So: the Job.
People against sex work often
nag discourage childe “remind” us that we “can’t do this forever! Eventually nobody will want to buy what you’re selling!” I’ve heard this a few times–always from therapists, never from clients or other women in the biz, because we know better. A person can, in fact, do various forms of sex work through middle age and presumably beyond. I used to be insecure about getting older in this industry, thinking that it would be harder for me to find work, but I needn’t have worried: my money hasn’t been affected at all. Even when I was working out of a commercial dungeon with women in their early 20s, I did just fine. A lot of guys like very young women and will not deviate from that, which is fine, but they are by no means representative of the entire client base. I know women in their late 40s and 50s who are very successful, moreso than I have ever been, and these women are not serve a niche market. Especially in prodomming, there is a lot to be said for experience and looking like a convincing authority figure.
As long as I maintain my face and figure, I could do sex work for a very long time.
The reason I want a new career is that I need a job conducive to starting a family eventually. For me, sex work ain’t that. I also need a job where it will be easier to maintain my sobriety. All alone in an anonymous hotel room/rented dungeon space for days at a stretch on tour, cut off from the world except for sex worker Twitter and email, is not a great place for me to be.
If I want to raise a child, I need stability and a reliable, steady source of income. Kids cost a fucking fortune, so the job has to pay well. The Collector has a fortune, but without him, I will need to provide everything. I never had much material ambition, but there is a certain standard I want to achieve and be able to maintain before I even consider having a child.
I’ve settled on a new career: court reporter. It’s an AA degree, which means I could be done in two and a half years and start work right away after I get my license. I am done with the big leagues–I don’t want another grad degree. An associate’s, though, I could do. The pay is good (well, I think it’s good–court reporters in NYC make $80,000/year), the job is in high demand, and I can do it as long as my hearing hold out. I wouldn’t even have to work in the courts, because there’s other work for freelance stenographers. Best of all, court reporters are essentially self-employed (and I love being self-employed!), so I can work as little or as much as I want to. This would be important when the child is young.
I’ve found the college I want to attend. I want to start in the Fall. It’s accredited and NCRA-approved. The program is online (they have a brick-and-mortar campus, but it’s in another state) and while I’d much prefer to learn in a physical classroom, I see no reason why I can’t do this online. I’m a bit intimidated because this is unlike any education I’ve had before–this is a technical degree that requires me to master a stenograph machine and its attendant software programs. It also requires some native talent for the machine, which I may or may not possess: if I can’t perform with the necessary speed and accuracy (and some people can’t, try as they might), I can’t get my license..
This is what I want to do. It is not my dream job, but it is a good job performing a necessary social function in an environment that I would not hate to be in. It is something that I could be proud to be.
This is Plan A. My backup plan is paralegal, another degree I could knock out at my local junior college in three semesters after I transfer credits.
Now I have another problem to address: paying for school. Court reporting college is expensive, and I am very reluctant to go into debt for $40,000. Almost all of my college was paid for through scholarships and fellowships. I can’t do that here. Without the Collector’s money to fall back on, I have to do this myself.
Which brings me to the next part of my plan! I’ve been scheming! Scheming about how I’m going to pay for this! And it’s sex work, natch. A new kind of sex work!
Is it a hair-brained scheme? Is it spectacularly ill-advised? Or is it feasible? Indeed, I ask you, WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
You tell me! I’m writing about it in the next installment.