“I’ve got a helicopter, let me rescue you”
I smiled internally rolling my eyes. If I had a pound for every time I had a guy hit on me promising the earth, I would have been well on the way to the millionaires club.
“No really let me take you away from this, I will change your life…”
My God! He changed my life. He changed my world and he fucking changed me…
It was your classic textbook sick bucket moment. He caught my eye from across the bar and we held a gaze that probably lasted seconds but felt like eternity. It was a real life ‘oh my god I’m in love’ look. But it was all on his part – I was far too hardened for that shit!
He came to see me often and quickly adopted the title of ‘regular’, he didn’t know that then though. He would always buy me my favourite drink (at that time) of Southern Comfort and lemonade, quickly followed by several glasses of acidic wine – the perfect concoction for blacking out the night.
On the nights that he would visit he would always get more than he paid for. Yes I said paid for. I wasn’t an escort, I was a stripper. Albeit a fine line, there was a difference. The sex industry had a hierarchy of sleaze and I was somewhere near the middle. I wasn’t ashamed either. I’d justified my reason for doing it to myself and no one else was getting an explanation.
I will make it clear exactly how in 1999, at 17 years old, I turned to this seedy role to repair my broken self. And how at 17 tender years I’d been through more than women twice my age. And if that reasoning doesn’t move you – I’d be forced to validate your status as a human being.
But thats later…
The above is taken from the book I started writing a few years ago but never finished. I found it cathartic but lost faith. It both exposes and explains so much of me. Do I continue? Do I have your support?…