Uhhhhm – NO, I can’t afford a ticket to the Bahamas!: Trip Etiquette

4 Nov

Once upon a time I had a crush on one of the regulars who would come in to the nicer brothel I work[ed] at closer to Vegas.
His name was Erik.

Erik is the guy who would hang out with his tired limbs and baseball cap, drink beers, and would stay to talk to us ladies.

About life
our boy troubles
and how hard working in a brothel can be sometimes.

He made himself emotionally available in a way that our REAL friends and boyfriends did not, due to the magical way he let us put our guts out on a platter and he put his heart on the table. He’s the kind of guy that’s easy to crush on or fall for in a whorehouse.

The “Ungettable”, as I like to say.

Perhaps 3 times a year he could mysteriously be seen getting whisked away by a girl. We’d typically hear about it the next day, or if we saw it happen, all of us would whisper like it was one of the years biggest upper-crust events.

The rest of the time however, we’d be sitting in the massive bar area, and Erik would give me “this look.”

This look usually indicated there was some stress between him and a working lady.

Usually it meant a newer working girl hitting on him who didn’t understand “Erik’s Protocol.” Inevitably she’d get offended that Erik wouldn’t pay to fuck her. She would think, “oh, if I am more direct or more forward, or if I work on him hard enough, eventually I will break him down and he will say yes.”

With 99% of typical clientele, this works.
Erik, having a dick of steel, comprises the 1% of people where this formula does not apply.

Thus…once a week we could count on it happening that Erik would be hiding in a corner, turning his baseball cap, and looking at me like he wants to shrivel away.

I was his confidant and sanctuary.
I was the girl he would tell “what was going on” when he wanted to disappear.

For me, he was the one I’d get all choked up around when shit hit the fan with my boyfriend. We’d stay up til 2am or later….talking in the bar til alcohol was no longer being served. On one occasion he stayed til the sun was rising outside and we were the only two people left in the room.

With him I could talk about things like….how this industry makes you wanna die.
He would know how desperately I would miss home.
He knew how often my then-boyfriend and I would fight.
On the few occasions where I almost cried,
it usually had to do with one of two things:

1. Now matter how much you may wanna love a person, sometimes you know…it will never ever last, because you were/are a whore.

2. No matter how much you desperately want to love somebody back, sometimes, they just aren’t smart enough.

Erik is my friend.
I trust him completely.

BUT! I crush on him.

If I am crushing on somebody hard and I know they can never be mine, I get to a point where its too painful and too sexually frustrating for me to be their friend.

Yesterday, something “happened.”

We were on our way home from Pahrump NV, after filming everybody for my video. I had wanted Erik to be in it as my closest male brothel friend, but we were itching to get home so meeting up with him didn’t work out.

He told me he bought a ticket to the Bahamas and that he would be leaving tomorrow.

“Wanna come?” he says.
“Are you serious? Really?” I respond.

At this point I’m in the car FREAKING OUT like a giddy schoolgirl because my #1 brothel crush just invited me on a trip.

Then….his second text:
“The price of the last minute ticket kinda rocked my budget, so if you can get the price of the ticket, I have hotel and food covered.”

If you are a guy inviting a woman on a last minute trip….
I don’t care how rich she may be because she’s a ho.
No matter what job she has, you do NOT make her pay for the plane ticket getting there.

That’s like saying you really don’t want her to go at all, and you merely want to tease her with the prospect of sex.

My response:
“The idea of spending gobs of money I don’t have only to be sexually frustrated, sounds like a terrible time.”

His response:
“If that’s the way you think of it, then staying home would be a better idea. “

His text 5 minutes later:
“Are you saying if I covered food and condoms, you would go?”

Great. NOW I know I have a chance to fuck my crush.

As much as getting laid right now would be fabulous,
I can’t afford $800.00.

I have a little mission to work on back home.

I’m not saying that every girl should approach “getting laid” with a plan that has the deftness of a military regime hoping to invade Kuwait….but, I’m about to be that girl with a fucking battle plan. Pun intended.


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