COVID, Sex Workers, Clients—in HIS words:

August 31, 2030

I am passionate about maintaining anonymity while giving you the unedited words of participants in the off track segment of society. This is a genuine message sent to me on Facebook by someone I do not know. It is so on topic I know you’ll want to know that your frustration is shared. Plus, the secret, intimate view is always irresistible.

Message to Caroleena, the expert escort, on Messenger, August 2020

I am for real Last Time I checked. I started School @15 could not take the pressure and teasing from my friends. Hormones kicked in and it was the perfect trifecta at wonderland dog track and I held the winning ticket. Also met a lovely Phd student in my second year and she was voted # 1 in her class voted “most likely to suck seed “ I mean succeed she had a propensity for young fellas who were smooth like a ken doll. I have such fond memories of the top of her head and skills she said she acquired working in a circus with swords. Thanks for the 411 I was actually thinking of going back to school then C19 hands the world a giant pimp slam, not now James too bad James maybe in a few, so how’s your day? I just found out this lovely nurse I’d been doing the horizontal tango with tested positive for said affliction she found out this AM. Being the responsible citizen I am I ponied up to local ER for cotton nasal shag. With the thoughts of sugarplums Fairies in my head. I did inquire if the meth I snorted would affect the nasal swab? I asked the nurse he was “ like are you serious “ and I then replied “ Are you fucking serious.” I’ll know in the next 48 wish me luck and no lung butter. I told my dear friend Stephanie the person who I was inquiring for that she might want to lay off the flat backing for a spell. She was like why ? I replied “Because it’s the right thing to do to protect you number one asset “ It kinda went over her head so that’s that, be well stay in touch and do good work and for the love of all that is good and sexy in this world. Mask it or casket and give your self a soapy hand job often.

The author says he is real in response to my question about why he is messaging me. Was his motive real or is he a fake operating under false pretenses. I’m looking for people who want to participate in taking this story viral. What story?


. The tale of an Ivy League grad who became addicted to substances and turned to the streets to support her habit. In a stunning display of the denial that is a hallmark of addiction, she attempts to maintain her self image as an elite intellectual who defied the odds against a mixed race child of two mentally ill parents who ended up in foster care where she fought abuse, racism, and an autistic like inability to connect with people that might have been Asperger’s. Nevertheless she went to a world famous university where she graduated mana cum laude and silenced the allegations that she did not belong as an affirmative action beneficiary. All of that is true. She wanted to be super human but she eventually succumbed to the pressure of fighting to prove her worth to a world that wasn’t even paying attention. The second year of teaching at Manhattan private school, halfway through a master’s degree at NYU, she was thoroughly disheartened to get the pity invite for Christmas dinner by kind people who open their home to people without family on the holiday. How could she still be alone after fighting so hard to do everything right. The Loki was she thought a prestigious degree would somehow fix, well, it was still there. She had done it! She had arrived! And when she got therapeutic she found out there is no “there” there. How to fix it? She was out of ideas save one. This Christmas season she had met some other young adults in a bar who smoked something out of a glass tube. It must have been drugs. Appalled, she had declined, but the idea of doing something so out of this world remained. She wanted different. That would be different. She vowed to stop associating with them when Christmas break ended and school resumed. That was December 1996. Today is August 31, 2020. There is nothing in life that has been spared the repercussions of that decision. Can those poisonous lemons be made into lemon through this site that serves to educate or titillate—both with humor and intelligence. Sexy, intimate but appropriate and definitely not porn. Want to know what happened? How did it feel? What did she have to look like to do that work? You’re in the right place. The goal—that readers use these stories for the good. This way, Caroleena maintains her self image as an intellectual anthropologist studying a off track subcultures in urban Honolulu at the turn of the 21st century writing her observations, rather than a street person. Like her birth mother.

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