Many moons ago, this industry was very different. You see, I didn’t start hooking out of desperation. I’m actually quite bright and could be anything I put my mind to. But when I was 11 years old Heidi Fleiss got popped and I was mesmerized. I knew that was going to be me one day. She was powerful, strong, a surviver, her own boss, and men worshipped her. She was my idol. So, as my life evolved it was no surprise to myself in the early 2000s as I was cruising the internet looking for viable work options in the sex industry. Back then agencies were very relevant. I fit the agency mold in terms of appearance but not exactly in terms of business ethics. I had to go rogue. I found my mentor, which I’ll go ahead and use the name I knew her by as I’m certain its not her real name anyway. Eva was sharp, made Heidi look like Big Bird. She was clicked up, carried a tech 22 in her Louis Vuitton and she taught me everything I know. To this day, I revere her as the smartest woman I’ve ever known and she has a huge place in my heart. Eva was my phone agent, back then the volume was so high that it wasn’t feasible to field calls, drive to the location and perform the show. It took a three person team to operate. So it was Eva, Me, and Big D. Big D was the driver/enforcer. He saved my life more than once, he stayed cool under pressure, didn’t aggravate manageble situations, and in those long nights on the road together he coached me. He taught me how to get what I wanted from a man and his approach was crude yet effective. He told me when I walked in the room, take off my clothes, open my legs with my pussy over the clients face and then read the upgraded menu. It worked. I was pulling in 3k a day chopped up between me and my team. These days were Outcall only, and it was prior to an unfavorable senate bill that ruined Arizona’s hospitality industry. The money was big, I was commanding $600 to $800 an hour and I was getting it no questions asked. I wasn’t worth $2 and that I can admit. The whole thing was a racket, Big D was not a great influence. When we started I was a sweet eager southern girl that Eva’s boyfriend nicknamed Britney Spears. By the demise of our collaboration, Eva brought me a birthday cake the year I turned 26 that said Happy Birthday Gangsta Barbie. I had become a wayward vigilante of sorts, a combination of my best friends brutal murder by her boyfriend right outside my bedroom window and Big Ds unconventional business philosophies created a monster. I wasn’t nice. I did things to men that deeply regret and I had seven long years to think about them, each and every one. Me and Big D on the road were quite a pair and with Evas sharp dispatching skills and effective advertising the three of us felt unstoppable. But Big D was slipping. Things were not right with him. He was gassed up high on his creation-Me-and he walked around with a cocky gait. He wore head to toe Murder Sweats and said charming things to uncompliant men like “Bitch I will Fuck your poodle and eat your goldfish now give my girl her money.” One night he picked me up for work early, which was odd because he had taken to becoming so unpredictable lately. He had an AK-47 in the back of the car and he made sure I saw it. I was 25 at the time. He drove down the freeway going nowhere with a vacant look in his eyes and explained to me that we-me and him-were cutting Eva out. He told me he had a new girl he was training and we didn’t need Eva anymore. My loyalties were with Eva though, and at the time I was so young and stupid I was prepared to take a bullet to prove that. I told Big D that I would never leave Eva, I would never cut her out. We were thick as thieves, and he was the odd man out in my eyes. He had become increasingly unstable and had changed from a guy supporting many baby mamas to an animal I don’t want to divulge what he was capable of. I blacked out a lot of that car ride. I don’t remember how I got home or how I got him to release me. Despite his impromptu hostage situation, I have deep love for Big D as well. He made me tough, maybe too tough-but the years have tempered that down. I was held hostage by an intoxicated client once that I had to defend myself with my steel spiked heels. I was locked in the house there was no way out without a key. It was Big D that looked me evenly in the eyes thru the steel mesh of the security door and told me what to do. I cried and told him “I can’t D, I can’t do it. I can’t go back there.” He wouldn’t hear it. He told me he’d meet me on the other side of the house by the pool gate. It took all the courage I had to turn away from Big D being in my line of vision and venture deeper in to the trap I was held captive. I ran thru the house, dropped a heel, turned around to pick it up (can you believe I turned around to pick up that shoe?!?) and ran out the back door. When I reached the 8 foot fence, it too was locked. I burst in to tears. I was naked with a Leopard fur coat on. I heard Big Ds voice from the other side. He told me to jump the fence, he had me on the other side. I squalled in terror and pleaded for another option to god. He told me in the softest kindest voice I ever heard him use: “you can do this baby, and you will do this. And you will do it now because we don’t have time to think.” I looked around me and saw a piece of gardening equipment that you spool your watering hose around to prevent it from tangeling. It wasn’t ideal, like I would have preferred a ladder, but it was all there was. I put it in front of the fence stepped back a few feet and with everything I had I used that to launch me far enough up the 8 foot fence to get one leg over. As promised Big D caught me and we ran to the car and hauled out of there. I’ll never forget that night. I’ll never forget jumping that fence and preserving my life. Years later a friends daughter called me from a party that had been busted by the cops. She was in terror, and didn’t know what to do. I got her location, ordered an Uber to the neighbors, and gave her that same pep talk Big D gave me. She cried to me like I cried to him. But I stayed firm and told her that failure wasn’t an option, put the phone in her back pocket and jump that fence. When she got to the other side of the fence I heard her tears of relief. Her mother told me after that she had changed. She had courage now, confidence. That scaling that wall to her freedom that night turned her teenage daughter in to a woman. I silently related as I remembered my own coming of age escape. The girl I was back then resembles nothing of the woman I am today. Today I am kind, my intentions are to heal and nurture your lonely hearts, and to pay my debt to the universe for the undue pain I caused. Back then, the Byline for my heavily trafficked ad was “I will treat you like a king”. Eva penned that line and to this day I still see girls copy catting it. If they only knew what our version of the royal treatment had been they wouldn’t be so apt to swipe it. If your reading this, and a provider has ever been anything but kind to you, and treated you any way but with love-I want to say I’m sorry. I want to say that it isn’t right and that you don’t deserve it. I want to say that being a client or patron to the arts so to speak does not rationalize a woman victimizing you or taking advantage of you. And if there is a provider that is mistreating you or making you feel anything less than the King that you are-move on to a new provider please. And if your reading this and was ever in my line of fire-I am deeply sorry and please know I paid a heavy penance for my sins.