Archive for August 20th, 2010

Being a celebrity is probably the closest to being a beautiful woman as you can get. –  Kevin Costner

One thing I learned from whoring was the reassuring fact that most men, no matter how wealthy or famous or powerful, are still simply men; they all put their pants on one leg at a time, and most of them want some variation of the same thing from women.  It’s therefore not at all unusual for an experienced call girl to find herself in the company of a local, national or even international celebrity who is usually much more excited about seeing her than she is about seeing him.  As is my custom I’m going to use pseudonyms in this column, so anyone who is reading this for the name-dropping might as well try a gossip site because you aren’t going to get what you’re looking for here.

Now, as I’ve said many times whores are not really different from other women, so a minority of girls do care very much about the fame of a celebrity client; a well-known comic actor regularly saw a girl from Doug’s service every time he came to town, and this dumb bunny was so star-struck she eventually imagined that he was going to marry her.  Now, obviously I wasn’t privy to their pillow talk, but would any girl in her right mind believe that a famous, wealthy American in this day and age would marry a prostitute even if he genuinely loved her?  The tabloids would have a field day!  Clearly, the girl was too fascinated by his celebrity to assess their relationship in the harsh light of reason as she would’ve assessed her relationship with a non-celebrity client, and was therefore bitterly disappointed when he eventually stopped seeing her.  As I understand it, she was so upset she even quit the profession and left town.

I, on the other hand, had already cultivated a much healthier attitude toward celebrities while working as a stripper.  At Mardi Gras of 2000, literally only a few weeks after I started escorting full-time, I was on Bourbon Street with a lovely redhead whom I’ll call Sheila; she saw men professionally but preferred girls for fun, so we were having a great hammy time together showing our tits and kissing for pictures.  Anyhow, at some point this little guy not much taller than I am started chatting me up; he said something about being “back” in New Orleans so I asked if he was from there.

“Yes, but I live in LA now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not so bad; I have my own TV show.”

Though outwardly polite, I inwardly rolled my eyes and thought, that and $300 will get you a date.  Aloud, I said, “Oh, how nice.”  He then told me his name and that of the show, and though I had heard other people mention it I had never seen it myself, so I said to him, “I’m afraid I don’t watch television.”  I had never heard of him, and even if I had it wouldn’t have been bankable, so I handed him a card and told him he could call me if he was interested; since he never did I must presume he decided to fish in waters where his celebrity would be sufficient bait.

Fame is of course relative; a local celebrity from one place might go completely unrecognized somewhere else, as in the case of the Irish footballer who seemed a bit annoyed that I had no idea who he was.  The same could be said of those who have a distinct audience; I once called on a standup comedian who was apparently quite well-known among a particular audience, though I had never heard of him.  He seemed quite amused by my ignorance, and just a couple of days later I happened to see his picture on a large billboard advertising his show in New Orleans.  On another occasion I was hired by a porn starlet and her husband; he called under his name, and since I don’t watch porn I did not recognize her.  I therefore had no idea who they were until the call was almost over and the subject of occupations came up; she then told me her stage name, which was well-known enough for me to recognize.  And yet another time, a friend of mine asked me to check her business emails while she was dressing; I noticed the name of a popular writer among them and said something like, “It looks like you have a literary client.”  When she expressed puzzlement I told her that the gentleman was a popular author of a particular genre of fiction, and she replied that she hadn’t known because she never read that genre.

As a former librarian, I had a bit of an advantage on her there since we are familiar with the names of many authors whether we’ve read them or not, but once I surprised such an author because his work was scholarly and therefore unknown to the general public.  While doing his credit card I noticed “Doctor” in front of his name and made some sort of small talk about it; he replied with “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor; I’m an astrophysicist.”  I then impressed the hell out of him by asking him a few sensible questions about his work, then realizing I had read one of his papers in school.  Apparently my recognition of his name really stroked his ego, because as I was about to leave he tipped me an extra $100!

As I said at the beginning, most celebrities are no different from most other men, and that includes their treatment of girls; I found that most football players, congressmen, musicians, actors and artists treated me just as politely as most normal businessmen did, and were every bit as complimentary and pleased by my looks, personality and performance.  But as with normal men there were a few bad apples, and when a nasty disposition is combined with the virtual immunity to consequences which fame and money can secure the result is very bad indeed.  One example which springs immediately to mind is the “bad boy” sports star well-known for trashing hotel rooms; he called Doug one night for a number of girls, but I declined to go because he wanted them to do cocaine with him and his friends and I never touch the nasty stuff.  Even if he hadn’t wanted that, however, I think I might’ve turned it down due to some of his weird habits.  But I would’ve seen him regularly rather than go even once to the home of a certain rock star who was blackballed by every agency in town before I started working due to his evil habit of slicing whores’ arms with razor blades during sex.  Much as I would love to expose this disgusting piece of filth, I don’t dare because it would be hearsay (since he never did it to me) and his pockets are vastly deeper than mine.

So, given that most of these celebrities could have fans or groupies for free, why do they pay for call girls?  The answer, I suspect, is twofold.  Firstly, it’s convenient; a hired girl will give him exactly what he wants when he wants it, with no nonsense or fine print.  For celebrities, as for every other man, free pussy is the most expensive kind; groupies give themselves because of their own emotional needs, and those may leave “strings” that the gentleman is unwilling to deal with.  Just as it’s more sensible for a businessman to hire a girl rather than pick one up in a bar, so many celebrities find it more sensible to hire one rather than bedding a fan.  The second reason is, I think, precisely because the whore isn’t a fan, and thus allows him to behave like any other man interacting with any other woman on equal terms, free from the deceptions and facades he normally encounters in everyone he meets.

This viewpoint was expressed best to me by a man who was not himself a celebrity, but worked with them often.  The week New Orleans hosted a convention of adult video producers and distributors was one of the busiest I ever had; beside all the “cold” calls from men who requested someone like me I also got plenty of callbacks and referrals from one customer to another.  And they were almost invariably nuts about me; they tipped me generously, praised me effusively and even recommended me to their friends.  All this had me scratching my head, so finally I dared to ask one especially friendly video director just what they all found so special about me when they should be used to being around beautiful women.

“That’s easy,” he replied, “it’s because you’re real.  Most of the girls we deal with are the same ‘California blonde’ clones, with tans and implants and nose jobs and bleached hair and teeth, and if they have any personality at all it’s a fake one.  You’re beautiful, but in a natural way; you have your own look which isn’t like everyone else’s.”  After I pointed out that I did have implants he laughed and said, “See, just your saying that shows what I’m talking about; you’re a real, honest person, and it’s very refreshing.”

I understood what he meant, and later realized it applies to celebrities as well.  The reason so many of them like whores is that we’re the only women who treat them like men rather than like icons, and whose motives toward them are honest and forthright rather than hidden behind layers of fakery.

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