There was a comfort in working with the other girls. Even when it was hard, knowing another girl like you sweated and strained and writhed close by was a comfort. Fucked up? Yes, totally. But, its true. For me the worst hell was always walking alone into a client’s home (not a hotel or a seedy motel, that was neutral ground, as much my territory as theirs) for the first time with no idea of what their kink was. They all had a kink of some sort. Even if it was only paying for a whore or fucking a girl young enough to be their daughter or their granddaughter. It was always alone that the wildcards came out of the deck and the freaks dropped all their masks and let the boogie men that lived in their souls glide free. For the most part their was safety in numbers and safety in them seeing your handler drop you off. For many of them it was only when you appeared alone, unattended that they could really get into the fantasy that you were no longer human but instead a pretty plaything whose only purpose was to amuse them.
