What is a *******? But a woman Who partakes in joy with another A person who provides acceptance and pleasure: Both emotional and physical Despite being called "*****"
What is a ******* But a woman Who nurtures and loves another A person who provides pain and pleasure For those in need for a strong hand to the light Despite being called "crazy *****"
What is a pornstar? But a woman Who has the courage to bare her body to the world A person who provides guidance and desire To those exploring their sexualities Despite being called "****"
What is a *** worker? But a woman Who breaks society's taboos A person who does what she loves For those who love her for what she does Despite being called "disgusting" "*****" "****" "sloppy" And so much more
What is a *** worker? But a woman Who is beautiful, strong, empowered, and a truly liberated woman.
I am obviously aware of women being coerced into ****** jobs or doing them because they have no other options but there are women all around the world who love their jobs as *** workers and I think we should respect them and give them the right they deserve.
Laying around about the dorm room Bored Looking for quick Stupid cash We came upon a listing My roommate and I in the local paper Artist models needed No experience necessary That was key
The guy on the phone was chirpy He lived Close by in Oakland He gave us directions to where He would pick the two of us up We Would take the bus He would be in a station wagon Beige
He met us sure enough Old Old as the ******* sea Formal suit and tie Maybe a hat We drove back to the apartment And entered First my roommate And then myself
A ****** yellowed set of rooms Where we will be heading to the right To the kitchen I’ve noticed the battered ***** ***** Mattress Also To the right Stains and an attached clamp lamp A single stark bulb
We were greeted by an even chirpier young lady She was like a baby Joan Jett All rocker black and leather Sleek hair slicked back She seemed somehow to like really really old men
She took over and reached for the plastic folder She handed it to us “You need to look at this before we go on This is what we do”
Obediently, we cracked it open and peered inside Bent over we studied Sticky plastic pages Of brightly faced girls Page After Page Smiling with awkward innocence No bright eyes nor youthful effanescance No desire Nothing wet Except their palms with thoughts of escape And 100 dollars
I only remember the girls whose makeup faded around the neck to betray the true color of their flesh Not flushed at all with sticky expectation They left no impression in their nakedness Ghosts Shades They should have been in class or doing something else
But our Joan! Joan was a star. Her photos were full of sass and delight She was more than happy to show you her ****** Over and over and over She said Actually it’s a club The guys pay a monthly fee And they come here and shoot In the apartment or maybe outside They cannot touch. There is no *******. Mostly they shoot Me.
Alone. A Pixie Star. This was were that old man’s money was.
I don’t remember what she told us What she used to do before this had to be a moment A rather short moment She would move along because This kink was overstuffed with impotence and ineptitude. Kink that might be easier to deal With On a properly lit stage Or a quiet motel room with the shades drawn Cash up front.
But for now She was the enterprise. And what would he do without her? We three giggled and guffawed in the little kitchenette. We weren’t game for the arrangement. She knew that. But she liked to talk. Men like that are pathetic.
Seriously why would we do this? All those faces in the book! Four on a page Excitedly, we thought that we recognized One or two I know her! Look I know her! I’ve seen her in the Poli-Sci Building! I’m sure we did not know any of them.
The mattress. I could not fathom what happened on that thing. I don’t want to know. I had to look the other way as we left. Did he perform Abortions? With hangers and kitchenware Can ******* be that messy? Just opening your legs?
We said goodbye to her! She was wonderful. She would sparkle forever. Joan Jett! Piling back into this hoarder’s station wagon amongst the musty boxes and newspapers strewn all over the backseat with us He drove to the bus stop A waste of his time Disgruntled Failure
He asked How should this ad read so that this doesn’t happen again? We offered no suggestions. It had been fun However idiotic. I don’t remember how long it was that we kept our bus trip secret.