Read Part 1 in which I make the decision to jump from stripping to giving escort work a try.
My afternoon arrival in DC was off to a bad start. My credit card expired on that day and the rental car company wouldn’t take a cash deposit. Being from Texas and not used to traveling, I was wary of the cost of taxis, but had no choice. I ran into the same problems when checking into the hotel, but they accepted cash.
I was unable to get a hold of my friend and had no idea if she was in DC as promised. I wasn’t getting any calls from my Eros ad (I only had a phone number posted, no e-mail was set up) and could not visually confirm if my ad was up since I didn’t have a laptop. I was in panic mode.
My friend came through. She was down the hall and around the corner from my room. She was simply very busy. She took a break and welcomed me while she ate dinner. We had no way of checking Eros but she went over screening and phone etiquette with me again. It helped calm me down.
My phone rang and it was a DC area code! I was so excited and nervous. I briefly talked to this man and he said he’d call later. I didn’t care; I’d made it through my first call and knew my ad was up. Now, of course, I worried it would be the only call I’d get all night. I had used up what I’d made at the club this week on the trip and was going to miss the weekend shifts. It was the end of the month too. This trip had put me into a serious financial bind. (Better planning might have alleviated the problem.)
Then I had another call. This guy sounded nice and he gave me his screening info. I took notes and then screened him via the phone as my friend listened in and gave some final pointers. He seemed good, so I called him back and we set up an appointment for that evening! It was an hour-long appointment (my minimum), which was mentally more than I could handle right then.
I was so nervous. She had more appointments, so I went back to my room and got things ready. I didn’t watch TV. I mostly paced. What was I going to do? What was going to happen? God lord, what if he took one look and walked back out the door? What are escorts supposed to look like? What are they supposed to do? My thoughts raced around and around.
He knocked on the door right on time. I was wearing some lingerie beneath a sheer robe that I wore in the club sometimes. Despite repeated dry-cleanings, it reeked of cigarettes. (That really didn’t create a great ambience.) It wasn’t until later that I realized being fully-dressed is much better.
He was a very tall, well-built man, possibly from the Middle-East (I know I asked, but I don’t recall his answer. I do remember his face.). He was so polite and very charming. He showed me two IDs when I asked. When I asked for my “gift” he laid the appropriate amount on the nightstand (a classic move). He sat in a chair and I sat on the bed. We chatted.
Asking for two forms of ID is fairly standard practice. I had read and re-read Working by Dolores French. She screened very thoroughly and her methods of screening are still useful today, only it’s much easier to do online. You can find a link to Working on my sex worker library.
This was so much easier than the club! He was sober, the music on the radio was quiet so I didn’t have to shout and he wasn’t distracted by other women walking around. He seemed really happy to meet me and I enjoyed talking to him.
At what seemed like the right time, I rose from the bed as seductively as possible and untied my robe. I smiled and asked if he’d like to “get comfortable.” He got up from the chair and hugged me. I kissed him on the lips (he was really tall, so I was straining). He smelled nice, much better than my smoky robe.
He started to undress. I was already in my underwear but I kicked off my heels. We hugged again and lay down together on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms and lightly kissing.
This wasn’t bad at all. It felt natural and very pleasant. I was still nervous about all sorts of things but he was very nice and that was reassuring. He was treating me far better than anyone I’d met in a club (not that I went this far with customers in the club). There was a definite sense that he was following my lead, which also helped reassure me.
This might have been moving a little fast for me — even in college — but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t willing to do. There was a sense of play I might have enjoyed if I weren’t so wound up. We were two people enjoying each other. Nothing unnatural about that.
We’d been slowly removing our underwear. Now he was completely naked, so I took one of my condoms and moved down on him. I could see him clearly in the light and his skin looked clean and unbroken. I sat on his thighs and fumbled with the condom wrapper. It was obvious I was not used to handling condom packages. That lack of experience made him smile. (I had just ended a long-term relationship, so not only was I not used to condoms, I wasn’t having much sex either.)
I finally got the condom on him for the blowjob (yes, I practice safer sex). It was unlubed and tasted horrible, like a balloon. It made me want to gag. I stopped with the blowjob and put a little lube on my palm to rub on the condom. I got on top (my least favorite position) and we began having sex.
It was actually exciting. I was so nervous I thought I wouldn’t enjoy anything, but my natural responses kicked in and we had fun. I think he had more fun than I did, but my declining relationship had been a lot worse. We rolled around until he had an orgasm. I cleaned him with a warm, wet towel and put the condom in the trash. I snuggled against him for some pillow talk.
He made all sorts of wonderful promises: calling every day I was in town, taking me on a trip to Miami, yachting…it all sounded grand. I was excited to think I’d charmed my first client that much. (It turns out some men simply get caught up in the moment.) He dressed. I kissed him before I opened the door.
He had a better clock in his head than I did. It was exactly an hour. It didn’t feel like it. At the beginning, I thought an hour was way too much time. Now that he was gone, an hour wasn’t long enough to really have fun!
I was grinning. I showered quickly and went over to see my friend. She was done for the night. I couldn’t stop raving about my first appointment. I was thrilled. It paid for my hotel stay with plenty left over. All in one stroke! There were lots of nights I didn’t make this much in a 7-hour shift at the club (one of the signs I had stripper burnout). I couldn’t believe how easy and natural it was for me, given that it paid so well. What was wrong with the world? This was the best-kept secret ever!
She and I laughed, ate snacks and watched a little TV. She was amused by my excitement. I couldn’t wait for the next day.
The Rest of the Trip
My phone rang off the hook. I couldn’t keep up with the volume. It seems the universe understood that I wanted more business and it complied. I had an even mix of one and two –hour appointments over the next two days. I scheduled as many appointments as I could rationally fit into the day. I was there to make money. I wasn’t concerned about building a business in DC, I wanted experience and to start feeling confident. I wanted notches on my belt (like college, but better).
There were a couple of missteps but nothing terribly serious (yes, I got ripped off – that’s another story with several other lessons). She went home the day before I did (she’d been there all week). I flew home by myself, glowing the whole way. The money I made not only paid for the trip and all associated expenses, it paid for the upcoming month’s bills too. One weekend of work and I didn’t have to do anything else right away if I didn’t want to.
I knew I was on the right path for me. This was the answer I’d been looking for. I couldn’t wait to put my ad up in Dallas and start my business for real.
The transition had already happened. The formality was easy: the night after I got home, I cleaned out my locker at the club. Why waste my time dealing with drunk assholes? I could have fun with a variety of interesting men who were willing to pay me well for my time and attention. Instead of constant, crushing rejection, I got treated like a princess. There was no choice to be made, no agonizing decision.
The only difficult part of the transition was telling my mother. Since I showed my face in my ad and I was going to be working in Dallas, I knew I needed to tell her before someone else did. This is a whole other lesson in and of itself, though. Suffice to say, I told her before my Dallas ad went up, right after that weekend. It was hard. But I’m still her daughter.
I should’ve planned better and made sure I had enough to cover expenses — for the trial-run and regular living expenses. Putting myself in a desperate situation could’ve been real trouble if I hadn’t been successful or couldn’t handle the work.
Don’t do things last minute. Planning ahead for something new helps keep problems to a minimum. Expect surprises, though.
Wear actual clothing. Keep the room on the cool side.
These first few times were for learning. It took time for me to figure out what did and did not work for me. Experience gave me my “style,” though I was learning up to the day I retired.
I put my hotel information on my cell phone voicemail because I was afraid of missing calls. Stupid move. There could’ve been worse consequences than simply having to take the phone off the hook due to constant ringing.
It’s good to have a friend. Especially if she’s nearby. We toured together a couple more times until she moved out of the area.
She and I are two different people. We each run our business in the way that suits us best.
Don’t believe promises men make, but enjoy them anyway. Wild promises are a compliment.
If I wasn’t sure about escort work, I could’ve asked for no reviews and not shown my face in my photos. I don’t regret that I didn’t do that, but I might if I had decided escort work was not for me.
Escort work is not difficult for an intelligent girl who is a good conversationalist. One-hour minimums are a good place to start, the time will fly by. Soon, a single hour will feel constraining.
Being comfortable with entertaining men (from stripping), made transitioning to escort work very easy – but then, escort work was right for me and stripping wasn’t.