How Can You Forget The First Trick You Ever Turned?

For me, as with other ladies in the life of prostitution, there was a first time. For me, this is how it happened.

How can you forget the first trick you ever turned?

Standing on the streetcorner at a bustling intersection in Hollywood late one night, I wore a crimson-red blouse tucked into a sleek, slim pair of black jeans, which were in turn tucked into high-heeled black suede boots, my long hair tumbling past my shoulders.

An older-model Mercedes slowed and then stopped at the curb. The driver, a man in his mid-forties, neither handsome nor unattractive, waved me over. I peered into the passenger window. "You dating?" he asked. "Maybe," I replied. "How much can you spend?" "Well, I've got seventy-five bucks. How about half-and-half?" (street slang for fellatio followed by intercourse) I agreed to this and got in his car. He drove to a nearby motel. The room was small and a bit care-worn but clean. He handed me the cash and mentioned he had brought a condom to use. We then got undressed, and I serviced him per his request. Afterwards, he drove me back to the corner where he had picked me up, telling me to be careful (men are always telling me to be careful, probably because I'm petite and vulnerable-looking).

The incident was as quick and as perfunctory as I have described; it took place quickly, with no fuss and no emotion. Right then, I felt as if I had found my calling: what an easy way for a girl to make some fast money! And there was no sense of shame on my part - it all seemed so natural.

The second trick I turned occured about two weeks later, with someone younger, close to my own age. Again, I felt that sense of exhilaration of a job well-done. By the following month, I was doing this full-time.

As the months went on, I learned the game: how to sense which guys would be safe to go with, which ones seemed creepy, how to sense if the potential customer might actually be a police officer working undercover.

And I also learned that no matter how careful I was, there were dangerous situations I had to navigate. One night, I was robbed: the customer grabbed the money out of my purse (I since learned to secrete the cash in a safe place, usually inside my stockings or boots); when I reached for it, he forcefully grabbed my wrist and said, "Now wait a minute" in a harsh tone, with a cold, hard look in his eyes. I scrambled out of his car and ran. Another time, I had to jump out of a moving car; the customer had swerved onto a side street, away from the motel I had indicated. Fortunately, he was not driving very fast, so I sustained only minor scrapes and bruises.

There were other lessons I had to learn, including how to get along with the other girls on the street. I was working free-lance, which is not the usual way for ladies who are streetwalkers. I soon discovered the other working girls were pressured by their pimps to recruit for their "stables". Since I was not interested in working for a pimp, I learned to be friendly with other girls while keeping my distance.

So much to learn, to absorb: and it was tremendously exciting. However, not all of of my experiences as a streetwalker have been exciting - this includes the times I have been arrested (for "public nuisance" as well as prostitution); this is a situation which induces feelings of shock, fear, and humiliation. Since prostitution is illegal in the U.S. (except for certain designated counties in the state of Nevada), if you're going to work as a hooker, then you always have to be on your guard in case of arrest....

But that is for another time...