. (Just writing this is making me want to stop in there and see if she’s working tonight. Vice!) I gently squeeze her breast and she smiles. Then I release her.

“You’re beautiful! I’m a leg man, and man…if your legs aren’t spectacular.”

“Thank you.”

Johnny returns. “Oh, and what bit of ebony delish is this?” She says hello and gives us her stage name.

“You can touch my legs if you want to.”

I am smitten by this dark temptress. I couldn’t resist. I reach down and just run my hand up the back of her leg. Exquisite. I hand her a few more bucks.

“Do you want to get a private dance with me?”

“You’re the prettiest girl in here. Do you mind if I catch up with my friend, and think about it for a bit?”

“Sure thing. But if you get a dance with me I’ll make your dick hard.”

She slinks away with feline grace. I want that ass, but I don’t do lap dances. I think it’s just a waste of money and gets you nothing in the end. I guess I could make this example: I like to drink. You buy a bottle of something for about $12 and drink it. Over the next few hours of doing whatever you’re doing, you get a buzz, relax, feel good, socialize, or just chill out and let go. So for $12 you can have a great night.

If I go to a casino, I spend $20 because I’m not a gambler and never have been. I burn through that $20 in under 15 minutes, and I’m done. I don’t get off. I don’t feel good, and I’m out $20. Now I know it doesn’t work that way for real gamblers. They get high on the action, not the winning or the losing. Just the action. You see, I need some sort of payoff. I need the reward and with booze I get it, and with gambling I don’t.”

I love women and sex. I have been addicted to the feeling of love, and not really been in love. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s how it worked. You meet a woman, there is the spark of romance, and if there is chemistry the payoff is hot love and sex. Huge payoff. I think love is the best drug in the world. If we could have sex all the time and feel loved, we’d probably have a lot less problems. I think the greatest feeling one can have, it to love and be loved.

But hey, I digress. That’s why I can’t invest the $20 in the lap dance. I get the action and zero payoff. Now I’m sure Johnny has a whole different view on this issue. Because he likes to gamble, and as we know in the past he’s paid the $20 for the lapper, and gotten a blow job out of it or straight up banged the stripper bareback. Yea…bareback. Like I said. Johnny’s a gambler.

Let’s see if his little foray with curvy girl paid off.

“So, what happened back there with her?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. The last few times I’ve been here, the girls won’t do anything sexual.”

“Think you’re losing your touch?”

“No, it’s probably because the place has been busted so many times. Do you think I’m starting to look like a cop?”

“Well you are Irish Catholic and approaching middle age, sir.”

“Really? I’m not even forty yet, asshole.”

“Wanna blow this place?”

“That’s a lot of dudes. I think they’re here for the ladies, not to get sucked off by you.”

“Let’s go. I’ll call you an UBER.”

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Sun Stories – Sugar (Grand) Daddy

“I can’t find my card. I must have left it on the table when I paid the cable bill.”

I’m working at the tanning salon, and it’s a quiet Tuesday night. This older gentleman, well into his sixties, strolls in with a twenty something on his arm. She looks to be of some eastern European decent. Dark hair and eyes, and dark brown hair. Petite, and cute. I don’t think this chick is his daughter.

She fills out the necessary paperwork. (Her handwriting is atrocious. It looks like that of an eight year old) The older gentleman stands beside her as she decides what kind of tanning package she wants. She settles on a one month all access. (That’s a mid-sized bed deal that runs sixty-five dollars) I ask her cash or card, and she starts digging in her purse.

She’s rifling around in it for a while. “I can’t find my card. I must have left it on the table when I paid the cable bill.”

The old man just steps up and places his credit card down on the marble counter. He nods and I run his card. I thank him, but I notice she doesn’t. She tells me she wants to do a stand up tan.

You can lie in the beds or you can stand up is certain ones. It looks like a big time machine. Big silver cylinder shaped booth. Inside you’re surrounded by fifty-two ultraviolet flourescent tubes that are all two hundred and thirty watts. Each session only lasts a maximum time of nine minutes. You can do less if you want. (I do less!) We put a five-minute timer for you to get ready and do whatever it is you want to do before your session. (Undress, apply lotion, etc.) Once the five minutes is up, the booth lights.

So while she’s in there I figure I can talk to this guy and find out what the deal is with them. He tells me he met her on the internet. So I’m assuming a dating site. I gotta hand it to pops, good job using the internet. He said his wife died twenty-five years ago. I don’t know what he’s been doing for the last quarter century, but he hasn’t met anyone that stuck around. He met Sandy and they started dating. She lives down here in Chinatown. He lives about thirty-five minutes east of here over in New Jersey.

He says she works as a wedding planner. (Not buying it. Not that he’s lying. I think she’s lying to him. Her with that horrible handwriting.) So if she’s downtown, and he’s over in another state, she can pretty much live her life when he’s not around.

He tells me when he started dating her, after a few dates he asked her if she was really sure if she wanted to be with him. “Are you really, really sure?” he said. “Because I don’t want you to simply change your mind about me in a few months from now.”

This poor old guy is in love with her. He’s just a lonely old man. He says when he walks down the street, they sometimes get looks, but he doesn’t care. He feels proud to have her with him.

I totally get it. Having a young beautiful woman on your arm makes older men feel cooler than getting out of an exotic sports car. I’m not getting any younger because I love it too.

But I feel bad for this guy. She’s a good actress. There’s no way she’s into this guy. I mean, he sounds like a really kind gentleman, but I don’t see it. I think it was when she came to a tanning salon to buy a luxury item, and conveniently ‘left her card on the table while paying the cable bill.’

I think this gal is either and escort or a professional sugarbaby. There are certainly plenty of girls here in Philly that are sugarbabies.

She probably uses the ‘wedding planner’ lie to let him know that she’s always busy meeting with clients. I’m thinking those ‘clients’ are other johns. Think about it, she could have several versions of that guy that she’s dating to get meals, money, gifts, and who knows what else?

I just hope this guy is getting to have sex with her, because if he has the money and she makes him happy and provides the GFE,  (girlfriend experience) then more power to him. Sex you pay for is always cheaper than free sex. But in this case she’s costing him quite a bit. I mean, he probably fed her before they came here, there’s the drinks he paid for too. He had to pay for parking down here, and now he just bought her a tanning package. That’s easily a three hundred-dollar night for this guy.

But like I said, if it makes him happy, and she doesn’t break the poor old guy’s heart, then who am I to judge? I never saw the guy again after that first night, but I’ll tell you what I did see.

She continued to come in and tan on a pretty regular basis. She’d roll in on her own. But one time she came in on a Saturday, and I just happened to be at the salon chatting with Trish. (See Trish – 2012 to Present – The She Wolf)

Sandy comes in with two kids! A little boy nine, and a little girl, six. She goes into the stand up unit to tan. She always goes into the stand up unit in room two. That’s the only bed she ever goes to. So leaves the kids sitting on the sofa in the waiting area. Her daughter is adorable. Like a mini version of her mom. She’s also a little chatterbox. She’s chatting and charming some of the other clients that are sitting in the waiting room. The son on the other hand seems like a bit of a weirdo. I don’t know. Something’s off.

At one point he just looks right at me and says: “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” What do say to a fucking nine-year old kid when he asks you that? Of course, I told him that I did, because you don’t want to go down that path with someone else’s kid. You never want to be the guy that was the one that made a little boy question his christian faith. It just felt weird when he said it about of the blue. I should have said, ‘Speaking of Jesus, your mommy reminds me a lot of Mary Magdelene.’

It was just a little creepy. I hope he doesn’t grow up and say it again to somebody before he pulls the trigger…

I wonder if the grandpa that she’s dating knows she has two little kids? Come to think of it, he said he was nine years old… on Sandy’s profile it says she’s twenty-six. That would mean she had him when she was eighteen and knocked up at seventeen! Teen mom!

 

Another time she came in and after she was finished tanning, I go into the room. I have a spray gun full of sanitizer. I spray and wipe down the unit, clear any detritus left behind by the client, and place a fresh towel in the room. This time I find a Victoria’s Secret sales tag that says 32b on it. It’s from a bra.

On another occasion when cleaning up the room after she was in it I find another Victoria Secret tag. This one is for a pair of panties, size small. What is she doing?

Then I remember that there is Victoria’s Secret boutique across the street in Two Liberty. She’s either stealing underwear and then bringing it over here and ripping the tags off, or she has to change her undies between, “clients.”

The final find was one of the last times she was here. I cleaned the booth and then saw what appeared to be what I thought was some sort of black and white headband in the little basket in the room. I picked up and discovered it was a soiled pair of panties.

Eww. Straight to the trash!

Once the monthly package that Gramps had bought her expired, we never saw her again.

 

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