The number one perk of my job, I would say, is that I choose my own hours, but coming in at a close second is the rampant availability of sex work off highways, near airports, and a well-placed ecort ad away from resorts.
Then again, is it a vacation if you’re getting paid to put out?
It depends on the “paid” qualifying the “vacation.” A client might provide an all-expenses-paid package to Berlin or a discreet, weekly allowance on your bedroom nightstand, but there’s a world of difference between the arranged approaches and the independence of a travelling show.
Like the congés payés of French fame, my summer times have ushered in days of relaxation and holiday feeling along with financial security through sex work. Even as, being a citizen of the United States, I have to finance my vacation, health care, and education, the job I do provides some flexibility. In work and travel in summers past, for instance, I’ve worked a penthouse off the Seine or nestled my way into an aid-worker’s, and activist’s, sheets in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. It’s been a charmed, hard-whorin’, life.
Plus, the on-the-go model provides the added advantage of having no permanent clients, and so a fuller and freer amount of free time to do my own thing between work and play. I prefer this approach, or none at all. In the end, however, it’s not always clear which moment is work and which strictly pleasure.
This confusion has unfortunate side-effects in store, when trips and tricks become “just work,” a label that hurts some friends and clients. Then again, it would fail to phase some others. And what about working while on vacation with sex worker-supportive romantic partners? I’m going to go with “no” on this one.
But be sure they pick up the tab.
