Monday, December 22, 2014

We met at the clinic when I first started escorting, I was paranoid about STD's and got tested every couple of weeks, though I practiced safe sex and the type of men I saw reduced the chance of exposure. For Rebecca, it was different, she found her clients through Viva Street, Craigs List and occasionally streetwalking. She was married at the time to an alcoholic and has a child with Down's Syndrome. Prostitution gave her the flexibility to keep their lives together. The husband is gone and the boy is in school and is the locus of her life. She still is in the trade, but has given up the streets for an in call off the Quai de Montebello not far from Shakespeare and Company.
It was maybe the the third time we had run into each other that she waited by the elevator till I came out. It had been a dramatic morning, a woman left her consultation sobbing from the news that she'd received and short time later a young man burst out of the consultation yelling and swearing. His BF tried to quiet him, but he would have none of it and we could hearing him yelling when he reached the street.

"Do you have time for coffee?" She asked when I came out, adding "Since you're not yelling or crying, there was no bad news?" "Everything is fine," I replied and asked about her and she acknowledged she was clean.

When we were settled, she looked at me and asked, "Are you independent or do you have a pimp?" Between my nascent French and her brusqueness, I stuttered and stammered in reply that I worked for an agency. Sensing that I was uncomfortable she changed the subject, but came back to it and asked which one. I gave the name and a half smile came across her lips and she said "Je vois, un clochard de grande classe." I only understood part of what she said and it wasn't till later that she referred to me as a high class tramp. We became friends despite that.



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