A Day (er, Night) in the Life of an Outcall Stripper [Sex Worker Rant]
Posted at 8:40 PM Jul 30, 2008
Photo by Charise Isis from her American Stripper series
Sex Worker Rant runs on Wednesdays and is written by Renegade Evolution, a sex worker, sexual mercenary, and all around fan of “The Sexy” living somewhere near our nation’s capital. Quirky might as well be her middle name.
Five thirty pm calls for the shower and shave, make up, and that lotion that smells really good.
In the car by six-fifteen!
First show, one of three, forty miles away in another state. Frat boys. Loud, drunk, Hip-hop, harmless…not great tippers, but they don't suck.
Count the cash, on to the next gig. In the historical District of Columbia. Business types, bachelor party, rented out private bar, the bachelor's belt buckle says "pimp". Old school classic rock, six-inch heels on tile floor, a few questions about my tattoos. Good money, fun guys, that outfit, the red one. I wonder what the ladies are doing? I wonder if they wonder what the guys are doing?
It's ten pm, on the way to the last gig when the boss lady calls with a new last gig. Can I be to Arlington at midnight? Yeah, I suppose I can, even though my feet hurt and I'd kill for a cheeseburger. Have to get through this one first. Mixed crowd, men and women, topless only. Everyone seems really nervous. I grin, smile, make jokes to get me through it as much as to get them through it. Tips suck. I can't wait to get out of there!
On the road again. Can I make it sixty miles in sixty minutes? Probably not, but we'll give it a-go. Hey, only ten minutes late. Aussies. Alternative. Last minute gig. Lots of booze in their bellies, spirits high, I wonder how the other guests in the hotel haven't complained yet. Football toasts I don't understand, but it doesn't much matter. They're having fun, keeping their hands off, and tipping handsomely. More handsomely than I could have hoped.
One fifteen am, on the road home again. I figure I can be in my shower by two, in bed by two fifteen. My wallet is way fatter, and my favorite heeled boots survived another night. Tomorrow, well, tomorrow is Saturday, and I'll do it all over again…this time, maybe the strappy heels and the blue outfits.
All in a nights work!
I just wish the boss paid for gas. I wonder if I could write that off for tax purposes?
All things to ponder when Monday comes and my busy nights are over.
Read Renegade Evolution's blog here.
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