Anubis wuz here.

Lost of times guys that have out of town jobs..like jobs that take them away from the city for months at a time, hire prostitutes. Fishermen, oil rig workers, tree planters..anything like that where one would be in the middle of nowhere but get paid tons of money for it. Usually these guys like to "go off" as soon as they get back to town. Like go off in the chemical substance sense. Especially crack..they love that sh*t. These men tend to have a connection in the underworld (the red zone), some drug addict that will let them use their room, will have a connection to get dope, and also will FIND a girl for them to violate. Many occasions I had acquaintances come up to me telling me they had this "friend" that wanted a girl to get high with and could I come with them (the junkie) back to his room to meet this guy. This guy with tons of money.

Sometimes there is no need for a middle man though- I had this fisherman pick me up once. He showed me his wad of $28,000, I actually WATCHED him cash a check at Money Mart for that amount. Can you believe that? What an idiot. Turns out that I may have gotten syphilis from him..but I can never be sure. But I WILL tell you that when I found out I had it I told the nurse his name and the city he was from so they could contact him and tell him HE had it, or may have had it. See, when you have a thing like syphilis or HIV or anything serious "they" (the gov't) need to know your sexual partners so they can talk to them and try to stop the spreading of it. I gave them only one name. His. I would tell you that name now but I won't. Though I should.

Oh, I should really include this next bit because it is totally relevant to that last paragraph and totally effing hilarious. I knew this Asian guy that drove a truck. He had a business that was all about delivering plastic bags. You know, those crappy, cheap ass, only good for one use plastic bags that you get at corners stores? Well, next time you get one, it may have been handled by him or one of his affiliates.

This guy was one of the worst. I mean, he would pay okay but would always pay the girls in coins. Do you know how degrading it is to be paid in coins? I don't care if it is 50 two dollar coins or what but it feels pretty lame. This guy, he had zero loyalty to any one girl, he would pick up who ever, didn't matter. He was sure to always use a condom but MAY have gone without one a few times. I know he did with me maybe once. So this one day he pulls up and he tells me he just wants to talk to me. He tells me that he had gone to the doctor and found out that he had caught something from one of the girls. He said he had something called "clem-dye", he pronounced it just like that. Clem-dye? I'm like what the f*ck is clem-dye? I told him that he didn't get it from me because I didn't even know what it was, I had never heard of it and thought he must have been misinformed. And then it came to me. He meant chlamydia. English was his second language so it makes perfect sense that his brain would have computed it incorrectly.

CLEM-dye. Chlamy-dia. Clem (silent y) dAI - he got the i and the a mixed up. Clem-dye.

Hil. Ar. I. Ous.

One chilly winter evening I was approached by one of these out of town working guys. I had originally been with him months before, we hooked in a manner previous mentioned in the first paragraph of this post. His name was Ricky (that was his name for real. I hate that name, by the way. I always have and I am sorry if that happens to be your name). He was into the up, they usually are. I ran into him in an alley behind this old folks home on Cordova, just off of Gore.

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*At this point I feel the need to say something: This alley I'm writing about right now wasn't super harsh and gross like the alley one's imagination might conjure up. It was harmless, wide, in the back of a few businesses..what else can I say? It wasn't totally used-needle ridden with piss and feces everywhere, etc. In fact it was my most frequented alley. It was spacious and most of my dates knew that I did a lot of my dope there. There were stairs behind the old folks home that people could sit on. It is gated now but wasn't when I was there. My Dad actually knew of this spot too and came to find me there on at least one occasion that I remember. Did I ever tell you about the time my Dad came to see me down there and at one point we were crossing the road and this addict saw us and actually asked us if we needed a room? How humiliating, I was like, "No, this is my Dad".*

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Back to Ricky. I ran into Ricky in this same alley. Like I said it was cold and wet and gross out and I was sick as f*ck. Like very sick, sickness amplified by the weather. It was early evening and pretty much every girl out was hurtin'. I saw him and was thanking the heavens...He was doing fine, had obviously just came back from months out working (I assumed) and was smoking tons of crack and wanted me to do things to him while he smoked. He said he would share his dope with me and would give me money for heroin. I was so happy (relieved) but still very sick.

I got no relief from the cold because what he wanted was to be done on those very steps, the steps that I was just describing. (This was not a busy alley, just so you know, it's not like there would be Christian families driving by on their way to drop off the kids at youth group. The only guys that drove through it were trolling and if a cop DID go by you could hear it coming. A police car motor sounds like no other and I can still hear one before I actually see the car) I wanted my $$ first but he only had a hundred dollar bill. He did show it to me and told me that I could hold on to it until we were done doing what we were doing (I wasn't having sex with him on the steps in case you were wondering, it was just a ******). Fine with me. He made it seem like afterwords we would go get a room, warm up and all that nice stuff.

I did what he wanted, I smoked some of his dope (which only made me feel worse. Crack does that when a person is dope sick, at least that is how it was with me), and then I said that I HAD to get some down. He said fine that he would wait for me in the alley since I was literally going to run to score. There was this pizza place 2 blocks away that sold relatively good dope so that was where I was planning to go. I left him my winter coat so he would know I would come right back. This coat was my only means of protection from the cold. I had a toque, I have always been a toque wearer, but the jacket was key too. It had everything I owned in it. Pipe, rigs, water, chap-stick, condoms, whatever. I run to the pizza place with the hundred dollar bill in my sock. I can't even describe how sick I was. I mean, I was soooo ill. I think I hadn't even used that day, I had woken up in my friend's room in the afternoon with nothing and had been wandering the streets waiting for a regular when I had bumped into Ricky.

I get to the pizza place, told the guy what I wanted and gave him the hundred dollar bill. He looks at it and tells me "this bill is fake". Crash, burn, implode, ....my world is destroyed in about a millisecond. "Fake?" I asked him. "Fake. Watch this" he says and proceeds to put a tiny bit of water on the bill and the ink started smudging only slightly but enough. I couldn't believe it. I was devastated. I mean, I had just given this a guy a bl*wjob in a f*cking alley in the middle of a snowstorm for nothing. Sure I got a few hoots but that didn't count, just common courtesy if you will. FAKE??

I ran back to the alley and of course he was gone. Not only was he gone though, he took my f*cking jacket. Can you believe that? I found remnants of my pocket contents strewn throughout the alley. He had obviously rifled through the coat during his escape. I felt like a fool and a dirt bag and totally worthless.

No happy ending this time. I ended getting helped out by another working girl, or at least she had intentions of it. She had heroin and said she would share it with me (this happens down there, I help you out, you help me out). She wanted to go to her friend's room but on the way she wanted to smoke some of her crack. I had no idea how she was after smoking crack but I was soon to find out that she was crazy. She starting thinking that the buildings were out to get her and that they had a very ominous feel when she touched them and basically begged me to stay with her while at the same time telling me that she had changed her mind and would not be sharing her heroin.

Bad bad bad bad. I would bust out yet another f-bomb whilst summing up the events of that evening but I fear another one may not be entirely ladylike.

Sometimes the word "jacked" doesn't always precede the word "off"

This post is going to be about the first time I was ripped off by a date. This was not an isolated incident, but it wasn't a common occurrence. I guess it is a right of passage for a street prostitute, like when the Hell's Angels get their colours....

I was still relatively new to the downtown stroll when it happened.. What I mean is, I was fresh and still making good money, able to turn down dates if they didn't want to pay a certain amount, and I looked good, not all f**ked up. I was naive in the sense that I still believed that the men that were picking me up were nice, that they respected me in a way, and that they thought of me as a real person. Not true, so I found out. Not all guys are scum, but most are.

It was a summer night, warm, pleasant, no jacket required. I had begun my "new job" in the summer, as was custom for most girls that were new to working. It is mush easier to work when the weather is nice, and the reality that soon enough you will be working through Christmas and New Year's, in snow and rain hasn't sunken in yet. More girls always show up in the summer months, from what I noticed anyways.

It was a typical night, as I said, and I was on Cordova. There was a bus stop right across from Oppenheimer Park and I used to plant myself there to make it seem like I was waiting for the bus, when I in actuality I was "working". I thought people I knew might drive by and recognize me, and at this point I still cared what people thought. That didn't last long by the way, there was more things important than preserving my dignity. Like heroin.

This two tone, blue Astro-van had pulled over for me and we spoke through the open passenger window. We were talking for quite a few minutes and so eventually he just told me to jump in while we talked. He was a really nice man, not much older than me. He told me he was married and that his wife wouldn't perform oral sex on him, or anything beyond the basic sexual necessities that are mandatory for reproduction. This is why he was out looking for a girl. Now, my philosophy at this point was that I would basically agree to most things if the price was right, and would just try to do my very best at bringing things to the end point quicker than he expected, without my having to do any of the other stuff that he may have requested. This was pretty easy to do, especially if it was some new guy that was so hard up because his wife never has sex with him or whatever reason. Sometimes the guy will feel like he didn't get his moneys worth because it would be over so fast, but that wasn't my problem, it was his.

He was fine with using the condom I said I had had, and he agreed to pay me $XX.

We started driving to a place where he would feel comfortable. He wanted to find a place where he could relax and not worry about getting caught. We were so deep in "real" conversation that I didn't realize we had been driving for quite some time, and we were pretty much in New Westminister. It didn't really concern me that we were that far from where we had started because I had already made money that night, and it was nice out, I was going to be up all night anyways, so WTF. Really, a girl can make money ANYWHERE, location is not important. Even if I jumped out there, in New West after the date, I was fine with it. I was a very...resourceful girl.

Eventually, we arrived at some deserted industrial building and parked in the lot. We had discussed the price, but we had had such intense real person conversation (or so I stupidly thought) and I had concluded that he was a really nice guy, and seemed not at all creepy (which they all are in the end), and I am embarassed to admit this, but I didnt ask him for the money right away. I was so sure he would pay me, that I wasn't concerned about it. I had done that before with regulars of mine, and had always been paid for my services. In retrospect, obviously, I see the err of my ways. Another mistake was allowing him to take me to this secluded place, with no one around in an area I wasn't very familiar with.

We did the date. By the time it was over, it has been quite a while. Between the drive, the inital conversation and then time spent doing the date, it was a good hour and a half. Way longer than most girls could stand. Like I said though, I already HAD money, so it wasn't like I needed to do this date. I wasn't dope sick, so time wasn't an issue.

The date went fine, it was slightly humiliating when I think back, only because of what happened in the end. I had gone over and above the usual "money, sex (date), take me back" progression of things. Also, and I am going to be graphic for a minute, he had asked me at the last minute if he could ejaculate on my face. Not in my mouth, but on me, just the same. And for all those ladies out there, you will know, this isn't an unheard of request, but it is very intimate, and it isn't something that one would casually do with just anyone. Well, maybe they would, but I never made a habit of it. I forgot to mention, when the date began he had changed his mind about the condom, and it has been so long I can't recall what my response was, but I am pretty sure I believed him when he said he was clean. I made many mistakes that night. I made mistake after mistake.

After the date, we got organized, got dressed and started back. I hadn't asked for the money still, because I knew I had done my job and I had earned every cent of that $XX (it is even embarrassing to admit what I would do for that for $XX amount of money, but I try to be as straight up as possible here, and tell people what really goes on- we were always underpaid, and we accepted it). I asked him to take me to a gas station so I could buy cigarettes and he agreed. I ran into the store to buy them, with the money I already had, leaving my bag with my whole life in it, in his van.

And you probably have guessed by now, that when I came out, he was gone. It took me a few minutes to realize what had happened. I thought maybe he was turning around, or getting gas or something. Then it started to sink in. I honestly felt like I was punched in the stomach. Hard. Like how anyone would feel if they realized they had been ripped off, scammed, etc. Except I had also prostituted myself to this man, and had made all the necessary mistakes for this to happen. Of course he left, why would he stay? I was nothing. It wasn't as if ripping me off like that made him feel bad. He was probably stoked because he got away without paying.

In his haste to get away, he didn't even throw my bag out of his van. So, there I was at this gas station, its like 1am and I have only my wallet (thank God, at least I had the money I had already made) and my cigarettes. No sweater (it was the best sweater too, I still miss it, even though I would have lost it a million times over through my time on the street. Wow, I miss that sweater. The loss of money was one thing, but my favorite sweater? Come on, is there no decency in the world?). I had no bag, no pipe, no needles, no nothing (which was funny cause I told him I wasn't a junkie, when I totally was, so hopefully he went through the bag and saw the IV gear in there, and had a minor anxiety attack. I would like to think that maybe he freaked out and thought he got the HIV from me- I didn't have the HIV, but he didn't know that).

I ended up calling a friend of mine, a friend I mentioned in one of my earliest posts, and he came and got me. I was bawling my eyes out, and I had to make up some bullsh*t story about what had happened. I told him that I met this guy in the hostel I was staying in, and we went out for dinner. I told him that this guy said he would pay for his half of the meal with his interac card, but when it was time to cough it up, he bailed. Hardly worth bawling over, but it wasn't like I wanted to admit what really happened, plus this person didn't know yet what I was actually up to most days. Or maybe he did, he was a scumbag after all. He thought I was a fugitive from my abusive relationship, but that never stopped him from trying to get with me. He probably tried his best to seduce me that night as well. Of course, I would have obliged, he was still a good source for money and rides, after all.

Rule No. 1: ALWAYS GET THE MONEY FIRST.