GOD'S WIFE

The Story of a Sex Worker

October 30, 2004

First Date

I called Andrew when I got home. I was eager to see him and have some regular conversation. No coercing a man into getting a hard-on, no waiting naked on a bed while cameras were set up. I still enjoyed the work but I needed a break, especially when things arose like Al Harvey. Andrew seemed like a good distraction. Sometimes a distraction could be as good as anything.

Andrew lived in my neighborhood so we met at a Mexican restaurant nearby. I wore one of the most conservative dresses I owned, flowery and flowing below the knees. I took off the g-string I had worn that day and put on something regular. He would never see it unless we went back to his apartment--we couldn't go back to mine because Far Out was still sick and sulking--but wearing a g-string made me feel like walking sex and that wasn't the way I wanted to feel.

He was wearing a full dark blue suit and a maroon tie.

"You look nice," I said.

"Thank you. It's the only suit I own. You look nice too."

We stood awkwardly for a few seconds in front of the restaurant. Andrew looked at his feet and shuffled. As a reaction, so did I.

I suddenly remembered how uncomfortable a date could be and maybe why I had stayed away from it. Sort of like taking a drug which seems all right when you're sober but once you're there, high and trapped, it could be a slow nightmare.

I wasn't used to all the quiet and nervous propriety that went along with a date. So much like a job interview. I was too used to lying down on a bed and fucking immediately, regardless of talk. I thought maybe I preferred the industry because when Andrew nervously knocked a fork off the table and it fell to the ground with a clatter and the people at the table next to us looked over, two older men with shaved heads, Andrew looked like he'd just seen murder. When he picked up his napkin I could see that his hands were shaking.

We ordered margaritas. He got his frozen and I got mine liquid so I could drink it faster.

"How did the auditions go?" he asked.

I didn't know what he was talking about. Then I remembered my lie. "They didn't go too well," I said. "One detergent ad called for an older woman and the other was filled with a hundred other blond women who looked like me."

I could have been answering a question from a year before. I took a quick sip of the margarita as if to cover my lying mouth.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"I write screenplays. That sounds stupid because everybody's writing screenplays in Los Angeles. But I can't lie, that's what I do. I also write short stories."

"I see. Have you ever had anything made?" I said.

"I sold a story a few years ago. People tell me great things are going to happen with the screenplays but they never do. Right now I'm working on rewriting a couple of very bad TV movies. It pays well."

"I understand."

We were silent. It was a painful silence, both minds racing and going nowhere. I would have thought that porn would train me for anything. But it didn't. We stared at our empty plates.

I looked up. Andrew was still staring at his plate. "How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Five years. I lived in New York for two years and then I moved here."

"Where did you live in New York?"

"Brooklyn."

"I lived on the Lower East Side," I said.

"Oh."

Another silence.

The food arrived and that seemed to ease things.

As the night went on I began to like Andrew. He was smart like I hadn't encountered in the porn scene, except for Bernard. I hadn't met many decent men in the industry. I found that most of the men had cold, skyscraper egos. They knew they had some of the biggest cocks in the natural world. Also, you didn't get any more outlaw than a porn star, and the men knew it. When they were in front of the camera they were basically putting on a show for themselves, fucking themselves. The women weren't nearly as bad, though some of them were. A star was a star in any industry.

The tension eventually eased up and Andrew and I began talking like people. There was something about him that was refreshing. Like drinking a glass of cool water after a long time drinking sweat.

We came out of the restaurant both more than a little drunk. I put my arm around him which felt natural as we walked down Vine.

At this point of the night it was time to decide if we were going to fuck or go to our separate homes. I didn't want to sleep with him on the first date because that was exactly the kind of thing a person in the sex industry would do. I wanted to try and keep this relationship as innocent as I could. But then again I liked him. And it was tempting to have healthy sex.

"We can't go to my house because I have a guest staying in my living room," I said.

"I hadn't thought about going to your apartment," he replied.

"That's very considerate of you," I said. "You must be a gentleman. Most people would lead me to their apartment."

He looked stricken. But I had forgotten how to deal with straight people. Now that I was drunk I was almost completely lost. I was too used to saying, "Let's do our anal scene," and walking calmly to the bed.

"We can go to my apartment," he said.

I answered, "She's having trouble with her boyfriend."

"What?"

"The girl who's staying with me. She's having trouble with her boyfriend."

"Oh."

"Do you want to know why?"

"I don't know."

I was about to tell him. I was drunk enough to offer him that challenge. When I got drunk I didn't feel like hiding anything. I was a lampshade drunk. I had enough sense to know that it would fuck up the night completely so I stopped.

"He's not very good to her," I said and tripped on the sidewalk. I stumbled toward a parking meter and fell to my knees.

Andrew helped me up. He looked concerned and maybe a little amused. His slight smile made me feel like I wasn't such a fumbling and disturbed stranger. So I kissed him in the middle of the sidewalk. The heavy pedestrian traffic passed us and watched.

Eventually we made it back to his apartment. The apartment was a small studio with only a couple of bookcases, a wooden desk with a computer, and a loveseat couch. I sat on the couch while he went to the bathroom. My heart was beating quickly. I was feeling something like sexual culture shock. I sat primly, my knees together, and waited.

But then something hit me. I thought, I'm a professional. This is what I do for a living. I shouldn't be nervous. If anyone shouldn't be nervous it should be me. So I gained confidence. When he came out of the bathroom and quietly said, "Hi," I seduced him. I pulled his shirt over his head and kissed him again. That eased him up. I'm sure he was sitting in the bathroom wondering what to do next.

I took off my clothes and he stared at me with a beautiful kind of awe. We moved to the bedroom and we had sex like I couldn't remember, at least not for a very long time. It was clean sex. It wasn't fast and furiously hard as if trying to win a race. I could have had sex with him like that, like I had trained myself, but that would have been easy and meaningless and I thought he deserved better. It was sex that reminded me that sex was divine and powerful, almost scary when done right, which was how we did it. Our minds locked and then our bodies locked last. When it was over my whole body shined. I lay there with a terrifying rush of emotion. Andrew had somehow broken through the metal case of the machine.

19 Comments:

  • At 7:00 PM, Blogger darling maggot said…

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    So am I.

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  • At 9:09 PM, Blogger dooginandagin said…

    keep an open mind. Maybe, there is more to learn hear than you think..... Maybe, he has his own ways about him developed over years of experience. Know that you have gotten the fundamentals outa the way and try discovering something in common other than just sex... who know's it might be interesting for awhile.

     
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  • At 9:44 AM, Blogger Mister Underhill said…

    A friend of mine used to make porn movies and wants to start it back up again and offered to let me be in them.

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  • At 11:00 AM, Blogger Laust said…

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