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Reminiscing, my humble beginnings…

I clearly remember the first “date” I went to, as a hooker. I was terrified, but not for the reasons you may assume. I did not know what was expected for $200, I remember I kept asking if there was some sort of price list I should know about, and on top of that I was not the requested girl for this particular client.

Let me back up a teensy bit. I had gotten myself into a bit of a mess, criminally speaking, being the resident of a house that had recently developed a small criminal enterprise that had, shall we say, not gone as planned, and necessitating myself and my best friend/roommate at the time, and another girl finding alternate housing for a few days. Unbeknownst to me, the 3rd girl, let’s call her Lacey, had thrown all three of us at the mercy and generosity of a pimp. Supposedly he was a friend of hers, and had offered to get us a room at the hotel that his girls were working out of, all the way in Tumwater. Now, we were from Puyallup, a good 30/45 minute drive, in the middle of the night.

So this surprisingly generous “pimp” rents us a townhouse, for the love of God, with his own money, and we all three settle in to chill, but I am called into his room (of course, he left his already secured money-makers at their own room, and moved himself into ours…how cozy!) to discuss the money he expected to be repaid for his generosity. I assured him we would do our best to pay him back, and he told me very courteously and very firmly that he didn’t care if we wanted to ho or do whatever hustle we were skilled at, but he expected his money ASAP, because nothing in this world is free.

I ran back to the bedroom that my girlfriends and I had moved into, and told them what he’d said, imploring them to pack up and leave, because I felt like I was being singled out, and would end up being required to do the paying back. They both brushed me off, saying I was being paranoid, and that we were going to go out boosting the next day and would pay him back together, no problem. I clearly remember sighing in defeat, and telling them that I had called it, so whenever the time arrived that I ended up selling my ass, for the record, I knew that that’s what would happened.

As luck would have it, our boosting adventure the next day resulted in a near arrest as we ran from Walmart security, and very little to show for ourselves besides some clothes and toiletries, and a pizza my best friend Jolene had scammed out of Dominoes for free.

Our benefactor had by then paid for a second night at the hotel and he came over to chat while Jolene and I munched our pizza and cheesy bread. He brought up the money we owed, and asked how our day had gone. Our reply was of course that we had nothing to give him. I remember thinking that he was being surprisingly pleasant considering the amount we now owed him, as he again brought up the idea of one of us simply pulling a date, and having it done with. Jolene was horrified at the idea, stating firmly that if that was going to go down, it would NOT be her. Leaving, of course, only me, as Lacey had left to go back to Tacoma. I agreed, however, that if it came down to it, I would take one for the team, as the idea did not really bother me at all. I had done it once as a teenager, with a guy I’d met in a yahoo chatroom. He’d paid me 50 bucks, which I thought at that time was amazing, to be paid for something my slutty ass would have probably done for free, just for something to do.

We ended up riding with our new buddy into Tacoma that evening, and on the way back he received a phone call from one of his girls. She had a client, a regular, that wanted to see her, but she wasn’t feeling well, and wanted to cancel. This girl was the complete polar opposite of me in every way; blonde to my brunette, short to my tall, petite to my thick/curvy, white to my olive complexion….experienced, to my vast lack thereof, but I was offered the chance to make $200, if I wanted to. It was more than we owed, I hadn’t had a cigarette or anything to eat all day long, and I was encouraged and flattered and assured that the gentleman would not  care once I was standing in front of him. My biggest fear was not knowing what to do- what does a $200 date entail? Is it like a blow job? Sex? I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of some guy not only accepting me instead of an itty bitty blonde, but paying me that much money? So I figured, what the hell, don’t knock it till you try it, right? Go hard or go home!

They dropped me off ( in jeans and a tank top, no time to change) with my cell phone and a condom in my pocket, and instructions to answer the phone when they called to check on me, even if I had to answer it with a dick in my mouth (which I thought was a joke, but was definitely not…safety is number 1, apparently). The client was a little confused as I explained that his date had run into some personal issues and had suggested me instead. He kind of shook his head for a second, looked me up and down, and said “ok, you’ll do. At least you’re pretty.” He led me upstairs and down a carpeted hallway to a little candlelit alcove with a bean bag chair. I told him I was told to expect 200, and he replied that he’d give me $100 now, and then the rest after, since he didn’t know me. I figured that sounded reasonable, whipped out my condom, and started to get undressed, but he stopped me with a gentle nudge down to my knees, putting the condom on himself. I had never given a blowjob with a condom on before then, but I must have done pretty good because about 8 seconds later, he was done, and asked me if I would be ok with just another $20, since he was finished with me and I’d only been there less than 5 minutes. I agreed, hoping that I wouldn’t be reprimanded for coming out with less than the $200 I’d been told to expect. I didn’t have a clue how that would play out, having had my only experience with pimps either via hollywood movies, or some predatory masochists masquerading as good samaratins, pretending to help me as a homeless 16 year old, and trying to force me to work for them. But that was a long time ago, and this wasn’t exactly a deserted dark alley in Hilltop. Nor was it Hollywood, as the only pimp-ish thing about this particular specimen was his tendency to call everybody ( females anyway) Bitch. Like literally, he’d say it in the most casual, non inflammatory manner I’d ever heard, as if it were the most normal, mundane way to address a woman. When he said he called his own mother Bitch, he said it so smoothly I was inclined to believe him.

  Anyway, back on topic. I was walking down the street away from the clients house, calling for the car on my phone when they pulled up. I climbed in the back seat behind the passenger seat where rode his pimpishness, and handed him the money, explaining about the missing rest of the $200. “Listen, Bitch,” he replied in a cool and collected tone, “ you did good. The call was only supposed to be for $80, I just wanted to see if you’d get more. The regular bitch never gets more than $80. I’m impressed.” I was feeling pretty puffed up at that point, and then his next move shattered everything I had previously thought I knew about him, or pimps in general. Even though I owed him close to $180 for the room, he took my $120, counted it, and gave me back half. He told me to consider the debt paid, and get myself something to eat, and my own pack of smokes. I could hardly believe it, I had been on the streets and struggling to save up 2 nickels to rub together, and here in 5 min I had made 60 bucks! I ran into the first gas station we stopped at and bought myself a cup of coffee, a pack of newports, and a bottle of Pringles.

Perhaps it could be considered a “tell”, a small preview or hint of the ferocity with which I took pride in my work, or the independance I guarded with the tenacity of a pit bull and the obnoxiously easy strength and self-assurance of a woman possessed of a priceless bit of treasure, that my most vividly remembered moment that evening was this; I offered some of my hard earned snack to everyone in the car, and everyone thanked me and took a couple, everyone except my so called best friend. When I held out the can to her ungrateful ass, she wrinkled her nose and asked what flavor they were. I lost my temper. After everything that she had received along with me, she had refused to do anything to repay the debt. Which I had not begrudged her, I loved her and did not mind taking one for the team, with of course a base idea that it would be appreciated, at least. My subsequent raging outburst served to provide laughs all around. Perhaps wars over pringles are uncommon within the pimp community. Regardless, I was deeply offended.

“Do you have any idea what I did to get the money for those fucking chips you ungrateful bitch!!! I sucked a dick for these pringles and you wanna act like they are not to your taste? Fuck you bitch, you can’t have any of my pringles anyway.”

Thus began my life as a whore; the priceless unintentional comedic moments, the people I have met and the ones I have refused the privilege, the endless parade of requests and male egotism, from the low life perverts and creeps to the truely classy older gentlemen, those are my favorites, the gentlemen that treat every woman like a lady, no matter her situation. The kindly faced married gents, that have dedicated their lives and hearts to a marriage that is bonded with love and history, romance…but one in which sex is no longer a part. I have grown to respect the constancy and loyalty of these rare men who stand by their commitments, their marriage and family, instead of throwing away decades of love and memories simply because they can no longer fuck their wife. I feel that these men deserve respect and compassion; I have a thoroughly realistic view of the institution of marriage, (though I am still planning to join those hallowed ranks ) ; I know more about men than any woman has a right too, and I am fully aware of the workings of their minds; I have had the opportunity to be whoever and whatever I want to be, to play a role that many might find disagreeable, or difficult, emotionally draining. I agree, this can be all of those things, and so much more. I have the confidence, the independance, the bold self-sufficiency that allows me the security of knowing that no matter what life throws at me, I will not only survive. I will THRIVE!!!

 

And my name is Renegade~

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