Cate is something of a renaissance sex worker; she’s currently employed as a pro-domme at a fetish house but has held numerous interesting jobs in the adult industry. Each week, she shares her stories in Harlotry.
During my almost five-year career as a sex worker, I have experienced work-related fear exactly twice. The first time was at the very beginning of my adventures in the sex industry, when Grant, the gentleman I got my revenge on last week, outed me to my mother.
The second time was two weeks ago when I got arrested.
That’s right, folks, after almost five years of whoring in various legal grey–and even black–areas, it finally happened. Frankly, I’m shocked this was my first arrest. I’ve done significantly more illegal jobs with significantly less protection and screening… and I’ve always been fine. I guess Murphy’s law really has something going for it. If something can go wrong it most certainly will.
The day started like any other; I got to work early, brushed out my pin curls, socialized with the other girls, and was generally having a blast. The day was neither slow nor particularly busy, and everyone seemed to be in good humor. The house slave, Leif, came by and did most of our chores for us. His presence and labor always cheer us up.
Everyone left that evening, leaving myself and another girl, a submissive named “Stephanie.” We both had clients arriving within a half hour of each other, mine was established and hers was new. As I waited for my client to call and ask if it was clear to come up, I met Stephanie’s guy at the door. He was a husky Polish man in his mid-thirties with a thick accent and scruffy hair. He was better-looking than most of our clients, and seemed nervous. Nervousness isn’t uncommon, though. A lot of the younger men who come to see us haven’t experimented with fetish activities very much and have never paid for sexual services. If we were to write off every client who seemed nervous, we’d probably never even break even. Stephanie poured him a shot, which he gulped down gratefully, and led him downstairs.
With fifteen minutes until my client was set to arrive, I went outside to smoke and rub my feet in the dirt so the gentleman would have something to clean off. I was halfway done with my cigarette when Stephanie came outside.