- Be clean, presentable and hygienic.
- Be polite and courteous with the escort as you should with any woman who agrees to spend time with you.
- Be friendly and relaxed. Smile and chat pleasantly, and don’t be pushy or rude about getting down to business. Offer a compliment about her appearance or attire, but no need to gush excessively.
- Expect agency escorts to call in to the agency when she arrives and when she leaves to let them know everything’s okay and check for any changes in her schedule.
- Most escorts won’t engage in kissing or let you put your fingers inside her or perform oral or anal sex on her. If you want to do any of that, ask politely and be prepared either to take “no” for an answer or pay extra if she’s willing.
Until my first trip there in March of 2003, I had three images of Rio de Janeiro in my mind: Carnival debauchery, the huge statue of Christ, and pristine beaches whose names I didn’t know. Copacabana, to me, was a Barry Manilow song. I also knew the song “Girl from Ipanema”, but I didn’t know it referred to a beach in Rio. Half the time I’d confuse Rio with Buenos Aires, Argentina.
It was Ian who’d paved my way, bombarding me and his other friends with emails about the prostitutes he’d met abroad. He’d go to Latin America every few months. Then he’d work himself into a funk comparing his ease overseas at finding a Girlfriend Experience (GFE) to his lack of success with American women. “They treat you like a king in Rio” he’d tell us. “Of course they do”, we’d snicker. “You’re paying them to.” We’d tell him that there was nothing wrong with enjoying himself while on vacation, but that he had to stop living there in his mind when he was home. He needed to push himself more to meet women in New York.
As if I were qualified to preach on the topic. I’d screwed up all of my major relationships, and now I was having a rough time even getting dates. But dry spell or not, I liked going out, and after a few beers, I enjoyed the challenge of approaching women. If one could compile a scorecard of these approaches since I’d started going out in my late teens, the number of rejections would no doubt be staggering. Still, I’d met most of the girls I’d dated–including the three I’d come closest to marrying–in the nightclubs and bars of New York City and its suburbs. But now, I was in my late thirties and, like Ian, I was wondering what the hell I had to show for it.
Ian would often urge me to travel with him to Brazil. But no matter how lonely I felt, I still couldn’t justify taking a ten-hour flight to purchase sex. I didn’t even do that at home, unless you counted buying porn. I’d hone with a hooker once–a friend bought me a hand job by the West Side Highway for my eighteenth birthday. She had fingers like sandpaper, which was just as well, because the AIDS epidemic was just getting underway in America, and the last thing I needed was develop a taste for the ladies of the night.
So to me, there were two types of prostitutes: disease-ridden, drug-addled streetwalkers who couldn’t pay me to sleep with them, and gorgeous call girls who were beyond the limits of my bank account.
Ian claimed that Rio’s garotas de programa (“program girls”, Brazilian slang for prostitutes, in honor of their having a schedule, or program, of appointments with clients) occupied a magic middle ground: call girl quality at streetwalker prices. But I still wasn’t sold. Pursuing women was as much about validation as sex. What good would paying for it do? Was that the only way I could get laid? If anything, I thought it would make me feel disgusted with myself.
“GFE” was Ian’s mantra. “If she likes you, it’s almost like dating” he said. “She’ll see you when she’s not working. Shit, she’ll travel with you around the country if you want.”
“You still pay the girls for their time, right?”
“Depends how much they like you. You take them out to eat, of course. And they love presents. Clothes, toys for their kids, little knick-knacks.” Ian would scour the cheap gift shops in Manhattan’s Chinatown before a trip to Rio and load up on junk for the garotas.
I was sure there was more than a bit of self-delusion in Ian’s glowing depiction of Rio. But I’d been thinking about going to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, and Ian’s obsession with Rio got me thinking about Carnival. The Catholic holiday right before Lent, Carnival comes from a Latin phrase that essentially means “last chance for meat”. But seeing as it has evolved into one of the wildest festivals on the globe, it’s probably no longer the kind of flesh fest that the Church had in mind.
Like Ian, I initially saw Carnival as an opportunity to meet “normal” women–tourists or locals fired up by the anything-goes atmosphere.
I got a good deal at the Guanabara Palace, a hotel in Centro, Rio’s business district. Ian had arrived in town two days before me, and was staying in an apartment in Copacabana.
I phoned him after I checked in. As if he’d been sitting by the phone for hours, obsessing over the opportunity to take me to Help Discoteca, Rio’s hooker central and his favorite stomping ground, the first thing out of this mouth was “We have to go to Help tonight”.
“Hooker heaven, right?” I asked.
“Say garotas. It sounds better.”
“You don’t understand” I said. “It’s my first night. I want to meet regular girls.”
“Joe, everything’s open all night. We’ll go to Help for a little while, then somewhere else.”
I took a bus to Avenida Atlantica and walked toward Help’s yellow neon sign, about a quarter-mile ahead. As I passed by the Marriott and other large hotels, I noticed that the weather was comfortable, though it was the height of Brazilian summer. It felt like New York City in May, but without the brutal tropical humidity I’d expected.
The sidewalk in front of Help Discoteca was thicket of street commerce: old women selling beers from Styrofoam coolers; barefoot kids waving gum and cigarettes in my face or thrusting out their hands for money; teens with shoe-shine boxes. Ian had warned me about those. I spotted Ian and we got on line. Help was set way back from the street, and the line stretched nearly to the curb.
I scanned the crowd, surprised, despite what Ian had told me, by the lack of girls dressed trashy-sexy, like streetwalkers do in the States. There were a few like that, sure, but most–in tight skirts, high heels, and belly shirts–were dressed no more provocatively than girls in any large city out for a night of partying. Some of the girls were beautiful, but a greater number were just attractive–again, just like in any big club. I had yet to fall under Rio’s reputed spell.
“You sure they’re prostitutes?” I asked Ian.
“I told you” he said. “The garotas look like college girls.”
“Most of these girls are not garotas. They can’t be.”
“Ninety-nine percent. I know, because I’ve been with lots of the girls here.”
The walls inside Help were a canopy of metallic blue discs. As we headed to the bar, Ian pointed to the love seats on the catwalk above. “That’s where you get to test-drive the girls a bit.”
I had my first caipirinha, Brazil’s national cocktail. It tasted like crap, but its cachaca (a liquor similar to rum) was strong enough to give me the quick buzz I wanted. Now everyone became more alluring. As I watched the garotas gyrate to samba and other Latin rhythms, I started to understand why Brasileiras are widely considered to be the sexiest women on earth.
I often get an exaggerated sense of power when alcohol first hits me, and I got it in my head that I could score with these girls without “tainting” the achievement by paying them. Hookers or not, they were still human and would be susceptible to my charms, I foolishly reasoned.
Not quite! I approached six or seven girls, none of whom fell for my charms. Getting rejected by any girl stings. But a prostitute? It’s an exquisite form of devastation, like getting slammed in the balls with a Louisville Slugger. What the hell was I doing here?
Eventually, I’d figure out that Help’s garotas have a sixth sense about men who don’t intend to honor the rules. And the cardinal rule, of course, is no pay, no play.
I went back to Ian, who had settled in by the bar. He was already holding hands with a petite brunette. She was smiling at him, hardly noticing me. “This is Silvia” Ian said. “Remember? I emailed you the photo.”
He’d emailed it about a thousand times. Ian had this habit of repeatedly clicking the send button. Not only that, but he’d send it to all of my email addresses–home, work, etc., just to make sure I got it.
“We’re going” Ian said. “Are you okay?”
“Where are we going?”
“No I’m leaving with Silvia. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. When are you coming back?”
Ian chuckled. “Not tonight. Stay here as long as you want. You’re in fucking Paradise now.”
I still had doubts about that but I kept them to myself.
“Just make sure you take a cab to your hotel” Ian said. “Don’t take a bus this late. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure” I said. I was angry, but I wasn’t about to make Ian my babysitter.
I had enough of Help, though. I left the club and wandered through Terraco Atlantico, the sidewalk cafe next door. It was teeming with garotas. But they were friendlier, or at least more aggressive, than the ones in Help. “Hey, baby” a girl said as she grabbed my crotch. “To where you wanna go?” This was more like it. Her friend also rubbed my fly. “Safado” she cooed. Brazilian hookers were always calling gringos “safado” which literally means “shameless”. It’s slang for a super-horny motherfucker who can’t keep his dick in his pants. Depending on the context, “safado” could be high praise, meaning that you’re a sex machine who they’d adore having between their legs. Other times it was a garota’s way of calling you a cheating bastard who just wants to screw everything that moves.
This particular garota was one of the girls who’d blown me off in Help. Fuck you, I felt like saying. You had your chance.
I made my way toward a pair of girls sitting near the hedge. One of the girls had light-brown hair and a silk blouse with diagonal black and pink stripes. She smiled. “American?”
I nodded. “New York.”
She introduced herself as Antoinette and asked me to sit. Her friend was tired and left after a few minutes. I was amazed at how well Antoinette spoke English. She seemed awfully poised for a working girl, and looked thirty-two or thirty-three, older than most of the garotas I’d seen that night. Maybe she was just in town for Carnival, and I’d stumbled onto a chance, I stopped myself from asking straight off if she was “working”.
The more we spoke, the more turned on I got. She was from Sao Paulo, where she owned a beauty parlor and taught dancing. She had a three-year-old daughter whom she couldn’t wait to get back to. Now and then, Antoinette would sprinkle our conversation with Portuguese to help me practice.
“E voce?” she asked.
“Wait. I know what that means–and you.”
“Perfeito! What do you do?”
I was working at the time for an advocacy group that fought for tougher laws against crime. “We need that here” Antoinette said. “Crime in Brazil is terrible.”
A chunky man with his arms around a blonde and a brunette waddled by on the sidewalk just beyond the edges. He barely came up to his dates’ chins, and his toupee kept kicking up in the ocean wind. The didn’t dampen the girls’ apparent zeal for leaning over and kissing him on the mouth, though.
Meanwhile, a muscular young American at the next table told his friends “I did one of those girls last night”. His pals high-fived him. Maybe “doing business” with the garotas wasn’t so bad. Everyone seemed into it, even these jock-types who I imagined had no problem getting laid back home.
I was beginning to feel more relaxed about being in Rio, and hoped that Antoinette would make an encouraging gesture, like touching my knee or cheek. But she limited things to conversation. Soon, though, she moved her chair closer (“Is this okay?” she asked) and brushed my hair back with her fingers. “I can see your eyes better now.”
“Do you want to… um… ?” I asked.
“Yes Joe?”
“Um… go somewhere?”
She smiled. “Go where?”
“I feel weird asking you, but to my hotel.”
“This is possible.”
I still wasn’t sure what was going on. Were we talking business, or was Antoinette genuinely attracted to me?
“I need to ask you something first, and I hope you won’t be offended” I said.
“Yes?” She had a knowing grin.
“It’s just that, given where we are, with all the garotas and…”
She held her finger to my mouth. “Yes, Joe. I come to Rio to make program.”
“But you don’t seem like the other girls here.”
“I only do this for Carnival and the New Year’s” she explained. “Or when I have a client in Rio.”
Antoinette said that most work in Brazil, even owning your own business, paid shit. She made more money in a few weeks as a prostitute than at her other jobs the rest of the year.
“I’ve never been with a garota” I said. “Do we talk money first?”
“If you want. Or we can do that later. In the morning.”
“But what if I don’t have enough?”
She played with my hair again. “You worry about everything, don’t you?” she said. “If I was only concerned about making the most money, I would not have relaxed here with you all this time. This is your primeira vez–first time–in Rio. All you should think about is enjoying it.”
Back at the hotel, it was impossible not to enjoy it. Antoinette peeled off her blouse to reveal a flat tummy and small, beautifully shaped breasts. Can breasts have personality? They seemed perky as hell when Antoinette was bouncing on me. Bouncing, like a kid on a trampoline, deliriously happy.
In the morning, she asked what I wanted to pay.
“Is $60 good?” I meant it just as an opening bid, and was stunned that she accepted it without negotiation.
Ian would later tell me that he was also surprised: “Most of the girls by Help want to bang out a deal as soon as they meet you. They ask for ‘$200 American’ which is insane and they know it. Then you laugh at them–but warmly, as if you know they’re joking–and say ‘$200? I’ll give you $40′.”
“For a whole night? Shit!” I said. “I paid too much.”
“No, forty is low” Ian explained. “Remember, you’re negotiating. Usually, it’ll end up somewhere between $60 and $100. But your girl didn’t even try to bargain. She’s probably counting on you for repeat business. As well as gifts, dinner.”
“She’s well worth it” I said. “She’s incredible.”
“I told you” Ian responded. “You’ve got the bug.”
He was right, too. Antoinette had ended my aversion to prostitutes. The transaction hadn’t made me feel at all like a loser. Instead, she had lifted the curtain on a sexual Disney World. Sure, I’d had to pay. But for one of the most thrilling encounters of my life. And there were countless attractions here yet to explore.
The number one consideration for escorts – even those who are not engaging in any illegal activities – in taking on new clients is: Is this guy a cop? The second consideration is: Is this guy a weirdo or in any way dangerous? We’re sure you’ll agree that these are entirely legitimate concerns on her part, especially since you also need to satisfy yourself that she’s not a cop, even though you’re not planning to do anything illegal.
So escorts have developed fairly elaborate screening procedures for new clients. Some require that you be referred by an existing client or another escort who vouches for you. If you’re a first-timer who doesn’t know anyone who consorts with escorts, those ladies are not going to take you on. Other escorts are going to want information about you, such as where you live, what you do for a living, and how you located her, so she can make a reasonably informed judgment about what kind of risk you represent.
Often, these initial contacts are handled by telephone and/or email, whichever gives the escort comfort that she knows enough about you. So be prepared to go through this screening process, which is in your interest as much as hers. In all cases, she will establish the rules of engagement and you should cooperate fully if you hope to get a date with such an exclusive member of the opposite sex. If she considers you a safe prospect, she’ll mention that she receives a specific monetary donation when she goes out on a date. Most escorts don’t negotiate price and consider customers who try to do so rude.
Assuming she’s willing to meet you in person, possibly in a public place such as a bar or hotel lobby, expect that she will ask to see photo identification and that she will examine it carefully. She’ll also probably want to spend at least a few minutes chatting to get to know you a little and check out your “cop” and “weirdo” vibes. Follow her lead and do not, under any circumstances, make any reference of any kind to sexual activities or services. If you do, she will definitely walk, because the police try to get escorts to acknowledge they’re trading sex for money, even when they’re not.
Whether you’re in a public place or in a private hotel room, at some point she’ll indicate that you’ve got yourself a date. She will expect you to place the agreed-upon payment in cash on a nearby table or counter. You can show her you’re a classy, considerate guy by having the bills in plain view in a plain white envelope. (Remember to have additional cash on hand for a tip if you’re satisfied with the date, especially if you hope to see her again. Many escorts accept non-monetary gifts such as clothing, perfume, flowers or jewelry, which they’ll often mention on their websites.)
As a final test of whether you’re a police officer, she might ask you to drop your pants and your underwear on the theory that cops will be reluctant to do so. Do as she asks and, again, do not mention sexual acts or services until she raises the subject first. She might first invite you to have a seat for some chit-chat, perhaps with a glass of wine if you’ve been thoughtful enough to bring one. Or she might skip the preliminaries and just say something like “Why don’t you get comfortable while I freshen up?”, whereupon she will head into the bathroom to fully or partially disrobe and you are expected to get naked and climb into bed.
When she returns, let her take the lead, and don’t eagerly grab or pounce on her. Let things develop according to her direction and you are most likely to have an agreeable evening, you lucky son-of-a-gun.
Reddit.com is a unique site where people who have a surplus of intelligence and time come together to share and discuss the most interesting topics imaginable in a friendly, anonymized environment. This is a list of the best to come out of reddit about escorts.
What’s Out There
Our experience has been that any lady who wants to sell sex can call herself an “escort”, and the variety of women who do so is pretty breathtaking. There are ladies who are almost too beautiful and too sexy to look at, and there are ladies who would need to pay *us* to have sex, and there are ladies everyone in between. Sure, different men will find different escorts attractive or not, but just understand that the self-claimed title of “escort” is no guarantee of loveliness or distinction.
Like porn stars and strippers, it is fair to say there are different categories of escorts. On the high end are the kind of women whose company only rich men can afford. If that includes you, congratulations. If not, very attractive and companionable escorts are available all over the country at rates that can be quite similar to those discussed previously for Nevada prostitutes. Again, we recommend that you be prepared to spend in the range of $300 to $500 for an hour of such an elegant lady’s time, which should insure that your experience will be both highly satisfying and memorable.
Escorts typically offer their services either independently or through an agency. Independent escorts run the full gamut of price and attractiveness, from undesirable to unattainable. Agencies usually only hire very attractive and sexy professional women. This is not to say that agency escorts are superior. Rather, as a group, they are less likely to be unattractive, and they are likely to cost more, given the need to share their fees with their sponsor. You might be able to afford an independent who’s higher on the scale of physical appearance, but there’s also a greater chance – perhaps – that your date won’t look quite the same as the pictures on her website.
Also, more agency escorts – including well-known porn stars – tend to go “on tour” around the country and visit various cities at dates they announce on their (or the agency’s) site. Some premier independents travel, as well, but most independents are usually local girls who develop a local clientele and advertise in regional publications.
Finding Safe Escorts
If her website is too explicit, that is, if she’s clearly selling sex, you might be violating the law just by calling her. Look for someone who’s been around a while and knows the ropes. Also, just as with prostitutes, searching the net for testimonials and reviews of specific ladies is time well spent.
How Much It Costs
You might as well ask how high is up. Escort services are the promised land where your fantasies of dating Playboy centerfolds can come true and money is no object. Or, at least, money needs to be no object, because high-quality escorts start at around $300 an hour and the sky’s the limit. Just to give you an idea of how high is up, the donations one stunning brunette posts on her website are $1200 for 1.5 hours (in-call only from 12 noon to 3 pm) and $2000 for 3 hours, with a 3-hour minimum for evenings. Personally, she looks worth it to us.
That’s for royalty. Your run-of-the-mill escorts charge a whole lot less, often in the $200 to $500 per hour price range. Remember, escorts charge exclusively by time, rather than based on particular services, because they’re not selling sexual services, remember?
Good lawyers will tell you that the correct answer to every legal question is “it depends”. That is certainly the case when it comes to the legality of escort services.
Consider two situations. In the first you contact a woman who identifies herself as an “escort” and make essentially the same arrangements you would make for a “date” with a legal or illegal prostitute: specific sexual services in exchange for a specific sum of money. Both you and the “escort” have just committed an illegal act. If you then actually have the date and pay the money, that’s another crime. And if you have the sex, that’s crime number three. In other words, calling a prostitute an escort doesn’t change anything about the illegal nature of the transaction.
In the second situation, you contact an “escort” and make arrangements for a “date” without any discussion whatsoever about sexual acts or services. You agree on the charge for the date, which the escort might call a “donation”, and after some preliminaries, you discreetly pay that amount at the beginning of the evening, again without any discussion of sex. Most importantly, you don’t actually have any sex during the date. (Jeesh, what’s the point?) That’s not illegal in any state. In fact, except for the up-front cash payment, it’s fairly similar to any regular blind date where you don’t get lucky.
So those two opposite scenarios represent the easy cases: paying for sex is prostitution, but paying for non-sexual companionship isn’t.
The problem with escort services is that they usually fall in between those two extremes. Most professional escorts take elaborate measures to avoid any discussion or agreement about sexual services until they’re satisfied you’re not a cop. And their rates don’t change depending on what kind of sex you want, primarily because she’s not going to ask you what kind of sex you want and you’re not going to tell her what kind of sex you want. (If you do, you won’t get any. You won’t even get an appointment.) The money is based entirely on how much time you spend together, not on what you do while you’re together.
So if the cops came barging in early enough in the evening, neither you nor the lady will have solicited prostitution, offered prostitution, agreed to provide prostitution, or engaged in prostitution.
Technically, that is.
Because the reality is, of course, that 99.999% of the time, both you and the escort intend to exchange sexual services for money from the very first contact, and (God willing) you will have sex before the evening is out. Does that mean that escort services are legal until sex is discussed or performed?
It depends.
Let’s imagine a third situation that’s a variation on the second situation described above. Suppose that you arrange a date with an “escort” by calling the number in a magazine ad, again without any discussion of sex. A beautiful lady comes to your hotel room and accept your “donation”, again without any mention of sex. You open a bottle of wine, your new friend makes herself comfortable next to you on the couch, and she engages you in pleasant, non-sexual conversation on any number of interesting subjects for 10 or 15 minutes or so. Topics of discussion include the kind of things you talk about on a blind date, although she’s a hell of a lot easier to talk to than your usual blind date.
As you and she work your way toward the bottom of the bottle wine, and you’re both feeling quite relaxed and companionable, she occasionally touches your hand or your knee while she listens to your stories or laughs at your jokes. Before you know it, you’re sitting very close together, and she leans in, places her hand ever so gently on your cheek, and gives you a nice, soft kiss on the lips (no tongue), just like during a real blind date that’s going along pretty nicely. One thing leads quite naturally to another, in the usual progression from tongue kissing of increasingly passionate fervor and duration, to placement of hands on top of clothing in places they don’t belong, to fondling your stiff erection (pants still on), to the opening of a button or zipper, and so on and so forth, until you and this sexy and friendly stranger are naked in bed engaged in the best full-bore sex you’ve ever had.
That, my friend, is what a real date with an escort is actually like. Other than the fact that you responded to some kind of advertisement she placed (because she does this for a living) and you’ve paid her a few hundred dollars, this third situation sure looks a lot like the blind date of your dreams, which, it is important to note, is not illegal.
Does the fact that you’ve contacted a professional escort and paid her money for ostensibly non-sexual services convert what would otherwise be a great blind date into illegal prostitution?
It depends.
In fact, it depends on a number of factors, most of which are not in your control. How much does the city or state or hotel where you’re doing this care? What about the police? How conspicuous are you and the escort being? Is the hotel (or motel) known to be a place for this sort of thing, one that rents rooms by the hour, or is it a classy joint where there’s nothing at all unusual about a lady and a gentleman meeting on a blind date for a drink? Does your date look like a date, or does she look like a street walker? When in public together, do you behave like responsible members of society who don’t look out of place in a respectable establishment that happens to rent beds for the night, or does your body language scream out “let the illegal fucking begin”.
You get the idea. The point is that escort services involve a certain amount of risk. High-class escorts who make a good living at this know how to stay far away from legal trouble. For that reason – and for their own personal safety – any skilled escort is going to take complete charge of your time together. In fact, you are very likely to find a disclaimer much like the following if you visit her website:
This is not an offer of prostitution. Understand and agree that any money exchanged is for time and companionship only. Legally, I cannot and will not discuss or agree to any type of solicitation. No fees or tips of any kind will be quoted, negotiated, assessed, or collected in exchange for any sexual conduct. Anything else that may occur is a matter of personal choice between two or more consenting adults of legal age, and is not contracted for, nor is it requested to be contracted for, nor compensated for in any manner.
And so begins the ritual of making a paid sexual encounter look like nothing more than a particularly exotic blind date.
Virtually all of the things you need to watch out for with legal prostitution relate to the important fact that you’re about to cross that great divide between getting off with your own hand and getting off with someone else’s hand… or mouth or vagina. When the transaction involves sexual penetration of an actual woman – not just looking, or being touched by her, but actual sucking and fucking – things get more complicated.
For one thing, you’re going to be naked and alone in a room with a naked sex pro. She’s quite familiar with the situation and totally comfortable, and you’re neither, so there’s a greater opportunity for getting ripped off. For another, there are more variables in the sexual equation – that is, whether you have a satisfying experience – with a live prostitute than there are when you’re just looking at something dirty and rubbing your own dick. Hobbyists who don’t know what they’re doing in a brothel can be very disappointed when their “party” doesn’t meet their expectations. It happens more often than you’d think.
Now, we don’t mean to sound overly negative, here. After all, we are talking about getting blown and/or laid by somebody who, chances are, knows how to do it really, really well, at least when she’s in the mood to please. The number of legal cat houses and the number of steady customers who frequent them put the odds substantially in your favor. After all, if any establishment is in the business of making their customers extremely happy, this would probably be it. The vast majority of the time, you’re going to have the time of your life and leave dreaming of the next time. Let’s make sure that happens, shall we?
Disclaimer: The Legalities
But first, let’s understand what “legal” prostitution really means. In the United States, the first thing it means is that you’re in the great state of Nevada, which is the only state that has legalized commercial sex. But it’s not legal everywhere in Nevada. Most important, prostitution is not legal in the exact three places where you want it to be legal, Las Vegas, Reno and Carson City. Alas, none of these sin cities offers one-stop shopping for gambling and sex, at least not the legal kind of paid sex. And it’s not just the cities that are off limits; prostitution is illegal in all three counties, which cover a much wider geographic area. It’s not at all unusual to have to travel 60 or 80 miles from popular casinos to the brothel of you’re choice. We’ll explain the particulars of getting there and back shortly.
By the way, among its many other attractive qualities, Canada has legalized prostitution, sort of. Prostitution per se – that is, buying or selling sex – is not illegal in Canada. But just about everything connected with prostitution is, including (1) “communicating” in a public place for the purpose of buying or selling sex, (2) “keeping a bawdy house” or being “found in” or an “inmate” of a bawdy house, and (3) “procuring” or “living on the avails” of prostitution. According to John Lowman, a criminology professor at Simon Fraser University, it comes down to this:
While the activity proscribed by each law is relatively clear, the overall goal of Canadian prostitution law is not. Apparently it is not prohibition, otherwise the buying and selling of sexual services as such would be prohibited. However, the aforementioned criminal laws circumscribe prostitution in a way that makes it difficult to conceive how a person can prostitute without breaking the law. The practical solution to this contradiction is that, as long as it is of the street, laws against prostitution are rarely enforced. Indeed, most large municipalities facilitate the off-street trade by licensing and regulating. And yet the rhetoric of Canadian politicians about prostitution is almost entirely absolutionist. The Canadian solution to the problems created by prostitution has been to say one thing and do another.”
Now obviously there’s lots and lots of illegal sex-for-hire right in Vegas, Carson City and Reno, and it couldn’t be easier to find or more convenient. Walk around most casinos and the working girls are easy to identify and very, very appealing, and they’ll be more than happy to follow you up the elevator to your hotel room. You’ll also be inundated with flyers and such for escorts, call girls, illegal houses, and so on, whenever you’re cruising the strip. If that’s what you’re looking for, good luck, but you’re on your won. Try not to get scammed, mugged, diseased, or busted.
See what you’re really paying for when you buy sex legally at a licensed Nevada establishment is the security of knowing some fairly important things:
- You’ll be physically safe
- You won’t get arrested
- The risk of catching a sexually-transmitted disease is extremely low
- You will almost certainly receive the service you paid for
- Unless you’re a real jerk, both the lady and her boss will want you to come back another time, so they’ll be inclined to treat you well
Your First “Party”
Our recommendation – and we are absolutely adamant about this – is you must choose the sweetest, kindest and friendliest lady that the house has to offer, even if she’s not the best looking. (If she is also the best looking, you must be living right.) We’re not saying don’t take looks into account when you’re making your selection. To the contrary, how she looks is the second-most important consideration there is. But your objective is to find a good looking woman who actually want to show you an excellent time, even if there are more gorgeous and better-built, but less accommodating choices available.
What exactly does this mean? We are not talking here about whether she will listen sympathetically to you complain about your rotten job, marriage, kid or whatever (although some pros are good at providing a sympathetic ear if that’s what you’re looking for). And we’re certainly not talking about her having actual romantic feelings toward you. That’s not going to happen, nor should it. No, what you want is a professional who understands that there are plenty of good reasons why an ordinary guy such as yourself would really like a skilled blow job and/or a truly quality fuck, and that, in exchange for a respectable sum of money and respectful appreciation by you, she will be pleased to provide those rarified gifts to you. That’s what she does for a living, and if she;s managed to maintain her basic charm and kindness while she works at that exceptionally difficult job, she understands that a vital part of the experience is making a sexual connection with you that is both physical and tender, and that engages your imagination as well as your reproductive organ.
And how do you pick out the sweetest girl? Simple: you talk to her before you buy. Just say something incredibly simple like, “Hi Donna, nice to meet you” or “What a great dress”. Anything at all to give each lady a chance to introduce herself. The ones that think that another customer is happy as long as he cums will resent your questions and make no effort to hide their indifference, or worse, annoyance. They might not make eye contact, and their answers will be short but not sweet.
The ones that really want to rock your world, that want you to recommend them to all your friends, that want you to be happy to leave a monster tip and get a hug on the way out the door, those girls will be delighted you asked and they’ll show it. They’ll let you know they’re a person you can talk to, who won’t make you nervous, who will be acutely attentive to your particular physical desires, and fuck your mind (in a good way, of course) as well as your cock. It’s not so much that you’re looking for a better or more noble person – you came here to get laid, remember? – but you want someone who is high up on the sensitivity scale and who knows how to empty your balls as completely and explosively as humanly possible.
Let’s pause for a second. For those of you who have not yet seen the inside of a cat house, working prostitutes come in just in many varieties as any other group of people you’ll find. You aren’t all good or all bad, and neither are we, and neither are the ladies who are available for rent. They’re working in an exceptionally demanding and difficult job that few people could handle, and they’re doing it because they need the money, just like everybody else. Like bartenders and caddies, though, hookers have different styles, and as a neophyte, you want a nice, sweet and considerate girl who wants to make this physically intimate experience as a pleasant as it can possibly be. If you talk to them with common courtesy like human beings, you’ll be able to tell.
What if no one fits the bill? Seriously, what if all the choices seem kind of no-nonsense, let’s-get-you-hard-and-spurting-and-outa-here? Then, friend, do yourself a very big favor and leave. All you need to say is “Thanks very much but I think I’ll come back another time”. Customers do it all the time. If the proprietor asks you what you’re looking for, you can tell if you want, or you can just say “I’m not sure, but thanks”. Don’t worry, you won’t offend any of the ladies. They’ll just think, so you didn’t see anything you liked – big deal.
So keep a clear head when you’re choosing. You’re probably going to see something you like physically quite a lot – big tits, long legs, sexy mouth, soft skin, silky hair, the whole damn package – and the women will surely flaunt their considerable sexual appeal. And you’ll be thinking to yourself, there’s no way I’m passing this up. We didn’t say you wouldn’t want to do any of them. In fact, you’ll probably want to do all of them. But if there isn’t someone in line who can get you in the mood and keep you there, who will create the kind of delightful fantasy that makes for a really peak experience, and if that’s what you’re looking for, take a deep breath, save your money, and live to screw another day. You will not regret it. Well, maybe a little, but you’ll never get over it once you find the right pro.
Or, just forget everything we said and go for it. Maybe you were too hasty and the lady you picked on looks alone will show you an outstanding time. It happens all the time. Hell, the worst that will happen is that you’ll have a mediocre (or worse) time and waste a pile of money, and either forget the whole enterprise or use the experience to do better next time. If you can handle that and move on, what the hell: you’re there, you’ve got the money, and they’re available and willing. That’s not so bad, we suppose.
How much it costs
Since everyone wants to know how much a brothel party costs, you’d think this would be an easy question to answer, but it isn’t. There are so many different factors that come into play, that it’s possible only to give price ranges and then identify the variables that could put you in the low or high end of the range.
So let’s start there. A one-hour, “half-and-half” party (oral sex followed by conventional intercourse) usually runs somewhere between $200 and $600 or so. What affects the actual price you can expect to pay?
Duration of the party
More time costs more, but not in a straight line, which provides an incentive to pay for a longer session. A 30-minute party generally costs a bit more than half of a one-hour party (say $150 – $350); 45-minutes runs somewhere in-between (about $150 to $400). You can ask for the “house minimum”, which is a 15-minute quickie, usually a blow job, a hand job or a straight lay. Depending on the house and the lady, a minimum runs somewhere between $100 and $300.
Type of party
If you want something fancier from the menu than a half-and-half (see “Doing It” later in this chapter), it could cost 50% to 100% more.
Physical beauty and age
The ladies set their own prices and they know what they’re worth. Younger stunners charge at least 50% more. Older pros charge less. Porn stars charge 100% to 300% more, depending on how famous they are and what you’re buying in terms of time and services.
Extras and specials
“Extras” include ancillary services that aren’t specifically on the menu, such as fondling her, sucking her breasts, and multiple orgasms. If your date charges for these, they can add 10% to 25% to the price. “Specials” are more exotic acts that are on the menu, such as bondage or anal, which cost double or triple.
The house
Brothels fall into different price ranges for the same services. The classiest joints charge at the high end in all price ranges, the chessiest stay at the low end. Also, houses closer to the big cities generally charge more.
Negotiation skills
This is the x-factor for every party with every girl at every house. When it comes to agreeing on a price, there are only two absolutes: the house minimum and the amount below which the lady will “walk you”, i.e., take you back to the parlor to look for another girl. Beyond that, your willingness and ability to negotiate – while keeping everything completely friendly and cordial – can sometimes reduce the price between 10% and 25%.
More thoughts on pricing
It’s important to keep in mind when you’re in a brothel that you’re in an environment that’s totally governed by the laws of supply and demand. The first evidence of this is that buying sex in a place that’s licensed is substantially more expensive than any comparable illegal transaction. Not only are you paying premium rates for the security of a safe, clean and predictable experience, you’re also paying for license fees, taxes, doctor bills, laundry service, and so on. That’s even before you consider the relative market value of your “server”.
Brothels – like restaurants, bars and theaters – come in all kinds of price ranges. You’ve got your elegant salons and your fast food joints, your gentlemen’s lounges and your dives. Different strokes (and pokes) for different folks. Depending on your good fortune and your station in life – how much you can pay and your willingness to do so – you’re almost always better off paying more, especially when you’re just starting out. There’s an enormous difference in the women, the atmosphere, and the overall satisfaction at the low-end, mid-range or top-shelf. For anyone reading this book who hasn’t engaged in this particular pleasure on his own, who probably won’t do it that often (for a variety of reasons), and who, more likely than not, can afford to splurge at least once, shoot as high as you can. Sure, there’s a chance you’ll get spoiled and never be able to shop in the bargain basement in the future, but there’s a much greater chance that you’ll have an outstanding time that will be just what you’re looking for, a chance that decreases as you move down the price ladder.
To give you a better idea of what we’re talking about, consider these thoughts that “Adele” posted about her pricing policy:
When I have a regular client I will go 300 an hour. When I say regular I mean someone who will come in MORE than twice a month and see me. And even then that depends on the client and what it is he asks for. For someone who is partying with me for the first time or someone who is in twice or once a year I will go, for an HOUR of half and half… 400-500.
It does depend again with what the client is asking for. It could be less, but that is rare. If a gentleman is asking for MORE then just half and half, like if he requires or requests to cum as many times as possible or he wants toys or 69 or twenty different positions… anything other than just half and half/massage/conversation. The price could go up a lot more. If he requests a two girl party then of course the price is going up double and if he wants a two girl SHOW then it’s going to double and go up.
I don’t know about the girls that are going two-fifty an hour or the 50 tip thing but I know I won’t BOOK less than three hundred not even for the most regular client I have. And of course I always appreciate a tip. Now I may go less than three hundred if it is a multiple hour party or an all nighter. But not just one or two hours. I know what I do in my parties and I know how much I give out and how much it takes from me… I don’t care what season it is or how slow the day has gone. I feel my prices are fair and reasonable… no way am I going to cut myself any shorter then what I just said.
So first-timers should expect to pay – and we strongly recommend that you do pay – in the range of $400 to $500. That will buy you a half-and-half for up to an hour in a quite pleasant setting with probably the hottest woman you;ve ever seen – let alone touched – and who will make you harder than you knew you could get and leave you dizyy, spent and completely happy that you did this crazy thing. And at that price range, you can even negotiate a bit for time (such as the full hour), some extras (such as fondling), and maybe even a special treat (like 69). The chance that you’ll get “walked” at the price is quite low, unless you’re trying to score a superstar who’s way out of that range.
If $500 is outside your budget, you can still do real well in one of the mid-range brothels with a less attractive lady for about $300. If that works for you, great. We probably wouldn’t go below $300 for the first time, but that’s us. All we’re saying is spend $400 to $500 if you can manage it for an absolutely peak experience, but try not to spend less than $300, at least for your first time out.
Although, we (and other experienced hobbyists) recommend spending at least $400 or $500 for a high-quality pro who will treat you right, you can obviously spend a lot less and still get a legal lay, or at least legal sex. A hand job can cost as little as $50, a blow job around $75, and bargain-priced intercourse starts around $100. Keep in mind we’re only talking about licensed establishments. Street whores will do all sorts of things for $10 bucks and up, but the risk of getting scammed, infected, arrested or mugged are far too high for the types of guys likely to be reading this book.
Who the hell pays for sex, anyway?
Millions of guys, that’s who. And they’re not all smelly, disgusting deviants, either. A lot of them are, sure, but most of them are guys just like you who want some extra enjoyment while they shoot their wad. The sex industry earns over $13 billion a year in the United States according to the New York Times. Unless a small number of really horny guys are spending a fortune on this stuff, it’s fair to assume that commercial sex has become fairly widespread.
In a July 2, 2003 article entitle, “XXX-cetable”, Newsweek wrote that “porn has gone mainstream”, and found “a national comfort level that few would have predicted even a decade ago”. Why miss out? Join the crowd and let your hormones have some fun.
What’s so hard about paying for sex?
THe difficulties of buying sex fall into two general categories: acute embarrassment, which is largely self-explanatory, and everything else, which is not.
Some guys find paying for sex embarrassing in the same way that coming onto a girl is embarrassing. Just because the lady is selling sex doesn’t mean you’re not uncomfortable buying it. Heck, lots of us have trouble buying a Playboy at a convenience store a thousand miles from anyone we know. Going into a strip club and having an underdressed and overly friendly female stranger start talking to you and asking you to buy her a drink something that doesn’t naturally come to all guys. The idea of visiting a Nevada brothel or calling an escort service may be all but impossible.
At its worst, buying sex can result in major league humiliation if your wife or girl friend finds out, or if you get caught by the police. Even if that doesn’t actually happen, the fear that it might can be too gruesome to contemplate.
Everything else includes physical violence, sexually-transmitted disease, arrest, prosecution and incarceration, financial ruination from losing your job or from credit card or identity theft, and any number of other equally unpleasant misfortunes. Commercial sex often requires venturing into dark and unsafe places, whether it’s a seedy part of town or a seedy part of the Internet. If you’re not used to frequenting the netherworld, introducing sex into the equation doesn’t make it any easier.
For the most part, entering the world of commercial sex is hard because of fear of the unknown. Once you know what’s going on and how to behave, you’re likely to see that there’s some version of carnal entertainment that you’re comfortable buying. Some of the fear is justified, though, and there are plenty of things you should stay the hell away from. We’ll tell you about that, too.
Who these articles are for
These articles was written for – and by – horny males who are just too chicken shit to figure this stuff out for themselves, the guys who somehow have managed not to catch the porno wave that has soaked millions of other guys in their own semen. Commercial sex isn’t exactly hard to find no matter where you live so the main reason why guys who are otherwise interested in this sort of thing haven’t managed to indulge in a fully satisfying way is that something – fear – is holding them back.
Hence these articles, which we wrote to take the mystery, stress and anxiety out of paying for sex. Even if you’re a total wuss, we’ll show you how easy it is to buy sexual gratification with complete confidence. And if you’ve dabbled in some kinds of low risk sex-for-pay, such as Internet porn, we’ll show you how to safely indulge in more adventurous amusements, such as strip clubs, brothels and escort services – legal ones, that is.
Even though we all have sex drives, we don’t all have the balls to buy a lap dance, or hire a prostitute, even when it’s legal. That’s a shame, because those things exist for guys like us, the ones who aren’t aggressive enough to attract females who want to have sex with us. True, guys who get laid without paying for it also frequently pay for sex, proving yet again that it’s hard to get too much of a good thing. But the sex industry needs all the customers it can get, so there are plenty of services available for pathetic guys who can’t even bring themselves to walk into a Victoria’s Secret store to pick up a catalog “for their girlfriend”. If you know how to shop, you can buy really tremendous sex without having to get a personality transplant. Our advice: don’t miss out.
Also, these articles has been written for straight males. We don’t know anything about the gay or lesbian sex scenes, so we don’t know if any of this carries over to sex-for-hire in those environs. Nor do we know anything about women buying sex from men. Hey, the Not-So-Famous Writers School told us to write about what we know, so there you are.
