Dear Kinja

Preliminary statement: I initially wasn't sure whether to write about this at all. This will be a very sensitive entry because it discusses a client's body shape and size and how that impacted on the booking. All I can say is that I place absolutely no moral, character or aesthetic value on people based on their weight or size and so I don't consider this entry to be fat-shaming. But part of this entry will be about my booking with a client whose weight made things a bit difficult so I suppose today's entry is brought to you by the letters T and W.

Okay? Here we go.

It's been a pretty slow week and the weekend was abysmal. I had multiple last minute cancellations and very few calls that led to actual bookings. A friend who's also in the industry and I were sharing our woes via instant message. She told me she heard through the grapevine that a big agency in town was doing a MAJOR blitz on the competition: getting male associates to make fake bookings tying said competition up on the busiest nights of the week and then cancelling at the last minute.

I think this kind of behaviour is scummy, and it's the kind of competition and rivalry I loathe partly because you lose work and partly because it's a microcosm of the whole bullshit notion women in general get fed about how we have to compete with each other for the precious resources of teh menz. And that, Kinja, is bullshit. Talking about the sex industry specifically there will ALWAYS be buyers. The market will never dry up. Yes, thin times (such as I'm experiencing currently) are a bit demoralising and scary, but work will pick up, eventually. Engaging in backstabbing and sneaky bullshit does nothing but give you a very temporary leg up (or over, hahaha) and feed a certain kind of client's ego and vanity, because they can tell themselves they're a precious precious resource that we're all clawing each other's eyes out to get at. Plus, not smart in the long term. And the rest of us see you and your bullshit.

Anyway. The point of all this is that I'm not getting many bookings and not able to be too choosy about the ones I am getting. I've said this before but this job is like any other: the more privileges you have the less you have to compromise yourself. Because I'm not a regulation hottie and I don't have a "niche" or skill set which makes me particularly valuable (such as BDSM or a particular fetish etc), this affects my pricing. I'm just a common or garden variety part time hooker. I charge what I can get away with and most of the time I do all right, but I am what I am and thatz okay.

And there are privileges I have in spades that really fucking matter in this industry. I'm educated and can speak "nicely ". This isn't my sole source of income. I am physically and mentally healthy. I can squirt an obfuscating cloud of ink into the surrounding water when I need to escape from predators.

The plus side of having prices at the low end of the scale means that I do get work I otherwise wouldn't. The down side is that I do attract a few scumbags who think my prices mean I can't say no to anyone and will take whatever crap they feel like dishing. And if I'm going well that's a very false assumption and the joke's on them. But if I'm not going so well...... Yeah.

So when I got a chance of a booking with an individual who, judging by our communication over email and phone, was totally gross? I took it. Even though he'd previously complained about my prices, that I wouldn't send him face pictures, that I probably wasn't even Asian - my English was too good you see, what with it bring my first fucking language and all, we all know that Real Azns (TM) can only say "Sucky sucky five dollar!" and "Me love you long time!" etc - and that he grandly told me he had decided to give me a second chance.

Kinja, he was awful. It was awful. He was one of those middle aged white men who doesn't have a castle and a Ferrari and a playboy bunny and a flying dinosaur even though he was such a nice guy, so he concludes that life has shat on him and "See what being nice has got me all my life? Fuck all. So no more Mr Nice Guy is my philosophy."


Predictably he was a total MRA too and told me all about all the women who've fucked him over all his life, and how life is so much easier for women ("You just have to open your legs and life gets handed to you on a plate").

My skin absolutely crawled while he touched me. He assessed my body out loud: "You're not as good looking as the girls I usually see but I thought I'd give you a try". "You should dress better you know, that isn't very sexy". "Do something different with your hair." "Hmm... This [my tummy] could use some work but these [my boobs] are spectacular - are they real?" "Can this tight little arse take a cock up it? mmmmm." And it got a lot more sexually explicit than that.

Need I even mention that this guy was not exactly an oil painting himself?

He sulked when I made made him go wash his filthy hands and when he came back with them still filthy and any manner of muck under his fingernails I wouldn't let him stick his fingers inside me. I withheld kissing privileges because hey, I need to like myself when I look in the bathroom mirror every morning. He got belligerent about that and said "Your ad says you kiss." Yes, that's an extra I offer at my discretion. "What's the problem? I'll fucking pay you." It's an extra I offer AT MY DISCRETION. "My money's good as anyone else's".


He made a point of fucking me for the rest of the booking. I made a point of not even trying to pretend this was the most mind blowingly pleasurable and erotic experience of my life.

That was the only booking I got that night. I kept my phone on til 3 am before giving up.

The next night, the cancellations continued. I was so desperate I took a booking with a stingy swole brah who wanted to face fuck me, without charging extra for it. He didn't come until my eyes were watering and I began simulating (not entirely simulating) those pornesque gagging and retching sounds.

Then I went back home, fielded cancellations and time wasters (we know when you're jerking off while you're on the phone to us, yo) for a few hours and then got a real life honest to god booking with a guy who wasn't a total dipshit.

The client was obese. The size of his belly made getting access to his penis very difficult, especially because at certain angles if gravity came into play his mons pubis sagged over it, concealing it almost entirely. He had a great deal of trouble maintaining an erection with the condom on. After trying and trying various things the only position I was able to find where he could penetrate me at all was a kind of improvised combo of reverse cowgirl and scissor, him lying flat on his back with legs slightly apart and me straddling him legs akimbo like we were a pair of awkwardly mating praying mantises.

And I don't think he even felt any particular difference in sensation when he was able to penetrate me.

But you know what? This guy was kind. He was respectful. He didn't try to haggle or wheedle or push my boundaries. When the pot smog filling his house started making me feel sick and I asked him if he minded opening a window and turning a fan on, he obliged. He didn't act like he thought he was entitled to anything beyond what we had agreed upon booking. He didn't radiate hostility or aggression or resentment or insecurity or shame-turned-outward.

Clients like this are preferred because they get it. They treat you like a fucking human being. In an ideal universe they're the only sort I'd see. But because this isn't an ideal universe, I just reward them for being kind by being kind in return. And the majority of clients I see are kind.

Basically: some sex workers I know do care about appearance and will not see clients on the basis of looks, race, size, etc. I don't give a fuck. What I care about is attitude. I put my all into this booking because this guy made it very easy for him to, aside from the physics aspect which was something entirely beyond his control. And we both went to bed that night happy.

And he got kissed.