LITMIR.BIZ

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cum as I sigh and stare, It's like I make a bitch numb just by standing there, but it's the weight of my fame not the silent stare, if you wanna get laid just demand a fare. Ha ha! This is sooooo fuckin' sweet. Ok: so it's the first day back at school after my first night workin' at Kings. That's the deal. That's why I'm in such a good mood. You can say all you like about those with low self-esteem becoming sex-workers, and you'll probably have a point. Though, in my case, the job was a remedy as much as a resort. One day you receive an e-mail from a job search site: it alerts you of a job opportunity in Sydney's black spot and stimulates the g-spot in your mind and suddenly you feel you have self worth, suddenly you feel as though somebody somewhere might actually like you as something more than a friend, might need you, just as much as you her. It's a damn good feeling.

      'Look, I'll be honest. It's not always glamorous. But . . .' - I nod. - 'Sorry. I'm talking in class. I'll fill you in later: right now I gotta listen and try and not let this shit rush to my head and make me cocky, faster than blood to my . . .'

      ******

      References

      1 P.I.M.P. - 50 Cent

      JACKSON CURTIS - 11:40am - December 1 - 2011

      'Hey Jerri, maybe you should just give up,' Adrian yells. 'You ain't intelligent, ain't beautiful, maybe you should just throw in the towel. Ever read The Sorrows of Young Werther?'

      'Ok, I ain't talking to you anymore,' Jerri says. 'You're a real bastard, you know that Adrian?'

      'Whoa,' I say, shaking my head. 'What's wrong with this picture? It might be better if you follow me outside for this one folks.' - I stand up and follow the cameraman to the nearest door. He's rolling the camera backwards and I'm chasing it: I flick twice the chain on the lip of my jeans and kiss the naked air with a wink. - 'Ok. There we see a typical High scene. It's like many you might see in the average chick flick, average teen drama, or' - I shrug - 'any high school around Australia. You've got the guy who's sour, and the girl who rejected him. Guys listen - and listen well - the trick is to run fast, as though your legs are fingers ripping an adhesive bandage from a beautiful breast of naked skin. You'll forget about the former when the latter is pressed firmly against your thighs. Am I clear enough or are you not seeing the girls behind me, the multitude of feminine figures which roam your and my fields of vision like the babes in that Outkast music video for The Way You Move? Clear your eyes, make sure they're fuckin' open and take a look around. It's been said before by guys like Alfie but I'll say it again: never commit. Ever. Never propose to someone either in reality or mentally, so you never limit your horizons. Or you'll regret it.

      'Did you hear what Adrian said in there? Now, Jerri's an average looking girl but she ain't ugly, she's no child prodigy but she ain't thick. Even if she was it wouldn't matter to me: I don't discriminate. I'll fuck any girl, within reason. There are some who turn you on, and others who make you feel warm inside, with whom you empathize. Every girl deserves love. Now the problem here is, Adrian's pissed. Suddenly he's trying his hardest to play with her self esteem as though it's an independent variable which needs to be manipulated, because he wants to bring her down to his level. Shameful. Some would say the guy's a full prick. I'd say that his heart rate has just slowed a little, its tempo the perfect backing to a song by 98 Degrees rather than one by a cocky rapper. He's attacking those close to him with an attitude he can't even keep in check. So, when I say you gotta move fast' - I twirl a finger in the air and the cameraman follows me with the camera, swinging the gear lever on the tripod, and suddenly it appears as though I'm walking in fourth - 'I mean you gotta find another girl quick. It's easy when you’re in my profession. They come . . . cum . . . to you. Never become obsessed, never become attached. Tell her not to either.

      'Ok, so you're probably ready for your first night at the Cross, should you choose to pursue this occupation. But you don't have to, it's just a suggestion. Perhaps you'd rather dwell in your own self-pity for a couple hundred years. Ha ha. No, look: it's my goal to paint an objective portrait of this profession so I must ensure I tell it like it is. I must tell you about my good experiences and also my bad ones. That's why I won't tell you about my first night at the Cross just yet. Instead, I'll tell you about a time when I was standing on the side of a road, one rainy night, with a hand out, and a thumb in the air, waiting for a ride. Now, those who hitchhike, especially in the states, will tell you that the person who picks you up will belong to one or more of three categories: the Christian, the client, or the sexual predator. The Christian wants to spread the good word of God and to help you in whichever way he can, the client needs someone to talk to, and the sexual predator wants only to fuck you . . . if you're lucky. Oh - class is out. I gotta get to my next. I'll fill you in later ok?'

      ******

      References

      1 She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5

      2 Cum On Everybody - Eminem

      JACKSON CURTIS - 12:01pm - December 1 - 2011

      'I'm a cunt,' I say, shrugging. 'I don't deny it, never have, never will. I don't claim to be saint, I don't claim to be a role model. I am just offering you a solution to your problem, if you're a shy, depressed loser who ain't never had a girlfriend. Make like me into employment at the Cross, make out like me with three to five divas a night, drown your sorrows in the grasp of the hands of a bitch just as fucked as you've never been, and see the type of shit you ain't never seen. Fuck it: I go freestyle with this shit harder than I go with an attractive chick. I ain't even making sense no more. These are the fucking rantings of a lunatic. I'm thinking I should keep my voice low just in case my friends are listening, but since my salary is so fuckin' high, my confidence through the fuckin' roof I really ain't givin' a fuck unless I'm paid. Get it? I get laid and paid in the same sentence and it ain't a prison one, and I am one prism you can see right through if you concentrate hard enough. Color me with your stories, color mine, split your thoughts into a spectrum and lay them like a naked babe, smooth as drapes, across my naked thighs for all I give a fuck, coz in the end all I give is a fuck. That's right, Psych 101, give it a try. The lounge is my bed, the session a triple X scene that you ain't seen since the 60's. And if you don't like it you can fuck off. Check the FB status - does it look like I want friends? They're as disposable as condoms. So that's the low down, but it gets me high when I break it down like this and you break down hearin' me speak these words.

      'But look - seriously - I ain't no angry guy. You want angry then read Adrian's shit. He's a self-absorbed little swine half the time, but still half his lines are to your sight what coke is to your night with 5 girls standing in the breath of starlight. Ha. But did Adrian get the girl? Fuck no. When I spit this shit it's coz I'm bored: each speech is a soliloquy that takes off like a G6 when I ain't in one, but instead strolling across the quad of my High. My life is so fast that I can be running and still feel like I'm sleeping, dreaming, and that's why my speech is fluent to a certain degree, coz my mind is so blank in between the nights I spend on the sexy streets of Sydney. Putting it simply: I ain't putting no balls in no bitches' mouths while I'm in school so I'm talking in order to keep myself awake. Yeah, I go to school coz I want to learn about Physics, Math, Chemistry: I love this shit. It's intellectual stimulation. But when I'm walking from one class to the next or I'm on my lunch break, like I am now, then the stimulation is insufficient. That's why I'm talking to you now. In the brief time between two fine women. Ha. I run this leg fast, you know. That's why I talk fast. You should live life in the fast lane: never tie yourself down. I know I've said this before but I'll just keep on saying it. You're only gonna end up mentally ill if you develop a crush on a girl and then the bitch don't want nothing to do with you, or, heaven forbid, a friend passes away from some kind of illness. Speed, people. Life is too short for funerals, too short for mourning. It's not your obligation to give a damn if someone you don't know passes away, and it probably ain't your obligation to have friends or even know people in the first place. Sure, you have colleagues, and friends with benefits, and your family but who the fuck needs friends?

      'Yeah, I was gonna tell you about some of my bad experiences wasn't I? Wasn't all bad. When you see the look on someone's face when the guy's coming and you know that he's feeling that good because of you, you kind of feel good too. You kind of feel that someone actually gives a fuck about you. Ha ha.

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