Someone held me up at gunpoint last night. I’ll never forget the smell of his cologne or the brick butterflies banging around in my belly swiftly moving my partially digested spam Masubi to my colon.
Whenever my job is mentioned in newspapers, blogs, or magazines, the same tropes tend to pop up: moral panic, drug abuse, violence. Journalists quote us selectively, so that it sounds as if we’re living out the sex-negative, whorephobic stereotypes the public are used to consuming.
I knew I wanted to be a companion but I wanted to do something I like, I wanted to do something uncommon so all my work wouldn't rely on GFE which I think in certain cases can become very boring after a while.