Chapter 14 Whoring in SL Amsterdam

I started talking about whore sites in SL yesterday. By the way, if anyone is offended by my use of the word whore instead of escort, too bad. I use escort in the title of the blog so as not to scare off anyone prematurely. A nod to civility, sort of like not using a toothpick on the first date. In general, though, and among friends (all my readers are friends, aren't you?), escort is a euphemism I can do without. Maybe I was a high class whore, or maybe not, but I took money for sex like all the rest.

Like a lot of SL sites, once you stray from the center of the action in Amsterdam, there is no action. I found a nice little cafe, a bar, a cheap hotel, even a church, and several shops featuring cocks and pussies galore, spiked heels and garter belts, etc. But no one was interested. If it hadn't been for the lag, which followed you everywhere in Amsterdam, it would have been fun exploring all the deserted little nooks and crannies. The church, though, was a little disappointing. Uninspiring goth as I recall. Wouldn't a Mary Magdalene theme have been more appropriate? Which reminds me, if you haven't read Jose Saramago's The Gospel According to Jesus Christ, I highly recommend it. Jesus and Mary M have a pretty hot love affair. Innocent virgin teenager and experienced whore with a heart of gold.

As I've said, I didn't have much luck in Amsterdam, but it was interesting to observe the different styles women adopt to sell their bodies. The more aggressive ones vied for position at the center and were clearly trying to look as outrageous as possible. Many looked like drag queens. Amazonian in stature, bronzed, half-naked, fish net stockings, tattoos everywhere, hairdos that were engineering marvels, some with weapons strapped to their thighs. Others had staked out a niche: schoolgirls, nurses, blonde twins, femme fatales, chubby earth mother hippies. And there was a convenient bench for female "diddling," if one were so inclined. I never was. It was entertaining enough to listen to the hustles: I have dirty pictures; IM me for special discounts; I do web cam and voice.

I usually stood on the periphery, as did a few others. I wasn't the only loner there, but I was usually the most modestly dressed. Heels, jeans, and a t-shirt. Platinum blonde but nothing fancy. What that got me was some conversation from guys interested in the clearly literary bent of my profile, or the cold classy bitch image I was leaning towards at the time, but no lindens. Most guys in Amsterdam want voice or web cam, and I would never do either. One time I let a guy talk to me, or thought I was going to, but it was so creepy I shut him down as soon as he said "Hello, can you hear me?" A stranger in your house? A horny stranger? No thanks.

My only concession, and it proved to be a critical one, was pictures. I didn't like doing it, not so much from modesty as from being a purist, but I was getting nowhere without them. Well, not exactly nowhere. I'd met two or three guys who were extremely good to me, and thanks to them I was no longer a poor girl. I had some nice clothes and expensive jewelry. The trouble was I was too dependent on them. I practically had to beg for everything I received, and I wanted to be independent. I was ambitious. I wanted my own place and many many lindens in my account. Pictures of course would mix real life with the fantasy, which seemed to me almost a mortal sin, but what's a poor girl to do? Really. And who can live without compromise? I'm not that much of a loner.