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• The guest house movie xvideos how to#

Jim is amazingly empathetic about the nastiness of the local clubs. The crazy thing I’ve discovered is that the snobbier you seem, the more they will pay you. Of course I tried dancing here, I explain, but the clubs are just so dirty, and I’m way too classy to expose myself to such an environment.

Instead I make up a prissy story about finishing my Master’s degree and taking a year to drive around the country in an R.V. If you watch television you know what happens to broke homeless women: They give $20 blow jobs, not $100 counter scrubbings. I don’t tell him that he’s my first, or that I’m broke, or that I live in a van.

He asks about me, how I came to be a topless housecleaner. Especially while flirting the whole time with a man you hope is staring at your ass and not your sweaty face. Scrubbing while bending over a counter in six-inch heels, back arched so that your ass sticks up pretty, is hard work. The counter is dirty, covered in stains and puddles of dried-up food and glue and who knows what else. While I’m stacking his mail neatly I check out his name. I keep up a steady stream of flirting while I put his dishes in the dishwasher and move everything on the counter to one end so I can clean it.

The guest house movie xvideos how to#

I do the kitchen first, like my friend Tania who actually grew up in a mansion and knows how to clean explained to me last night on the phone. That’s when the idea of topless housecleaning came to me - purely formed, rising sweetly out of my desperation - so I put up a Craigslist ad and here I am at Jim or John or whatever his name is’ house. I was too fat for the big one, or the door guy was having a bad day. The small one turned out to be a brothel with very little business, where I met some very beautiful, very southern women, including a 300-pound dancer named Hamhock who I wish I could introduce to every teenager worrying about their weight ever. Big strip clubs sometimes have things like rules and schedules and lots of competition and high house fees, which I don’t like. Possum drew me a map showing how to get to the two strip clubs he knows of: a big one, and a little one. I’m staying, with my dog, Spot, in my van down by the river next to Possum, who lives in a van that’s much bigger and nicer than mine.

Whenever I discover a new form of sex work - the weirder or more interesting the better - I try to experience it. I’ve done almost all the sex work: everything from street hustling to dancing in bejeweled gowns to foot fetish parties and erotic hypnosis. When I’ve been broke down on the side of the road with no money, when I’ve been a homeless teenager, when I’ve wanted to buy a house, a car, an education - sex work has always been there for me. I have the magical ability to walk into a strip club just about anywhere there is one and make a few hundred bucks just because I’m willing to get naked and smile at people. For some people, this might have been a problem, but not for me. Half a tank of gas and two blueberry smoothies later, it dwindled to sixteen dollars folded together in the bottom of my pocket. I’d had eighty dollars left to my name when I drove into Greenville, South Carolina. I shove it down one of my stockings as I take my pants off, because I have always believed that the safest place for my money is right against my skin. “Oh, of course.” He pulls a hundred out of his pocket and presses it into my hand. “Business before pleasure, babe,” I say, making the little money sign with my fingers. I turn to JimJohn and start to pull my shirt off, then stop. It’s my security detail - Possum, the hillbilly witchdoctor I’ve befriended, following instructions to wait for me to clear the house and call to be sure everything’s okay. Just when the tour is complete my phone rings. I get him to show me the whole house, which serves the double purpose of planning ahead for cleaning and making sure there’s no one else hiding, ready to pop out for a gang rape later. I step in, a little flirty, but all-business to begin with. I like his work jeans and dirty white t-shirt, though. He’s young to have such a nice mini-mansion with a swimming pool and younger than I normally like to deal with. When I arrive at the house of the first viable person to respond to my Craigslist ad, I knock on the door and take a step back. $100/hr – have your own cleaning supplies – no blocked numbers. Gentlemen, do you need a good, clean tease after a hard day’s work? I’ll clean your house and give you a (1) lapdance