Working in the hospitality industry, I don’t get phased by much.
I’ve thrown burly men out of my bar, when they start to become rowdy, and then get told that it must be my “time of the month”.
I’ve had to endure countless comments on the fact that I can move a barrel even though I have a vagina and not the strength of a penis.
I’ve been breathed on by an endless amount of beer soaked breath, while being asked for my number.
I’ve encountered wolf, dog and pig whistles, too many to keep track of.
Yet only one thing has stopped me in my tracks; the moment the kitchen porter asked me how much I would charge for sex.
Rage obviously hit first, but then slowly translated to pure perplexity.
For the entire shift I tried to place a price tag on a few hours spent basking in the glory of my genitals.
Not very familiar with the going rate of prostitute services I tried to think of a fair offer. Would I charge for each act separately? £20 for oral, £100 for anal? The whole package? £200 for whatever you like?
Where on earth would I begin? I mean I can crack a mean joke, so would I include this in the services I offer? Surely the punter would enjoy a bit of humour, perhaps it should come as an extra to try and masquerade the fact that he has to pay for something that most women would usually do for free if you treat them with some form of respect.
During the time of questioning, I had a few bills to pay. This threw in all sorts of different prices in to the equation. Would I forget my dignity and simply ask for the £35 I needed to pay the gas bill. I also really fancied a new pair of boots I’d seen, so there’s another £55 I added to the cost of my vagina. And let’s not forget that Glastonbury tickets were going on sale soon. What easier way to pay your way in to a dirty field than to get dirty, possibly in a field.
Thinking back over the numerous one night stands I had encountered, there had been some that didn’t really float my boat, but through bitted tongue continued anyway and regretted later. Would it be the same when charging…Would I charge more if I didn’t find the punter remotely attractive? Would I give a cheeky discount if said punter was an insanely attractive man that was just looking for a good time?
As time went on I thought and thought, and I still had no price tag to hang from my lingerie.
I’ve always been remotely supportive of prostitution. It’s the controlling and mistreatment of women within the industry that I disagree with. If a woman is of stable nature and is in complete control of the situation then surely she has a right, and should be supported rather than shamed and made to hate the society that most probably forced her in to the situation in the first place. However I completely understand that this is most usually 99% of the time not the case.
If I was forced in to this world of mistreatment and abuse of women, then I know my price tag would not be my decision, and here in lies the problem;
If we women were able to decide how much we were worth then there wouldn’t be a sex industry in the first place, because no man, in his right mind could bleeding well afford us.