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'I Was a Birthday Present for an 82-Year-Old Grandmother'

This excerpt from "Hos, Hookers, Call Girls, and Rent Boys: Professionals Writing on Life, Love, Money, and Sex" details what a 17-year-old in 1974 decided to do for money.

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At first she seems very stiff. Tense. Ironing-board-like. I take my time. I go slow. I kiss all around the area softly and very gently. Some lips. A little tongue. But very light. And the more I do it the more she softens. And then she’s moving herself toward my mouth. And there’s little moans and sighs and groans and gasps coming from outside the covers. How cool is this? I’m thinking, she’s totally into it. I feel so useful at this moment. I’m a success here. Doing something that requires skill and special talent. I’m a success at this, a thousand dollars for making someone happy. That’s an excellent job.

So now her hands are on my head and she’s pulling my head into her area. And to tell you the truth, her area is much like any other area I’ve been in, vis-à-vis women’s nether regions. Especially since I'm in this black cave where I can’t see anything. I think it actually helps.

Dot is gently manipulating my head so she’s getting it exactly where she wants it and I’m just applying the appropriate pressure. It’s like we’re dancing and she’s leading while I’m following. And she’s getting all the symptoms of excitation. It’s all happening. I could not be happier.

Dot now seems to be climbing the ladder of the stairway to heaven. I don’t know how long I've been going at this now, but it doesn’t seem that long. And she's already manifesting all the physical symptoms of pre-orgasm.

Sure enough, here it comes. Here she comes. She is diving off the board into the pool of sexual ecstasy. It’s happening right here. I am making this happen. I have such a sense of joy and satisfaction. She's been so nice to me. Plus, I know that Mr. Hartley is going to get a great report. I’ll get more business. Sunny will be so proud of me. One thousand dollars for fifteen minutes of oral manipulation. To make this sweet and lovely human feel good. To make our dreams come true. Or at least one of them, anyway.

It’s clear we’re done. So I burrow out from under the covers and head into the bathroom. To give her a chance to put herself back together. I wash. She tasted great. Can you imagine? An eighty-two-year-old great grandmother tasted great.

Sure enough, when I come back out, she’s totally put together, like nothing happened. Except for the bloom in her cheeks and the sweet smile of satisfaction on her lips.

Dot thanks me profusely. She asks me if I would like to take a chocolate-covered strawberry with me. I confess that I would.

I grab a chocolate-covered strawberry and head for the door, full-to-overflowing with a sense of well-being. Even though my parents don’t care to talk to me, even though I have no home and no family except for a bunch of prostitutes and a pimp, even though I have no future and I'm wracked by nightmares and lusting for revenge on the men who attacked me, at least I’m good at this.

As I leave with my chocolate-covered strawberry, Dot surreptitiously slips a crisp green bill into my hand while she plants a very nice kiss on my cheek. When I pull back, she playfully wipes the lipstick off my cheek. It's a tiny little gesture, but it feels so intimate and connected in a world where connection is virtually impossible for me.

I thank her sincerely-- wish her a happy birthday.

She thanks me right back.

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