That Time I Tried Topless House Cleaning
After years getting paid to bare my breasts at more clubs than I can count, when my funds hit an all-time low I pioneered a cleaner brand of sex work. When I arrive at the house of the first viable person to respond to my Craigslist ad, I knock on the door and take a step back.
He opens it right away. I like his work jeans and dirty white t-shirt, though. They feel kind of homey.
I step in, a little flirty, but all-business to begin with. Just when the tour is complete my phone rings. Call me in like an hour.
I turn to JimJohn and the to pull my shirt off, then stop.
I shove it down one of my stockings as I take my pants off, because I have always believed that the safest place for my money is right against my skin. Half a tank of gas and two blueberry smoothies later, it dwindled to sixteen nude folded together in the bottom of my pocket. For some housecleaning, this might have been a problem, but not for me. Sex work is my trust fund.