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A New York Escorts Confessions

We’re like taxi drivers in that way. Our job after all is about taking a client on a journey of escapism. But like all smart drivers, we need to know instinctively if the person in front of us should be allowed to get in our cars. And as dramatic as it sounds, that decision can have life or death repercussions.

It only took me one bad experience to realize that if I wanted to continue in this profession—and continue being in one piece—that there were certain things I was going to have to assess at the very start of each date to see if it should continue. Did I feel safe? Was there anything about this person or this situation that seemed dangerous or off? What about the place? Was there an easy way out if I suddenly felt like I needed to leave?

Most importantly, I needed to ask myself these questions in a vacuum—a place completely separate from factors like how much I needed the money or who had recommended this person to me.

Because I have such strict rules for myself, I’ve had a lot of trouble reading about the Duke Lacrosse rape case. For those of you who have somehow not picked up a paper or listened to the news in the last few weeks, a stripper accused three Duke Lacrosse players of sexually assaulting her in a bathroom at a party at which she was hired to dance. The case has exploded because the stripper is black and her three accused assailants are white. It has cast a spotlight on the tension between the privileged world of the students at Duke and the less advantaged one of Durham residents who are not affiliated with the college.

A few caveats here: I don’t live in Durham, North Carolina and I don’t know what the clientele or the jobs there are like. I don’t have two kids to provide for and I’m not putting myself through school.

I also do not in any way think this woman deserved what happened to her or that it was her fault. And if these guys did do what she said, they need to be punished to the full extent of the law.

All that being said, there were way too many warning signs on that night that something bad was going to happen.

The woman told police that she and the other dancer who was hired for the party went to the house thinking they were dancing for five men at a bachelor party. That would have stopped me right there—how many bachelor parties do you know where only five people are present? When they got there though, instead there were more than forty.

Forty men in a house, not in a bar with a staff. Right there, I would have been out of there.

Then there’s the fact that not only were there forty people there, but they were forty undergraduates. Which means there were underage boys in the room. Underaged boys who were drinking. Right there? I would have been so so very gone.

The women said that after they performed, some of those present starting hurling racial epithets. One of the players threatened to sodomize them with a broomstick. The two women left, as hello! they should have. When one of the partygoers came outside to apologize, though, the women accepted and decided to return.

As they say, a leopard doesn’t change its spots.

One more thing: later that night a policewoman discovered the accuser in a car parked at a Kroger grocery and described her as being “just passed-out drunk.” Here again, I don’t know the specifics. I for one have been slipped a Mickey. And God knows I sure like a drink or two while I’m working. But there is a line that I’m always aware of. Am I in control? Is this person encouraging me to drink more than I am comfortable with?

The Senior Class President of the school where the accuser is enrolled has voiced her support of the accuser. She has been quoted as saying, “We want to show that we’re behind her when so many people are judging her because of what she did to make money. We want to let her know that, no matter her occupation, she shouldn’t have been victimized.”

That’s right. She shouldn’t have been. But she also should have put her own safety first.