Media Errata

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2008 by Bree

Since the press can’t be bothered to do their homework, I’m doing it for them.

Let’s get a few things straight: Kristen, or Ashley Alexandra Dupre, or Ashley DiPietro, or Ashley Youmans, did not earn “several thousand dollars an hour”.

Her rate was $1,000 an hour, and she stayed for two and half hours, I believe. Plus, Client 9 put down a deposit of $1,500 for future visits. Do the math. It works out.

Agencies in the United States take a fifty percent commission, which is absurd, but never mind that for now. So actually, her rate was $500 an hour. But wait! It gets better. When a client pays with a credit card, he’s hit with a surcharge of fifteen percent. And then the agencies, greedy bastards that they are, also take fifteen percent out of the escort’s cut. So, for a single hour, one thousand dollar call, she can walk away with as little as $400-450.

Emperor’s Club was one of the more expensive agencies in New York. A lot of averages are being bandied about by the press, and they don’t seem to me to have any basis in reality. The average rate for a high end outcall escort (an escort who goes to a client’s hotel or residence) in Manhattan is about $600-800 an hour, before the agency’s commission. Perhaps more if the escort is of model-height and model-looks, or if her agency simply markets her under a different name, with different rates and a different rate structure. You just fudge her height, age, and measurements a little bit, and upsell clients when they call: Well, Megan isn’t available this evening, but we do have Devon for you, though she’s more expensive. Emperor’s Club engaged in this duplicitous practice, as do most agencies in New York.

There’s a Columbia sociologist named Sudhir Venkatesh who is getting an awful lot of mileage in the media as an “expert” on all forms of prostitution. Listening to him, I get the feeling that he pulled a lot of his research out of his ass. $10,000 a session? Sure, in 24 hour session, maybe, but it’s really not that common. There are so few men who can afford that kind of money, to begin with, and even the ones that can often don’t, for reasons I don’t feel like elaborating upon at the moment. I was a very well-paid whore, and my earnings were about $100,000 a year, gross. And I had a hell of a lot of expenses. I could have worked a lot more, but I turned down a lot of appointments. I guess you could say that I was a bit of a soup Nazi when it came to prospective clientele; for example, I deleted e-mails with text abbreviations like “ur” and “u”.  Your typical high end escort can gross $200,000 to $300,000 a year. In a city like New York, it’s really not that much money.

Most men see a rate of say, $300 an hour, and they think, “That whore is seeing six clients a day, fifty weeks out of the year – she’s making $90,000 a year tax-free!” Nope. First of all, fucking for a living isn’t the same as working an office job. An escort cannot sustain that kind of volume without serious risks to her mental and physical health. Even if that were not true, the demand for her services isn’t a constant. There are some weeks that she’ll receive twenty serious inquiries, and some weeks where she’ll receive none. It’s a feast-or-famine kind of business.

I guess I just find it funny that the institution of whoring is taking such a drubbing right now, and at the same time, the media is feeding the public such inflated figures. There’s a whole generation of Myspace narcissists out there who are going to think that prostitution is a fast lane to riches and celebrity. Who is going to take responsibility when that happens?

Last, I take issue with agency owners being called “pimps”. I don’t like agencies. Nine times out of ten, they’re awful, mercenary people who don’t give a damn about their employees, and don’t do anything that merits a 50% commission. But pimps take all your money. They might give girls in their stable some crack and Roca Wear as a consolation prize, but that’s all.


Client 9

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2008 by Bree

I’ve never liked Eliot Spitzer. He always struck me as a smarmy fucker, a type A personality on speed. So it doesn’t surprise me at all that he turned out to be a colossal hypocrite. Remember that this man brought down at least two escort agencies during his tenure as District Attorney, complete with choice soundbites of moral disgust and outrage for the media’s benefit, and he supported the move to increase minimum sentences for convincted johns. No, I’m afraid I have no sympathy for the man; indeed, he elicits nothing from me but what someone far more clever than I am has termed “spitzenfreude”.

As a former prostitute, I have no problems with prostitution, or men who employ the services of prostitutes. Yet I’m floored that Mr. Spitzer would take such a risk. If I had to guess, I would venture that he represents the flip side of the coin of the Hugh Grant/Divine Brown type of thrill-seeking, classic sex addict behavior. Or maybe it was his grandiosity. Maybe he simply believed himself to be so powerful and invincible that he couldn’t conceive of getting caught with his pants down.

The affidavit states that Client 9 asked for “things that, like, you might not think were safe”. Translation: he didn’t want to use a condom. For the record, out of the hundreds of men that I’ve fucked, I’ve only been asked for bareback sex once, by a fool who smelled like a barnyard, and naturally, I declined. No one ever tried to slip off the condom when I wasn’t paying attention. Ever.

That Spitzer likely requested sex with out a condom, or in industry lingo, “bareback full service” (or BBFS for short) is, to me, the final word on how much of a fucking douchebag he actually is. I would have thought he’d have been the type who’d pull your hair, smack your ass, and pound you into the mattress. But the sad truth is that, in my (single) experience and in those of my former colleagues, men who ask for bareback tend to be whiners. I suspect Client 9 whined a lot that night, about how much he was paying, about why she couldn’t stay longer, about how he’d love to “take her away from all of this” and “set her up in an apartment.”

Yes, that’s about exactly right.

Things that may or may not surprise you

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on March 14, 2008 by Bree

Random biographical tidbits about moi:

  • I started working as a prostitute at the age of 26, after I was laid off from a corporate job.
  • When I started having sex for money, I had slept with a grand total of 8 people. And no, I’m not excluding blowjobs or handjobs from that figure.
  • I have a liberal arts degree from a top-tier university.
  • I was not sexually abused, though it’s true that family life left much to be desired, and still does.
  • I’m a serious oenophile, but in moderation. I smoke pot on weekends. I’ve experimented with drugs, as most of my fellow Gen-Yers have, but drug-taking was not a pre- or co-requisite to escorting.
  • Despite what Melissa Farley and other “experts” on prostitution allege, not a single client ever raised his hand to me. Granted, I worked at the high end, but rich men are often far more uncouth than the unwashed masses.
  • I paid my taxes.
  • I have never had a sexually transmitted infection or disease.

That’s all I can think of. Anything else you want to know?

Media Inquiries

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on March 14, 2008 by Bree

Hello, annoying media people. You’ve been bugging all of my hooker friends this past week with your salacious and stupid inquiries, asking them to out their high-profile clients (our profession is based on discretion – duh!).

If you want my comments or an interview, you’re going to have to pay me. The price is $5,000. I may not work as a prostitute anymore, but the mercantile instincts that led me to work as one in the first place remain intact.

And I’d never, ever compromise the confidences of any of my former clients, for any fee.  Ever.

Hi. I’m Bree.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on March 14, 2008 by Bree

This is the third blog I’ve started. I abandoned the other two, because I have a little problem with things like schedules and routines. It’s also not very important to me to be perceived as a sexual outlaw or to have an audience. I am not an attention-seeker, or a writer of erotic (or unerotic) fiction (or nonfiction). I’m not a writer, period, but I do like parentheses, semi-colons, and em dashes, as you will see.

I started this blog because of the scandal surrounding the former New York State governor, Eliot Spitzer, and the young woman who has been outed as his prostitute on the evening of February 13th, 2008, Ashley Alexandra Dupre. I’m really irritated with the media right now, with all of the supposed “experts” pontificating on why men see escorts or why women work as prostitutes. I’m beyond irritated. I’m fucking pissed, and I want to set the record straight, based on my experiences working as a prostitute, or escort, or call girl, or whore, or whatever, for three years. Also, I have Type B Influenza right now, and I’m bedridden with nothing better to do. I’ll probably post about six times today and tomorrow, and then I’ll never post again.