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I Was a Streetwalker for a Night
I did it for science
St. James, Joy http://www.nerve.com/culture/streetwalker-night
Publisher: Nerve.com
Date Written: 03/03/2015
Year Published: 2015
Resource Type: Article
I became a prostitute for a night. Not a high-class escort (the logistics seemed too daunting for an amateur like me) just a regular hooker out on the street. I had no clue what to expect exactly, but that's what made it all so exciting.
Abstract:
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Excerpt:
Just walking from my car was an experience in itself. Like most women, I was taught from an early age to adopt what is called in Switzerland (where I've also lived) the "Geradeaus Gait." Eyes straight ahead, fixed on some imaginary point in the far distance, head erect, with the practiced, nuanced strut of my swaying hips and quick-moving, short-striding legs punctuated by the purposeful click-click-click of my platform heels. People may look at me, but I don't dare look at them.
"Hey, baby! Looking good! Wiggle that ass for me!" The catcalls and leers, instead of offensive and annoying, I found reaffirming. I was passing in my role play as hooker, oldest profession worker, ho/hoe, whore, harlot, tart, trollop, strumpet, slut, lady of pleasure, lady of the night, working girl, doxy, floozie, hussy, scarlet woman, cunt… whatever names made the men happy to call me.
What I found most interesting, however, were the looks I received from other women, the non-prostitutes, walking arm and arm with their dates, presumably after a romantic dinner at a nearby restaurant. They stared at me as hard as did their dates, actually harder, for the men would often quickly glance away so as not to make their girlfriends jealous. They, on the other hand, stared at me in judgment, if not scorn and contempt. As our paths crossed, mere inches away, still staring at me, they would tilt their heads and whisper loudly, giggling, in their boyfriends’ ears something like, "Does she turn you on?"
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