Originally Published 2007

Ok, so I have to tell you an amusing story about an elevator encounter I had this past weekend... Or more accurately, one Candy and Jae and I had.

Candy and Jae have played with Traveler and me before, and they all like each other, so when I suggested they come visit us late one evening, he said, “Why don’t we all go to dinner first?” So we all went out to a lovely dinner, and there was some wine, and perhaps we were all feeling just a touch merry and uninhibited. Although really, we can all get that way without wine.

Now, you probably don’t know this, but there was a big convention in Seattle these last few days – of orthodontists. When I say big, I mean we heard there were something like thirty thousand orthodontists in Seattle. Not just American orthodontists, either - there were Spanish orthodontists, there were French orthodontists, there were Indian orthodontists. Heck, there were orthodontists here from countries I couldn’t find on a map. I saw a lot of said orthodontists in lobby and elevator of the Fairmont, and plus, we got the skinny from the valets, because those guys always know what’s going on. And they like to chat with cute girls.

We were looking more than just cute, actually, all dressed up for an evening of fun and games. I was wearing a slinky, skintight black Wolford top and skirt and spike heels, Candy was wearing very high heels and a flippy little black and white dress which made one think that her legs might really and truly be a mile long, and Jae was wearing an outfit that we decided could best be described as “a kinky SS cheerleader”. We were quite a sight, in the lobby of the serene and conservative Fairmont Hotel. We seemed to cause something of a stir on our way out to dinner, so on our way back in, I told Traveler to drop the three of us off at a side entrance, so he didn't have to escort us back past the interested gaze of the various hotel staff. I mean, the man stays at the Fairmont with his business companions as well, let’s not complicate his life by raising too many eyebrows.

So we three ladies are in the elevator, riding back up to the suite, and an older couple – perhaps late-sixties – get on with us. They were both all dressed up, obviously coming from some social event, and something about the lady’s expression reminded me of one of my great-aunts – the one who was essentially a kind person, but sometimes a trifle querulous.

Perhaps it was the reminder of dealing with older relatives that made me say to them, “Careful, this elevator’s been bouncing a little when it’s stopped, don’t trip.”

Just being a good citizen, you know? But Candy and Jae took my remark as a cue to begin bantering with the man in a manner that one might call flirtatious.

He looked mildly startled but pleased. His wife’s face suggested that she didn’t know quite what to think about these oddly dressed and chatty strangers, but that given some time, she might work up to being displeased by them.

This was not exactly my idea of being low-profile, but, luckily even a quaint old elevator like the Fairmont’s doesn’t take long to get up seven floors. The couple were going on up, and I breathed a small sigh of relief as Candy and I got off the elevator, with Jae a few steps behind us, saying a polite goodnight to them like the former debutante that she is.

And the woman calls out, in a half-sweet, half-suspicious voice, “Are you three orthodontist-girls?”

Now, the first thought that went through my mind was: what exactly would an orthodontist-girl be? A female orthodontist? Oh, wow, that’s real feminist of you, lady. Gloria Steinem thanks you.

Or maybe she means orthodontist’s assistants. I didn’t know what such a person’s correct title would be. Neither did she, apparently.

But, while I am sure there are some very tarty, kinky-looking people who work in orthodontist’s offices in all capacities, my strongest reaction was: lady, do we fucking look like orthodontists?

However, I would not dream of saying such a thing to a blue-haired, pearl-wearing, great-aunt-ish lady. My Southern upbringing would never permit it.

So I turned around to civilly decline any connection with the tooth-straightening industry. Candy, however, is a woman of fewer words. She gave short laugh and a broad, dismissive wave of one hand, and sang out clearly, “Oh, hell no!” Then she turned and stalked off down the pastel blue hallway in her black and white faux fur coat, like Cruella DeVille gone vegetarian.

I was at the wrong angle, but I caught just enough of a glimpse of the woman’s face to decide that I would follow Candy, abandoning Jae, who stammered something about Tourette’s Syndrone as the elevator doors closed on the outraged lady.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you said that!” I was laughing so hard Candy had to grab my arm to keep me from stumbling.

Jae caught up with us. She was laughing too, in that horrified way one does when one sees a sacred cow – Always be respectful of your elders – tipped over into the mud. “Jesus, you should have seen her, her eyes got big and her lips got all mad and tight, and her chin started quivering like a bobble-head doll.”

We reached the suite. Jae and I collapsed onto the couch, giggling madly. Candy looked slightly abashed.

“I didn’t really think about it,” she said, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean to be rude, it just - came out.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s probably good that you didn’t say something like: “Hell no, we’re not orthodontist-girls, we’re a bunch of perverted harlots, and we’re going to go stick needles through this guy’s nipples, you wanna watch?”

That made Candy laugh, too. “Yeah, well, that’s sort of what I was thinking. Only not the wanna-watch part.”

So if you’re a lady of mature years who had an encounter with three wild women at the Fairmont this weekend: Sorry, we didn’t mean to be rude. Want us to stick needles in your nipples to make up for it?

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Massage and Misdirection

I have gotten – as I presumed I would – a lot of replies to the post yesterday about sex workers using the word massage. Let me reiterate that I have much respect for licensed massage practitioners. My mom was one for years, and she was definitely not a sex worker and did not want anyone to ask her for sex. So I’m all down with LMP’s having boundaries about this.

I will also repeat what I said yesterday: some LMP’s do engage in sexual behavior in their massage sessions. I know ya’ll don’t like to admit that, but it is true. So it is not a matter of only people who don’t have licenses muddying up an otherwise pristine profession.

That said, I completely agree that if you do not have a state license, you should not claim you do. I do not support anyone pretending to have medical skills they do not possess.

Several people suggested that sex workers should use the phrase “sensual massage” and only LMP's should use the phrase “therapeutic massage.” I would not be adverse to that, but it’s not an option. This is a state-by-state issue, but here in Washington, if you don’t have a state license, you may not legally use the word massage professionally. At all, period. If I’m wrong on this I’m sure someone will correct me, but last time I had a lawyer run through this with me, I was told that the fine for using the word massage if you did not have a license was substantially higher than the fine for a first-offense prostitution charge. The former is a thousand dollars, and the latter, five hundred. The LMP professional organizations apparently lobbied hard to get that fine very high, and since the state is never adverse to taking money, they agreed.

So at least here in Washington, ya’ll do own the very word massage, which is why you see ads offering “Sensual Touch”. That’s a sex worker trying to avoid having an LMP see her ad and report her to the state, because that's often the way unlicensed people get into trouble.

But see, sex workers are really not the problem. They are not the people asking LMP’s for sex. It’s the guys, right? (Yes, I’m sure that women sometimes solicit sex from an LMP, but I doubt it happens a lot.)

Men, as a gender, want sex and pursue it. You can think what you want about why that’s true, and whether that it is a good thing or a bad one or – as I myself believe - a morally neutral impulse that must be judged in context. But in general, that’s what they do.

And you will never change men’s behavior by changing women’s behavior. The world is full of examples of women trying to seem sexually unavailable to avoid unwanted overtures: by adopting face- or body-concealing styles of dress, not going to certain places, never being alone in the room with a man, et cetera. (Although many of these rules were designed by men trying to make 'their' women unavailable to other men.) But my point is: nowhere in recorded history have men responded to women emphasizing their chastity and unavailability by saying “Oh. Well, all right, we’ll stop asking, then.”

It would be great if simply by altering a word or two in an ad, sex workers could ensure that LMP’s who didn’t want to be sexual were not asked for sex. (Trust me, sex workers would love it if they got all that business.) But there will always be men in the world who either honestly don't perceive sexual boundaries until they are firmly explained, or else just don't respect them. No matter what women do, we cannot change that. We definitely don't have to just passively accept it. But it is fruitless to think "If only women acted like this, men would never act like that."

So the existence of sex workers is not the reason that some men ask LMP’s for sex. Men ask LMP’s for sex for the same reason they ask anyone else: because they want it. And that’s unlikely to change.

It can be frightening to be the object of a sexual overture you don’t want. But women who are not sex workers will never succeed in making themselves safer by isolating and stigmatizing women who are. The idea that they can is, I believe, a really clever shifting of blame on the part of certain unethical men who pursue sex from women in inappropriate ways, but who don’t want to be held accountable for their actions. “The woman tempted me!” It’s as old as the Adam and Eve story - and just as mythical.

Sex Workers and Money Management

"Dear Mistress Matisse... (Edited for length, but some nice compliments, thank you!)... I am in search of advice (of course). I am an escort and a student in Vancouver, BC and was intrigued by what you wrote in your interview with Belle de Jour (who I also love) about "Sex Worker Units" because it seems to be a common way of thinking when you are making so much money in so little time and enjoying yourself to boot.

While I try not to personally think like this, I can see the temptation to buy nice things and worry about my student loan payments later. I try to find a good balance of paying off my debt and enjoying my life but I have no idea how I should be saving and spending when my income fluctuates so much (how much I work depends on my studies). Saving more when I'm making more makes sense, I can figure out that much, but beyond that I am in the dark about what to do with my money.

I have done extensive searches on Mistress Google for financial advice for escorts (almost nothing) and financial advice for when your income fluctuates (more, but not all that informative) and haven't come up with much, especially because there always seems to be the opportunity to be working more or investing better (or at all). I know you are not a financial planner or an advice columnist but I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of some helpful resources either online or what kind of people I should be talking to in person. Although I do not plan on escorting forever, I will probably be doing it for the next few years at least and so should have some kind of plan for the money that I earn."

I am not - by any means - a financial whiz. But I know someone who is, so I asked him for his advice on this subject, and just trust me when I say: this is advice worth taking. Really.

***

He says: "You (Matisse) have actually talked about this when you talk about managing the business as a business. Before one talks about investing, you have to put your financial house in order. Get your credit cards paid, have medical insurance, a couple months expenses in the bank, etc.

For books: I recommend: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Personal Finance in Your 20s & 30s, 4th Edition. It looks like an excellent starter to me - it starts with "housekeeping issues" then moves to investing, etc.

For hiring a professional: First of all, you want to deal with a Certified Financial Planner - CFP - a fairly difficult credential to get and the gold standard in the industry. They have to pass rigorous test, serious continuing education and maintain professional standards like a CPA or attorney. I believe they have them in Canada as well.

Secondly you want to deal with a CFP that is fee-based, not commission-based. The fee can be a flat charge for a plan, an hourly fee like a CPA or a fee based on the assets managed. At times you will see one person who offers 2 or even 3 of these choices.

Ask for a statement of anticipated fees in writing, using terms you understand, before retaining them.

Finally they need to sign as a fiduciary to you in regard to their work. I think for someone starting out or with limited investable assets they are frequently well served by in independent CFP rather than one at a major investment firm that is pushing their people to have relationships with a minimum level of fees.

Now for a very prejudiced comment - my experience is women CFP's are on the average more focused on helping their clients and more diligent about maintaining their education then men who are more focused on the bottom line. (Mistress’s note: the person speaking is a man.) You can go online and to the national CFP site - get names of people in an area - find out if they are still accredited etc.

The killer is most people never get the house organized and the catch 22 to that is they can't hire someone like a CFP because there is no money to do so. I really wish there was a service that could help people budget but I have never found an affordable one.

The major reasons that you hire a CFP is not that they are geniuses, the next Warren Buffet. Rather, they do three things -

1. Create a plan or structure.
2. Harass the hell out of you to start saving and keep saving.
3. Will hold your hand and keep you from selling out when things are down, and from getting carried away and thinking you are Warren Buffet when things are good.

1 and 2 are critical. Number 3 is far more essential than virtually any client thinks. Effectively, they must be superb tops. I am not kidding on this statement.

Final recommendation - in most major cities you will find that universities, colleges and most frequently junior colleges have continuing education departments - classes with no credits - frequently for 4 or 6 weeks, one night a week - taught by professionals who are building their business. These can be a great bargain and I strongly recommend them. I would not, however, go to one that did not have a sponsorship by a recognized educational institution. Again, start with a financial planning class, then move on to an investment class."

***

Thank you so much to the lovely and wonderful man who gifted us with his expertise!

What Do You Do?

A pal of mine asked me a question yesterday, and I’m just going to pop off an answer here. This will not be the most polished and perfected set of remarks I have on the subject, because I’m having a madly-busy week. But it’ll give a sense of my position on the subject.

The pal in question is a girl who became a sex worker (as I recall) about a year ago. She’s struggling with the question of: when to disclose to new acquaintances and potential dates that she’s a sex worker.

She’s the forthright type, which is a nice trait in a person. So when people ask her what she does for a living, she’s been telling them the unedited truth. On one hand, I can see why she’s doing that. We should not have to lie. I love what I do, and I think our profession should be considered as honorable as any other. People who work for the IRS don’t have to lie about what they do. Nor do sales reps for drug companies, or parking-meter enforcement. And sex workers generally make people much happier than those professions.

But in the real world – it’s an issue. If someone has just met you, and in the first hour of your acquaintance, you tell them you’re a sex worker, they are going to make snap judgments about you based on that. It’s just a fact. Occasionally – very occasionally - people say something like, “Oh wow, what a cool, interesting job that must be!” Usually not, though. Neutrality is the best one can hope for in that circumstance, and a lot of the time, they are going to have a negative association with the industry. And you can’t un-ring a bell. Once the information leaves your mouth, it’s out there, and you cease to have control over how people react to it and who it will be repeated to.

So sometimes being perfectly honest right from the get-go is a luxury it’s wiser not to avail yourself of. I recommended to her that she take a little time, get to know people better, and let them know her, before gifting them with this information about herself.

I don’t see this as failing to support sex work activism. There is a difference between doing political activism and conducting one’s personal life. Being a sex work activist is not the entirety of any person. We all have other facets to our lives. Supporting sex worker rights does not mean you have to sacrifice the chance to let people get to know the whole you. You can create connections and trust with people before you start raising their consciousness. That’s an okay choice to make.

She said “I don’t want to lie to people.” Well, no one likes to lie. My response is that it’s not anyone and everyone’s business to know what I do with my time. Just because someone asked me the question does not mean they are entitled to an honest answer.

Still, it’s not usually required to speak a lie, if your conscience is finicky about that. One can just be evasive and vague. In the past, with people who were clearly just casual social acquaintances, that’s what I did. “I’m between jobs right now.” Not technically a lie, since I was never actually on a professional date when I said it.

I have friends who enjoyed spinning amusing stories. “I’m studying astrology through an online school.” Or “I’m a professional babysitter.” The arts are always a refuge: “I’m an actor, a dancer, a musician, a poet.” Frankly, most people are not on fire with curiosity about what new social acquaintances do for a living anyway. They’re simply making polite conversation. It’s usually easy to make a vague reply and brush past the question.

With sex it’s a trifle trickier, because I think if you’re going to have sex with someone, that does entitle them to a higher level of disclosure. Since this girl is polyamorous, she has a little wiggle room here, because I don't think it's an absolute requirement that you always tell people the exact circumstances in which you have sex.

But it is only ethical to tell someone, before you sleep with them, “I have sex with other people. And the people I have sex with, also have sex with other people.” That’s the rock-bottom requirement, in my eyes, for even a casual one-night stand with someone you picked up at a party. Once your potential sexual partner has that information, he/she can make a choice about whether to proceed or not.

(You’d think anyone who was open to a party-pickup would assume their partner of the night was no virgin and make safer-sex choices accordingly. But trust me, I wound up on the wrong end of that assumption more than once before I learned: Say. It. And make them tell you, “Yes, I hear you, I understand.”)

With dating someone you hope might be an ongoing partner, my formula is this: have the first date. Do not tell them about being a sex worker - and don’t have sex. Just have a nice getting-to-know-you date. On the second date, towards the end of the time, tell them. And no matter what, do not have sex with them that night either. Make them go away and think about it. If they come back for a third date, okay, proceed towards sex in whatever fashion the two of you choose.

And you have to accept that you’re going to lose a lot of potential partners after that second date. I wish that wasn’t true, but it is. This is one of those times when I say, “If being a sex worker was easy, everyone would do it.” Pursuing a career in sex work is not a consequence-free choice. Naturally, nothing in life is really consequence-free. But one sees the effects of this choice rather sharply. However, it does make you deeply appreciative of the people who do truly accept you.

A new podcast! First, Monk and I have a brief discussion about our ability to fight off an attack by maniacal clowns.

Then we answer a letter from a woman who wants to be a sex worker, but who made the mistake of asking strippers for advice about being an escort. I discuss my thoughts about sex work hierarchies, and how sex work businesses are like Fight Club. Hope it’s educational… (About ten minutes.)

(Note: I'm aware the show is not currently showing up in iTunes. I don't know why. I'll investigate and fix that as soon as I get a chance, but that probably won't be instantly. This is a direct-download link, if you prefer that to the above one. Hope that holds you for now.)

A look back at old posts in the much-beloved silly-phone-calls archive, 2004: A Near-Goddess Experience.

(Follow and read the linked posted first, or this won't make sense.)

The amusing thing is that sex workers and their clients using spiritual mumbo-jumbo as a code for sexual behavior certainly isn’t new. Long before I was ever a pro domme, I worked at some places where we did “spiritual healing” and “chakra alignment and release” etc. Uh-huh. We called ourselves priestesses - I'm serious - and we all had names like Astra and Moon and Gaia. The men who came to us were referred to seekers.

They were okay places to work, but the hardcore Tantra/spiritual-sexuality stuff is really not my thing. I know some people resonate with it. But it just felt silly to me, and frankly, it was a often a struggle for me to keep a straight face during the initial conversations with new clients, when one was required by the management to use that lexicon.

Fortunately, at least half the time, once the guy and I had established to each other that I’m cool/you’re cool, I would confess that I wasn’t really all that woo-woo, and he would give a big sigh of relief and say, “Oh thank god, I’m not either, but I thought I had to pretend to be.”

Honesty. It’s such a lovely thing, and it makes life – and certainly sex - so much easier. Is that a spiritual belief? Namaste.

Special People

Dear Mistress Matisse,
I am contacting you for some advice about getting started as a courtesan. I've been trying to navigate into this world, but keep getting lost. I'm wanting to get myself through acupuncture school, and I have this idea that I'd like to share my excess sensual and healing energy with a very special clientele...people who want what I have to offer. How do I go about finding my niche here?

Let me begin by saying your motivations for getting into sex work, and your ideals about how that’s going to look, sound lovely. Sharing sensual, healing energy with special people? I thoroughly approve of that idea.

Now that we’ve established that, let me correct you on some points, my dear little special snowflake. No one “gets started” as a courtesan. That word is not a job title, it's a professional accolade. Saying one wants to get started as a courtesan is like saying one wants to get started as a movie star or a supermodel. It is a status conferred upon a woman by the people she meets, and I for one do not say it lightly. I have met a few women I think genuinely merit this description. But not many.

So, you want to be a sex worker to put yourself through school? All right then, you must begin as everyone else in your job description does. I’m not sure if you want to do sensual touch (ie, massage with a happy ending) or be an escort. But I’ve written a lot about how to get started in all types of sex work, so search and ye shall find.

As for finding very special people? That too takes time, and a lot of careful sorting. Obviously there are people in the world that simply aren’t suitable. Then there are people who are harmless, but just… weird. But you know, for the most part, I would not wish away my meetings with the emotionally incomprehensible people I have encountered in my travels. They are educational. They keep you rooted in the reality that world is full of people who see things quite differently than you do.

Every sex worker deals with a certain number of clients who, whether they know it or not, are wounded in some way. The thing is: people who seek sexual healing are not always the easiest people to deal with. They are not always happy, or self-aware, or seemingly appreciative of what you give them. If this was easy, everyone would do it.

But if you never have a client who’s a challenge, you’ll never develop the emotional skills necessary to become a courtesan. I’ve had some amazingly satisfying sessions with people who initially did not make a good impression on me. You see, I consider it my job to find something special and likeable, something I can connect with, in every single person I play with. With people I click with right away, that’s easy. There have been times in the past when I’ve had to work really, really hard to see something special and likeable in a client. But - those were the people who needed it the most.

And when you really, truly do see something good in them, they can feel that, and they respond. That’s what a courtesan does: she shows people that they all possess something special, and by showing them that, she heals a little of the hurt done by an indifferent world.

So it’s true that you do sometimes just find special people. But in a certain sort of way, you have to be the one who makes both of you know that they're special.

Archives
I went back through the blog archives to see what I was writing about around this date in years gone by. I found an entry talking about the soundtrack to “Things To Do In Denver When You’re Dead”, and my forays into a legal brothel in Nevada in 1995.

I also ran across this helpful list of “50 Tips For The Working Person”. By working, the author means sex-working, although I suppose some of them would apply to everyone…

A new column in The Stranger, which poses (and, to some degree, answers) the question: so what are all the freshly unemployed strippers in Seattle going to do for a living now?

My sincere thanks to all the ladies who responded to my plea and spent some of their very valuable time telling me about their future plans. I only wish that I had enough space to put all of your answers in the column. It was wonderful to hear from you, and I wish all you the best of luck in your fresh new endeavors.

Letters To The Mistress


(Edited for length, and for identifying details)

Hello Mistress Matisse,

I recently attempted to make a foray into the sex work industry and f-ed it up royally.

A little background: I come from a very conservative family. I went to Catholic schools my whole life, graduated from the U of Deleted (where my father works), and then moved to X City for work. Currently, I'm 26, working a regular full-time job, working on my master's degree part-time, and I just got hit with an expense (school-related) and need some cash. So I contacted a local dungeon about working as a pro-sub. I e-mailed them some photos (you can see my face in two of them, which becomes important later), my bio text, and they put me up on the site. A couple of days later, I received the following e-mail (in my alumni email account, which means that whoever sent the message has access to the alumni directory, and therefore is faculty, staff, student, or alum.)

Hello
Aren't you Bill's daughter? I recognized at the website. You have really grown up, I have not seen you in many years. Will give you a call when I'm in X City.
Mr. Brown

Creepy, right? I have no idea who “Mr. Brown” is. So I contacted the Mistress to fill her in and asked if I could please submit headless photos and change my pro name (which was close to my real name). She gave the OK, and the site was altered. Then I wrote Mr. Brown back and simply said:

Hello,
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't recognize your name. With whom am I speaking?

A few days went by with no response, so I calmed down a bit. And then I received this earlier today:

Hello Jane (or is it Mistress Jane now?)
So it is you. I am an old friend of your parents. Of course this is not my name but you will recognize my face. I will let your parents know they have a good girl :)
See you soon.
Mr. Brown

Creepier and creepier. I had chalked the initial message up to dirty old man-nes, but this makes me uncomfortable, and I now worry that he might try to blackmail me. I suppose that if he does, I'll just have to come clean to my parents (which would pretty much be the end of the world, and I’d *definitely* prefer to avoid that).

Do you by any chance have any suggestions on dealing with this guy? I have no idea if he has screen shots of the original images on the site or not. (But I suppose he could lie about that, anyway.) And even if I meet him, I'm afforded no safety, because he could still send my parents information anonymously, and it would be my word against his. Gah. What kills me is that I haven’t even started yet -- this is my first day 'on-call.' Jesus.

***

Something about this letter sets off my bullshit detector. I have no idea why people make up odd situations and send me letters asking for advice about them. But they do, and there's something about this letter that seems phony to me.

It's too urban-legendy, for one thing. Too classic-cautionary-tale. "See here, Nice Catholic Girls, if you so much as put one little toe into the waters of sex work, your parents will find out instantly and it will be the End Of The World!"

But let's allow for the possibility that the writer of this letter is on the level. Some jerk-off is messing with her head. But blackmail? No. How exactly would such a person tell her family anything without revealing himself? "Hi Bill, long time no see! Listen, somehow I just happened to be on this pro domme site recently - I have no idea how I got there, really - and I saw pictures of your daughter, and ect..." Yeah, right. That's gonna fly real well.

Hell, if he's employed by the university, and using that email system to make sexual overtures towards women, she could probably blackmail him. Not that I endorse such a thing, because I think that's reprehensible. But most men who've gotten anywhere in life have something to lose in a game like this, and they know it. They do not want to start outing or blackmailing people, not at all. They are more likely to run in the other direction from a woman who'd be able to identify them.

Thus, I doubt this guy is who he says he is, and I doubt that he's going to do anything. In this age of Facebook, it would not be hard to come up with someone's hometown, parent's names, ect, and use it to jerk some girl's chain. If she just started sex work, I doubt she has all that info locked down. Someone with way too much time on his hands pulled some stray bit of data from the domme site - or else he knows someone who works there, who let it slip in conversation. He cross-referenced it with social networking sites, and bingo, instant harassment material.

That would be extremely unusual, but it is possible. I think the more likely answer is that this scenario is either partly or wholly fabricated. In my personal experience, I know of exactly one woman who was outed to her family by a stranger/would-be client. It's very rare. When people get outed, it's usually by another family member, or an aggrieved ex. In fact, if this story is completely factual, then it's probably some ex-boyfriend of the writer doing a bit of cyberstalking.

But the chances of someone being identified by a mysterious old family friend, who taunts and threatens them with exposure, within mere days of posting a photo on a relatively obscure site? (As in: not like Craigslist or some such place.) Them's some real long odds, in my vast experience. It just smells wrong to me.

Also: there are not that many pro domme houses around, and a lot of people who want jobs at them. A lot. That this person says she got taken on by one sight-unseen, with no personal connections, is fishy. So there's something hinky about this part of the story, too.

Perhaps I'm being too skeptical. So if the writer of this letter is real, here's my advice. Do nothing and say nothing. Don't respond to any further communication from this person, ever, no matter what he says. If your parents say anything, act astonished, cry, and deny everything. Say this weirdo has been pestering you with his sick sexual fantasies, and that you've been too frightened to say anything. Those pictures? Those are Photoshopped. They aren't of you. Deny it and keep on denying it, steadfastly. He has nothing tangible, after all, and your parents would much rather believe you than him.

And then read The Gift Of Fear.

All the other women reading this: this situation, if true, is the sex work equivalent of getting hit by debris from space that's re-entered the Earth's atmosphere. There are good reasons for some people not to do sex work, but this story isn't one of them.

Hey there ladies!

I'd like to speak to some women who worked at Honey's in Everett, Rick's in Seattle, Sugar's in Shoreline, or Fox's in Tacoma. I'm writing a piece about what happens when dancers get thrown out of work. Are you going to go dance at Deja Vu? Leave Seattle and find a more dancer-friendly town? Get a straight job? Or go onto some other type of sex work?

Drop me a note and tell me of your career plans. All contact information will be strictly confidential, just tell me what name you'd like to be quoted by!

MistressMatisse AT aol.com

This blog post will not make much sense to you if you didn’t read my column last week, and the blog post that went with it. You also need to read my column this week, and if you want the fullest possible perspective, listen to the 50-minute-long audio file linked from it.

***

Let me preface this by saying clearly: Ms. Febos, I do not think you are a bad person. I don’t harbor any personal rancor towards you.

I am not attempting to “silence” you, either, and to demonstrate that, I asked the The Stranger to make the audio of our entire conversation available for download so people can hear exactly what you said when I interviewed you.

For the readers, let me also just run down the timeline of how our meeting came about:

• I arranged this interview with Ms. Febos, via her agent, on March 15th, and I told him that I would publish my review of "Whip Smart" in advance of her Seattle appearances the weekend of the 27th/28th. I had a personal email exchange with Ms. Febos subsequent to that.

• My review of "Whip Smart" was published in print and went live on the web on Wednesday March 24th.

• Saturday March 27th at 5pm, Ms. Febos walked into an interview with me – without having read my review. In fact, she admitted that while she had heard of me, she had actually never read anything I’ve written.

That was not a smart way to handle a professional situation. Ms. Febos teaches writing to college students. One wonders what she would think if a student of hers showed up for class without doing any homework whatsoever.

So it’s true that I didn’t like her book, but books are not people. I was completely prepared for this interview to reverse my opinion of Ms. Febos’ perceptions of BDSM and sex work. It failed to do so.

I don’t wish you unhappiness, Ms. Febos, but this not about just you and me. This is about some bigger issues. That’s why you are making another appearance in my Stranger column this week.

***

In many ways, Ms. Febos is a striking example of what happens when people write about kink and sex work in cultural isolation. She is not a part of the BDSM community, nor is she participatory in any sex-work activism circles, so she has not been educated by leaders in those communities on how to talk about them without putting her foot in her mouth.

She’s getting a remedial education now, and not just from me. I’m sure she’s not enjoying it. Judging by the difference in both her tone of voice and in the answers she’s given in her more recent interviews, Ms. Febos is adapting quickly to the feedback she’s gotten. That’s good. But it does indicate to me that her perspective on her experiences is still very much evolving. That’s understandable, because according to my calculations, Ms. Febos finished writing "Whip Smart" when she was just twenty-six years old. I myself shudder to think of the book-length memoir I would have produced at twenty-six. That’s the tough part about writing: once the words are out there, you can’t unwrite them. They take on a life of their own - but you still have to stand behind them.

Aside it just being too soon for her to write this book, I think Ms. Febos’ post-addiction views about BDSM sexuality and sex work have been largely shaped by vanilla people - 12-step people, therapists, family – who have a very one-dimensional view of kink and sex work. She has not put herself in situations where kinky, sex-working people who are smarter than she is can raise her consciousness. I could tell, talking to her, that a lot of the experiences and reactions she thought were uniquely hers were, actually, experiences and reactions I’ve seen people have time and again. Some of them I’ve had myself.

One's experiences are not either right or wrong, they just are. But the conclusions we draw from them can be either accurate and insightful, or – not. When I had some of what I might call the Universal Kink/Sex-Work Experiences, I had the advantage of having like-minded people to turn to and say, “Hey, this weird thing happened and I’m feeling X way about it.” Not everyone in my communities always dispenses Solomon-like wisdom. But you can’t get education; you can’t get perspective, if you never talk to anyone who knows more than you do.

I have been asked why I can’t just “be nice”, and say nothing critical about Ms. Febos’ words. No, I cannot do that, because I am part of these communities, and I would not be the person I am, or have the life I do, without them. When I was just beginning to understand who and what I was, writers like Susie Bright and Patrick Califia literally changed my life by brilliantly and ceaselessly refuting the lies that are told about people like me. And I would not be here now, safe and sane and happy, without the kinky, sex-working people in my everyday life who corrected me when I made mistakes, and told me truths I didn’t always want to hear. So while I didn’t necessarily like it at the time, it’s a damn good thing they did it, and now I owe them.

At the end of the interview, Ms. Febos said something that explained a lot to me. She said, “Learning how to do something new in public is so uncomfortable.... I’m not good at being a beginner at anything.”

I thought to myself, And therein lies the problem here. Because she is a beginner when it comes to talking and writing about BDSM and sex work. Unfortunately, by publishing the book, Ms. Febos has placed herself in the expert’s seat. Now she has to learn, in public, to handle her discomfort in that position.

Today, a selection from the dusty vaults: a blog post from this date (more or less) five years ago. It’s not exactly a phone calls post, but rather one of my humorous takes on the voice-mails I used to get.

Since I no longer have a public phone line, I no longer get to experience the mingled amusement/exasperation of listening to such things. Like many mingled things, it’s less exasperation and more amusement when it's all firmly in the past. But occasionally - very occasionally - I miss the controlled but raw feed of utterly random input from anyone with pocket change and a copy of The Stranger.

Here's my newest column in The Stranger. It's a review of a book called "Whip Smart" by Melissa Febos.

Before you go read, hear me say this: it's a critique of the book. It is not a critique of the author as a person. There's been a fair amount of negative reaction in the BDSM community to the book, and to some of things Ms. Febos said in her recent NPR interview. I myself thought Terry Gross was condescending and ill-informed in that interview, although I've never been a fan of hers anyway.

Ms. Febos had been scheduled to appear at the Center For Sex Positive Culture, but that appearance was canceled by the author/her publicist. I have not been told first-hand the reason for that, but what I have heard is that Ms. Febos was upset by some comments made on Fetlife about that interview, by people who are presumed to be CSPC members, and thus declined to read there.

Now, I understand why all this is happening. BDSM people are a marginalized subculture, and thus we are naturally sensitive to being unflatteringly characterized. We also dislike it when people seem to be claiming to represent us when we did not elect them, so to speak.

However, Ms. Febos has not, that I know of, explicitly claimed to be a spokesperson for the BDSM community. Popular media likes to label people. For the moment, Ms. Febos has been assigned the label of The Dominatrix, and it's been implied that her experience is The Experience Of All Kinky People and also of All Sex Workers. But I have not heard her say that herself - not exactly, anyway.

My criticisms of her book aside, I have some sympathy for her in this matter, since, on a smaller scale, I get the same sort of thing myself. People read something I wrote about my life and think that I'm saying something about them, or they read carelessly and respond to something I never said at all. It's very frustrating.

But at least for me, those criticisms have happened over time, in small bites, and I can take any useful ideas and use them to tailor future pieces. A book is not a dynamic thing, it's just there. And my own little measure of fame has also grown slowly. I have had time to get used to moving gracefully in each stage of it, whereas Ms. Febos has been rather suddenly thrust into a larger arena.

As luck would have it, Ms. Febos is reading her book at Elliot Bay this weekend, and I have scheduled an interview with her for Saturday afternoon. I'm going to let that be her opportunity to clarify her feelings about the BDSM community, and on this aspect of publishing her story. I would bet this will be the only author-interview she'll do with someone who is also a dominatrix, who also writes about her life. Ms. Febos is now a writing teacher, but I hope she'll find it refreshing to not have to teach another interviewer Pro Domme 101.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

If you’re a sex worker who likes her career, and if you talk about it and read other people’s thoughts about it at all, there comes a point when you realize you’ve heard all the standard anti-sex work arguments before. The trouble is the people making them think they’re new ideas, and trot them out to you as though you hadn’t already answered them 3,458 times.

I have toyed with the idea of making a quick reference, flow-chartish sort of handout to give people. It would list all the usual lines of attack and all the answers to those lines. But I doubt that anyone who’s going to say these things would pay any heed to that.

However, FurryGirl had the charming idea to create Bingo cards with all the standard anti-sex work talking points on them. (And so did Renegade Evolution.) I have certainly sat through many, many meetings and lectures and panel discussions where one could have gotten to Bingo! very quickly with one of these.
























See the larger version in the original blog post by Furrygirl.

Still, I have to say I like the idea of creating a drinking game with them even better. I don’t know what one would win as a prize in such a Bingo game, but I’m certain doing shots of something strong would make the experiences of listening to offensive drivel like this much more enjoyable. Perhaps some sort of board game - that included drinking. A roll-and-move style of game, not unlike Monopoly. Some of the squares would say things like, “You Got A Book Contract! Collect Two Hundred Dollars.” Other would say “Your Strip Club Got Raided! Lose A Turn.”

It’s certainly far more entertaining than arguing with anti-sex work people…

I amused myself by going into the blog archives to see what I was writing about on January 20th in 2005. It turned out to be one of the Silly Phone Calls posts. You can read that here, if you like: link opens in a new window.

The Silly Phone Calls posts were always a big hit - with certain people. I flatter myself that some of them are very funny stories. But still, I officially stopped doing Silly Phone Calls some time back for two reasons.

Firstly, I had mined a lot of my best material. Monk and I have often observed that many of our best early blog posts were the stories we’d told before. Even a writer can hone a story out loud, get the best turns of phrase, gauge the audience's reaction, and tune up the tale based on that. Many of the most popular early Silly Phone Calls posts were written versions of anecdotes I’d regaled my friends with already.

Granted, I had many years of talking to weird strangers on the phone to draw from, so I had plenty of well-polished stories. But eventually, every well runs dry. Since I no longer have a public phone number – and oh, how I do not miss that – I have no fresh material.

But the deeper reason was: I found that sometimes those posts hurt people’s feelings – not the random callers, but people that I know and like in real life. That surprised me. See, I know I’m a dominatrix and all, but inside my own head, I don’t think of myself as a scary badass. I think I’m a pussy-cat. And not even a particularly sharp-tongued one, at that. I just thought I was being cute with those posts. But mere text on a page robs one’s words of certain nuances, so people interpret it differently than intended.

When sex workers talk about our dealings with clients, we tend to position ourselves as the potentially vulnerable ones, and our clients as the ones who must prove themselves to be not dangerous, not disrespectful, not unkind. And certainly there’s plenty of evidence to back up the wisdom of that. I’m not suggesting otherwise.

But – I decided that I wanted to be more sensitive to their vulnerability, too. It’s easy – and often satisfying - to crack jokes at a population we often see as having more power than we do. But when I heard about some of my guys being hurt by things I said, I realized - they actually don’t feel as powerful as an outside observer might assume.

It was one of those moments when something you already know crystallizes into a new form. I’m a dominatrix - I put people into vulnerable positions when they are in my dungeon. That part is obvious. But it sharpened my understanding of how, even in a professional situation, my emotional power over my clients doesn’t end when they leave my house.

I have power, and it’s not necessarily the type of power I set out to get - but I have it. So I have to use it carefully, and not leave bloody weals on boys I like. Unless of course I mean to.

***

EDIT: True, I occasionally sharpen my claws on people who write me letters and ask for advice. But that's different - they generally say, "You can write about this." That's consent, in my book.

A post inspired by a brief conversation with a friend: why you should not write client data down.

I have known sex workers who kept records. Nice, tidy, accurate records of who they saw every day, a few words about the personality and hobbies of the guy, to facilitate small talk, and then some notes about what he liked sexually, and if/how much he tipped. It often looks something like this:

12/ 01/09 John Smith: nice guy, heavyset, likes football. Lots of oral, reverse cowgirl, likes his nipples played with, tends to be noisy so make sure windows are closed. Usually tips $50. Phone xxx-xxxx, email Johnsmith@blah.com

This is a terrible, terrible idea. Do not do this, ever. Why? Let me count the ways this can go wrong.

Bad scenario number one: a nice person gets a hold of your little book of records*. Your roommate’s lover, the plumber, the landlord, your mother. Do you really want them to see a record of all the people you’ve had sex with for money, and what you’ve done with them? That’s going to lead to some very awkward conversations, at best.

Bad scenario number two: a bad person gets a hold of your records. (See: your roommate’s lover, the plumber, the landlord. Hopefully not your mother.) Hmm, I have no scruples and I’m holding a bunch of information rich in blackmail potential. Or at the very least: embarrassing, privacy-violating scandal. Remember the Jason Fortuny flap on Craigslist? That sort of thing.

Bad scenario number three: you get arrested and law enforcement finds your records. I’m not a lawyer, and this is not legal advice. But my layperson’s opinion is: that’s a bad thing to happen. That seems like fairly damning evidence against you. Plus, you’ve potentially incriminated all your clients.

Bad scenario number four: you get arrested, law enforcement finds your records, your smart attorney succeeds in getting it ruled inadmissible to your case, but – the police turn it over to the IRS. And the IRS says, “According to these records, you made fifty thousand dollars last year. But you only reported thirty thousand dollars. We’re going after you for tax evasion.” This precise series of events happened to a woman that I once knew. The result wasn’t pretty. This is why in addition to not keeping records about my clients, I pay those taxes. Oh Lordy, yes I do.

I have seen people keep notes they thought were very cryptic.

12/ 01/09 John S. Nice. Football. Lots O. Rev C. Shut windows! One star.

That might help you in the first two situations, although you still have to come up with some reasonable explanation for your mother as to what the records are. If you don’t keep contact info, I suppose the blackmail/scandal possibility is contained. But it is my impression that those records might still be used against you legally. If you know what you’re looking for, most “codes” are not particularly hard to figure out.

Of course, you could write something like this:

12/ 01/09 John Smith. Dogs barking, can't fly without umbrella. Mary had a little lamb. All your base are belong to us.

And then in three months, when John Smith calls you for another date, you’re going to look back at that and think, “What the hell does that mean?”

Yes, it would be nice if one could check one’s notes and see that John Smith loves the Green Bay Packers, always tends to run about ten minutes late, and likes a finger in his ass. But this is one of those little challenges to life as a sexual outlaw. If this stuff was easy, everyone would do it. You’re going to have to train your memory instead.


*Or whatever electronic equivalent of a Little Black Book you're using. And do not talk about password-protected to me. That will help avoid innocent accidents, but a clever and determined sixth-grader can get around many passwords.

Let me tell you a story…

Some years back, I used to do a lot of photography. I miss it, but it’s a hobby I just don’t have time for anymore.

I got interested in photography by doing art-nude modeling. (Art-nude meaning: not commercial porn. How do you know if you’re modeling for art shots? You don’t wear shoes, you don’t look at the camera, and you don’t smile. That’s my tongue-in cheek definition of art modeling versus porn modeling.)

Since I was used to nude modeling, when I started doing photography myself, I did a lot of artsy nude self-portraits. Made perfect sense to me. I was the perfect model: free and always available when I wanted to shoot. And since I was trying to learn photography – a hobby that can absorb any amount of time and money you throw at it – I posted those pictures of myself on a photo-critique site.

Now, this was in 1999/2000, before chicks taking naked pictures of themselves and posting them on the web was so common. Some of the people on that site were perfectly calm about my images, but some people really got upset over these not-at-all-explicit nude photos. And oddly, part of their problem seemed to be that I said these were photos of me.

(Note: I posted these under my photography-name, not as Mistress Matisse. No one there recognized me as her. Or if they did, they didn’t say so.)

So there was some drama about my artsy naked self, but I tried to ignore the nasty personal cracks and just talk to the cool people and learn what I could from the valid critiques. I did learn things, too.

I’d been hanging around this site for, oh at least a year, when one day I got an email. The administrators of the site were going to be in Seattle the next week, and they wanted to know if I wanted to get together and have a drink.

What, me? I was very flattered. These people were like real photographers and stuff! So I agreed, and we made a date. At the appointed day and time, I arrived at the restaurant – it was The Pink Door, downtown – and saw them. It was a man and woman, a married couple. I went over and greeted them and sat down.

We started making polite chit-chat about their visit to Seattle, and how long I had lived here, and etc. And I thought, “Something funny is going on – there’s a very odd energy happening here, between the two of them, and from them towards me. What’s up with this?”

Then I realized: These people had not truly believed I was real until I walked in. That's why they had contacted me and asked me to meet them - to see if the woman in the photos would actually show up. Neither of them – but particularly the man – had believed I really was who I’d said I was. His wife seemed a trifle less astonished to find that I was the woman in those photos, I did take them myself, and I could nerd out with them about shutter speeds and focal distances, in a manner that only a photographer would do. But both of them were so clearly surprised by me, a real woman who would post nude photos of herself on the web, and talk to strangers about them!

I did not say any of this aloud. I just smiled into my cocktail, because I felt amused by it. It was like a little practical joke they’d played on themselves.

So we had our polite conversation, finished our drinks, said our lovely-to-meet-you goodbyes, and went our separate ways. The next week, they announced on the site that they were letting me choose what image was going to be Photo Of The Week. It was a stamp of approval: she’s real. The personal sniping at me on the site dropped very noticeably.

That’s a completely true story. My point? I know exactly what it’s like to have people not believe you’re real, until you prove it. So, if the much-discussed Alexa Di Carlo really is who she says she is, then I know just how she feels.

It’s easy to say I shouldn’t have to prove who I am, people should just trust me and not question. But not that’s how the world works. We all participate in systems that require us to provide some proof of identification. And we also have things like college degrees, which say, in essence: I know stuff. A bunch of other smart people taught it to me and gave me this piece of paper to show you, so you’ll know you can trust me.

Because that’s the issue: trust. If you don’t have someone’s trust, you can argue the details with them all the livelong day, and it will not avail you. You will never gain an uneasy person’s trust by such a strategy.

How do you get trust? You give it. I know about this. You might say that as a dominatrix, I am a professional gainer-of-trust. If people did not trust me, they would not let me do what I do. I must not only get their trust, I must keep it, and keep adding to it. If I could not do that, I would not have the career that I have.

Alexa, if you are who you say you are, here’s how I see this: a noticeable number of your readers have told you, “We don’t trust you.” Now, if all you want to do is tell sexy stories and re-post erotic images, you’ll always find an audience for that, so I could see where those readers wouldn’t matter to you.

But I had the impression you wanted to offer something more meaningful – advice and real information. If that’s what you want, then your readers must trust you. Thus, it’s a mistake to answer the we don’t trust you readers by saying, “So what, I don’t care.” That would not be smart in a one-on-one relationship, and it will not serve you well in your relationship with readers, either. It’s a defensive response, it undermines your credibility.

In order to keep everything you’ve created with your blog, you have to find some way to recapture their trust. This is the pivotal point - you have to make a gesture here. If you can’t or won’t do that, I’m afraid your personal brand, “Alexa Di Carlo”, will be permanently tarnished and will probably go the way of most blogs – fading into nothing.

I personally can think of a lot of trust-gaining strategies, but let me offer you one that I can help you with. I’m guessing you know the mother of all sexual advice-givers, Dan Savage, author of Savage Love? Dan and I are old buddies - he’s the one who gave me the column in the Stranger, back when I first started writing about sex. Dan also has a podcast. I’ve been on it several times. Why don’t you consider asking him if you could be a call-in guest? I think it would be a good way for people to “meet” you – just letting listeners hear your voice would go a long way towards getting some trust back. But since no one will see your face, your anonymity will be preserved. All you have to do is talk on the phone for a little while.

Here’s what I would do to help you: write a letter introducing yourself and your blog to Dan and pitching him the idea of you being a call-in guest. Send it to me, I’ll forward it to him with a personal note from me, to make sure he gets it. Obviously I cannot guarantee you anything, it's not my podcast. But I’ll do what I can to help you.

I’ll do that for you - even though I’m not sure I can trust you. Because I know what it’s like to be doubted, and I know you only gain people’s trust by giving them yours.