yep, that's right, kiddies. today, we're gonna learn all about a certain brand of human parasite whose purpose still eludes your teacher after extensive years of study.....who's that again??
the P-i-m-p....okay! we'll start off with a popular definition: (n) a young (usually black)male who makes his living by "holding" the money of several (usually white) prostitutes. his major duties include chauffering(pink cadillac?), "motivational speaking"(WHACK SLAP "bitch") and procurement(eg dope, clothing, food, motel rooms). also, collective bargaining("if you guys look the other way, my bitches'll give you free blow jobs").....scouts prospects for future business ventures. allegedly "protects"(although the particulars of that remain very hazy for this writer).....in any event, it seems that this culture cannot think of a FEMALE prostitute without also picturing "her pimp"....people believe they are somehow an integral part of employment as a sex-worker in the world today....
okay, so, that there is BY FAR the most charitable picture i shall ever EVER paint for you of a pimp. read it, love it, toss it aside; now i'm gonna tell you the truth, as i learned from personal experience.
1)pimps do not actually help a girl find work. that part she does all by herself, the same way all the free-agent girls do it: stand on the corner in slutty clothing making eyecontact with motorists. guess that's why pimps are also totally useless as "protection" against sickos, whack-jobs, and sadistic lust-murdering pricks of all sorts....weasel-boy ain't IN the front seat of that car with ya when it really counts! might kinda dampen the mood if John saw where his money was really goin......
2)not all "girls" have pimps. i did not, and i was just as much a ho as the rest of em....yeah, that's right i was--throw a fucking rock if you don't like it. block me from your stupid myspace page; it's been done before.....now where was i?
3)pimps are pussies, for the most part--they're used to dealin with dumb chicks who don't ask a lotta questions(yknow, like "why exactly would i want a pimp when i'm doin just fine on my own??") or beat-down chicks who are afraid.....they operate like the leader of some ratty-ass cult, dictating from on high....and they don't really have all kinds of glamorous style, for the most part....they live like poor white trash outta some welfare motel. they are transients who are a little bit schooled in the art of mind-control and "voluntary" captivity.....like cults, they often kidnap recruits for the initiation rites and demand all worldly possessions and earnings. you get separated from the herd and progressively brainwashed.....but seriously, why would anybody go to one of these losers in the first place??
i asked so many little girls as we stood out on the corner, and never seemed to find an answer.
now, there's another story i'd like to tell you: a story about the real life of pimps and their "bitches".....i got a firsthand peek into their life in a way few people do, you see....as a young teenaged girl workin the streets, i was every pimp's potential recruit....i tried to avoid confrontation with the "real" businessmen and swindled the wannabes.....for the most part, i stayed safe, but one summer morning, i got taken literally for a ride, against my will, by this punk-ass black dude in a mercedes by the name of Chance. why would he go by a dog's name? i got my "chance" to ask him, hah.....
but that story, i'm gonna save for later....i'm tired of typing and i've got stuff to do......before i go however, there is one thing i wanted to tell y'all: back in those days, i saw all kinds of kids workin the "boy block". i always got on with them far better than i did with the "owned" females....funny how i never met a male hooker who had a pimp....
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
chapter -5
heeey i'm back.....now where was i, faithful readers??
oh yes.
once upon a very long night of crack-smoking, i got the Jones big-time, went back out to make myself a bit more money at 7 in the mornin or so....lucky for me, i lived right in the middle of it all, in a quaint li'l neighborhood known as "gay village"(officially, Bay Village). guess you could call me a swindler, cause i had a good racket goin that made me a hot commodity in a market flooded with girls.....
see, my closest-guarded secret was what for most folks is the most obvious thing about them.....bein that i'm nearly six feet tall, big-boned and flatchested, and i've always been sorta boyish in mannerisms, it was real easy to slide right on by in Gay Village as one of the dozen or so drag-queen hookers walkin the block at any given night.....wanna know the weirdest part? i fit in far better with them than i ever have with other girls....(plus, me and my boy/girlfriend Angel the six foot blonde made a pretty stunning pair--we'd go out on the town and get treated like celebrities....it was great fun.)
actually, i didn't really go out to scam folks into thinkin i had a "dangler", hah.....it was a role i just slid into without even knowin it.....i'd hang around being myself and chattin folks up in the local bars and apparently everybody assumed i was a queen....now and again somebody'd ask me my sex and it didn't matter what answer i gave cause they already "knew".....it would go like this:
"so are you a boy or a girl--cmon, tell me...."
"what do YOU think?"
"i knew it, you're real pretty though....are you on hormones?"
"oh well they come naturally since i'm a girl an'all...."
"yeah, right, you're a bad liar sweetie pie...."
"oh really, and what if i told you i was a he-man under this dress?"
"i'd say that god only gives ya an ass like that for one reason, honey!"
hah, well, my husband's back from work so i'm gonna go....see ya later all you anonymous readers of cyberspace!
oh yes.
once upon a very long night of crack-smoking, i got the Jones big-time, went back out to make myself a bit more money at 7 in the mornin or so....lucky for me, i lived right in the middle of it all, in a quaint li'l neighborhood known as "gay village"(officially, Bay Village). guess you could call me a swindler, cause i had a good racket goin that made me a hot commodity in a market flooded with girls.....
see, my closest-guarded secret was what for most folks is the most obvious thing about them.....bein that i'm nearly six feet tall, big-boned and flatchested, and i've always been sorta boyish in mannerisms, it was real easy to slide right on by in Gay Village as one of the dozen or so drag-queen hookers walkin the block at any given night.....wanna know the weirdest part? i fit in far better with them than i ever have with other girls....(plus, me and my boy/girlfriend Angel the six foot blonde made a pretty stunning pair--we'd go out on the town and get treated like celebrities....it was great fun.)
actually, i didn't really go out to scam folks into thinkin i had a "dangler", hah.....it was a role i just slid into without even knowin it.....i'd hang around being myself and chattin folks up in the local bars and apparently everybody assumed i was a queen....now and again somebody'd ask me my sex and it didn't matter what answer i gave cause they already "knew".....it would go like this:
"so are you a boy or a girl--cmon, tell me...."
"what do YOU think?"
"i knew it, you're real pretty though....are you on hormones?"
"oh well they come naturally since i'm a girl an'all...."
"yeah, right, you're a bad liar sweetie pie...."
"oh really, and what if i told you i was a he-man under this dress?"
"i'd say that god only gives ya an ass like that for one reason, honey!"
hah, well, my husband's back from work so i'm gonna go....see ya later all you anonymous readers of cyberspace!
chapter -4
oooh my my i cannot believe y'all are willing to read my silly li'l true tales of "whoa"! My Convoluted Construct, indeed.....yes yessss my pretties.....
uh, yeah, that's me parting the Magickal Mysts of Thyme....
so as i just told y'all, in those days i was making my living as a Freelance Performance Artiste.....gymnastics and acting combined with a heavy dose of abnormal psychology.....being rather abnormal myself, i found myself pretty well suited to the job, to tell ya the truth....no seriously.
meet lots of oddballs, the hours are great, and walking around aimlessly at all hours of the night is something i've always done anyway.....plus, i was pretty good at it--"brand loyalty" is the name of the Quality Assurance game, eh?....and NO it wasn't cause i was cheap, either(yeah, i know there's some wise-ass out there snickeringly considering THAT possibility....HELL i had a reputation to uphold! buncha "respectable" married men out cruisin for a 100 dollar drag queen Quickie would be happy to weasel their ways outta payin ME if they thought they could get away with it....anyhow, this is CAPITALISM kiddies!! it's not the legitimate cost of the item in question that my boys were payin for, but the NOTION of superiority which me, the advertiser, succeeded in projecting....after all, sex only comes in a few flavors--close your eyes and that mouth on your dick feels the same as if it were your own fat momma's, hah....)
the true irony of it all is that now, as a legit human being on the "right side of the law", i'll probably NEVER be able to make the kind of money i used to make back when i was a drag-queen-posing ho. hopefully at least i'll be able to make some sorta Lastingly Meaningful Contribution to Society instead......BAH HAH HAH HAAAA yeah fuckin rightie-oH! hopefully at least i can manage to raise kids who don't grow up juvenile delinquents like Yours Truly! let's reset that bar, folks!! hah hah hah!!
hm, did i digress? yep, looks like it.....a detour to the land of NASTY, perhaps?? an economics lesson? or perhaps a small treatise upon a dark philosophy of existence?? yeah, take THAT Nietzche, fuck your "super man" he's a fag and everybody knows it!! it is for you, my valued reader, thereof to be the judge.....tee hee....but i must go, for my rabbits are in need of water.
uh, yeah, that's me parting the Magickal Mysts of Thyme....
so as i just told y'all, in those days i was making my living as a Freelance Performance Artiste.....gymnastics and acting combined with a heavy dose of abnormal psychology.....being rather abnormal myself, i found myself pretty well suited to the job, to tell ya the truth....no seriously.
meet lots of oddballs, the hours are great, and walking around aimlessly at all hours of the night is something i've always done anyway.....plus, i was pretty good at it--"brand loyalty" is the name of the Quality Assurance game, eh?....and NO it wasn't cause i was cheap, either(yeah, i know there's some wise-ass out there snickeringly considering THAT possibility....HELL i had a reputation to uphold! buncha "respectable" married men out cruisin for a 100 dollar drag queen Quickie would be happy to weasel their ways outta payin ME if they thought they could get away with it....anyhow, this is CAPITALISM kiddies!! it's not the legitimate cost of the item in question that my boys were payin for, but the NOTION of superiority which me, the advertiser, succeeded in projecting....after all, sex only comes in a few flavors--close your eyes and that mouth on your dick feels the same as if it were your own fat momma's, hah....)
the true irony of it all is that now, as a legit human being on the "right side of the law", i'll probably NEVER be able to make the kind of money i used to make back when i was a drag-queen-posing ho. hopefully at least i'll be able to make some sorta Lastingly Meaningful Contribution to Society instead......BAH HAH HAH HAAAA yeah fuckin rightie-oH! hopefully at least i can manage to raise kids who don't grow up juvenile delinquents like Yours Truly! let's reset that bar, folks!! hah hah hah!!
hm, did i digress? yep, looks like it.....a detour to the land of NASTY, perhaps?? an economics lesson? or perhaps a small treatise upon a dark philosophy of existence?? yeah, take THAT Nietzche, fuck your "super man" he's a fag and everybody knows it!! it is for you, my valued reader, thereof to be the judge.....tee hee....but i must go, for my rabbits are in need of water.
chapter-3
my tangent grows longer! Current mood: thirsty
ah....where were we, when last i ran off at the keys here? oh, right, i was gonna tell you why i, personally, think pimps suck...but first(and absolutely free of charge!)let me throw in a few of the reasons i think society's (daytime) treatment of prostitutes as social undesireables is a complete joke. you lucky devils, i'm so generous that way.
anyhow....yep, everybody hates a Ho--oooh, they're skanky and gross and nobody likes em sellin their asses near where they live....and of course, NOBODY we know EVER pays for those much-maligned wares....hell, if everybody was tellin the truth there, though, i guess all the little boys, girls and boy/girls would have to find a new business to go into....good thing some of those respectable husbands, fathers, priests and teachers of our various communities are only "wink wink" denying.....hah!
i mean, shit--at least you know what a ho wants from ya.....you can fulfill that particular need(unlike the ol'Battle Axe at home who's got ya by the balls with the prenup or the Catholic Church or whatever you are runnin from)....i met all sorts of upstanding citizens in my old line of work: doctors, professors, preachers, architects, policemen(of course) businessmen of all sorts....even a pro golfer(hey, golf's a daytime game, right?)
most of em thought i was a dude underneath it all, and the charade was easy enough to perpetuate, cause(as you may already be aware)many queens are sorta "touchy"(hah pardon the play on words) about a certain "offending organ"....don't want it touched or seen, even....some go as far as binding the entire region with duct-tape just to keep everything intact and in line....
hm, well i'll be back soon.....still haven't gotten to the point, have i? oh well....you'll hear the story eventually--when i damn well feel like it! ha hah hah
thanks for reading, boys and girls!
ah....where were we, when last i ran off at the keys here? oh, right, i was gonna tell you why i, personally, think pimps suck...but first(and absolutely free of charge!)let me throw in a few of the reasons i think society's (daytime) treatment of prostitutes as social undesireables is a complete joke. you lucky devils, i'm so generous that way.
anyhow....yep, everybody hates a Ho--oooh, they're skanky and gross and nobody likes em sellin their asses near where they live....and of course, NOBODY we know EVER pays for those much-maligned wares....hell, if everybody was tellin the truth there, though, i guess all the little boys, girls and boy/girls would have to find a new business to go into....good thing some of those respectable husbands, fathers, priests and teachers of our various communities are only "wink wink" denying.....hah!
i mean, shit--at least you know what a ho wants from ya.....you can fulfill that particular need(unlike the ol'Battle Axe at home who's got ya by the balls with the prenup or the Catholic Church or whatever you are runnin from)....i met all sorts of upstanding citizens in my old line of work: doctors, professors, preachers, architects, policemen(of course) businessmen of all sorts....even a pro golfer(hey, golf's a daytime game, right?)
most of em thought i was a dude underneath it all, and the charade was easy enough to perpetuate, cause(as you may already be aware)many queens are sorta "touchy"(hah pardon the play on words) about a certain "offending organ"....don't want it touched or seen, even....some go as far as binding the entire region with duct-tape just to keep everything intact and in line....
hm, well i'll be back soon.....still haven't gotten to the point, have i? oh well....you'll hear the story eventually--when i damn well feel like it! ha hah hah
thanks for reading, boys and girls!
chapter -2
chinatown Current mood: contemplative
why hellooo silent readerses....i'm back once more.
hm....gettin past the duct-tape footnote of my last writing effort....
okay, come with me to the early-AM streetcorners of Gay Village and boston's chinatown.....that's where i lived, you see, and plied my trade.....
chinatown's a colorful place, day or night, full of the exotic, the lurid and the illicit; also, the violent, the ugly and the generally seedy or corrupt; methadone clinic on the corner next to the slaughterhouse on a block with jewelry stores, fabric shop, ancient traditional chinese herbalist parlors, cafeteria-style asian dining-stands, religious paraphernalia boutiques, dirty movie theatres, massage parlor and aquarium hobby-shops.....a 24-hour restaurant where you can sit down and order "cold tea" anytime and get a ceramic pitcher filled with lukewarm beer for five bucks....brothels, sweat-shops, asian grocers, human-traffickers and bakeries; greasy pigeons drinking from squalid puddles stalked by elderly chinamen with nets....the earliest-opening, lowest-rent liquor-store in town whose customer base sits drinking from brown paper bags in a trash-strewn park beside a vacant lot down the block and sleeps 'neath the mass pike underpass that looms concrete gray to the east, weathered as the hands and faces of those it shelters.....humanity's intersection; with danger riding shotgun.....
i loved chinatown.....i'd sit on the old granite steps of a condemned brownstone, just watching all the people....i got to know their faces, where they worked, and yet many of them i never once spoke to....the language barrier, and cultural taboo, most likely.....i wonder how they lived, if life really is better for them here.....perhaps it is for some, but i wonder....
why hellooo silent readerses....i'm back once more.
hm....gettin past the duct-tape footnote of my last writing effort....
okay, come with me to the early-AM streetcorners of Gay Village and boston's chinatown.....that's where i lived, you see, and plied my trade.....
chinatown's a colorful place, day or night, full of the exotic, the lurid and the illicit; also, the violent, the ugly and the generally seedy or corrupt; methadone clinic on the corner next to the slaughterhouse on a block with jewelry stores, fabric shop, ancient traditional chinese herbalist parlors, cafeteria-style asian dining-stands, religious paraphernalia boutiques, dirty movie theatres, massage parlor and aquarium hobby-shops.....a 24-hour restaurant where you can sit down and order "cold tea" anytime and get a ceramic pitcher filled with lukewarm beer for five bucks....brothels, sweat-shops, asian grocers, human-traffickers and bakeries; greasy pigeons drinking from squalid puddles stalked by elderly chinamen with nets....the earliest-opening, lowest-rent liquor-store in town whose customer base sits drinking from brown paper bags in a trash-strewn park beside a vacant lot down the block and sleeps 'neath the mass pike underpass that looms concrete gray to the east, weathered as the hands and faces of those it shelters.....humanity's intersection; with danger riding shotgun.....
i loved chinatown.....i'd sit on the old granite steps of a condemned brownstone, just watching all the people....i got to know their faces, where they worked, and yet many of them i never once spoke to....the language barrier, and cultural taboo, most likely.....i wonder how they lived, if life really is better for them here.....perhaps it is for some, but i wonder....
Chapter -1
Chance the Pimp: "how we met" Current mood: awake
one morning, after the sun had come up and most of the streetcorner crack dealers by the transportation building had gone home to catch some sleep(it was around 8, i think) i still had a pretty serious jones.....it's always that last "one more good hit" that gets ya, man....i'm tellin ya--party hard enough for long enough and the judgment centers start gettin blurry whilst the rest of ya's still cryin for more....shit, i knew it was a hopeless venture, but the part of me that probably would love to buy lottery tickets was at the controls by then so out of my comparatively-safe house i went, into the squinting brightness and rushing of a summer morning downtown.....there still might be a few dudes cruisin the block, lookin for someone like me....my mouth was bone-dry, hands shaking faintly, sighing more than breathing, probably......felt kinda naked out in the light of day, really.....
so i was pretty glad when a well-washed newer-model beige mercedes with tinted windows pulled up to the curb.....looked just like so many of the rich-guy vehicles i'd gotten used to climbing into, i really didn't think anything of it one way or the other when the window rolled down to reveal a youngish black guy in an expensive suit......i mean, he looked pretty legit...."goin out?" "how much?"
blah blah blah....the usual haggling....but he showed me the bills so i got in the passenger seat....little did i know i was about to get the grand tour of a whole different world from the one in which i had become used to existing.....one from which some don't make it out alive......
one morning, after the sun had come up and most of the streetcorner crack dealers by the transportation building had gone home to catch some sleep(it was around 8, i think) i still had a pretty serious jones.....it's always that last "one more good hit" that gets ya, man....i'm tellin ya--party hard enough for long enough and the judgment centers start gettin blurry whilst the rest of ya's still cryin for more....shit, i knew it was a hopeless venture, but the part of me that probably would love to buy lottery tickets was at the controls by then so out of my comparatively-safe house i went, into the squinting brightness and rushing of a summer morning downtown.....there still might be a few dudes cruisin the block, lookin for someone like me....my mouth was bone-dry, hands shaking faintly, sighing more than breathing, probably......felt kinda naked out in the light of day, really.....
so i was pretty glad when a well-washed newer-model beige mercedes with tinted windows pulled up to the curb.....looked just like so many of the rich-guy vehicles i'd gotten used to climbing into, i really didn't think anything of it one way or the other when the window rolled down to reveal a youngish black guy in an expensive suit......i mean, he looked pretty legit...."goin out?" "how much?"
blah blah blah....the usual haggling....but he showed me the bills so i got in the passenger seat....little did i know i was about to get the grand tour of a whole different world from the one in which i had become used to existing.....one from which some don't make it out alive......
Chance chapter 0
monica goes to mattapan Current mood: curious
so there i was in this dude's nice-ass car, having just finished both the pay and service elements of our agreed-upon transaction....but this dude didn't act quite right--generally dudes get real quiet and ready to say Bye Bye to the person in their passenger seat when the deed's over and done with like it was....hell, i was gettin antsy--i wanted to take my newly-acquired cash and buy me a bag of rocks before the dealers went home for the mornin/afternoon.....and suddenly here i was stuck in the car with some weirdo who cannot STOP chattin me up?? fuck that shit! he didn't even wanna put the key back in the ignition, that's how intent he'd become on "getting to know his friendly neighborhood hooker". i was suspicious, but kept my poker face--smile, nod, gently urge we get our asses in gear so i can escape this loser and his thousand questions game.....the questions themselves were not exactly ROUTINE, but in that line of work, folks will ask you all manner of weird things out of curiosity or less-savory psychological motivations.....just to keep em on their toes, it was my strict policy to give only the vaguest of answers.....let em all wonder, yknow?
finally, we were driving out of the parking-lot. unfortunately, i was pretty certain we were not driving to my intended destination. hell, by now i knew i wouldn't be able to buy shit, anyhow. personal experience had taught me that resistance in such ambiguous situations generally leads to a serious risk of otherwise-avoidable bodily harm....why turn an extended drive with some tweaker into the last hours of your life just cause you'd rather be someplace else, yknow? i may be on the tall side, but i'm no fool--i may keep my life but if a dude's hellbent on commiting bodily violation upon me, i'd rather convince him to wear a condom and know what he's up to than awake in a few hours with a severe head injury and no clue what had transpired. actually, i've always liked my brains, and those are the first thing to go, after a few good beatin's, yknow....i figured i'd probably about hit my limit in those regards......
so i was quiet and passive in this dudes passenger seat as we drove further and further into unfamilliar territory.....actually, i think we went in circles a bit.....he'd sneak a peek now and again, sidelong.....
ah yes so after several days of writerly absentee-ism, i've returned to close the deal.
here's my Lame Ass Pimpin story.
i hopped into this dude's car--front passenger seat.....door locks, and the dude seems to be a bit too glad to be just driving off with me....doesn't answer when i try discussing standard business....."uh, what do you wanna do? you got someplace in mind to do it that we're drivin to?" that sorta thing.....just as i was about to force the lock and take Abandoned Prospect's Leap onto the pavement, the dude finally parked and quit playin deaf-mute....now, dear readers, it may strike you as rather lame, this guy subjecting me to that kinda rudeness and me just accepting it without much question. perhaps it would befit the situation to impart some lessons-learned herein: firstly, as a prostitute, one sees the range of treatment, especially on the rides TO and FROM the "deed" itself....some dudes are perfect gentlemen, as if i was just the lady they were takin out for a real, old-fashioned date.....those guys are nice, but uncommon.....most guys are pretty quiet, a bit abrupt....then of course, you've got your various freaks and weirdos who wanna discuss nasty shit for as long as you're in shouting distance....these folks can be entertaining, but generally they're strictly cheapskates lookin to get a free jerk-off on a workin grrl's time...the ones among that group with money always ended up findin me like a magnet, though....hah....being a sick, quick-minded, creative soul does have its upside in the wonderful world of Ass for Sale...course, when you're lookin for weird shit, i get to charge extra, but that don't explain why those boys kept on comin back.... hah
anyhow, the last subset of the John crowd are your classic psychological sadist/control freaks....way less fun than the pervie set, rest assured.....unfortunately, there's a lot of em out there.....these guys are an interesting bunch, from a distance....in some ways, you could classify most sex-trade customers as being into control/dominance in a basic sense, obviously....they pay to be Mister Right for a little while, and whatever they say, goes(for the girl lookin to stay in business).....if they say they think dogs are handsome, by golly, you nod your pretty little head and tell em "you are too baby". hah. they whip out the one-inch wanker and it's the best one you've seen all week....if that's what they wanna hear....sometimes it can be a bit tricky, pickin up on the cues....see, it goes back to basic psychology.....
okay, when a dude goes out and pays for sex, generally he's done it before and mostly it's not because the man is unable to find a chick willin to spread her legs free-of-charge. this leaves many folks wondering "why does he choose to pay?" well, if he's not a tightwad, perhaps it is because he can afford a prettier hooker than Frieda Freebie was, even in her prime....but even so.....what is it that makes some boys keep comin back?(btw: street-payin crowd: exclusively male. never even heard of a female "John" cruisin the block. though i did have a Sugar Mama, once...different story...)
the best answer that i could figure out after numerous encounters with the aforesaid group was that you, as the hooker, are essentially a "blank slate". everybody has their "ideal fantasy", of what they REALLY want in a sexual encounter, what "gets them off" if you will....now, being totally anonymous and presumeably a decent personality-study, the hooker plays "movie screen" to the john's slide-projection.....the funny thing is that some of these guys are not consciously aware of their own desires.....they probably don't even think much about why they would rather pay a hooker than do their wife.....you (if you feel some pride in your job as a hooker) must discern what kind of person gives this dude a hard-on the quickest.
some guys probably have several main fantasy scenarios they might play off of over time.....others are pretty well focused on one, which they build upon. generally, the "other" character in this play has a pretty well-defined character worked out for them already, too....some dudes want you to be their high school girlfriend, in all seriousness....this one guy would pay to stroll an athletic field in dorchester, hand in hand, across to the bleachers like he'd just played a football game and i'd cheered him on.....there we'd be in the dark, this guy at least fifty and overweight, still livin with his mama where he'd grown up, reliving the best years of his life.....i kinda felt for him, but not enough to give the man a discount, heh heh....
other guys have 'hooker-based' fantasies....only of course they still want you to be someone "other"....some dudes want you to tell em you're so sad to be out there sellin your ass on the streets, so ashamed, etc....then they can comfort you or save you or whatever it is they wanna do for Poor Little Polly Prostitute, hah.....very victorian, huh!
then there's the ones who want you to be super-submissive, like the stereotypical asian geisha.....you exist only to be seen by Him, speak only when spoken to, no eye-contact, that sorta thing....he is smart, capable, clever, sexy, whatever it is that he wants you to act like he is. you are nothing, and he treats you like it. he likes to see you confused or bewildered because that is a classic indication of powerlessness, which is what he wants more than anything else. he is short-tempered and disdainful, sometimes....mean, in other words. he says one thing, then insists he said another.....does a million little disrespectful things just to let you know your place. is not interested in your "personhood" other than to ask occaisional degrading questions, perhaps.....you are demure, whenever possible. unless he wants you to beg him not to hurt you or some shit. some of these dudes really get off on seein you look fearful.....these are the ones who probably tortured bunny-rabbits back when they were little punk-ass kids, still workin on their Mommy Complexes....i played em like a fine violin, but hated every moment i had to spend in their presence--it was all i could do sometimes to keep from removing certain vital anatomic structures...
oops, it looks like i got sidetracked again...YET again....oh well, guess that means i'm in control here.....that's right: i got the power, and you better LIKE TO WAIT, mama-san.....motherfucker!
so there i was in this dude's nice-ass car, having just finished both the pay and service elements of our agreed-upon transaction....but this dude didn't act quite right--generally dudes get real quiet and ready to say Bye Bye to the person in their passenger seat when the deed's over and done with like it was....hell, i was gettin antsy--i wanted to take my newly-acquired cash and buy me a bag of rocks before the dealers went home for the mornin/afternoon.....and suddenly here i was stuck in the car with some weirdo who cannot STOP chattin me up?? fuck that shit! he didn't even wanna put the key back in the ignition, that's how intent he'd become on "getting to know his friendly neighborhood hooker". i was suspicious, but kept my poker face--smile, nod, gently urge we get our asses in gear so i can escape this loser and his thousand questions game.....the questions themselves were not exactly ROUTINE, but in that line of work, folks will ask you all manner of weird things out of curiosity or less-savory psychological motivations.....just to keep em on their toes, it was my strict policy to give only the vaguest of answers.....let em all wonder, yknow?
finally, we were driving out of the parking-lot. unfortunately, i was pretty certain we were not driving to my intended destination. hell, by now i knew i wouldn't be able to buy shit, anyhow. personal experience had taught me that resistance in such ambiguous situations generally leads to a serious risk of otherwise-avoidable bodily harm....why turn an extended drive with some tweaker into the last hours of your life just cause you'd rather be someplace else, yknow? i may be on the tall side, but i'm no fool--i may keep my life but if a dude's hellbent on commiting bodily violation upon me, i'd rather convince him to wear a condom and know what he's up to than awake in a few hours with a severe head injury and no clue what had transpired. actually, i've always liked my brains, and those are the first thing to go, after a few good beatin's, yknow....i figured i'd probably about hit my limit in those regards......
so i was quiet and passive in this dudes passenger seat as we drove further and further into unfamilliar territory.....actually, i think we went in circles a bit.....he'd sneak a peek now and again, sidelong.....
ah yes so after several days of writerly absentee-ism, i've returned to close the deal.
here's my Lame Ass Pimpin story.
i hopped into this dude's car--front passenger seat.....door locks, and the dude seems to be a bit too glad to be just driving off with me....doesn't answer when i try discussing standard business....."uh, what do you wanna do? you got someplace in mind to do it that we're drivin to?" that sorta thing.....just as i was about to force the lock and take Abandoned Prospect's Leap onto the pavement, the dude finally parked and quit playin deaf-mute....now, dear readers, it may strike you as rather lame, this guy subjecting me to that kinda rudeness and me just accepting it without much question. perhaps it would befit the situation to impart some lessons-learned herein: firstly, as a prostitute, one sees the range of treatment, especially on the rides TO and FROM the "deed" itself....some dudes are perfect gentlemen, as if i was just the lady they were takin out for a real, old-fashioned date.....those guys are nice, but uncommon.....most guys are pretty quiet, a bit abrupt....then of course, you've got your various freaks and weirdos who wanna discuss nasty shit for as long as you're in shouting distance....these folks can be entertaining, but generally they're strictly cheapskates lookin to get a free jerk-off on a workin grrl's time...the ones among that group with money always ended up findin me like a magnet, though....hah....being a sick, quick-minded, creative soul does have its upside in the wonderful world of Ass for Sale...course, when you're lookin for weird shit, i get to charge extra, but that don't explain why those boys kept on comin back.... hah
anyhow, the last subset of the John crowd are your classic psychological sadist/control freaks....way less fun than the pervie set, rest assured.....unfortunately, there's a lot of em out there.....these guys are an interesting bunch, from a distance....in some ways, you could classify most sex-trade customers as being into control/dominance in a basic sense, obviously....they pay to be Mister Right for a little while, and whatever they say, goes(for the girl lookin to stay in business).....if they say they think dogs are handsome, by golly, you nod your pretty little head and tell em "you are too baby". hah. they whip out the one-inch wanker and it's the best one you've seen all week....if that's what they wanna hear....sometimes it can be a bit tricky, pickin up on the cues....see, it goes back to basic psychology.....
okay, when a dude goes out and pays for sex, generally he's done it before and mostly it's not because the man is unable to find a chick willin to spread her legs free-of-charge. this leaves many folks wondering "why does he choose to pay?" well, if he's not a tightwad, perhaps it is because he can afford a prettier hooker than Frieda Freebie was, even in her prime....but even so.....what is it that makes some boys keep comin back?(btw: street-payin crowd: exclusively male. never even heard of a female "John" cruisin the block. though i did have a Sugar Mama, once...different story...)
the best answer that i could figure out after numerous encounters with the aforesaid group was that you, as the hooker, are essentially a "blank slate". everybody has their "ideal fantasy", of what they REALLY want in a sexual encounter, what "gets them off" if you will....now, being totally anonymous and presumeably a decent personality-study, the hooker plays "movie screen" to the john's slide-projection.....the funny thing is that some of these guys are not consciously aware of their own desires.....they probably don't even think much about why they would rather pay a hooker than do their wife.....you (if you feel some pride in your job as a hooker) must discern what kind of person gives this dude a hard-on the quickest.
some guys probably have several main fantasy scenarios they might play off of over time.....others are pretty well focused on one, which they build upon. generally, the "other" character in this play has a pretty well-defined character worked out for them already, too....some dudes want you to be their high school girlfriend, in all seriousness....this one guy would pay to stroll an athletic field in dorchester, hand in hand, across to the bleachers like he'd just played a football game and i'd cheered him on.....there we'd be in the dark, this guy at least fifty and overweight, still livin with his mama where he'd grown up, reliving the best years of his life.....i kinda felt for him, but not enough to give the man a discount, heh heh....
other guys have 'hooker-based' fantasies....only of course they still want you to be someone "other"....some dudes want you to tell em you're so sad to be out there sellin your ass on the streets, so ashamed, etc....then they can comfort you or save you or whatever it is they wanna do for Poor Little Polly Prostitute, hah.....very victorian, huh!
then there's the ones who want you to be super-submissive, like the stereotypical asian geisha.....you exist only to be seen by Him, speak only when spoken to, no eye-contact, that sorta thing....he is smart, capable, clever, sexy, whatever it is that he wants you to act like he is. you are nothing, and he treats you like it. he likes to see you confused or bewildered because that is a classic indication of powerlessness, which is what he wants more than anything else. he is short-tempered and disdainful, sometimes....mean, in other words. he says one thing, then insists he said another.....does a million little disrespectful things just to let you know your place. is not interested in your "personhood" other than to ask occaisional degrading questions, perhaps.....you are demure, whenever possible. unless he wants you to beg him not to hurt you or some shit. some of these dudes really get off on seein you look fearful.....these are the ones who probably tortured bunny-rabbits back when they were little punk-ass kids, still workin on their Mommy Complexes....i played em like a fine violin, but hated every moment i had to spend in their presence--it was all i could do sometimes to keep from removing certain vital anatomic structures...
oops, it looks like i got sidetracked again...YET again....oh well, guess that means i'm in control here.....that's right: i got the power, and you better LIKE TO WAIT, mama-san.....motherfucker!
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