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A little over a decade ago, I left home straight out of high school and headed straight for the Sin City of the North (i.e. Montreal… that’s in Canada, yo). I attended school (sort of) for the first year I was there, but as my attendance dwindled into nothingness so did my only source of income. My school loans gone the way of tattoos (see header pic), nipple piercings, and stereo equipment, I soon found myself broke as a motherfucker.
Montreal isn’t only the home of the heavenly poutine and (until recently) topless waitresses, but it’s also the escort capital of the world (I’m guessing). My equally broke-ass roommate and I often perused the classified ads wondering what this whole escorting business was all about.
I don’t know what prostitution looks like where you live, but in Montreal it looks a lot like pages and pages of black and white newsprint offering you a good time at an hourly rate. All you have to do is dial the advertised number, choose your preferred course for the evening, and have it delivered to you door. Convenient.
Curiosity got the better of me and it wasn’t long before I dialed one of those numbers to get a little bit more information. Was “escort” a pseudonym for hooker? And more importantly, how much did it pay?
I soon found out that indeed an escort is someone you hire to have sex with you, and that you could make a few hundred dollars in the span of a couple hours without much effort. I stopped making calls when it became obvious that the people I was talking to were eager to meet me and offer me a job if they liked what they saw, and spent the rest of the night calculating how much money my roommate and I could make in a year and how many people we would have to sleep with to get that accomplished.
I can’t remember the figures we came up with, but I can tell you that it was enough money to make a broke-ass seventeen year old swoon… just a little.
The thought was there, but the intent would come a few months later, after I turned eighteen and only after I had examined a few other money making endeavours, such as nude modeling:
An 18 year-old Lola getting naked for money!
I was already getting naked for money, why not step it up a notch and make some real dough, right? Well, okay, that’s not exactly what happened. It’s not like nude modeling is a gateway to prostitution (and becoming a porn blogger), but long story short, I woke up one day and announced to my roommates (there were two of them by this point in the story) that I was going to become an escort.
All I had to do was flip open one of Montreal’s free weeklies and call a place to set-up a meeting. Describing myself over the phone was difficult, unaccustomed to be candid about my physical body I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Either way, the guy would have to see me first, right? To judge whether or not people would pay to have sex with me…
As it turns out they would, and they did. What I thought would be a job interview turned out to be my first night out has an escort. The owner of the escort business picked me up in his van, deemed me doable, and dropped me off at the house of one of his regulars; an older gentleman, in his early forties, not necessarily good looking, but clean and nice.
What happened next? Stay tuned to hear all the dirty details… and in the meantime add me on Twitter @misslolabyrd.
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