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LEGIT (In which my sex life becomes my real life.)

Even though I couldn’t believe I was doing it as I was doing it, I accepted Ron’s offer and quit my real job. I had no idea how I would spin this new development to my parents, or if I would even tell them about it at all. I didn’t know what to say to my friends. I didn’t know if I should put this job on my resume. And yet despite all the uncertainty, I still said yes. I said yes to Ron, and I said yes to a new life.

Ron needed a webmaster to program the sites, he needed telemarketers to sell advertising, he needed to set up an accounting database to allocate the advertising money his sites deserved, and he needed someone to be in charge of it all, and that someone would be me. I was going to run the show, spearheading the advertising initiatives, organizing the live video, improving the overall quality of the sites—I was going to do it all. I would have a legitimate, responsible, demanding, managerial position in the adult entertainment industry—with a direct deposit paycheck, a computer, and an office. I couldn’t quite believe how things had worked out. My little hobby had become a legit full-time job. I was Director of Online Services for Ron’s company. Except for the sexual content, it was a proper adult job. And it was Adrian’s job, not Sydney’s.

My little lark, my (s)expose, this whole crazy newfound obsession of mine had all started that night with Candy. I’d been an escort, a nude model, a stripper—and now the irresponsible part of my life had become the responsible part. My naughty secret had become my naughty life.

The ironic twist, though, was that, along the way, I had lost interest in doing the kind of work that got me here in the first place. My head was already occupied with this next new thing. When Jackie called me today, wanting to book me for this regular she knew would love me, I agonized over it. I needed the money, but I didn’t want to escort anymore. I knew that I should, but I also knew that as soon as I started getting regular paychecks from Ron, I’d be in the clear, and so I wanted to wait. I didn’t want to fuck. I didn’t want to take off my clothes. I just wanted to do a real job, and I wanted to do it well.

Where had my interest gone? Now that the money was coming from another source, had I lost my incentive? If I hadn’t needed the money so badly in the first place, would I have just found another outlet for my sexual desires? I found it hard to believe that this whole crazy journey had been only about money, since money wasn’t the reason Candy convinced me to get on stage at Valentino’s, but had it been the money that kept me going? Or was it that my life was so much more challenging and exciting with the prospect of this new job that I didn’t need to search stimulation for elsewhere?

Or was my newfound reluctance a result of a guy I had recently met?

David was the first guy I’d fallen for since I started this project. I’d met him unexpectedly one night when I’d gone to visit John at the bar. David sat down on the stool beside me—and three hours later, we were still talking. We had our second date the next night, and our third date two dates later. He was smart, funny, sweet, and looked good in plaid shirts. He was also the only person with whom I wanted to have sex right now—without being paid to do it. And I didn’t want to sleep with anyone else. Even the idea of doing so felt weird and awkward.

He kept calling, but I had no interest in working for Lance either, even though I could use the money. All my moving expenses had added up to a tidy sum I was still paying off, and I had lost a week of work between jobs, so a couple extra hundred would have made a huge difference, but I just didn’t want to do it. I’d have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to do a session. I didn’t want to have to be nice, to look pretty, to haul my ass all over town, to fuck anyone just because he could afford me.

So I told everyone (except for David) no and ignored my plummeting bank balance.