I barely remember the sex; it was all over so fast. I was so focused on my own performance of ecstasy that everything else faded into the background until I realized that the munchkin was finished, and I hadn’t even had time to complete the fake orgasm I had practiced at home in front of the mirror. I’m not sure if it was my lack of pretend pleasure or just the speech he was used to giving after sex, but he immediately launched into the premature ejaculators’ society speech about how he “always comes really fast the first time” but that after some recovery time he can “go all night.” I then politely made it clear that unless he wanted to pay for another hour, I was not going to be putting his claim to the test. So he reached over to put his arms around me.
I hadn’t thought about what would happen after the sex. I already knew that guys liked to talk to their sex workers, but I hadn’t considered that with prostitution, the normal sex worker/client talking would take the place of some strange mimicry of pillow talk. My fleeting shock at this new development didn’t last long: the munchkin was perfectly happy to run the whole conversation. He talked about his ex-girlfriend and how much I reminded him of her, he talked about being vegan, he talked about music, especially Genesis, and he finally settled on Seinfeld and what a masterpiece it was. When I said that I had grown up without a television (true) and had never seen a single episode of Seinfeld (false, I just try to purge them from my memory when I stumble across them) he was aghast. By the time I found a graceful way to interject that I ‘d better be going, he had recapped three of his favorite episodes and I had been there for an extra fifteen minutes.
The fact that I was now officially a whore didn’t really sink in until I was unlocking my bike. It was a lot like losing my virginity, or turning eighteen, in that I didn’t feel any different. I was just acutely aware that I was suddenly somehow different. It had been so easy, so unscary, so very much not like anything I had been led to believe about prostitution.
I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone wasn’t a whore.