HOOK: E-zine By, For, and About Men in the Sex Industry

On that January day in 1994, when my boyfriend and I entered the hotel room with two other men, I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t scared. As a matter of fact, I was numb. This was new to me. But, if my boyfriend said it was no big deal, then why would I think it to be so? I can’t remember exactly what the other two men looked like, but what I do remember is that they weren’t that bad looking. Shit, who wouldn’t sleep with two fairly attractive men on vacation in New York City from London for $400?

Oh yeah, that’s right, people who have “respect” for themselves. What a humorous thought that is to me today. How does one gain respect for oneself? More importantly, what does it take for one to lose respect for oneself, and how does that loss manifest itself in one's life? So we all took our clothes off. My boyfriend was gorgeous. Italian. Full lips, dark eyes and a body to die for. So, we went on about our “business”. It would soon become my reality…my only way to support what would consume me; my only way to accommodate the need of what would take me hostage. The other two men were into shaving, so we let them shave our genital areas. It was somewhat erotic. Then, we did everything else you do during sex. We kissed. We sucked. We fucked. Then, they gave us each four hundred dollars, and we left.

It was a frigid February day in 1996. Freezing, in fact, and I had no home. The clothes I had on my back were all that remained of my worldly belongings. It had been a tumultuous three weeks. It had been a time of overwhelming pain and tears I had never known. Tears had formed rivers in my life before this, but this, this time made each of those seem like tears of joy. I didn’t even have the 50¢ I needed to buy a hot dog on the corner of 6th and 8th St. I sat on Avenue A and 6th St. for the entire day. I waited for the night with shivering, baited breath – that was when you could stroll over to the Christopher St. and get “lucky.”

As soon as all light disappeared and the gray from the sky had been engulfed by darkness, I moved with what little energy I had. I walked in circles around the East Village. Just when the very bones in my body were ready to fail me, he pulled up and slowed beside me. Thank you God!! Thank you! He rolled down his window and asked, “What are you up for boy?” “You,” I said through chattering teeth. He unlocked the door, and I slipped in. He pulled around the block and stopped halfway down. He turned off his lights and I did what I thought I only knew how; I did what I had convinced myself I did better than anything else. I gave him a blowjob I thought he would never forget. When he told me he was going to cum I tried to pull my head away and he shoved his hand on the back of my head to force me to take his semen. Inside I screamed “No! Oh God no! Please don’t let this happen!” Suddenly my mouth was warm and full of him. I lifted my head, and before I could spit it out he was getting out of the driver seat. I held his semen, waiting for him to open my door; I would spit it out as soon as I could. When my door opened, before I had a chance to spit, he grabbed my jacket and pulled me out of the car. I landed with a thump. Asshole!! He got back into his car before I could find the strength to get up. He rolled down the passenger window, and out of it he threw a handful of change. He was laughing as the window came to a close and then he was gone. I scrambled through the slushy snow to retrieve whatever I could. Seven dollars in change was my reward. Seven dollars in change was my reward for having my mouth full of his semen.

I graduated from Syracuse University at the top of my class and gave a speech in front of thousands of people, which ended with a standing ovation. I struggle today. Oh yes, I still struggle. But the experiences I have been blessed with have taught me what I need to know for the precious moments I am lucky enough to have. As I continue to grow with passing time, rather than letting it slip by me, I know, I know in my existence, the joy that keeps me from self-destruction will never be taken again. I can only be hopeless if I allow myself to give up hope. Being an escort is nothing more than just another experience in the continuum of my life. I am HIV negative and I know in my soul why that is. I love myself more than any other person I know. That does not mean all of my decisions today are healthy. What that means is that I have survived my own life for a reason. I may never know that reason in this life, but that is not what holds the most value for me. What is most valuable in my life today is the knowledge that no matter where I go, no matter what I chose to do, only death can keep me from growing as a person.