As promised two days ago after writing TOP 7 REASONS TO BECOME AN ESCORT, I will now feature the yang of that yin (or vice versa – not sure) with today’s TOP 7 REASONS TO NOT BECOME AN ESCORT. Yes, everything I wrote in the last entry had a “true that” component. But as I mentioned, there’s always a price to pay when you sell your soul and so…here goes with all the negatives to making the big bucks, meeting lots of guys, and getting tons of sex. Continue Reading
I know I occasionally snap on the girls for being irresponsible, sloppy or unappreciative. But there are an equal number of times when I’ll be their advocate as well. Take the issue of what a girl is willing to do in the room with a stranger. That’s a woman’s choice if you ask me! The “our body ourselves” feminist motto is one with which I’m in total agreement.
First and most obvious and at its inception, the credo addresses a woman’s right to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. But today I expand the concept to include an escort’s right to do what she wants – and conversely refusing to do what she she doesn’t want to do – with her customers. (It’s her body and she has the right to do only what feels comfortable with – and nothing more.) After all, it’s an accepted reality that escort work carries very little dignity…and as undignified as the work is (though it can be very profitable), it’s my opinion that a girl should be able to establish her parameters with a customer without having to answer for it on some review board or other. Continue Reading
As we all know, the term “reality show” is already an oxymoron. Like…who in his right mind would believe that crap isn’t completely staged? Well anyway…in the course of doing nothing all day, I happened up on a Backpage ad run by a girl I’d spoken to before. With nothing else to do, I dialed her up to work some sort of magic. And during our meandering verbal intercourse, the subject of the Dennis Hof’s House of Horticulture (aka the Moonlight Bunny Ranch) came up. Without any provocation on my part, she began to tell the story of her employment at the Nevada oasis a few years back. And trust me…it wasn’t pretty…and absolutely nothing like what you see on HBO. Continue Reading
Often when I run up on cute girls in the escort business who I think should have a decent life (at least financially) but don’t even though they’re plenty hot enough to earn a handsome living, I try to advise them on how to handle their affairs and maintain some dignity while doing what they’re doing. Like with my taxi newspaper employer many years ago, I take them on as projects. I know how to manage my shit – and I don’t see why somebody else who really does earn enough to live well can’t do the same thing. Yeah, right! Good luck with that one!
So recently, I got close enough to a girl who by all rights should be a millionaire at this point in time. But attempting to help her for just one day, I found out in a hurry why she isn’t! Check it out! Continue Reading
Has anyone ever noticed that many of the foreign-born escorts in New York are of the mature variety? And that if you want a girl in her twenties or teens you have to go American? Ever wonder why that is? There’s actually an explanation for this phenomenon. And it lies with the tastes of our men – versus the tastes of foreign men:
Many cultures outside the USA are even more youth-oriented than ours. Once a girl hits the age of say…25, she’s already used/damaged goods and considered over-the-hill for this business. Guys with currency of the realm are not interested in buying their services. So what’s a girl to do? Answer: Go to a country where men aren’t so hung up on youth. And that country is AMERICA! A while back I broached this subject with a forty-something client from Brazil who explained to me that 16 year-old girls litter the nude beaches in Rio. They’re all over the place vogueing, preening and selling. And that’s what Brazilian men want. Once a girl is 21, she’s already too old. Hence, the mature girls come to New York to earn dollars, which they send back to Brazil where they’re valuable. Many end up building houses and/or buying buildings in Brazil with the money they make here. And this is why we have “The Million Brazilian Cotillion” in New York. Continue Reading
It should come as no surprise that many of the American girls in the escort business have the kind of social life that guys like us can only dream of. For starters, think of all the variety! And then consider that many escorts like members of both genders effectively doubling their opportunity! Ask yourself what happens when the girls go out clubbing. How many individuals bust a move on them? And then there’s the intramural on-the-job activity the girls have when it’s slow! It just never ends!
A while back a manager I know called me up to say she’d just seen some selfies the girls had taken from the night before. Essentially, a group of 4 or 5 were in a carnal pile satisfying each other all while mugging for the camera. Nice! Continue Reading
Those days of yore for the NYPD vice squad are long gone. But back when I started selling ads to New York’s escort community, the vice squad allegedly held a license to print money – if you were to believe what a bunch of escorts had to say. Which I did.
When busting a whore house (or massage parlor or whatever), the police are supposed to seize and voucher everything they find which is involved in the commission of a crime. And that means paperwork, computers, phones and (hello) money! Seizing the appropriate materials was easy and happened on almost every bust. Vouchering? Take a wild guess. Continue Reading
Scanning entries from many years back can be a fruitless task when I’m looking for something relevant for publication as most of the posts are either time-sensitive or too boring for repitition. But this one (which is a decade old) survives the test of time. So here goes with a slightly updated version of “HOUSING THE GOILS.”
As a division of clients scan the free alternative weeklies, companionship tabloids, websites and whatever else for hot ladies who play for pay, few consider exactly how the objects of their lust arrange for the discreet housing they provide! After all, selling “companionship” is a questionable activity and you’d think that the business of obtaining apartments for the girls would be a complicated affair indeed! Continue Reading
No, this isn’t a story about some escort service owner who fucked me years ago and came back to assert that we start anew after all the time has passed – effectively eliminating her debt to me with the excuse that enough time has passed for her not to have to pay what she owes. Nor is it about the cit employee who once upon a time made reference to “the statue of libertations” (I’m not kidding about that). This is about an expiring lottery ticket which today at 5 PM, will no longer be redeemable for the 63 million dollars it’s worth! Continue Reading
A long time ago, I wrote a piece for Action magazine titled “The Do’s and Don’ts of Incall Etiquette.” In it I covered the usual crap (shower, shave and be nice) and added that even if you hate women deep down inside, a guy can still elicit the girl’s best by feigning a healthy love for all members of the opposite sex. After all, he only need keep the show up for 60 minutes…and in so doing, will have a much better time with his chosen mate.
I relate this today because last night I was on the phone with an old girlfriend and while listening to her usual banal conversation, wondered why this girl can’t pretend to be interesting for 60 minutes. She knows exactly what I hate in her (or she should) and could herself elicit what she wanted from me by simply presenting herself in such a way as to not kill my hard-on with all her boring, gossipy, drama-ridden bull shit. Continue Reading
Any New Yorker interested in seeing the local sports franchises live knows how expensive it gets to score premium and up-close seats to any of the games. It’s downright ridiculous. Wanna see the Knicks from courtside? Try $4000 bucks! Ouch!
So anyway…as I was checking out prices for the nosebleeds in Madison Square Garden (like 80 bucks for the worst seats in the house), I thought back to one occasion when I got to profit from the absurd prices New York sporting events command. And here’s how the story goes:
About 10 years ago, I got a call from a girl I know who said she’d just exchanged an hour session for two tickets to the US Open tennis semi-finals in Flushing. And these weren’t just any tickets. They were courtside corporate joints some employee was stupid enough to tender for what I knew to be the most perfunctory of escort performances. Continue Reading
Guys! Would you rather have a girl with a phat booty or a big chest? Girls: A handsome broke guy or a not-so-good-looking man with a big wallet? And how about heredity versus environment? Are people fucked up because of their genes or how and where they grew up? These are all questions for the ages.
So I was over at TWINKLE the other day and upon entering was immediately sequestered in one of the rooms because a guy was leaving. For just a minute or two I sat on the bed and with nothing else to do, took in the environment. Really nice! A Victorian chair in the corner…soft music playing from the radio…ambient soft lighting…lotions galore on the night stand…and shellacked exposed brick on the western wall. And all I could think was “Wow! This is the perfect setting.” Continue Reading
The other day I was reading an old news report which referred to the owner of an escort agency as a pimp. Now according to Webster, the shoe fits. A pimp is a man who is an agent for a prostitute or prostitutes and lives off their earnings. And if this owner’s subcontractors actually did have sex in exchange for money, the definition applies. But that’s an ivory tower point of view which doesn’t really play in the real world. Allow me to explain.
A pimp is a man or woman (why Webster cites only one gender speaks a lot in and of itself) who houses, feeds, controls and sometimes physically beats his or her girls. He or she takes care of all their needs in exchange for hijacking all the money they earn. That’s a pimp! Often, the pimp will wear outrageously flashy clothing and ride around in a $100,000 car to project his or her image…though not always. A pimp can look raggedy and ride around on a bike. Just so he or she takes all the girls’ earnings…that’s a pimp. Continue Reading
A long time ago, I had an Action outcall client who sent me an escort to review for the magazine. The dispatched girl decided to go out on her own a month or so later, and called me to run her first ad in my boss’s publication. From there we became longtime friends.
The woman was as hot a mess as ever there was. Maria (fake name) was the poster girl for dysfunction – and how heredity and environment can sound the death knell for a person’s adult life. She had it all: Bad genes (criminal and slow mind) and an early upbringing which included muling for her drug-dealing uncle at age 6, and getting sexually abused by a neighbor at more or less the same age. Additionally, Maria watched a mugger blow her drug-dealing boyfriend’s brains out when she was in her 20’s. His grey matter (what there was of it) splattered all over Maria’s new dress! She used to tell me all this shit with the preface “Billy! I gotta ask you something ’cause you’re the only person I know with any sense.” Continue Reading
And big fucking brass balls at that! Let me explain. My e-mail box is beginning to remind me of Facebook in that all kinds of lowlives from my past contact me like I’d ever want to hear from them again. And last night at 3 AM, sure enough, I got a message from good old Charlie Chump.
Charlie Chump is a fucking legend out in Brooklyn, a place I used to hate to sell ads because all the owners were such fucking thugs. And I don’t mean black thugs…I mean Italian thugs. Charlie was one of them, and as he was an Action advertiser (and I an employee at the magazine), I had no choice but to get on the L train and go to some God-forsaken neighborhood on the border of Brooklyn and Queens to visit the office. Continue Reading
Every so often I convince one of my clients to pay a bill before the crack of say…2 PM. And what I often get when I arrive is a voyeuristic look at the girls sans make-up, eye glitter, eyelashes etc. Trust me…they don’t look quite as fetching au natural as they do in their war paint.
So last week, I had one of those experiences at a swanky Korean joint – except – one of the girls walked right into the main off-limits-to customers area (where I was convening with the manager) bleary-eyed and buck naked. I saw the girl coming down the hall and because she’s Korean, just knew that as soon as she realized Billy-ah was there, she would jump back all embarrassed and mortified about her nudity! And of course, that’s exactly what happened. Continue Reading
It happened again a few nights ago. It’s been a while…but I received an offer I can refuse. After visiting who I would most accurately term an FWB (friend with benefits), I passed out after the fun for a couple of hours while she did whatever she does in the comfort of her apartment (mostly chain smoke). At some time before dawn, I was awakened by “Bill, you have to get up!”
Now I’m a pretty light sleeper and you don’t have to shake and yell at me to get a rise out of old Bildo. So I was alert within seconds and pulling my shit together. I mean…I’d have rather slept a little longer. But I was prepared to hop on the iron steed and repair to my own crib with nary a whimper when she hit me with the offer: “You can crash in the bed” (in the other room) “but I have to work.” Continue Reading
Once again trafficking of Korean girls is in the news. This time the setting is Seattle. And the particulars are familiar…so familiar that I’m not going to repeat myself having already expounded ad nauseum on several occasions in similar circumstances. But I will say this for everybody who reads this blog: Pay attention to who got arrested!
While twelve places were shut down…only 13 people were carted off. And most of those were members of something called “The League.” The League was a bunch of professionals who’d get together over a meal to talk smack about the girls. Ya know – CEO types who essentially, paid to see girls…posted ads…wrote reviews and skewed the marketplace for their own advantage. Ring a bell? Continue Reading
I received a call this morning from a woman who was literally beside herself with stress after traveling from the Upper East Side in the 70’s to Midtown in the 40’s – and back – as part of doing an outcall. Now this seems like a nothing commute. So why all the drama? Well first off, the woman is a drama queen. But that’s not the whole story.
Wishing to arrive on time (which this girl never does), she hailed a yellow outside her door and within just a few blocks found herself in a traffic gridlock. Forty five minutes and twenty bucks later she arrived to the call frazzled beyond description no doubt from being very late…and twenty bucks poorer. The date went alright (I assume) because the guy (after hearing her story) called Uber (which she called “Hoover.” Too funny! You’re the Hoover…not the for-hire vehicle or the driver) so she could go back home free-of-charge and in style. Guess again! Continue Reading