The Biker was flicking through some alt cinema this evening when he came upon a movie documentary about Nude Cleaners. This unleashed a torrent of memories from my early days, and once I sat down and sorted through those memories, I thought to myself 'Self, you have had a weird life.'
Back when I was a but a First City-State* I worked for a small yet locally prestigious motel-hotel which hosted researchers, specialists and other shit like that from all over the world who came to teach at the local medical school up the hill. Our parking lot would be full of Rolls Royces, our rooms full of self-important pro-social psychopaths, and the restaurant and lounge filled to stinkin' with big brains involved with Medical Research, and therefore Not Obligated To Flush Toilets. And this was fine with me. They didn't tip, but they left me lots of high-quality pharmaceuticals. And cocaine! Did I mention the cocaine? There was cocaine. Oh gracious it was good stuff too. One fat line and I finished those rooms with wings on and the best darn attitude in the whole wide world!
In the Portland of that time there was a semi-legendary person known in Hospitality circles for living in the exclusive West Hills area and being super kinky. This person was said to be a surgeon in residence up at the medical school. Was he married? Was he single? Was he gay or straight? Did he even live in Portland? Nobody knew. Word was, though, he had a place up in Healy Heights, and he hired Fetish Maids.
Well, Fetish maid. One at a time. You would arrive at his place to find an outfit, whatever that might consist of, put it on (or not) and then clean the whole place top to bottom. If you did a good job, you got called back. Otherwise, you found an envelope full of bills on your way out with a note that said, I guess, either 'Take a Hike,' or 'Come Back on Wednesday.' He supposedly watched you on CCTV from some secret location and jacked off or ate live baby mice or whatever freaky people do.
This guy was not a legend, come to find out.
My boss at the City Center was one of those old school jackasses who thought that the women who worked for him should also suck his dick. I did not agree. So this fuckweasel passed my information on to Fetish Dude. And I got contacted.
Fetish Dude called me at home. He sounded like a friendly and educated person. He asked me if I took private contracts. He was very professional.
At that point in my life I had never been so scared. This freaky person was calling me up out of nowhere and assuming I was the type of person who did shit like that. I wasn't! Maybe I should have been. I would have made a stack of cash. Too late now.
I got three phonecalls from this person, and all three times I was non-committal. Fetish guy was evidently no idiot, because I never got another call.
It was when I noticed that fuckweasel boss was astounded that I kept on coming in to clean rooms that I put two and two together.
And so ends another thrilling take of yesteryear! Would you have taken Fetish Dude's money? Have you ever been a professional Erotic Maid/Butler? Do tell! Share your stories of Chastity Assailed and Virtue Triumphant! unless you don't have any stories like that. Then tell us of your slide into SIN, won't you?
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* That was a geography joke, y'all. It is as funny as you'd expect a geography joke to be too.
I got nuttin' I married at 19, smoked weed, never tried the hard stuff. OK, a couple hits of mescaline, and maybe some hash, but that was it. Come to think of it, maybe some uppers, but nothing else. I think. xoxo
ReplyDelete...but I absolutely see you as an Erotic Maid. Not by choice. I take medication for this.
DeleteNope. Closest I ever came to that was costume parties whenever we cleared-out the Am-Dram wardrobe.
ReplyDeleteIt was not unknown for the Vicar to go home with the Tart on occasion...
ReplyDeleteOO er missus! (me trying to be all cool there. Sorry.)
DeleteWell sweet cheeks, I'll try anything once. I knew these two, not quite bears, I'd say more otters, a gay couple, that I cleaned their house to earn extra money, when I first moved from home. One day, the couple said they have noticed my looks and said they pay $500 a week if I'd clean in the nude. I aint no fool!!!! Hell yes!!!! That was half my rent for the month alone in one week!!! And if I'd get into bed with them, another 200! I cleaned up!!! Cocktails flowed good that year.
ReplyDeleteBut no cocaine.
I never entered the wacky world of prostitution. I was too busy giving it away! Jx
ReplyDeleteOh God, so was I. We could have put away such a nest egg...sigh.
DeleteOnce, yes, once is a lark
ReplyDeleteTwice, though, loses the spark
Once, yes, once is delicious
But twice would be vicious
Or just repetitious
Oh you naughty thing! (furiously Googling) ah yes, Steven Sondheim, of course! From the movie 'The Seven Per Cent Solution' no less!
DeleteI would NOT have taken Fetish Dude's money. But then, I doubt he would have offered it if he'd seen me naked.
ReplyDelete* I liked your geography joke. I even gently snorted!
Now now I am sure you're glorious, IDV. Send nudes.
DeleteWould I have taken his money? In a heartbeat. I would have cleared my schedule and told my mother I would have to see her later, if need be. I only gave it away for money once, but that was only because nobody else was fool enough to offer coin when, like Jon said, they could so obviously get it for free,
ReplyDeleteThere you go, dammit. I was wasting my time doing the same damn thing. Our watchword should have been 'earn now, repent later - in the lap of luxury.' Or whatever position seems most fun!
Delete