Prostitutes In Film

Many films depict prostitutes in many different ways, from the fairy-tale fantasy of "Pretty Woman" to the gritty, harsh reality of "Mona Lisa".  (Personally, I thought "Pretty Woman" was pretty silly; "Mona Lisa", on the other hand, was brilliant.)

"Klute" (1971) and "London to Brighton" (2006) are two very powerful films dealing with prostitution.

"Klute" stars Jane Fonda as call girl Bree Daniels, who helps detective John Klute solve a missing persons case. Bree seems to have a carefree lifestyle - lots of cash and independence - yet she is vulnerable and filled with self-doubt; this is depicted in a very moving scene with her psychiatrist.

From call girls to the gritty streets:

"London to Brighton" is a crime drama focusing on the disturbing world of child prostitution. Kelly is a world-weary London streetwalker forced by her violent pimp, Derek, to recruit an 11 year-old runaway girl named Joanne as a prostitute for a mobster client who is a pedophile. Kelly and Joanne escape on a train to Brighton; the perverted mobster orders Derek to bring back Kelly and the child.

Both "Klute" and "London To Brighton" reveal the harsh realities of prostitution in a powerful yet sensitive way. All too often, the mainstream media tend to depict prostitution as something glamourous; these two films scrub off the sugarcoating and show just what life on the game can mean if you don't keep your wits about you.

Pulp Art - Pulp Hookers

I've always enjoyed vintage retro pulp art; I find it both fascinating and humourous.  I recently discovered these examples of pulp art book covers from the 1940s and 1950s and get a kick out of their campiness as well as their lurid quality.  I often wonder if readers all those decades ago actually took this material seriously!

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...

Street Life

Street Life

I still hang around neither lost nor found

Hear the lonely sound of music in the night

Nights are always bright

That's all that's left for me

I play the street life

Because there's no place I can go

Street life, it's the only way I know

Street life

And there's a thousand cards to play

Until you play your life away...

And To Work For A Pimp...

What motivated me to work for a pimp - however briefly - a few years ago?  He represented protection and stability, and  he made me feel special.  Of course, this had to do with the manipulative skills of pimps, but he was very good at at.  Working as a prostitute, particularly as a streetwalker, you can sometimes feel lost and alone, and when a pimp talks to you, he can make the future sound so much better, so you feel like hanging on to him.  And, for me, there is something very sexy about a pimp - he seems more masculine and stronger than a lot of other men, and as a sensitive lady, being around this type of man makes me feel safe.

There is another aspect to the relationship between a prostitute and her pimp which happens to be disturbing: violence, or at least the potential for violence.  This one particular pimp I worked for was not violent towards me.  (But then, I worked for him very briefly; he and his main lady were from out of state and invited me to accompany them back to their home town.  When I said "no", since I was content working in my own city, he accepted my response in a good-natured way.)

I'd had a previous encounter with another pimp, which scared me.  Although he did not hit me, he threatened to do so if I didn't bring him a certain amount of money.  When I got on the track that night, I mentioned this to the first trick who drove up to me, and he drove me to the apartment where I was living at the time.  (I was not living with this pimp - we had just met that same day - and he didn't know where I lived.)

Would I work for a pimp again?  This is not an easy question for me to answer.  My first response would be "no", since I do like my freedom to come and go as I wish, working my own hours; however, I also highly value and respect a strong man who could protect me and make me feel I can do my best in this world.