Tag Archives: taboo

BrothelBabe’s #1 fear: Secret identities 

29 Aug

Who knows?

Hypothetically, lets THEORIZE…
lets say a gal like me (brothelbabe!) told a lot of people about her “other life” and wishes she hadn’t.
Reasons why a gal might reveal her brothel status:

Because you want to put a wall between you and the other person.
As if to say, “Here is some drama in my life, here is why I can’t go to lunch with you, can’t talk wit you, can’t date you, can’t have a relationship with you, can’t fall in love with you.”

Because you want to take DOWN walls between you and another person.
As if to say, “Here’s why I’m great at meaningless sex, having affairs, and why I’m so goddamn candid. Here’s why I’m the most frank and forward person you’ve ever met when it comes to relationships….particularly taboo ones.”

Because you are tired of men trying to use sex as a tool and as currency.
“Please, dahling. I’ve heard every trick in the book and you making like you will help me get famous if I sleep with you is useless. Show me your private jet first and hand me a bag full of 80 thousand dollars. I’m a professional.”

Other reasons you might talk about this job:
– It’s too tiring keeping all of your lies and cover jobs straight
– The first year is unusually emotionally draining, and you could use a friend (or 30….woops) to help you cope.
– BECAUSE IT’S THE COOLEST FUCKING JOB ON THE PLANET. GIVE ME MY BADGE OF HONOR NOW!

Can you guess which reason my reason is? 😉

The conundrum facing Brothelbabe:
Suppose a gal wanted to start over. Pursue another life. Hypothetically Brothelbabe could be a genius of sorts. A modern day Leonardo da Vinci….who fears being discovered as a generic brothel ho. How does one cover their tracks?

This saga is TO BE continued…..
I love you.
P.S. My coworker cooked us all breakfast wearing an apron, a bra, and NO PANTIES, so we could all laugh at her completely exposed bum. GOD BLESS THIS JOB.
P.P.S. The security guard also had it with the brothel down the road who wouldn’t give him beers, so last morning he came in completely wasted, crashed here, and got so drunk that we painted his fingernails black. I love him.
P.P.P.S. I sent a letter professing my love to Mr. Wrong….which started with me talking about this guy who wanted to fuck me, but instead of fucking the guy, I was thinking of Mr. Wrong. Isn’t that romantic?

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Money vs. Freedom – weekly reflections

24 Aug

Every Tuesday, I’m going to be sharing something that happened during the day/week that is a trade-off of money vs. the typical freedoms one might get living outside of here.

Today’s freedom?
The drugs you choose to put in your body.
HCG - my favorite diet drug.

Keep in mind, this is not the brothel that is on that TV show. We are not allowed to do any drug we want here. Recently there was a change of management. Before, things like…smoking weed on the back patio were acceptable.

Now the smoking weed thing is no longer acceptable. Which is fine – I never much liked weed.
But now, the management is trying to tell me what diet drugs I can and cannot do, which in this industry, is WAY WORSE than taking away somebody’s weed.

    The drug in question:

HCG
(aka pregnyl, aka human chorionic gonadotropin.)

    How long I’ve been using the drug:

On and off for some time.

    Why the boss took it away:

NOT because it involves needles, but because he’s more familiar with its use in conjunction with steroids, a’la pro baseball player Manny Ramirez.
Keep in mind I have no idea of those kinds of uses. I’m only familiar with its much older use, which is a diet from the 1950s called “Simeons Protocol.”

    What transpired:

The boss told me I can’t shoot up on the premises any more. A heated conversation.

    Ending result:

I was furious and cried. NOT because I can’t do the drug. But because one of my precious freedoms had been taken away.

    How I coped:

My 18 year old buddy joined me while I was a teary mess and I explained how ridiculous losing this particular freedom is. After all….a year ago it was common knowledge with the last management how much money I spent on cosmetic surgery. So part of the reason for the drug is to maintain the results of said surgery.

    How I fought back:

Explained logically to the manager about said surgery, and how I’m paranoid about reversing the results of my very expensive, very painful surgery….and that my line of work both inside and outside of this house is all about how slim you are. He tells me, “you’re a beautiful girl, that’s your rule, not life.”

I also said, “if you’re gonna tell a girl something that’s going to make her cry, maybe try to do it when she isn’t on shift!”

“But I live here.” He says.
“Our shifts are only 12 hours. Find time outside of that.”
I also said, “If you’re gonna call me out, then you should probably start searching for drugs in every girls room, to be fair.”

    Surprise display of character from the boss:

He calls me to the back office, and wouldn’t ya know, its close to 1am but he has the owner of the place on the phone, who says, “I know you girls have your vices, and you need vices for your sanity. If the drug in question is LEGAL enough that I won’t get busted by you keeping it in the house, then you can keep it.”

Lesson learned: Nobody in America likes to be told they can’t do something. Especially a whore in a brothel.