The Truth about Tricks

 

The Truth About My Clients~

I am often asked if I am ever attracted to my clients, or what I would do if they showed up and were ugly or smelled.  The truth is that the vast majority of my clients were in fact relatively normal, average attractiveness and most often in their 30’s, A few who were obviously or openly disabled, mentally and /or physicially, and many who were simply lonely.  And without exception, if anyone had the audacity to arrive unshowered or rude they were either offered the use of my own shower, or asked to reschedule when they would have time to clean up before meeting.

I advised potential clients in my ad and on my website that I expect and demand at the very least the same courtesy and consideration – hygenically speaking- as I would show them, specifically brush teeth, shower, use deodorant. The issue of “consent” that was sneered at as a joke in the blog I was reading is, to me, where my power and control over my own body is asserted and acknowledged and the decision to give said consent is by no means guaranteed nor should it be expected. The “purchase of consent” issue, which I have seen mentioned a few times recently aside from that blog, assumes that it is morally and in all other ways just not possible that consent given in company with a fee can be valid. This is supposedly because the girl is not consenting because she wants to, she is submitting her body to be used at the whim of a stranger because of the money…. to this I can only shake my head. I’ve worked fast food, retail, and I have had customers yell, insult me, hell at burger king some kid threw a giant cup of soda at my face through the drive through window. I hated it, the money sucked, but I had to eat and pay rent just like everybody else. The exploitation, the violations, humiliations, degradations, those are not an inherent part of this kind of work. Myself, I do not allow anything that would cause me to feel that the client is either in control of the session or disrespecting me or my rules.

 

The attractive factor is a non-issue, honestly. I consider myself to be a professional, and to me, what I provide is escape. Fantasy. Sure there are plenty of  guys who literally just want their dick sucked in the safeway parking lot and that fine if thats what you do, but the value a trick places on me and my services is set by the value i place on myself first. I love the transformation in the whole persona of a man who suddenly feels desirable or funny, who for whatever personal reasons was lacking confidence when he walked in, and leaves with his chin a little higher and a swagger in his walk. I don’t pay much attention to height, weight, hair color or the size of his dick. I make conversation, I soothe nervousness, I tell corny jokes and I play and flirt, and my “services” are my personal skill set which I take pride in and provide with enthusiastic energy, because the more they enjoy it, the more money they want to spend! Its free enterprise, America! Besides, some of the most interesting and generous people I have ever met were decidedly ugly and or fat, but their manners were a delight and their appreciation was genuine.

This industry is so wonderfully diverse and the options to individualize your service are endless. The major misconception at work here I think is the belief that any man with enough money has automatic permission, which could not be further from reality. I reserve the right to cancel or terminate at any time and for any reason, but especially if there is the smallest amount of disrespect or agression. I learned over the years to pay attention to every detail of a clients initial contact so as to be able to make that judgement based on a short conversation’s tone and manner.

The other misconception I’d like to comment on right now is the idea that we are homewrecking/husband stealing/in any way interested in your significant other after he’s gone. It’s a job, and there is no more emotion or attatchment involved than if I were cleaning your house. I put on my character as I open the door, and as it closes after he departs, my mind whispers “end scene”. I count my money on the way to the shower and by the time im rinsing my hair I couldn’t tell you his name if you paid me.  Numbers saved to my phone rarely had names attatched , only whatever quick descriptive nickname I could come up with that I’d hope would actually remind me who he was. My contact list has always been thick with “tall guy with beard”, “cheap ass trick” ” fat guy, skinny guy, 2minute guy, awesome vibrator guy, weird hawaiian shirt guy.

The idea of monogamy I believe to be a myth, and I know more about men than any woman has a right to. See, they don’t care a thing what I think of them which results a lot of the time in a raw and unguarded honesty. Yes, so many are truly douchebags, one comes to mind who’s wife was actually in labor and kept calling his phone while he was with me.  Yes, I finished the session, and told him he should be ashamed of himself and not to contact me again. I do have some female loyalty!

But men, truly, just need to have some kind of release and female contact in their life.

My absolute favorites though, the ones I actually have some respect for, were the sweet, gentle, loyal gents, still deeply committed after decades of marriage, who love their wives and would never ever leave them, even though sex is no longer a viable option, and so come to me for a faint bit of comfort and having gotten it go back to their daily lives renewed for a while longer, loving without bitterness, without resentment.

 

 

crime victim impact letter

 

Hello, Your Honor, my name is **Karmin** and would like to speak regarding sentencing, and the impact of a crime. At the time of his arrest, I was engaged to be married.. And while my life, my relationship, and the life of the man I intended to marry have been torn to bloody pieces, I’d like to state, for the record, that I still have every intention of making this man my husband, in spite of the valiant efforts of a twisted system to dissuade me from doing so.

 

  These last 13, almost 14 months of my life have been the most stressful and frightening of my life. Stressful because I wanted to fight these lies, and frightening because nobody would listen to me.

Steve Webb may not mean much more that just another name on a paper to a crowded court system, but to me and to the rest of his family, he is everything. He is a fiance, he is a son, he is a father, he is a brother.

He is loved and he is needed.

He is not perfect, his mistakes are not secret, and for those crimes in which he participated, he has faced consequences, and deservedly so. But how long must we all be punished for a crime that never happened, and now one that is a result of that incarceration? This unnecessary theft of almost 14 months of life is a tragedy in itself,

 

The arrest that began it all was literally where it all began. My initial confusion, trying to figure out why these detectives were asking me questions and accusing me of lies . My confusion became utter disbelief 3 days later, after I downloaded the probable cause from the internet, thinking to find out what exactly was going on. But those were not my words, those allegations were untrue, the honest denials I had given to the police were not there but had been replaced.

 As time progressed and I came to the realization that this nightmare was in fact being accepted as truth, and I and my feelings and reputation were defamed and drug through the mud by lies. My disbelief turned to outrage, which in turned was tempered by helplessness and fear, as weeks became months, and my world continued upside down and unsteady.

 I replayed all of those moments between us that his insistance that I stop working, that I needed to come home had been met with my senseless need to thwart any possible threat to my independance. The times that I would yell and scream in stubborn spiteful fury at the audacity of a fiance who loved me and wanted me at home with him.

It never occurred to me that my lifestyle choice would affect anyone else. Nor do I believe that it should have.

  I immersed myself in research, writing letters to news stations and the governor, and the department of justice. I created a website, a facebook page, and a blog, detailing this case and downloading every available document online. I tried to explain that my choices were mine, that I am independant  and intelligent, and my fiance had no part in my work. I tried to explain that I am very passionate about what I do, and that I am entirely my own boss. All this to no avail. My letters were ignored, my pages of little interest to anyone but me.

 In a vain attempt at what I had been led to believe was a chance to explain all this to the prosecutor, I described my personal opinions, my awareness of and heartfelt sympathy to those girls who were in fact the victims that I absolutely am not. I stated facts, explained and defended both my choice and whether I am even capable of making it when it was implied that i was not. I was called a liar, and told that not one word out of my mouth would be believed. That the state of mind causing me to believe that I chose this was understandable and probably a result of trauma. I was so far stereotyped that I was also informed that I am no different than any other prostitute, that he’s seen it all, that he knew that I am simply damaged, abused, or the victim of poor parenting.

    To insist that any and all women who trade sex for money are always “victims” who are being “exploited” by men is simply a way to dehumanize women, as it presumes women to lack agency and capacity to consent. I ask you, should I be treated differently, or as someone inferior, by an officer of the law, simply because my lifestyle choice is deviating from that individuals notion of“decent” female sexual norms? Am I so morally offensive as to be unworthy of fair treatment?Is this prejudice and degradation to be expected all around, or just for lowly prostitutes that have the nerve to think for themselves?

  I recently recieved a letter informing me that I may attend this sentencing and speak regarding sentencing  and this case’s impact upon my life. This is the most accurate summary of the crime who’s prejudice and caprice knows no bounds, the crime who’s victim is the man in the defendents chair, who’s victim is the assumption of equality and justice. Who’s victim is my naive illusions of world where liars are ridiculed and honesty is rewarded.

To conclude, my thoughts regarding sentencing are these.

14 months in a county jail is a challenge even if you’re guilty, even if you have a solid freedom date.

14 months in a county jail, fighting for the right to take part in the rest of your life, being forced to acknowledge the fragility of it, the real possibility that even though you were trying to do right, everything can be taken from you, in the blink of an eye.

I personally have never experienced that kind of trauma, my experiences are limited to 3 months at a time for stuff I was absolutely guilty of.

My heart aches for the man I love, and I am desperately impatient to wrap my arms around him. I am ready for him to come home, I am ready for this nightmare to end. I would ask, no beg, that you take a moment to really see us all.

I am a whore, but is it such a crime for whore to be loved?

**I wrote this letter to the prosecutor’s office of Pierce County Washington, regarding the unlawful and unfounded arrest of my fiance, and their charges against him of human trafficking, as well as their arrogant and dehumanizing insistence that I am a victim, incapable of making a concious choice about my own body. He very nearly lost his entire life because of this prejudice and stigma.

#notyourrescueproject