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A Sex Worker Explains Why She Never Fakes an Orgasm with a Client

Lydia Faithfull is a full-time sex worker at the Love Ranch brothel in Nevada. She specializes in domination, humiliation, and good conversation. She refuses to kiss for money.

by Lydia Faithfull
Aug 6 2016, 8:25am

Image by Sonja Lekovic via Stocksy

Dear Lydia,

I've always thought about how difficult it must be for sex workers to pretend like they're enjoying themselves when they're fucking someone particularly unenjoyable—whether that be in terms of attraction or personality. How do you do it? Or, if you're not into it, do you ever let that be known? Best,

Alex

Dear Alex,

Prior to working for Dennis Hof, I held employment at another infamous Nevada brothel. They all operate the same way in that, when a potential client rings the doorbell, a second bell rings throughout the building to notify us that we have company, and it's time to line up in the parlor to introduce ourselves. The client then chooses a lady for a tour of the facility, ideally ending with a negotiation in her private suite.

My favorite anecdote from my former brothel involves the ladies lining up for a morbidly obese man (it's not my intention to shame the overweight but to emphasize that sex with an obese person can be a physical challenge for some). He chose the tiniest woman available, much to her chagrin. As independent contractors, we set our own rates. When we're not interested in bedding someone, we'll begin negotiation with a completely unreasonable asking price. This sex worker was determined to avoid fucking the large man and quoted him $50,000. Imagine her horror when he agreed to pay it.

Read More: A Sex Worker Explains How She Separates Her Work from Her Sex Life

As for me, my perception of a naked body has become very clinical. We perform something called a "dick check" before partaking in any sexual activity. What we're looking for are physical indications of an STI, such as skin tags, discharge, inflammation, etc. A baby wipe soaked in rubbing alcohol is placed upon the penis and testicles, and an unfavorable reaction would indicate the presence of an open wound and that he may be sexually unsafe. After passing the check, the client is then handed antibacterial soap, whisked into the shower, and eventually placed upon my bed (which is completely covered by a protective sheet). Condoms are non-negotiable, even for blowjobs. Sounds pretty sterile, right?

My primary focus has always been my own orgasm.

As result, physical appearance becomes of little importance. My primary focus has always been my own orgasm. Many of my contemporaries prefer faking one and would rather concentrate on getting their partner off. I could not give a shit less about his pleasure. The plane is going down and my oxygen mask will be fastened first. Only after my toes curl will I consider attending to his needs. If my policy were any different, I would resent both the client and the work.

The men who request me are typically cerebral types with a high level of emotional intelligence. I take pride in that and genuinely enjoy post-fuck laughter with a naked deep thinker. Occasionally, I will negotiate with an obvious poor fit who approaches me with arrogance. Negotiations are monetary, but they're also a vetting process. I've never had to jack my rate as the petite sex worker attempted to do with her heavy client. My eyes, tone, and body language relay my disinterest perfectly, and he quickly recognizes that he's chosen the wrong woman. Pride prevents me from tolerating disrespect.

Dear Lydia,

As someone who has thought about entering the sex work world, I have no issues with it personally or morally. My religious family, however, does. Is entering a business where I have to live a lie to my family for the rest of my life worth it? Or am I setting myself up for years of therapy and frustration?

Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Without knowing the extent of your family's involvement in your life, please first consider your personal safety. Acid attacks, honor killings, and shunning are real life shit—punishments people have used against women in their families for far less extreme offenses. But let's suppose none of that applies to your particular case, and your greatest threat from your family is parental alienation. I'm going to assume that you have an active sexual life and that your family does not get a vote in that (nor should they). Does that also make you feel as if you're "living a lie?"

So why sex work? Which aspects of the business appeal to you? Is it the sense of adventure, the salaciousness, or simply that you're bored of your square desk job? Those were my initial (now cringeworthy) motivations. Most of my peers began selling sex because they were completely out of options. Some are single mothers who struggled to provide for their children. Others have criminal histories that prevent them from passing an employment background check. White, middle-class naïveté led me to sex work, and my privilege affords me the opportunity to easily change careers—though that's not possible for many of my friends.

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Apart from familial concern, I want you to ask yourself if you're willing to risk arrest or having the words "soliciting" and "prostitution" attached to your name. Do you acknowledge that the internet is forever and that your time as a sex worker may later stigmatize you? Can you accept that there are public message boards and review sites where clients discuss intimate details about you, such as the tightness of your vagina? Will you tolerate objectification, unsolicited opinions about your body, and inevitable rejection? Are you okay with being a willing participate in someone's infidelity? Do you recognize that some romantic prospects will dismiss you as "damaged goods" and that your past will often be a deal breaker? These are heavy emotional sacrifices that should not be taken lightly.

Whether you decide to pursue a career in sex work or not, I encourage you to find emotional support outside of your family. Preferably from an open minded, secular confidant who will not mince words.

To ask Lydia a question, email broadly.editor@vice.com with "Dear Lydia" in the subject line.