When I Was A Teenage Whore

I have promised months ago, in comments on my noobhood memories, to share with you a bit of "my short, quite unsuccesfull but enlinghtning dancer/escort career". So, to correct the title of this post, I wasn't teen but noob, and I wasn't a whore but an escort. Never mind that both are names for prostitutes, second life population feels lower level of guilt when having cybersex for money is called escorting. Somehow I feel it is more about guilt of the clients, but that's beside the point here. So… me…. just a couple of weeks old… in desperate need of money.

I have already filled some notecard applications for dancers, hosts or whatever in some nice and decent clubs. Never got a reply, though. Those places want you to be older than 10 days and to have hair and skin better than I had. Like so many noobs, I was in the vicious circus: I needed hair and skin to get a job, and I needed a job to get a hair and skin. I have tried my every chance to move from the dead point. And I did found a club that needed dancers and party hosts and sounded like I could pass. Once again, I've sent an IM to the owner and hoped for the best. 

I hoped for not more than 10 seconds, as the owner answered immediately, with a teleport offer. And I was in not so representative edition, dammit. But I went there. I am so happy I don't have the picture of that afternoon. Me, looking like a noob freak, in a club that is preparing for it's grand opening. Couple of people, stuff obviously, there. Club, as many others: a skybox, dance floor, dance poles, salsa balls… and those big pictures of employees on the wall. OK, there we are! 

Somehow I passed the interview and very soon I was introduced to the club's functioning, met some of the stuff, learned where dancing balls and teleports are hidden, got my tip-jar and been sent to get some clothes and do something about my appearance. If you follow this blog you get some idea of what I do look like and you can safely bet that my clothing style wasn't much different when I was a noob. And that is not a style of somebody who wants a job in a wanna-be-fancy escort club. I tried my best to come half way to the stereotypes but at one moment madame club owner invited me for a chat while the club was not open. I guess that's my first bad memory of second life. I knew she meant the best and that is the reason I stayed polite if not calm. But, even with the best possible motive one doesn't insist on changing other people's shape and look! Not even noob's. Never! So each of us pulled sliders back and forth, trying to find a compromise. After a while we both got tired and my shape was somewhere in between, not satisfying for either of us. But I used it the next couple of nights.

I won't say that wrong body shape was the cause of all that was happening in the following nights. It was just one of the causes. We just could not get along. Me, my new shape, club, other dancers, guests. Even those dance poles were against me! I had some success here and there but that was miserable compared to the effort I put in and patience of the people around me. It was more and more frustrating.

Very soon I took a night-off and went to have some actual fun in second life. Deep in the night, one of the dancers called for a bit of support on a group channel and, I really don't know why, but I TP'ed there. And there I was, popping out of nowhere in an almost empty club, feeling more like chilling out the night than working. I cannot be sure but I think I haven't even rezzed my jar. Anyway, first IM flied over the room and OMG look at those eyes! This time I missed an opportunity to mess up. Before we knew, we were dancing very close, fingers in the hairs, whispering and smiling. 

Good news: I can do this. Actually, I am good at it. I feel sexy again. My fingers are flying and I don't think what will I say. I am having fun in this.

Bad news: this job is not for me. Months later, I had my moments of dropping into the sex club and getting the first guy who can actually speak and have decent hair. But the same guy would get nothing if it was my job to do it. Not that I am some example of morality and virginity. It just doesn't go without inspiration. 

Epilogue? Half an hour later, after soft kiss near the lips, I teleported from the club, left the group and got my body back. I was broke but sexy.

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