The real-life adventures of a girl who is willing to try just about anything.

TMI Tuesday – Illicit skills

The questions at the TMI Tuesday blog have always been hit or miss with me. This week’s questions unfortunately count as a miss for me (the answer to all of them is no), except for the bonus question, which I like a lot.

Bonus: Have you ever been paid for your sexual skills? What skill(s) did you perform?
I have never been explicitly paid for any service, although it’s often said that we all pay for it in one way or another. 😉 You know, go out to a nice dinner and then maybe a movie afterward. Or you go out to a bar or nightclub and buy someone a few drinks. In the courtship/dating stage anyway. After you’re locked into a relationship, either formally in marriage or otherwise, you pay for it in many other ways: gifts, sacrificing your free time, etc.
However, there was a time in my life where I seriously considered sex for pay. Okay, truthfully, I have considered it many times in my life because I love sex and the only way I could love it more is if I was getting paid for it! Even when I was a young girl I thought about it. I can remember back in the 80s one time when my mom was watching a made-for-tv movie starring Loni Anderson about a high-class call girl. I was excited by the idea of getting paid for sex, even back then, long before I’d ever actually started having sex. My mom had said to me that she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, if she could be a high-class call girl. She would never want to be a streetwalker, she said, because that’s dangerous. I can admit that even that part appealed to me. In hindsight I can see I’ve always had those darker desires, but never understood them until I was older.
Back to the question at hand: About 10 years ago I met a man online and through his dogged persistence over a few months I finally agreed to meet him and have lunch. We agreed ahead of time that he would buy me lunch and I would suck his cock afterward. I’m sure he wanted much more, but that is all I was comfortable with at the time. Our first lunch was at Bennigan’s on my meal break from work and I blew him in the backseat of his car in the parking lot behind the restaurant. And so began our infrequent lunch date tradition, of sorts. Lunch and “dessert.”
A few years later, I was going through some very tough financial difficulties. I was going to school full-time and was having a hard time finding even a part-time job that wouldn’t completely hose my school schedule. My situation was getting rather desperate. I was behind on all of my bills and rent. My roommate bailed on me. My car broke down. We were running out of food. And did I mention that I was a single parent? It was like I was living a bad country song. 
One afternoon I was talking with my lunch date friend and he offered a solution. He would set me up with some buddies of his. I would suck their cocks for $50/each. Now, not being a patron of the world’s oldest profession, I do not now nor did I then know what the going rate for a blow job was. He told me $50 was pretty expensive but he insisted to his friends that I was worth every penny. I can’t say I disagreed, then or now. As badly as I needed the money, I never went through with it. I felt that it was a very slippery slope, and not one that I wanted to attempt to circumvent. Essentially I know that I am lazy and it would be really easy to move from blow jobs to more. That is not the example I wanted to set for the child in my care. Not that I hold any judgment against those that do. It’s just not the right path for me.

Also while on the subject, I thought I’d share an anecdote from a time I was offered money. This is copied directly from my LiveJournal and was originally posted March 5, 2005. 🙂

[Quick note: The neighborhood I lived in back then wasn’t the best. There were some apartments literally next door to my house that had been raided by the DEA at least once, and that’s where this guy lived. I’d had a few other incidents with him (most notably asking me if I could watch a puppy for him for “15 minutes” that turned into 24 hours wherein I had to hunt him down, only to find him sitting on the steps smoking a rock), and he was really mostly harmless.]

The Crackhead Chronicles, Episode IV

Tonight’s crackhead story beats them all.

Earlier, around 11:30pm, I went out with my best friend to go to a couple of her offices because she had to drop some stuff off and pick some other stuff up. We got home about 1am. She came inside for a few minutes and then I walked her to the door. As she is getting in her car, who do I see approaching from the apartment steps next door? None other than our friendly neighborhood crackhead. She is in her car in my driveway with the engine running but of course waits to see what’s going to happen, if I am going to need assistance or if I am in any kind of danger.

Dude asks me how it’s going and stuff, what’s been up. I say it’s been alright and shit. Then he tells me that he has something beautiful he wants to show me and talk to me about, something good, but not with her still there. He wants to wait for her to leave. She pulls out of the driveway and right about that time my phone rings. I tell him I have to go answer the phone and he should go. He said he really needs to talk to me and that I should go answer the phone and he’ll wait. So I go inside and lock the door and try to grab the phone. I missed the call but checked the caller ID. Of course it was her and she immediately called back. I told her that he was still out there waiting.

I go back to the door while talking to her on the phone. He’s all mumbling that he doesn’t want her to hear but he wants to ask me something. So I tell her to hold on and lower the phone to my waist. It’s really hard for me to understand what he’s saying to me because he’s talking really low and basically mumbling. Now, dear readers, after finally understanding what he was getting at, I am really terribly sorry that I am not able to transcribe the whole conversation because it would’ve made the whole incident 1000% more enjoyable than I’m sure it’s already going to be. What I did get was something like this:

him: Do you like coke?
me: No, I don’t do ANY drugs. [yeah, right]
him: Yeah, I do remember you telling me that now. You don’t even drink, do you? [complete bullshit, we’ve never had anything remotely close to this conversation before.]
me: No, not really, I don’t do anything.
him: [I think this is what he said] Hey, listen, can I step in and out for a minute?
me: What? NO, you can’t come inside.
him: C’mon, I’ve got $50.
me: No, you’re not coming in this house.
him: Well, we don’t have to go in there, you can come to my place.

[Now it really dawns on me what he’s getting at.]

me: Uh, no.
him: I can give you $50.
me: No man. No.
him: How much then?
me: No way, that’s just not cool. I’m not down with that at all.
him: I don’t mean any disrespect or anything. You know I really dig you, right? You’re kinda fine and all. I don’t mean any disrespect.
me: No, seriously. That’s not cool, I’m not down with that. If this is what this conversation is about, you just need to go and please don’t come back around again.
him: Aight, it’s cool. I’m sorry. I’ll holla at ya.

Then I went inside, double-locked the door loudly and started talking loudly into the phone to let him know I was still on it. My best friend drove back by to make sure he was gone and he was nowhere to be seen.

To sum it all up for you in case you didn’t catch it: I got fucking propositioned for paid sex by a fucking crackhead!!!

After thinking about it for a minute, I was almost honored and let me tell you why. Consider that your average crack rock costs about 20 bucks. He was willing to give up at least 2-3 crack rocks to be able to fuck me. It that some high-priced ass or what??? Hear that ya’ll??? A fucking crackhead was willing to give up his rock to be with me. Him paying me. Not him offering to fuck me or blow me for money to buy rock. Have you ever known a crackhead? I have. I’ve lived with one for several months. This supposedly “straight” man whored himself out to all kinds of nasty men so he could get his crack. Ol’ crackhead D wanted to do just the opposite. How beautiful is that?

Goddamn I must be hot. “[I’m fine] like a black woman. [I] got a black woman’s ass.”* I’ve got serious junk in the trunk. I’ve got the bodacious gadong-a-dong-dong**. JLo ain’t got shit on me. This shit ain’t lined in gold muthafucka. This shit is lined in PLATINUM!!!

I think Imma take my fine ass to bed now. Holla!

*Direct quote from a black guy hitting on me one night at the Landing.

**Courtesy of Urban Dictionary.com
gadong-a-dong-dong
1. A fine ass worth watching, and possibly exploring later.
2. For a larger ass, simply add more “dong” on to the end.
3. From the Missy Elliot song “Work It”.
4. If you didn’t know already, Missy Elliot is from P-Town (VA).
Standard:
“and you think you can handle this ga-dong-a-dong-dong”
Supa Fly:
“dammmmmmmmmn she got the gadong-a-dong-dong-DONG goin on!”

3 Comments

  1. Ashly Star

    The story about the crackhead had me chuckling. The nerve of some people. Good on you for sending him packing, lol. I like the way you tell a story, very entertaining.

    As for the tmi bit, I know I could never be a sex worker. It’s just not for me but more power to those who can work it.

    Happy Tuesday!

    Reply
  2. Jack and Jill

    This post was so entertaining to read that we didn’t even care that you skipped right to the bonus. 🙂

    Reply
  3. Mia Wallace

    I have to admit that the thought of taking money for BJs has occurred to me as well, but, like you, I don’t want to attempt that slippery slope. Not worth it. But it’s a good fantasy!

    Reply

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