The Beautiful Kind

Ah, I love a good whore story. They say that a memoir on prostitution only sells if it ends tragically, or, at the very least, with the woman realizing the error of her wicked ways. The book Callgirl by Jeannette Angell provides neither of these society-demanded conclusions, but instead offers a straightforward account of two years in the life of a woman who teaches at a university by day and caters to the sexual needs of horny men in Boston at night.

The book describes how she came to be a whore (an attractive woman who found herself in financial straits) what it was really like (eh, not so bad) and why she left the business (it was simply time to move on with her life.) It’s funny, written conversationally, and of course, due to all the sordid lives and dark and dirty secrets she gets to peep in on, fascinating.

The worst experience for her (even worse than the guy who tried to force anal on her) was the man who hired her to act like his mommy and talk to him as she sat in her underwear and put on her makeup, as if preparing to go out for the evening and leave him with a sitter. She found the situation profoundly depressing, a stark example of how fragile and emotionally fucked up men can be, but personally I would have liked that job. I would have gotten a kick out of playing Mommie Dearest.

The cool thing was, she was teaching a class on prostitution as she was a prostituting herself in real life. When one of her student’s parents had an issue with their daughter taking the class, she couldn’t help but wonder - how would they feel if they knew the class was being taught by an actual callgirl? Damn I love that ha-ha-little-do-you-know shit, just like how the guy working at Subway who wordlessly made your tuna sandwich today was wearing a butt plug and pink panties under his roast beef scented uniform.