Prologue (CONFESSIONS OF A SEX WORKER)©

As a 16 year old runaway one's wisdom based upon life experience is nil in regards to communication, attitude, perspective, and coping mechanisms especially being a minority coming from a sheltered and poverty stricken environment where you're subjected to inevitable socioeconomic suppression OPTIONS ARE LIMITED. So you make things up as you go along and intuitiveness, self awareness all becomes a big game of trial and error with a lack of guidance, and a unstable support system. This is my testimony and my experience.  
My story is a little unconventional from your typical junkie or alcoholic,  
as a matter of fact I’d never taken one drug in my life let alone even pick up a cigarette unless they were over the counter or prescription medicine for the common headache.  
Neither had I abused alcohol in any way, considering that I only drank socially and responsibly.  
At least that is until my introduction into the sex industry.  
I had always assumed that my problems were brought upon by overindulgence.  
But I was an addict nonetheless.  
It wasn't for some time that I would realize that I wasn't a sex addict but that all of my triggers around sex were related to money or some sort of exchange—it wasn’t about the sex.  
I was addicted to the affirmation of being valued by someone for my body, although it’s a very linear form of validating yourself that’s despondent, money can help assign value to a person in a way that’s not terribly different from someone carrying an expensive handbag. It’s the addiction to the money, lifestyle, and instantaneous affection  
The business was my narcotic.  
My way of coming to terms with that truth was convincing myself and other people, successfully, that what I did was economically and financially acceptable/stable.  
I made more money being a prostitute than the average person would in two weeks in one day sometimes within a time span of 1 hour. And where I come from that is like hitting the lottery.  
Besides, people are “whores” have unprotected sex on a regular basis with multiple partners who don't charge and never get persecuted for it so why can’t I make a living out of it right?  
At least I was getting paid for it.  
A little sex never hurt anyone.  
I conditioned myself to believe.  
Objectifying myself in every way possible.  
In fact it was the risk that gave it its appeal, it was exhilarating living life on the edge on a regular basis.  
It was just a job and that I could quit at any time just as the standard user would say.  
Honestly, if I wasn’t doped up I mind as well have been.  
See I thought that if I wasn’t doing drugs and if I was in perfect health and practiced “safe sex” whatever that is that I was “fine” as if I were invincible.  
I’ve never been to the hospital for anything never contracted any diseases or STDs; no hereditary illnesses passed down to me  
I didn’t even have allergies.  
Nothing could possibly be wrong with what I was doing.  
I was surviving like any other normal human being…if there were such a thing.  
But you know how everyone has that certain je ne sais quoi.  
Well when it came to fucking I had it.  
I was extremely talented at what I did,  
to say the least and the funny thing is I didn’t even have to try.  
I’d been raped and molested and abused so many times I had gotten use to it,  
then I grew to like it, it was not before long that I'd gotten so good at it that after a while it began to seem like that was my true calling.  
I was a very prideful Escort. Courtesan. Geisha.  
What ever words you choose to glamorize and romance it.  
adopting aim inhibition as means to  
Abandon and compromise all my moral values to the point where the line between healthy and destructive became very vague and began to blur soon things that I swore to myself that I would never do I would do more and more frequently.  
Psychology would simply call this segment the circumstantial plight of the black woman the subconscious genetic passing of historical trauma.  
I took my work very seriously.  
The speech I conjured up to tell everyone why it is I did what I did became so real to me.  
It was the motivation for my work ethic.  
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      Every one seeks companionship; everyone wants to feel wanted, needed. What I do is a public service. In these few moments that I spend with these johns it is not just about the sex it is more than just a business transaction, it is the intimate connection between a man in a woman that they lack in their lives. To feel the affection from another human being that won’t judge them, that will accept them just as they are regardless of the circumstances. Someone to just hold them and let them know everything is going to be okay. Every man deserves to be treated like a king to be told you are intelligent, strong, powerful, handsome, and extraordinary. In these few moments I am the woman of their dreams, I am the most beautiful woman they’d ever laid eyes on, I am everything they could ever want or need. Without them I would have no significance or purpose. They give me confidence, a sense of self-worth, something to look forward to. As humans without anything to strive for we slowly self-destruct. I am making people happy. Which is all I ever wanted to do.  Giving up my soul is a very small price to pay. In fact it is a privilege because they temporarily filled the void inside of me that had been missing for so long and they didn’t have to choose me. I am grateful. Blessed even to be chosen for such a position. I will prove it in every appointment that I have.  
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Making the bold decision to take on an altruistic protagonist approach to life in order to persevere. At least that was enough from keeping guilt from rearing its ugly head.  
In my eyes I was saving lives.  
I was that great mountain keeping countless of men from raping and molesting women and children.  
I was someone’s hero if not my own I made myself significant.  
Though I didn’t love myself I loved what I did for people.  
Most of these men were socially awkward didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a woman, some had physical deformities or a disability and didn’t have the self-confidence to attempt to engage in a stable relationship some were 40 year old virgins that never have or high school boys that could never get the girl.  
A couple of men just too busy to maintain a relationship or fresh out of jail struggling with their sexuality and just want to feel like a man again.  
I’ve had widowers, sex offenders shunned by society whose past had ruined any chance they had at ever being with a woman again.  
Men whom come from an old-fashioned household whose wives were permitted to engage in such sexual act because it was considered disrespectful or because of their religious beliefs.  
I’ve had clients from all different walks of life.  
I had finally gotten the approval that my family never gave me and my “friends” never showed me.  
And if that meant sacrificing my body, my happiness and my life for that I was okay with being an object of lust.  
If my father ever taught me anything it was that if I was going to do something whatever it was to be the best at it and I was.  
I was the best most loyal genuine kind hearted polite respectful prostitute there was and for it I was highly favored I didn’t have the best clientele but I made damn sure I was remembered and they always came back.  
It was the only thing I had going for me at the time and I developed intimate and romantic relationships with every being I slept with.  
Their souls stuck with me and each time they took a piece of my own.  
I’d served my purpose.  
I didn’t need to know who I was because I knew I belonged to them.  
These are the vivid details that lead to and were created during those tribulations of my life.