How I Earned Money Taking My Clothes Off
My one time stripping for sailors
My alternative evening wear
It was 2011. Not long after the banking crisis had turned the world upside down. People lost their jobs.
I was lucky. Didn’t have a job to lose. But I did have one or two habits to fund.
You can stretch an allowance in various ways. A mate of mine had a number of schemes which paid well, but sporadically. And pulling the same scam repeatedly increases the risk.
At the same time, I had a growing interest in exploring myself as an artist. I bought and borrowed clothes where I could, developing a sense of self-expression. The world was changing, and I was too.
I was lucky. Didn’t have a job to lose. But I did have one or two habits to fund.
You can stretch an allowance in various ways. A mate of mine had a number of schemes which paid well, but sporadically. And pulling the same scam repeatedly increases the risk.
At the same time, I had a growing interest in exploring myself as an artist. I bought and borrowed clothes where I could, developing a sense of self-expression. The world was changing, and I was too.
Dave got me a gig as a receptionist at Bates Motel on the outskirts of town. There were barely any customers. Just me and a collection of Victorian stuffed birds for company. Mr. Bates was never around, spent all his time in the house on the hill with his mother.
I spent the days sat behind the desk. The nights were the same. It was open 24/7.
Sometimes, for fun, I’d sit behind the desk in my casual clothes. A strappy dress from the collection, maybe paired with a feather boa. Matching accessories and lipstick too, when I could afford it. It helped pass the time.
I spent the days sat behind the desk. The nights were the same. It was open 24/7.
Sometimes, for fun, I’d sit behind the desk in my casual clothes. A strappy dress from the collection, maybe paired with a feather boa. Matching accessories and lipstick too, when I could afford it. It helped pass the time.
The motel had an internet connection. I used to FaceTime sailors, lost and lonely souls, far out at sea. It was a low-bandwidth connection; they seemed happy with it.
One of my regulars asked me if I’d like to enter a private chat. I was happy to oblige. He asked me if I had ever stripped for money. I was shocked, but intrigued. “Not yet, big boy,” I said in a coquettish manner I had learned from old films.
He said he’d put five dollars in my PayPal if I took my top off.
At first, I was shocked. He repeated the offer. I was less shocked. Five whole dollars, just for letting my straps fall to the side?
I knew it was wrong, dear reader, but I needed the money. And I sort of wanted to do it. “Money first, sailor boy,” I said and waited for the payment to arrive. Ker-ching!
One of my regulars asked me if I’d like to enter a private chat. I was happy to oblige. He asked me if I had ever stripped for money. I was shocked, but intrigued. “Not yet, big boy,” I said in a coquettish manner I had learned from old films.
He said he’d put five dollars in my PayPal if I took my top off.
At first, I was shocked. He repeated the offer. I was less shocked. Five whole dollars, just for letting my straps fall to the side?
I knew it was wrong, dear reader, but I needed the money. And I sort of wanted to do it. “Money first, sailor boy,” I said and waited for the payment to arrive. Ker-ching!
Now was my moment. I let the feather boa fall to the floor. Let one strap slip over my shoulder. Paused for effect like I’d seen real ladies do in certain under-the-counter movies. “Come on, darling,” my internet guest urged.
I let the other strap go, and my dress fell down. “What the f…” began my sailor friend.
At the same time, Dave and a girl turned up. “Can we have a room for twenty minutes,” began Dave, and then he stopped, taking in the scene. Me, naked from the waist up, with the sailor shouting from the computer. “This is Mark, I told you about him,” he said to his girlfriend.
It wasn’t my proudest moment. But not my worst either.
The worst moment came when we heard the scream from the house on the hill.
I let the other strap go, and my dress fell down. “What the f…” began my sailor friend.
At the same time, Dave and a girl turned up. “Can we have a room for twenty minutes,” began Dave, and then he stopped, taking in the scene. Me, naked from the waist up, with the sailor shouting from the computer. “This is Mark, I told you about him,” he said to his girlfriend.
It wasn’t my proudest moment. But not my worst either.
The worst moment came when we heard the scream from the house on the hill.
Explanation: This piece was written after reading someone’s heartfelt complaint that their genuine personal story had only earned a few cents. I thought I’d experiment with a fun story of my own.
I like experimenting.
I like experimenting.