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A New York Escorts Confessions

My brother went to the University of Michigan (Go Blue!) and even lived his freshman year in South Quad where the younger football players were housed. I visited him then when I was only thirteen, and I can’t tell you the thrill it was to get in the elevator with a big bunch of those guys towering over me. They were giants. Male. Important.

With a father and a brother, of course I had seen my share of football games on TV, but they mostly consisted of me bringing my dad a big bowl of popcorn then watching as my dog pushed the bowl with his paw until my dad gave him some. So when Pete invited me to go to a game I was kind of sort of excited but also a bit ho hum about the whole thing. After all, wasn’t it going to be outside? Since it was November wouldn’t it mean that I’d be cold? Isn’t it true we were going to be on a bench i.e. without cushioning? My butt hurt at the very thought.

I remember filing into the stadium with Pete and his new fraternity brothers. I was wearing a maize and blue Michigan sweatshirt with a matching maize turtleneck that Pete had bought me. He even got me wool socks with little M’s on them. Too cute. As we traveled down the big tunnel I remember seeing the field off in the distance. I turned to Pete and said in my best bored thirteen-year-old voice, “It’s not that bi—.” I never finished because at that very moment the tunnel opened up to the whole that is Michigan stadium. My breath caught in my throat. It was HUGE. Holding something like 112,000 screaming fans. Exhilarating. My cheeks flushed. I felt utterly alive.

We went down and got to our seats which were in about the 20th row on the fifteen yard line. Michigan was playing Minnesota’s Golden Gophers (hello?! who takes the blame for that lousy moniker?) for The Brown Jug, a trophy that had been around for like a century. The game itself was kind of a washout, since Michigan so dominated the Gophers in every way. But there was something magical about the whole experience. My brother’s friends drank beer out of wineskins. People passed around thermoses of hot chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps. I took a few sips when my brother wasn’t looking. I remember the scald of the chocolate and the rush of the sugar. A small part of the band made their way around to our section and led us in singing the fight song. A red-headed cheerleader that could have been an older version of myself got tossed into the air screaming.

Around the end of the third quarter I began to hear my brother’s fraternity brothers whispering among themselves and guffawing. Pete kept turning around and telling them no. “What’s going on?” I said, but he wouldn’t answer. Then suddenly a tall cute senior with a maize and gold scarf was by my side. Ted. I noticed him before. He wanted me and actually everyone to notice him. A loud guy, the cut-up, the rogue, but also the one who correctly understoond that he was just cute enough to get away with it. “Hi Alexa. How you doing?”

“Good…”

“No,” said Pete.

“Your brother thinks you don’t want to go for a ride. But I don’t think that’s true. What do you say?”

I tried to look grown-up. “What kind of a ride exactly?”

“The best kind in the world. A flying ride.”

“She’s thirteen,” said Pete.

“I am not,” I said. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

Ted laughed and rumpled my hair. “Alright then. It’s settled. Hold on Alexa. One, two, three!”

And with that I suddenly found myself hoisted four feet in the air. Hands reached up on all sides of me. I screamed but it was too late. Inch by inch, row by row, I was being passed up through the crowd of Michigan Stadium. Hand after hand pushed and grabbed and supported my head, my neck, my back, my bottom, my thighs and my feet. Occassionally I would feel the sensation of falling, but someone would reach up and push me back up. Boys grazed my rib cage and the sides of my emerging chest. Girls held my hips and grabbed my inner thighs. I felt a rush of sensation like my body was taking in all of the crowd’s collective energy. And all the while the big wide scene of the Stadium spread out in front of me, getting smaller and bigger at the same time. The blood rushed to my ears. I heard myself laughing and screaming, “Pete Pete look at me! Ted! I’m flyyyyyyy-ing!”.

I just made out the back of the stadium and the sheer drop of several stories before I was abruptly brought down in the last row. A grown man smiled at me and offered me a sip of his beer. I smiled back but didn’t take it. I was still flushed by the touch of hundreds of unknown people, people delighting me with their caresses, their pushes, their laughter and their glee. I breathed in to steady myself, but the pulse of their touch still vibrated within me. I felt a twitchy sensation down below. So this is what it feels like to be a woman, I thought.

I stood up on the seat and looked back for Pete. Then I made my way back down.