WHORE
by Donald L. Brooks
I was a whore from childhood -- Slim Miller in the back alley promised a dollar if I touched it… then promised two if I wouldn’t tell. I didn’t accept the money and told. My parents seemed unconcerned and even somewhat amused. So it made no difference. This was not a thing not to do.
My professional whoring came when I was flat broke -- perhaps in the back of my mind I always regretted not accepting the dollar, actually the two dollars -- a lot of money for a boy back in those days! So, it made no difference then and why should it now? This time I took the money when it was offered. I could do that or I rob some poor soul on the street, which had already failed -- just didn’t hit him hard enough!
In a small town, there’s not a lot of opportunity for whoring -- the clientele is limited and they spook easy. They don’t pay up and then get upset when they wake up to find you picking their pants pockets -- or they’re just plain gross, like soaking false teeth and a glass eye in the same jar by the bedside -- imagine what’s nibbling at your crotch!
Reform school was just too risky a place for any activity of the type -- besides I didn’t need cigarettes and took no great desire for sweets -- respect was too important. The cost of being known to be a whore was a quick descent into utter disrespect and ostricism. I watched it happen to others -- I took on a lover, there was respect there, a unity that was secret and yet known -- a bond that others would not touch and dared not ridicule.
I was a free whore in my second stint in reform school. I can’t say why -- I was about to be released and I just let it all go -- every good-looker got a shot at it! Toward the last few days, the guards were catching on and the inmates were getting difficult -- the timing was perfect, however. On the last day as I walked across the compound, a fist slammed into my face and I kept walking, walking through a crowd that had gathered to see a fight -- past the guards who had seen me take it in the face without flinching -- like nothing had happened. No contest. I was not going to be busted to the hole the day before I could be free!
It was like a fly had briefly flown by -- or like letting a mosquito suck your blood!
I whored on Times Square when arriving in New York City -- standing with my back against the wall watching the zipper sign on the Times Building -- not looking at anyone. If someone were to look at me, I looked away. It seemed important to not take any interest. That macho thing, I guess -- “butch” it’s called, of which I knew nothing, I just was… Hey, I was broke, I knew that queers looked for guys and would pay to go down on something that was young and dirty, so there I was, a Times Square whore!
It worked, I can’t remember the first one, but I’ll guess it wasn’t for more than a few dollars, five or seven at the most. That wasn’t a bad wage when the weekly wage for an honest living was no more than 40 bucks a week. The hassle was always there though -- cops eventually get on to the same loiterers and then someone tells you to move along and give someone else a chance.
I was legit for a time -- private clientele, good people, conductor of New York City Ballet, head of the USO, steady respectable customers -- then the bottom dropped out, dropping acid, smoking pot, alcohol, cocaine and even heroin. I got hooked up with an agency and became a professional. That’s right, a real professional whore!
My life as a professional whore lasted about two years -- I started it and I ended it. I was a good whore and I got lots of work. Massage was part of the front, other times, just plain whore! I was at the male burlesque in Times Square stripping and tripping -- customers, the other strippers and the girls from the burlesque next door. I had them all and all of them on my own terms. If you were hot, it was free, if you were not, it was not!
Being a male prostitute is not the easiest of professions -- if one can call it a profession Well, yes, I guess it can be called so if it’s the sole means of support. How long a period of time one needs to be whoring in order to qualify as a bona fide prostitute is a relative thing I’d think.
The hours are not very regular -- sometimes what was to have been five minutes of work turns out to be an hour. Customers don’t always want to pay the agreed amount due to some quibble over services -- these can be numerous.
It is essentially an unrecognized, but illegal profession. Further, prostitution as the law sees it, is generally reserved for female whores -- society never really acknowledges that a male could be a complete whore -- he only enjoys a status as a hustler, which carries connotations of deception and trickery rather than true and honest abasement of the flesh -- whether the hustling involves same or not.
The male whore who insists upon being strictly “straight” often fails to find a thriving business -- he becomes more of a “trick” -- his pants get unzipped and zipped back up before he’s got a real chance to negotiate a decent wage. Which is another thing -- when one works for a company, there is a set wage -- work done or not. A whore, on the other hand, works -- one might say, “by the piece”.
When things get out of hand financially, a whore can often go for a price much less than the going rate -- depending upon the circumstances and the place of “employment”. Which presents another kind of difficulty. Many johns like a “butch” appearance, which includes a rather everyday appearance with a bit of wear and tear, devil-may-care. However, the idea arises, it seems that this means the goods can be had for less. The high-end dresser, escort, whatever doesn’t encounter these problems. The problems there are much different.
A high-end whore must be perfect -- but without going over the edge into appearing “gay”, as the escorted individual usually wants his trophy to appear in public, but does not want the “stigma” of a “gay” escort. It’s perfectly acceptable in most circles for a john to have a clean dog on a leash, but not a flitting poodle with a loud mouth. Sitting off to the side, out of the way, the dog can pose as a chauffeur or a body guard -- is not allowed to socialize with the individuals of the john’s profession. When away from this crowd, however, the dog is in charge, almost as a reward for behaving well. Almost anything can be had for the asking, well, within the financial means and good reasoning.
There are agencies that send out male whores -- once again, the hours are unpredictable, the clients are usually high closet, but the money is guaranteed -- there is a hefty cut that goes to the agency, but the guarantee and the regularity are worth the price. This can be in the range of from half to one-quarter of the whore’s fee, which is usually set by the agency. The whore collects the cash, keeps aside the amount owed to the agency. The agency collects a percentage from the whore.
Unintentional whoredom is a phenomena not uncommon -- the desperate out-of-work, the junkie, the drunk, the stranded -- other situations. Some of these non-professionals are dangerous individuals -- best to take care of the business quickly and efficiently. This non-professional will bleed the john dry before he exits, sometimes without performing -- sometimes in a pure assault and battery. However, there are johns who are looking for exactly this encounter. They are usually highly intoxicated and are letting it all hang out -- they don’t want to know what they are doing.
The last type of whore is the dangerous one -- if demands are not met, or if he feels insulted, either mentally or physically, retaliation can be swift, unexpected and brutal!
The Killer!
