A Halloween Story

As a prostitute, I never wanted to work on Halloween. It was not safe, people do stupid sh*t and cause all sorts of trouble, which is why I wanted to tell this disgusting story, a horror story.

There was this van that used to drive around and hand out condoms, and needles, etc., for all the working girls and addicts (it was the DEYAS van I think, which stands for Downtown Eastside something or other). This van also handed out what was called a "bad date sheet". I think the name says it all, but it isn't obvious, a bad date was an encounter a working girl had and for some reason she considered it a "bad" date. "Bad" could be anything from a guy that said he would pay X amount of money but when it came time to pay he had little or no cash, maybe the date was threatening, or had a knife, nasty, mean, dirty, wouldn't use a condom or just plain creepy. Anything like that, and worse.

These bad date sheets were usually compiled of a week's (give or take some days) worth of bad dates reported by the girls to some source it that typed it and photocopied it. I myself never reported a bad date, but I had my fair share, but nothing like this one.

I remember reading this one B.D.S that had been dated the last week of October and the first week of November. It had the usual list of stupid men doing stupid things to working girls, but also had a report of a particular girl that had had a truly horrific experience.

Basically to keep it just to the details, this girl had been "picked up" by these two young guys. Now, they didn't really "pick her up" like in car, what I mean is that a deal was made, price was decided and so the three of them set off to find a place to do the date. What it was the date was for, whether it was sex, oral sex, or whatever, I have no idea. All I know is that they ended up down by some railroad tracks, which could have been any number of spots, since there was all sorts of railway tracks within walking distance of the stroll.

Once there, these guys beat the shit out of her, they repeatedly raped her vaginally and anally, and forced her to do all sorts of degrading sexual things. Once they were done sexually assaulting her, they both urinated on her, then tied her up, put her on the train tracks and covered her with a tarp and left her there. I guess some railway employee or passer by came to her rescue. They noticed her, or maybe she was yelling for help, I do know she didn't die down there.

I can only say to the world that you cannot know what kind of person could commit such a crime. And yes, it was a seriously demented and sick and cruel crime. It was a prostitute that was attacked and she may have gone with them willingly, but what transpired was definitely not what was agreed upon during initial "negotiations". It seriously makes me want to throw up.

These were two regular young guys, two guys that most likely slept well that night and every night after. They just went back to their lives, with no one around them having any idea what atrocities they had committed. This is my point, YOU CAN"T KNOW. These guys could have been ANYONE. They may live next door, or maybe they bagged your groceries at the IGA. Who knows, but they're out there.

"Pay her, Sir"

I had this regular, his name was Harry. Our "working" relationship was not short, we actually had meetings at least once a week for years. And I always knew he was coming cause I would hear the sound of his van. It was a white, extended cab vehicle, that made a lot of noise, especially when turning a corner. I think it was a diesel, which may have been the cause of it's noisiness.

We always did the same thing. he would pick me up, we would go park, do the date, and then be on our way. He was nice, he paid me well, and I guess you could say I trusted him. I never asked him to pay me first because he always did pay me, and I knew he had the money, so I wasn't worried about it. His van was a great too, cause it was so big, we could just get in the back, and didn't have to worry about getting a room or anything. Getting a room was good for comfort's sake, but then it meant that I would get less money sometimes, cause the room was twenty bucks. Yes, "they" do rent rooms by the hour, and the going rate is twenty bucks. It was a few years ago anyways, may be more now.

Harry picked me up one night, and we went up Hastings to some residential street by the PNE. Now, I don't condone doing car dates in residential areas, since there are children living there, etc, but whatever, it was fine, it was late at night and it was dark as well.

We did our date in the back of the van, like always, BUT afterwards, I was standing up getting myself put back together, and I guess that it was right when a cop was driving by, and he spotted us.

So, of course he pulls over, puts his lights on, and comes to the driver's side of the van where Harry has re-seated himself. I wasn't really worried, the only thing I was concerned about was that I hadn't gotten my money yet. And I know how things go, I have been busted before, the cops can't really do anything to me, but they always make me and him part ways, and it has happened in the past that I have completed the deal, and not gotten my money. Which means I would have just serviced an individual for free. Almost never would the date say "oh don't worry, I will get it to you next time", ha. As if.

This cop was really nice though, he got me to get out, asked us the standard questions. He knew what we were doing, and I never usually felt the need to lie to cops when they would ask questions, I mean they aren't stupid, it wasn't like I was this guy's daughter or niece or something. The policeman even offered to call me a cab, of which I would have no part of since that would eat up my dope fund, and though it was miserable out that night, all windy and rainy, I opted for the bus. Now that I think of it though, he may have even given me a ride to the bus stop, since it was so gross out.

As he is telling us to go our separate ways, I was stressing cause I hadn't gotten paid, and so I was sort of hanging around as the cop was giving Harry a lecture about having sex in public places, and he asked me why I was still standing there. I told him, "Well, I haven't been paid", and he says back to me, "Did you...complete the transaction?", and I said "yes".

He turns to Harry and says, "well, you better pay her, sir".

It was awesome. I knew Harry and thought he was generally a good guy as far as predators go, but I could see that he was tripping out cause he knew that he hadn't paid me and he knew that I was waiting for him to pay me, regardless of the police presence. He was worried that he may incriminate himself if he gave me money in front of the cop, and he was more than ready to drive away without giving me what he owed me.

But the lawman didn't want to see me walk away with nothing, despite the means at which I chose to earn my money, and he didn't have to do say that to Harry either. I had a similar experience and was made to walk away unpaid. Unpaid after a much more humiliating exchange of services with a different date, where we again, had been busted right after the act.

I just want to say two things:

1.Even if you know a date, get the money first, obviously, everyone knows this, no matter what business you are in, but for some stupid reason I felt like I was showing my regulars disrespect if I asked for the money upfront, since we knew each other it would make it that much more enjoyable for them if the money exchange was dealt with after the "date", making it less cheap for them maybe. More of my twisted business sense.

2. Some cops are alright.

Is it? Is it really?

I just wanted to write a quick note to explain my absence. My son has been sick for about a week now and hasn't been in daycare, so I haven't had a chance to get to my next post. I havent decided yet what I am going to write about, though I have a hefty list of stories to choose from.

Stay tuned for the next installment.

Sort of graphic, and very true.

Picture the quintessential middle aged father, overweight and driving a green Ford Windstar. This is the subject of my next recollection.

His name (he said) was Rick Layton but in actuality, his name was Mike. I know his name was Mike because he gave me his cell phone number, and I called it once and got his voice mail, and it said his name was Mike Patterson. He told me later that he chose the alias of "Rick" because it rhymed with "dick" and picked the "Layton" because of the "lay" as in laid, and the "ton" as in gets laid a ton. What an idiot. What an idiot for giving me his cell number too. He was married with 2 kids, and I could've caused him huge problems. Could have, but never did. Men would always give me their numbers, once they find a girl that will do what they want and not be a freaky, cracked out weirdo, they want access. I knew this one girl though, Angel, and she owed a dope dealer all this money, and so she went to one of her dates houses and tied him to a chair, pistol whipped him to get his bank card, and withdrew $7000 from his account. She then got charged with extortion. At least I think it was extortion. After all that she STILL got her ass beat by the dealer.

I will be quick to tell the beginning of the story cause it is the second half that is truly alarming. The first time "Rick" picked me up, it was on a regular day, during a normal person's work hours. We went to some random parking lot or side street. I had to kneel on the floor in front of my seat and feed into his sick fantasy. We never had intercourse, ever, I would just have to go on and on about how I was sooo young and innocent as he jerked off. I told him I was 17. He actually believed me, I have always looked young for my age anyways, but I guess my backpack and running shoes, complete with the pigtails made it more effective. My cover was blown one time though, when as he was driving me back to where he got me from he asked me about my family, and I said I had a sister that was 31, and that she was 5 years older than me. Which would have made me 26. Didn't matter to him though.

He never paid very well either, but since I never had to take my clothes off really, or had to have sex with him, it was an easy date. He seemed harmless enough, and sometimes he would even take me to a drive thru (and pay) or something after.

On one occasion things got pretty creepy. He had notified me that his wife and his 2 children would be going out of town for a weekend, and that he would like me to come to his house, and of course he would pay me extra. One of the cardinal rules of picking up prostitutes is to NOT bring them to your house, but whatever. It wasn't my house, not my wife, etc. No worries for me.

One night we had arranged to meet and go to his house. He had me lie down in the back of his minivan so I couldn't see where he lived. He was paranoid that I would come back there and rip him off or something. I guess it was smart on his part, but I never would have done that anyways. It would have been too time consuming.

We went into his house and as usual he had this whole deranged and sexually perverse role play scripted out for us. He always had these small bits of paper that he would scribble things down on, things for me to say, things for me to pretend,to act out, etc. This time was no different.

First I had to have a shower, which was fine, I like having showers. He didn't watch me or anything, he just waited patiently in his family room. After the shower I had to put on his daughter's nightgown (I still feel weird about this when I think about it. His daughter was 12 or something, and he was such a pervert. He would always tell me about her friends and how he had to stop wearing jogging pants because he would get erections when they were around). Then, as he watched a porno in the family room, I was to walk out of her bedroom, and ask him what he was doing. What he was doing was masturbating to a porno, and he would have to explain this to me. Then I would tell him that I wanted to try to masturbate him to the aforementioned porno.

It was tough even for me to pull this off. It would have been fine to have just your basic role playing, but wearing his daughter's nightgown, him being my "Dad" and all that was too much. But I did it, and it still gives me the shivers when I think about it.

Afterwards, he paid me, took me back and that was that. He did get a pay back from good old karma though. He ended up getting fired from his job at a car lot, and had to start delivering pizza's. He didn't even tell his wife that he lost his job right away either. He had to though, after a while. He worked for $2 per delivery, plus tips.

I sort of felt guilty taking his money after he lost his car dealership job, especially when he would have to pay me with 15 two dollar coins that he made from being a pizza delivery guy. But I didn't feel guilty enough to not take his money. I felt bad more for his family than anything.

Guys pick up prostitutes for some f$#@ed up stuff. I had this fire fighting, helicopter pilot pick me up on a regular basis, took me to his house and pay me do him in the behind with this huge black strap on. He loved it and he always paid really well. I remember, his name was Ken, and he was 100% heterosexual. I guess it is comforting to these guys that we can't really judge them, whereas their wives would probably freak out if they knew their husband's desired sexual exploits.

I had this guy named Robin pick me up one late weekend night. He took me to Stanley Park, and paid me to let him ejaculate into my shoe. There was this guy Alec that had a thing for vegetables, and then there was this guy that had a serious pantyhose fetish, and kept them in his trunk to fondle whenever he picked me up.

Ford Explorers make me want to puke

I met this guy while I was on the street, he had picked me up while I was working. He was big into crystal meth and said he just wanted to have someone to talk to. He agreed to buy me some dope first, and then to give me more money after, when he dropped me off after. But no sex, just my company. That was the first visit.

This guy started to become a very regular, regular, and he became sort of obsessed, I guess you could say. Always out looking for me, driving up and down the stroll. And as I think I have mentioned before, these men misinterpret the time we would spend with them, as time we WANT to spend with them. It is all about money for us, there is no way I would voluntarily spend time with them. Even when my Dad would come downtown to find me I made him give me money so I could buy dope, otherwise I couldn't even give him the time for a conversation. But if I had what I needed, I would hang out with anyone.

Over time I started staying at his house, which wasn't far from downtown, sort of near Boundary and Hastings. It was a great gig at first and I really thought I liked him. He had gotten an inheritance before our initial meeting, so of course I was happy to be around him. He fed my habit. I did still run away though. Sometimes I just wanted to get high and do whatever I wanted, alone. As I have said many times "it is much easier to be an asshole by yourself, than to be an asshole in front of other people". Which means that with him I had to maintain some appearance of trying to control my consumption of substances. When in actuality, rationing was not fun, and I just wanted to spend as much money as I could on getting high.

Between my heroin/crack addiction and his speed addiction, eventually his money did run out. It was an inconvenience, sure, but I could always go out and get money. I would just have to go make it, by going to "work" and he was not okay with this. Even though he picked me up on the street , he was a hypocrite and actually tried to forbid me from working the street anymore. Just like a guy that picks up a stripper in a club, and then decides that his new woman can no longer be a stripper.

I was permitted to go rip guys off or come across money some other way, but I was not allowed to have sex for money. I was never really one of those girls that could pull off scams like that. Not to say that I didn't do it, but to me it seemed easier to just do the deed and get paid for it, rather than risk getting your face kicked in because you ripped some one off. Plus, if you rip them off, chances are that they will NOT ever pick you up again. Whereas, if you just do the date, then they WILL most likely pick you up again. And dope sickness is never far off and not far enough to risk it, as far as I was concerned. I used to think to myself that one day I would be clean, and I didn't want to have my face smashed in and the battle scars to prove it. I had to pretend to him that I was going out to scam men, when actually I was just going to do what I always did. To make money the old fashioned way.

Generally I would be out all morning until early evening, working just so I could keep myself well and fine until the next day. We had a meeting place predetermined, a gas station relatively close to the stroll, and had arranged what time to meet up. He was already seriously abusive by this time in our relationship (a few months had passed had since our introduction), and I would just dread having to meet up with him. I would way rather have stayed out on the street all night and made money to get high.

When we would meet up after my day, after I had gathered all the funds I needed, I would have to have a whole speech prepared about who I had ripped off, when, how much I got, etc. It is a miracle that he bought it for as long as he did.

Then the day came where I was a little late in meeting him, and he lost it. He had lost it before, and I was already scared of him but this was the first time that he actually hit me (but this was not the first time I had been hit by a guy).

I jumped in his Explorer, and proceeded to unveil my tangled web of lies and deceit. I don't know what set him off, maybe have been that as soon as I was in the truck, I said "okay, let's go get my dope" rather than a "hello, how are you". But I really didn't care how he was, but it must have been impossible to ignore how the drugs were my utmost priority, rather than him. This must have infuriated him, because not only did he fault me with the depletion of his inheritance, but I had the balls to go out and have sex with other men, and then come back to him, and expect him to take me to meet my dope dealer. Which was in south Vancouver.

Before I knew it, we were driving down Clark Drive, and as I was telling him about my "day" and he pulled back and sucker punched me in the face so quick and so hard, he split my lip in what must have been a half a millisecond. As I caught my breath, he saw that I was bleeding, to which he said, "you better clean the f$#@ing blood of your face right now, before someone sees it". Then as I cried and tried appease him, he reached into my bag and grabbed one of my used rigs and ripped the cap off. He then grabbed me with his right arm around my neck, and held the needle to my neck, screaming how dare I try to lie to him, I had f%$#ed to get that money, and I was a whore, (of course I was, I was when you met me, idiot). Then, he began telling me that he was taking me to his friend Simon's house, who had a rubber room in his basement. This guy was hard core dope dealer and would torture people that tried to ripped him off or so I was told. This rubber room would muffle my screams as he murdered me.

You would think, why would I stay in his truck..why not get out and run, right? Well, it wasn't as simple as that. If I did run, he knew where to find me, downtown, he knew my haunts, and that was where I "worked" so there was no getting away. Whether he found me the same day or another day, he would find me, and slit my throat or something. I don't even know why he was so angry, as I said, I didn't care. Even then, I just wanted him to stop being angry so we could get on with it and go get my friggen' dope already.

That was still and had never stopped being my main objective during this whole altercation. I just needed him to take me to south Van to get my dope. I had no other way to get there, and if I could make him believe my apologies and denials, then he would take me there. I could get drugs downtown, but to get the most for your dollar and for better quality a "dial a dope" operation was the best bet. And that was my main concern, getting the goods.

I found out later, that there was no rubber room, and I still have a scar on my lip from this incident. And you would never believe that I stayed with him for 3 years and suffered his horrible abuse the entire time. I knew he went out and picked up prostitutes cause that is how we had met, plus he was out of the house all the time, especially at night, all night. And they would call his phone at all hours. One time I even checked the text messages in his phone, and there were all these gross messages between him and this Surrey working girl named Shelley. The texts were all about oral sex and how he wanted to have a threesome with her and him and I. Barf. I really didn't care too much though, if he was getting "it" somewhere else, then he wouldn't want it from me. I just didn't want him thinking I was ignorant of his escapades, or think that I was oblivious to the garbage he was up to.

The ONLY reason I got away is because I actually had a baby with this guy, and had to get my life together for my child. I used to be so thankful that I had never gotten pregnant with him, since we never used condoms at all. In the end it was that pregnancy that saved my life.