Lori from kink etc inspired me to write about the first trick I ever turned with this article about her first experience which you can find on my experiences with intercourse I didn’t want to have I have shared stories of exciting appts I have shared true erotica from the trade. Lori has shared a ton of stories from her past as a stripper and hooker in New Orleans years ago on her blog and will soon be linking to all of those stories from the TFTT community but we have many more to tell. There’s one here from a first time client but I will find many more. Lori wrote about her first trick so I will write about my first time working a corner. It’s short and sweet.
After a year in and out of rehab and time in a recovery house a relapse led to some time stay in a woman’s shelter in my city of approx 300,000.
It was a hostile environment and never having been in a true physical fight in my life, I kept my head down and my eyes to myself. I had been dabbling in both heroin and cocaine again and though I was not yet wired (physically addicted to the point of experiencing withdrawal)I was utterly alone without friends or family at the shelter. I knew where the stroll was and certainly knew lots of working girls and had a few experiences trading sexual favours with people I knew for dope, so I decided to go for it. Walking there I was incredibly nervous. Was I pretty enough to get picked up? Would I somehow blow some unknown rule with another girl? (I knew from television not to take her corner but manners stopped me from asking real working girls about how to do their job) or with a customer? Would someone I knew see me and know what I was up to ( in the years to come I would learn that the hardest part about working a corner is standing there on display to be judged ruthlessly by all that pass by and harassed like you are on par with child molesters or something to be consumed like a fast food burger.) Strangely the last worry on my mind was my safety – I wasn’t really concerned and a false of sense of security after years of keeping myself away from physical violence probably helped keep me safe. Play the victim or expect to be the victim and you have a much greater chance at becoming one ; so stay confident – I had known this since trips with friends to Vancouver at 15. I had on silly clog shoes borrowed from the same girl that had got me raped when I was supposed to be simply watching out for her. I guess I figured the worst was behind me. Silly shoes and shiny grey pants and a tight little top. In my city the more you stand out the harder it is to get picked up. I got to the corner (aptly named ‘Discovery’) and smiled and made eye contact with the drivers like I had seen the others girls do. Simple really. Not 5 minutes later a car pulled over and I jumped in. In my city you don’t make a spectacle of yourself and your prospective client in broad daylight like you would if you simply leaned in the window. Advice from a pamphlet ran through my mind -“keep your door unlocked and know how to use the latch in case of needing to flee, always get the money first but then I faltered when I remembered sketchy instructions about living up your butt cheeks and pretending to be penetrated to avoid the risk and pain of intercourse. Instead I had my spiel ready about how they should go for a blowjob instead of full service, because I was “good at it and loved doing it” and it was cheaper’! Really I just preferred selling the services of my mouth over my cootch. My first street john seemed to think that that was a great idea and we settled on $40. I breathed a sigh of relief, scared that I would get too little or ask for too much. I had tried to make arrangements in another city once and failed the attempt because I wasn’t sure how much and it freaked him out. We drove a few blocks and I let him pick the spot. It was in public but I didn’t think anyone could see us. I prepared to give my first blowjob to a man more than a decade older than me and with zero attraction. I guess most of my boyfriends had great stamina because I had barely began when it was over. I remember that I put the same amount of effort into it but for totally different reasons. The whole process was over less than 10 minutes later and 5 of that was driving. He dropped me off not 15 minutes after I had arrived and I jumped out with a huge grin on my face! 5 minutes for enough to get high on both substances!! My excitement was short lived when I realized that my biggest expectation was a total no show – where was the trauma? Where was the shame ? Excitement? Pride? Really? When it hit me that I had just essentially ‘sold my body’ as they put it and not even a tear, I was devastated and broke down sobbing. Well, at least I found the grief somewhere; I processed the situation. I was lucky really, especially compared to my previous luck attempting to help the other girl and ending up drugged and raped. Maybe that was it- the relief that it was so easy and I was unscathed compared to the other devastating (thesaurus) experience, that filled me with elation. Either way, I now had horseshoes up my butt (as I put it) for the next 5 years and though it certainly was not fun or roses or glamour and was truly 5 years of hell, it was different completely different from what I expected. The pain was there but never again from physical assault. My experiences were to be of an alternate sort – my emotional and mental health so completely wasted that I barely made it out intact, but those are more stories for Tales from the Trade- along with many positive experiences from my recent years as an erotic masseuse.
Please, if you know anyone in, or now out of the trade, send them our way so we can heal together like we deserve to do and support each others sold asses.
Photo credit http://www.gigcity.ca/2012/10/22/is-alberta-avenue-edmontons-new-coolest-neighbourhood-new-documentary-takes-a-look/woman-on-corner1/