Anthony Comstock Would Be Proud

I’m posting this on behalf of Lailah. She recently commented on my personal blog, telling me about her arrest. I encouraged her to write her story and submit it to be posted here. Since the general public looks at this blog, I would like them to see what an arrest feels like from the perspective of a consenting adult sex worker — the most common kind of sex worker, BTW. I’m very proud she took me up on my offer.

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lailah (not my real name). I’m a single mama, a business owner (businesses NOT adult oriented), and a professional escort. I spend my spare time cleaning house, tending children, and being a soccer mom, just like every other mother across the country. I started escorting in early May, 2010. And I stopped in June, 2010. I loved it. I absolutely loved escorting. I couldn’t see a downside to it. I like sex and money. My clients liked sex and money. They were willing to give me money to spend time with me (admittedly, we spent that time having sex), so we both got what we wanted and went away happy.

I started escorting because of the single mom thing. I’d spent my whole life (I’m in my early 40s) being the perfect, taxpaying soccer mom. I owned a business — but it went south when the real estate bubble burst. I got another job, but it didn’t pay my bills. Escorting did. I often earned $500 or more a night. Good heavens, you can’t beat that with a stick! I became more and more concerned about law enforcement, though. I started choosing upscale hotels, thinking that most hookers would be in the downscale motels, and a more upscale location would protect me a bit. And then the shoe dropped. I was in my room with a man who, unbeknownst to me, was an undercover police officer. Now, even if he’d told me he was a cop, that might not have set off any of my alarms. I’d already fucked a former FBI agent, several off duty cops, and a CIA agent. We discussed prices, and I emphasized that my prices are for my time. When he seemed ready to go to the next level, I told him that what he paid for was my conversation, and if he wanted me to have sex with him, then the part of the appointment he paid for was over and any further activities would only be between consenting adults. So we started talking about what we liked to do in bed. I thought he was a little reticent, but I’d had nervous guys before, and I thought that was the case here as well. I tried to break the ice by telling him I like receiving oral. He asked if I would also give oral sex. I said yes, that sounds like fun. I began to slip my clothes off. He asked me again. “So, you’d let me eat you out and then you’d give me a blow job?” Sure, sounds like fun! And then I heard a beep, followed by a pounding at the door. I peeked out the peephole and saw several people in POLICE t-shirts, with one holding up a badge. So I opened the door before they broke it down. This was a 4 star hotel. I didn’t want to freak out the other guests. Keep in mind that at this point, I’m in my bra and panties. No shoes. AT LEAST 10 police officers entered the room. I got hustled back to the bedroom (I was in a suite), shoved against the wall, and searched for weapons. Where the bloody fucking hell did they think I had a gun? Shoved up my pussy? They didn’t look there. A male cop threw my clothes at me and told me, with disgust in his voice, to get dressed. He had a ski mask on and refused to remove it. Then they told me that they were there for credit card fraud. I kept asking, “What’s wrong with my card?” But they wouldn’t answer my question. I asked, “Am I in trouble?” but they wouldn’t answer that either. They did, however, proceed to tear my room apart “looking for weapons.” They told me they wanted information on a friend of mine who ran an escort service. I’d worked for him for a few days before I struck out on my own. They read me my rights, but then they told me that if I didn’t “cooperate” I would be booked into jail. If I “cooperated” I would just be cited. They started talking about money laundering charges, and making me spend the weekend in jail. I decided to ignore the little voice in my head and opted for the citation. I talked. I told them what they wanted to know about my friend. A female cop wanted to know if these men ever disgusted me. I had to bite my tongue to keep from making a smart remark. They asked me over and over who I was at the hotel with, and seemed not to believe me when I told them I was there by myself. I was terrified. I’m in my 40s. I have a boss, a business, and children. A reputation that didn’t mean much in my early 20s could be destroyed, my children taken from me…I told them what they wanted to know. And they weren’t really interested in me, except to ask me about the positions I used with my clients, how often I had sex, did I give or receive oral, etc.

They got the information they wanted, wrote me a ticket, and left me alone. I packed up my things, crying and sobbing, checked out early, went home, threw up a few times, didn’t sleep until sunrise, and then took a couple sleeping pills, and slept the rest of the weekend. When I woke up, I woke up crying, took a shot of whiskey, and went back to bed.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. When I called the police after being beaten by my first husband, they refused to protect me. In fact, they blamed me for his drinking and womanizing. Even after the doctors told the cops that I was one blow from having my skull shattered, they blamed me. When I was brutally raped on a date rape, kicking and screaming, and went to the police, they did nothing. They blamed me because I’d been drinking. And, you know, for being female. Great. So now I’m happily making money, stimulating both the economy and the gentlemen of the area, and here they are banging down my door. Like the Gestapo. They told me they were “protecting” me. From what? As an escort, I could afford condoms, blood screens, regular medical checks. Gentlemen who are willing to pay for sex are, in my experience, much more respectful than the ones who expect it for free. The ones who raped and battered me were getting free sex. The ones who paid, were kind and respectful. Besides. I have 3 children. I’ve been married and divorced, more than once. This is not my first rodeo. I knew what I was dealing with as far as my mental, emotional, and physical health were concerned. That was on a Saturday. On Monday evening, my boss sent me a terse text. “We need to talk.” He’s also my best friend. And I own a share of the business. I called. “I got a call from the police.” I almost fainted with terror. They had told him what they had gotten me for, which would have lost me my job if I hadn’t been such good friends with my boss and/or owned part of the business. Bless his heart, he wasn’t upset about me screwing around. Or the adult nature of the work. He was mad because it’s ILLEGAL. And he was afraid they would drag him into it. And I was mad because this was my legitimate job. My long-term plan wasn’t to be a whore, it was to build up this business. And, if I had had a “regular” job, I would most definitely have been fired. Which would have forced me to escort again. Which would have gotten me in trouble again. What ever happened to “innocent until proven guilty”? What gave them the right to call my boss and tell him ANYTHING until after a trial? I’m in love with someone. We’re not in a relationship, but I didn’t want that getting to him. What if they called him? And he’s a former cop himself. He hates cops now, because of the sick mentality they have. As of right now, I am trying to get the charges dropped. I believe the police violated my constitutional rights. But I’m not quite sure how things will turn out yet. Anthony Comstock would be so proud…