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Description
I tried to understand her profession. I really did. However, some things are beyond me, but I try not to judge. I simply want to understand.
   Jessica was a 21-year-old escort. She had been working as a prostitute since she was 18. I had contacted her service and asked to speak with one of the girls. I made it clear that conversation was the only thing I was interested in, and to my surprise, they had agreed. Jessica was now in front of me, with a smile on her face. She was a striking woman, with ice blonde hair but dark eyes (I suspected her hair was bleached). I had imagined a dirty woman, not the polished young lady before me.
   "Hello, Jessica. Thank you for seeing me."
   "No problem. My boss said you just wanted to talk, it got me curious. Let me guess: you wanna know why I'm a hooker."
   "That's a crude way of putting it, but yes. I just can't understand it."
   "I like pleasin' men, always have. And sometimes women, but mostly men. I get good money and I'm bein' treated like a human being. That's the most honest answer I can give you." She kept smiling. It looked sincere, but I just wouldn't buy it.
   "But why sell yourself? There are lots of other jobs where you can make good money."
   "Well, I started off as a stripper, and the pay there was OK, but I didn't like the way the men looked at me. It was like I was a piece of meat. And my boss didn't care, as long as I danced. Once I said I needed to go home because I felt sick, and he slaps me right in th' face. He said we get no vacations and I was goin' to go up there and shake my ass. He wasn't very understanding.
   'So one day this handsome guy walks in. He was real good lookin', suit and all. He walks up to me, of all the gorgeous girls around me, he comes to me. He walks up to me real close, says I smell nice. Then he tell me he working for an escort service and he want me to work for him. Me! I was flattered, but a bit suspicious, I'll admit, but he said he'd treat me better than anyone at this dump ever did, so I said OK, I'd give it a try. Anything was better than there."
   "So you were recruited as a prostitute. I still don't understand why you didn't take a…regular job."
   "I dunno. Maybe 'cause no one ever thought I could get a decent job. Maybe 'cause I've never had the money for school. So what am I supposed to do? Clean laundry? Work in a convenient store? Serve hamburgers at McDonald's? No thanks. I'm better off where I am." Her voice broke slightly at the last words.
   "I get the feeling you're not completely honest with me."
   "Look, I don't need you or anyone to judge me, all right? Respect where I am, and you get the same from me, OK?"
   "OK. But tell me about your everyday."
And she did. She told me about the men, mostly middle ages "gentlemen", as she called them, and sometimes the younger, who came to her both day and night. She didn't go into details, but from what I heard I did not comprehend how she could live like this. I didn't understand how this woman could ooze self respect. Was she such a great actress, or was it all fake?
   She wouldn't tell me anything about her background, her life before she became a stripper. She said it wasn't relevant, and that I didn't need to know. I suspected that she hid a heavy burden, but I respected her privacy in the matter.
   We spoke for an hour. I backed down when she felt I was being too judgmental, but I couldn't help but let my emotions on the subject slip every now and then.
   Jessica left my apartment with the same smile on her face. I had learnt much, but the conversation had also raised a lot of new questions. Why did women go down this road? What made them want to work as prostitutes? Weren't they disgusted with being intimate with anyone?
   I was ashamed over not being able to look at this objectively. I wanted to treat Jessica and her like as I would any other, but I just couldn't. I had, however, to come to terms with something after my session with Jessica. I, like everyone else, was human. I wouldn't be able to let my prejudices go. But I would try, as best as I could.

Description
I tried to understand her profession. I really did. However, some things are beyond me, but I try not to judge. I simply want to understand.
   Jessica was a 21-year-old escort. She had been working as a prostitute since she was 18. I had contacted her service and asked to speak with one of the girls. I made it clear that conversation was the only thing I was interested in, and to my surprise, they had agreed. Jessica was now in front of me, with a smile on her face. She was a striking woman, with ice blonde hair but dark eyes (I suspected her hair was bleached). I had imagined a dirty woman, not the polished young lady before me.
   "Hello, Jessica. Thank you for seeing me."
   "No problem. My boss said you just wanted to talk, it got me curious. Let me guess: you wanna know why I'm a hooker."
   "That's a crude way of putting it, but yes. I just can't understand it."
   "I like pleasin' men, always have. And sometimes women, but mostly men. I get good money and I'm bein' treated like a human being. That's the most honest answer I can give you." She kept smiling. It looked sincere, but I just wouldn't buy it.
   "But why sell yourself? There are lots of other jobs where you can make good money."
   "Well, I started off as a stripper, and the pay there was OK, but I didn't like the way the men looked at me. It was like I was a piece of meat. And my boss didn't care, as long as I danced. Once I said I needed to go home because I felt sick, and he slaps me right in th' face. He said we get no vacations and I was goin' to go up there and shake my ass. He wasn't very understanding.
   'So one day this handsome guy walks in. He was real good lookin', suit and all. He walks up to me, of all the gorgeous girls around me, he comes to me. He walks up to me real close, says I smell nice. Then he tell me he working for an escort service and he want me to work for him. Me! I was flattered, but a bit suspicious, I'll admit, but he said he'd treat me better than anyone at this dump ever did, so I said OK, I'd give it a try. Anything was better than there."
   "So you were recruited as a prostitute. I still don't understand why you didn't take a…regular job."
   "I dunno. Maybe 'cause no one ever thought I could get a decent job. Maybe 'cause I've never had the money for school. So what am I supposed to do? Clean laundry? Work in a convenient store? Serve hamburgers at McDonald's? No thanks. I'm better off where I am." Her voice broke slightly at the last words.
   "I get the feeling you're not completely honest with me."
   "Look, I don't need you or anyone to judge me, all right? Respect where I am, and you get the same from me, OK?"
   "OK. But tell me about your everyday."
And she did. She told me about the men, mostly middle ages "gentlemen", as she called them, and sometimes the younger, who came to her both day and night. She didn't go into details, but from what I heard I did not comprehend how she could live like this. I didn't understand how this woman could ooze self respect. Was she such a great actress, or was it all fake?
   She wouldn't tell me anything about her background, her life before she became a stripper. She said it wasn't relevant, and that I didn't need to know. I suspected that she hid a heavy burden, but I respected her privacy in the matter.
   We spoke for an hour. I backed down when she felt I was being too judgmental, but I couldn't help but let my emotions on the subject slip every now and then.
   Jessica left my apartment with the same smile on her face. I had learnt much, but the conversation had also raised a lot of new questions. Why did women go down this road? What made them want to work as prostitutes? Weren't they disgusted with being intimate with anyone?
   I was ashamed over not being able to look at this objectively. I wanted to treat Jessica and her like as I would any other, but I just couldn't. I had, however, to come to terms with something after my session with Jessica. I, like everyone else, was human. I wouldn't be able to let my prejudices go. But I would try, as best as I could.