"I need weight on my body, I have the feeling that it will burst otherwise": A sex worker describes her life in times of low contact.
We are currently experiencing a time when touch and physical contact are something like gold dust. Rare and precious.
Touch was always important to me. For me, touch, closeness, intimacy and healing are so existential that I stopped studying law and a career behind a desk. Most people love sex, but it is enough for them to do it as a hobby, usually even with just one person. That is perfectly okay. But I wanted to spend more time on touch, closeness and all the associated emotions, deal with it, know more about it, practice it and professionalize it. Since I also have to make a living, it is clear that this time has to be paid. Et voilà: That's how I became a sex worker.
I need weight on my body, I have the feeling that it will burst otherwise. My body only comes true when it is touched or when I can touch it. I love sex, I love the smell of bodies, sweat and excitement. I like hearing and feeling someone's breath close to my ear. I like to breathe in people's ears or whisper things that make them warm to hot.
Providing closeness in a low-contact world was meritorious long before Corona. I can see that people appreciate this not only from the fact that I can make a very good living. The letters of thanks from my clients are sometimes deeply moving. Many colleagues describe that one of the most wonderful aspects of our profession is thanks to people who have experienced contact, lust and sex, who have made them happy.
The privilege of touch
Now we are all at home and we are told to keep two meters apart. The privilege of touch is reserved for the monogamous couple. Happy, who now has a partner. Not a good time for everyone is not a safe place for the family, for singles and loose subjects (like me). I keep to all the rules, make my ears sore, go jogging, meditate and do yoga, put my mother's groceries in front of the door and, if I do, only touch my cat, myself and now and then my loved ones *.
Every now and then I roll on the carpet to assure my body that it still has limits
All of this, like everyone else, is a kind of nightmare, and I think that we will wake up soon, but then someone comes on the radio and tells me it's just the beginning. I am paralyzed and every day I feel like I am losing a bit of my presence of mind.
I roll on the carpet every now and then to assure my body that it still has limits. My own body weight is not enough to convey this to him in a meaningful way. I touch myself and also masturbate, but I have only done that with moderate passion before. As a sex educator, I know all the theories that the prerequisite for good sex is that you can have fabulous solo sex. I think that is pedagogically correct, and I regularly claim it towards all clients in order to be professional. I hereby admit for the first time in public that it never really applied to me.
I want to pounce on someone or be grabbed. I love strange fingers instead of my own on my body, on and in my pussy. And I clearly prefer hands, tails and tongues over any fucking sex toy, no matter what fancy space material it is made of, how utopian it cost and how streamlined it clings to my G-spot.
My body does not understand the withdrawal of adrenaline, serotonin and oxytocin. He misses the deep relaxation that lies in being in close contact with someone with whom you have just ventured a ride through ecstasy. My chocolate consumption is developing in proportion to the published number of infected people.
In a latex dress at the desk?
I hear advice on the radio for the "home office". Very important: follow the usual routines of everyday work. What does that mean for me? Sit down at my desk in latex dress and boots and answer customer emails that don't book appointments? Tie me up and hang myself in the living room? Facesitting with cuddly toys? Dirty talk with my cat? My work routine is disrupted.
Why we cuddle so badly in these times: This is explained by a haptic researcher and a sex worker – in the taz on the weekend of 4./5. April. Also: Joschka Fischer talking about Corona as a human crisis – and gentle hope. And: Where did the Nordkreuz-Prepper get their ammunition from? From Saturday at the kiosk, in eKiosk, in practical Weekend subscription and around the clock at Facebook and Twitter.
It is already becoming apparent that this crisis will not be over in a shorter time. I wonder how, alongside a financial slump in free fall, my professional life will develop in the future. The very creative and solution-oriented among us have already worked into the technology of Zoom and Co and offer camsex, online educational games and, a strange relapse into the 90s, telephone sex. Others shoot video clips and switch to selling merchandise (used panties, stockings, things like that).
I am not a particularly visual person during sex, nor do I like educational games in general. I'm happy exhibitionist, but I don't have to be naked on the net. Talking about sex is great, but talking about sex without actually having it is very boring. I prefer to feel than to speak. Sounding and breathing and even singing and cheering is not a problem, but whether someone pays for it?
Online courses instead of close proximity to results
Everyone says to me: You are giving workshops! Take an online course! But when I think of online courses I always fall into a deep sleep. I never understood my work in such a way that I can explain the path for Y in "7 steps." I have led countless groups and accompanied people in individual sessions. I don't know any solutions, I only know processes and paving the way.
What I can do is hold people when they are touched, when they open, when they are vulnerable. I can improvisation, I can ecstasy and I can feel like when it is wet, open and ready, or shy in the hallway. I can listen to bodies and not tell them how to get better in five steps. I can have closeness that is open to results.
And I can bring people together. I can create a space for them to experiment. So that they touch each other. I don't like to explain the world. I'd rather let her discover. By world I actually mean that beyond one's own living room and beyond the path of two-way relationships. But that's exactly where online courses aim. We are going private. We tell Ole and Uschi how to do it.
Public sex and your accomplishments – how long will it take for us to take you back?
I'm sorry, dear ones, I have no constructive solutions for you today. I am sad and frustrated because it worries me what will become of our touch culture, it worries what will become of our sexual culture. And last but not least, what will become of me and my colleagues in sex work.
A financial emergency that some take advantage of
My reserves last for about two to three months. Some have to continue working, despite the high risk to themselves and others. The reason is economic hardship: these people would fall through all aid programs for the self-employed and are not entitled to basic security, perhaps because they do not have a secure residence status and are not registered.
There are customers who take advantage of this plight and lower prices, violence against sex workers is increasing. The corona crisis offers a prospect of the discussed "sex buying ban": If sex work is criminalized, this primarily affects marginalized and precarious colleagues. So that they don't have to continue working, the professional association has erotic and sexual services set up an emergency fund and calls on politicians to set up rescue measures for sex workers who are not registered or who have no health insurance.
Whores give touch and closeness. I don't want our sexual culture online, maybe I'm the last hopelessly analog, haptic generation. I became a whore precisely because I didn't want to do anything with the media. I stand by it.
Keep your distance, dear ones. Have hot thoughts. Tell them to you. Masturbates. Watching each other is also awesome. Orgasms and a lustful being are good for the immune system. It is not fear.
Please stay healthy!