The Role of a Whore: A Warning Against Sexual Malpractice

Several weeks ago, I was listening to the Erotica Sinica director deliver a seminar class in the context of the starlet training program in which I participate as part of my continued association with the organization. In that seminar, he spoke extensively about the lore behind The Wheel of Time, which, admittedly, at the time of this writing, is a high fantasy book series that I have yet to personally read. However, his presentation of that material was so relevant to my experiences working in the brothels that I felt compelled to layer my own commentary upon it and make it available for public consumption in order to explain a social dynamic that would otherwise be rather difficult for me to convey to a civilian audience that has no point of reference for how the sex industry works. Therefore, with permission, I reproduce the relevant portion of the director's seminar below:

The world in which The Wheel of Time takes place follows an architecture that The Lord of the Rings brought to modern audiences— a disembodied "Dark Lord" seeks to conquer and rule all physical creation, and a panoply of human and non-human races must navigate a labyrinth of interconnected and competing political interests in order to ensure that there remains sufficient military strength to withstand the day when the Dark Lord launches his attack upon the world. Naturally, such a superficial summary does grave injustice to the novels—and I do maintain that this story is a low friction approach to introduce Western audiences to Eastern cosmological concepts—but there is a key element in the story that is particularly worthy of your attention as an Erotica Sinica starlet. Like any effective fantasy novel series, The Wheel of Time contains an extensive cast of individuals who wield magical capabilities. In this world, magic is called the "One Power," and is understood to be the cosmic force that—summa summarum—enables the universe to exist. Accessing the One Power is called "channeling," and the people who possess this ability are called "Channelers," which is interesting in the context of fantasy literature, because it delineates supernatural ability as a function of tapping into an objective source of depth as opposed to magic being a mere attribute that belongs to an individual. Comparandi causa—the narrative structures of speculative fiction like Harry Potter or X-Men are much more mundane in this regard. Regardless, returning to the main point, the One Power, represented by a Yin-Yang-like symbol, is divided into two halves—a male half called "Saidin," and a female half called "Saidar," with male and female Channelers only able to access their respective halves. When the story opens in The Eye of the World—the first book of the series—Channelers have only been women for the past several millennia, because—in the ancient past, when the Channelers were able to drive the Dark Lord into a deep retreat—said Dark Lord was able to contaminate Saidin right before his ability to directly interface with the physical universe was destroyed, which had a twofold effect. First, any man who channels Saidin, after enough time, would now eventually lose his mind due to contamination exposure. Second, because the Dark Lord's contamination of Saidin was such a violent shock that fundamentally altered the nature of metaphysical reality, every male Channeler who was alive at the time immediately went insane, descending into a violent psychosis wherein they lashed out to attack anyone and anything they encountered, and because these were men who possessed enormous supernatural powers, the physical landscape of the continents was destroyed, and the entirety of human civilization utterly collapsed. This event in the story is referred to as the "Breaking of the World." However, because the female Channelers were never compromised, they were eventually able to euthanize all of the rampaging male Channelers over the course of the next several centuries, and at the cost of an enormous casualty count to themselves, largely because male Channelers, on average, are significantly more powerful than their female counterparts. The characters in the books refer to this period of history as "The Time of Madness," and once the last known male Channelers were eliminated, human civilization was finally able to begin the long process of rebuilding, and largely under the guidance of the few female Channelers who survived this epoch. As human societies underwent reconstruction, female Channelers were naturally afforded an enormous degree of status and social prestige, transcending the national boundaries of the various kingdoms and city-states that eventually begin to reemerge. Consequently, this trans-national social prestige eventually becomes formalized into a central organization called the White Tower. The female Channelers who constitute this organization are called the Aes Sedai, and they operate like a female-only hybrid between the Jedi of the Star Wars universe and the Catholic Church, shepherding common society away from the catastrophe of the past while standing vigilant against the problems that may arise from misusing the One Power. Also, like the Jedi Knights and the Catholic clergy, marriage and child bearing among the Aes Sedai has become extremely rare—the rhetoric stating that, when the Aes Sedai take their oaths, they are "married to the Tower." Although the White Tower is a highly centralized organization, it is by no means a unitary organization. In fact, the White Tower subdivides into several different subsidiary organizations called "Ajahs," with each Ajah identified by a specific color and dedicating itself to a specific pursuit. For example, the Brown Ajah dedicates itself to academic study and the recovery and preservation of knowledge; the Yellow Ajah dedicates itself to healing and medical research; the Gray Ajah specializes in political diplomacy and legal mediation, and so on and so forth. Cumulatively, there are seven different Ajahs with seven different colors, with each represented by an executive head who sits on a central governing council called the "Hall of the Tower," which in turn is presided over by the top Aes Sedai of the entire organization, called the Amyrlin Seat, who is herself akin to a kind of female Jedi pope. This is the backdrop for one of the most interesting aspects of the book series—the ideological conflict that rages between the Ajahs themselves. Specifically, throughout much of the story, the White Tower is divided between two ideologically opposed camps, with each camp informally headed by the Red Ajah and the Green Ajah, since they each represent the most extreme forms of this division. In fact, the antagonism between the Red Ajah and the Green Ajah constitutes much of the vicious infighting that occurs within the Hall of the Tower, and the central issue at the core of this ideological divide is none other than men. The conclusion of The Time of Madness readily explains the substance of the factional conflict. Specifically, although the female Channelers were eventually able to subdue the male Channelers, this was only ever a temporary solution, because new male Channelers would be born at an unalterable rate, and therefore always naturally constitute a certain subsection of the general population. Therefore, as the White Tower gradually coalesced into a formal institution, there existed a subset of Aes Sedai who dedicated themselves to the task of tracking down and neutralizing any new male Channelers who were born into the general population before they succumbed to Saidin's madness inducing contamination in order to prevent the continuation—or even worse—the recrudescing of The Time of Madness. The fact that "neutralizing" often entails outright death for these men was of little consequence to these increasingly zealous huntresses. This faction within the White Tower's early history gave rise to the Red Ajah, and at the time when the novels take place, they have, for several centuries, commanded the highest number of Aes Sedai out of all seven Ajah, and—over that time—have developed an increasingly militant misandrist philosophy against men in general, regardless of whether or not said men can actually channel. Irina Dunn's infamous quote of "a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle" is an excellent heuristic for the mindset that governs the various Red Ajah characters in the story. Given the amount of time that you have hitherto dedicated to reading Dr. Camille Paglia's writings, you can, for the sake of illustration, imagine a world in which somebody like Gloria Steinem was armed with supernatural magic powers. Contra hoc—standing in opposition to the Red Ajah and their perpetual attempts to gain ever greater influence and sway over White Tower policy are the women of the Green Ajah, who trace their organization's lineage back to a time predating the contamination of Saidin and the subsequent Breaking of the World. During that ancient period, when the Dark Lord still had the ability to directly interface with the physical world, open warfare between the Dark Lord's armies and the rest of humanity was commonplace, which was particularly problematic at the time because the Dark Lord had successfully recruited several Channelers to his side of the conflict, known at the time as the "Forsaken." Critically, many of the Channelers who remained steadfast against the Dark Lord, counteracting the Forsaken's destructive power on the battlefield, were female, fighting alongside their male counterparts, both Channeler and non-Channeler alike. These were the women who would eventually form the initial core of the Green Ajah, and even in the contemporary era, the Green Ajah still regards itself as the White Tower's principal military force, embarking on military deployments to assist various other armies fortunate enough to have procured a military alliance with the White Tower, particularly when non-human monsters begin to attack human settlements en masse at the Dark Lord's behest from beyond the physical realm. A close reading of the text seems to indicate that the Green Ajah have become increasingly anti-misandrist in direct response to the Red Ajah's increasing militancy against men. This hardening of the Green Ajah's explicitly pro-male ideology manifests in several very interesting ways. Firstly, women in the Green Ajah notoriously spend a great deal of effort and resources on their physical appearance, particularly during peacetime, opting to wear tight and/or revealing clothing as their daily attire, and much to the scorn of their Red Ajah counterparts who often openly mock them for being what internet parlance would call "pick me girls" in contemporary parlance. Secondly, they are constantly in the company of expert swordsmen—called "Warders"—who are affiliated with the White Tower to provide body guard services to any Aes Sedai who needs it due to missions that require her to journey into hostile territory. While most Ajahs limit their members to only one Warder, the Green Ajah allows their members to magically pair bond with as many as they please—whereas the Red Ajah forbids their members from taking any. Additionally, the promiscuity of the Green Ajah is an open point of discussion in the White Tower, their members routinely making themselves sexually available to the Warders, with some allegedly going so far as to sneak off to marry their own Warders in secret. Vere dicendum est—these descriptions of the Green Ajah might initially sound like a porn fantasy. However, when Egwene al'Vere—one of the main characters in the story—asks, "what does it mean to be Green Ajah?" during the course of her training, the answer she receives from Alanna Mosvani—one of the strongest Green Aes Sedai in the White Tower—is quite noteworthy, which I will read for you here: First, you must love men. I don't mean be in love with them, but love them. Not like a Blue, who merely likes men, so long as they share her causes and do not get in her way. And certainly not like a Red, who despises them as if every one of them were responsible for the Breaking...Browns seek knowledge, Blues meddle in causes, and Whites consider the question of truth with implacable logic. We all do some of it all, of course. But to be Green means to stand ready...In the Trolloc Wars, we were often called the Battle Ajah. All Aes Sedai helped where and when they could, but the Green Ajah alone was always with the armies, in almost every battle...And now we stand ready, for the Trollocs to come south again, for Tarmon Gai'don, the Last Battle. We will be there. This is what it means to be a Green.

It was at this point in the presentation that a sense of eureka flooded over me, and the relevance of this niche material became clear. I was looking at an allegorical framework that could explain a large percentage of tension and even infighting that occurs within the brothels, hidden away from the male clientele who otherwise have no way of knowing the maelstrom that they inadvertently enter and therefore must navigate wholly oblivious and blind, despite the fact that they are themselves the very catalyst for the silent conflict. It seems absurd on its face—and even to this day, it continues to flabbergast me—that there exists and entire cohort of prostitutes who, just like the Red Ajah, despise men. A man-hating whore ought to be an oxymoron—and yet, throughout my now several years working in multiple Nevada brothels, I have repeatedly and consistently witnessed prostitutes treat their clients cruelly, with circumstances even sometimes requiring me to openly contend with these women, just like how the Green's "love for men" compels them to contend against the Reds in the Hall of the Tower. From this allegory, my objective for this article should be readily understandable—I hope to provide a warning signal to men who require the services of a prostitute so that they are aware of the potential hazards that may lurk in the shadows out of sight and therefore plan accordingly to avoid potential harm.

Let us begin by establishing a basic premise—prostitution exists, in part, to provide a solution to the problem of sexual deprivation. Making such a statement almost seems absurd because, prima facie, it seems painfully obvious. However, for the purposes of this discussion, it is absolutely critical to focus on the indefinite article of the term "a solution." Prostitution is by no means the only solution to the sexual deprivation problem. In fact, it's not even the default solution. Devout Christians maintain that marriage is the solution to sexual deprivation. Secular urbanites may suggest that a dating relationship is the solution, or maybe even a rotating door of casual hookups. Regardless, in every region of the globe, and in every period of history, men have labored under the expectation that their sexual needs ought to be met by women who do not put an explicit price tag on sexual access—women that prostitutes often refer to as "civilians"—which creates a double-layered game theory problem from the male perspective. The first is both intuitive and straightforward—what does a guy have to do in order to get laid? Every society, both historical and contemporary, has an entire array of commentary dedicated to answering this question, which always boils down to articulating the procedure of increasing a man's SMV (i.e. "sexual market value"). However, this is only half of the problem with which men must contend, and arguably the least severe half, too, for once a man finally convinces a woman to sleep with him, what happens then? The problem of sexual deprivation leaves completely unaddressed the question of a woman's proclivities for pathological behavior.

For the sake of simple illustration, let us provisionally suppose a modern urbanite context wherein a woman has not demanded a monogamous relationship from a man as a prerequisite for sexual access. By definition, sex with a civilian woman is a situation in which the lines between fornication and feelings are blurred, even when there is explicit communication about sexual non-exclusivity, which is also fertile ground for a woman to weaponize sex and thereby purposefully and objectively worsen the circumstances of anyone around her. Specifically, sex with a civilian woman fundamentally compromises a man's ability to discontinue interactions with her once the situation becomes untenable. She will either explicitly or implicitly demand an explanation for breaking correspondence, which can become increasingly difficult depending upon 1) how much information this civilian woman knows about the man in question, or 2) how mentally unstable she might be. These tendencies toward obsession, stalking, or taking pleasure in inflicting suffering upon others generate well-known colloquialisms like, "don't stick your dick in crazy," which can certainly be humorous, but fundamentally miss the evolutionary forces at play within these dynamics.

Reliable birth control is less than a century old, which is less than a microblip on the timescales across which evolution transpires. Consequently, the bodies of human females—or rather, the genetic coding that governs their function—have no idea that such birth control even exists. This suggests that, when sexual intercourse occurs, it has no mechanism to calculate whether the chances of pregnancy are low or high. For all the body knows, now that sex is present, impending fertilization must therefore be immanent, which then floods the female brain with command signals to do whatever it takes to keep her sexual partner within close proximity in order to ensure that she has protection in the extremely vulnerable state that is pregnancy. Furthermore, these are not conscious processes. Even if a civilian woman verbally agrees to "no strings attached" sex, with clearly articulated reasons for prioritizing this option, these are the ancient evolutionary forces that operate silently and inexorably below the surface of a woman's logical and rational consciousness. Additionally, women who are particularly neurotic (i.e. prone to negative emotions) and are not firmly oriented toward the question of what is best are essentially incapable of fornicating without attachment. Nine times out of ten, these women will spiral into an abyss wherein she will do whatever she deems necessary to keep the man that her body has physically identified as her "mate" trapped within her metaphorical web. It is this evolutionary incentive to ensare—or rather, acquiescing to that incentive—that enables pathological women, especially if they command any degree of sexual allure or prowess, to easily and utterly destroy the life and wellness of an unsuspecting man, and the entrapment typically demarcates the beginning of the horrors that predictably follow.

Because this inquiry began an investigation into the default solution to sexual deprivation, the problem of coercing a man into marriage is not necessarily obvious. The tradcon skeptic may retort that these concerns are dramatically exaggerated, because, after all, now that the man in question is dutifully married, he has a respectable and reliable avenue to satiate his sexual needs. However, one must remain vigilant against this type of intellectual subterfuge, because the central danger at play here is the machinations of pathological women specifically. A woman who is able and—most crucially—willing to satisfy all of her husband's sexual needs is usually not one given to weaponizing sexual allure and/or fictitious innocence to seduce a man into impregnating and marrying her. Conversely, women who do have these proclivities will often—after the passage of a few years in marriage—become sexually frigid and rarely, if ever, allow her husband to touch her. These women use sex to trap their targets and then transform sex into a tool to torture them, which leaves the men caught in these types of circumstances with one of three devastating options—seek sex outside of the marriage, file for divorce, or functionally become a eunuch.

The first option is risky not only because of the massively stressful social fallout that can occur when the mistress or temporary "side-chick" starts behaving erratically—one can easily envision the ugliness of such a woman showing up to a man's workplace screaming and shouting, contacting the man's wife, threatening suicide, etc—but also because of the enormously compromised legal position in which he will find himself should his wife take him to divorce court with documented evidence of his sexual infidelity. This, naturally, leads to the second option, which is also extremely risky, because even if a man preemptively files to divorce his sexually unaccommodating wife before he engages in any type of sexual indiscretion, the divorce courts of the West so heavily skew in favor of the woman that he risks losing custody of his children, his property, and a significant portion of both his current and future finances. Lastly, requiring no proactive course of action whatsoever, the ensnared husband might just resign himself to the life of a eunuch because he sees no way out of his circumstances, but that is consigning oneself to a level of torture that no man ought to endure—a torture that, decades into his "marriage," will leave him utterly stripped of his youth, his fortune, and his sexual confidence.

From this broad perspective, the function of prostitution as an alternative to this precarious landscape—dominated by civilian women and serving as the default solution to the problem of sexual deprivation—ought to be readily understandable. Of course, it is entirely possible for men to get lucky and stumble upon a civilian woman in the proverbial "wild" who is both sexually accommodating and disinterested in demanding extra concessions or causing problems. But satiating sexual thirst is not a singular event, and a strategy that relies upon getting lucky (no pun intended) is the very definition of gambling, and like all forms of gambling, it only takes one loss in order to lose big.

In response to this, many men online have begun to popularize the phrase "monk mode," which refers to voluntary male celibacy in order to pursue self-improvement, meaningful work, and protect oneself against the dangers of seeking sexual reprieve in the Russian roulette nightmare that is the civilian sexual marketplace. However, saying "I just won't seek sex" as a solution to sexual deprivation is just as misguided as saying "I just won't eat food" as a solution to hunger, or "I just won't take a shower" as a solution to filth. To be sure, one can certainly survive without eating or bathing, but the notion that day-to-day life will remain functional in any legitimate sense under such conditions is preposterous. Nature places within man a need for a woman who enthusiastically welcomes him between her legs, who ache for his warmth, power, and the strength and security that he brings her, thereby carnally confirming with her own body that he is worthy of replication. Whether or not the sex actually produces children is irrelevant to this point, not only because our physical bodies have yet to evolve an awareness of birth control's existence, but also because, at a rhetorical level, the ability to be sexually dominant with a woman who is licentiously eager for him is a deep part of what it means to be a man.

Having mentioned earlier that "monk mode" is a woefully misguided response to the problem of sexual deprivation, it is extremely important to understand why this type of MGTOW (i.e. "men going their own way") sloganeering is also incontrovertibly dangerous. Sexual starvation does not just render a man's ambitions inert, like removing logs from a bonfire. It actively compromises a man's ability to avoid decisions that are detrimental to his interests. It makes him extremely vulnerable to women who will use sex to compel him to do things that he otherwise would not do. To make matters even worse, this vulnerability is not private. It does not take very long in the context of a social setting for a woman to ascertain—at least at the level of unarticulated knowledge—which men carry this sex-deprived vulnerability and roughly to what degree. "Monk mode" is a form of hubris that can easily lead to tragedy because it causes men to overestimate their own strength. Consistent access to hedonistic sex inoculates men against female manipulation, because the primary tool that enables such manipulation to happen no longer has any unique effect. Therefore, the consistent access to sexual variety that prostitutes can offer to men without any of the dangers of entrapment constitutes an enormously important alternative to the civilian sexual marketplace, which gives rise to colloquialisms like, "a man does not pay a prostitute for sex, he pays a prostitute to leave." However, turning to the free market forces of monetized sexual access, while certainly less risky than the civilian marketplace, is not without its own perils.

Firstly, it is important to note that not all of the risk profiles associated with seeking out prostitutes arise from pernicious conspiracy. If a man allows his sexual deprivation to compound over an extended period of time, but his financial resources can only afford infrequent visits to a prostitute, then the precariousness of his circumstances is no different from a man who neglected his bodily health, allowing himself to collect an ever growing assortment of festering ailments and diseases, but does not have the money to purchase the extensive medical attention that he requires. Like with all things, desperation undermines one's ability to find the best possible deal or arrangement, but in addition to this, like the man with the broken body who desperately needs the attention of a physician, the sexually downtrodden man stands to suffer enormously should he, in his frail and compromised position, fall into the hands of a prostitute who does not embody that her principle function—the essential metric that determines whether she is performing her job correctly—is the alleviation of male suffering, which would be the sex work equivalent of a charlatan doctor (i.e. a "quack").

The whores' counterpart to quackery manifests in a variety of different ways, but the end result is always the same—he will derive zero satisfaction from the sex he paid so dearly to receive. In the best case scenario, it will be as if no sexual act had even transpired. This most often happens when prostitutes are either completely jaded, completely disinterested in their work, or both. These are women who operate under the misapprehension that a woman's vagina is functionally indistinguishable from a fleshlight. These are women who will just lay on the bed, unmoving like a dead fish, waiting for her client to ejaculate as soon as possible so that the session may end as equally soon, and the probability that a man beleaguered by sexual deprivation will leave even more frustrated than when he went in is inordinately high. This is the sex work equivalent to outright medical malfeasance, and it is the most easily enacted scam in the prostitution world, because the client typically has no way to ascertain what will happen until after the money has already left his hands.

Adjacent to these women are the class of prostitutes that I entitle the "fakers." These are women who understand that there ought to be some kind of performative aspect to the purchase, but that is all it ever remains for them—a performance. There is never any authentic enthusiasm for the sexual activity, and its absence is—in the vast majority of instances—glaring obvious to the man paying to be with her. To be sure, there do exist prostitutes who are genuinely enthusiastic about getting railed by their clients, but the epistemic problem has always been that they are often indistinguishable from the quacks pre-purchase. Furthermore, it is important to note that competent whores, like competent doctors, are not miracle workers. One visit to an excellent prostitute will not unilaterally undo years of sexual deprivation anymore than one visit to a prestigious physician will undo years of degenerative illness and disease. Both require time to enact a healing process demanded by the severity of the situation at hand. However, the problems of incompetence almost seem trivial when one compares them to the problems of purposeful malpractice—viz. cruelty.

When a sick delight in vengefully making men suffer possesses a prostitute, any consideration of using sex to ameliorate male suffering evaporates, and a singular concern to make "easy money" by maximizing her profits and minimizing her efforts replaces it. Unfortunately, roughly 60-75% of the prostitutes that I have encountered in the legal brothels of Nevada actively spout some type of man-hating rhetoric when there are no customers on the premises. I have heard prostitutes say directly—and I quote—"I hate men," and openly discuss their desires to financially drain men for all they have. These are women who I have personally witnessed badger the clientele to "bring all the money you have, including all of your credit cards." There was one instance in particular when I saw a prostitute bully a visibly downtrodden gentleman by harassing him to continue drinking to the point of extreme intoxication when he made it repeatedly clear that he was not interested in getting drunk—an event that disgusted me so much that I had to leave the brothel parlor when it occurred. However, the examples of malicious malpractice only continue to get worse from here, and there is one story in particular that springs to mind.

Early on, when I first started working in the brothels, there was one prostitute in particular who arrived shortly after I began my tenure there. She was a gorgeous Francophone with an exquisite body and caustic European wit. In the context of my other writings, I have alluded to my history of lesbian activity, which had flowered into a sort of apex during the years that long preceded my entry into prostitution, but the arrival of this Arcadian siren demarcated a pronounced resurgence of my licentious desire for women in an explicitly sexual environment, and my gravitation toward her soon took an a whimsically romantic component as well. Although she came to this particular brothel after me, she had already been working as a prostitute at one of the other legal brothels in the northern part of the state for a few months, so sales procedure was never unclear to her. It was within this context that she approached me with a proposition. A client had come to the brothel and expressed to her an interest in a threesome, which in turn had prompted her to ask if I would be interested in participating. The sales number she proposed to me by itself well justified my involvement, and given the totality of the circumstances surrounding my growing infatuation, I of course jumped at the prospect of being able to have sexual intercourse with her, and the fact that the gentleman who was purchasing our holes for the hour was himself attractive and roughly our age only made things even better, but herein lay the first snag.

Prior to inviting me into the sale, she had indeed told the client that his money would him a full hour, but when we filled out our sales tickets at the brothel booking window, she told me to write down 45 minutes, which is what she was writing on hers. The discrepancy between what she promised the client and what we were actually selling him was not something she told me until the payment was already processed and we were walking back to the room where the threesome was to unfold. In my practice, it is standard operating procedure to have the client immediately join me in the room where he is to sexually have me; however, the francophone instructed the client o wait at the bar, ostensibly to allow the two of us to go "prepare the room." During this time, she began to ask me whether I had toys—like vibrators or dildos—that I could bring into the session. At first, I thought she was asking because these were things that sexually excited her. However, much to my dismay, I soon realized that she was trying to find ways to waste time and thereby reduce the amount of bona fide penetrative sex that could transpire, which—from the perspective of a whore who actually enjoys men—is completely absurd, because even if her objective was to minimize sexual effort, it's a threesome. It would be far less work to just let the man keep fucking me rather than proactively dildo diddle me in order to prolong the voyeurism.

Overall, I found myself in a difficult situation because, at the time, I was still relatively new to prostitution, and this was, after all, a sale that had come through her; so I simply defaulted to just letting her take charge. Physically, our client was a marvelous specimen of masculine virility, with a robust constitution and an equine phallus of commensurate proportion and vigor. However, his mental faculties somewhat resembled that of an imbecile, so the francophone's underhanded subterfuges were thankfully lost on him. Hence, his satisfaction as a paying customer was taken care of by the fact that he was able to make the two of us moan and scream like pornstars, which were by no means performative given his proportions. There was a kind of poetic justice in watching a man so long and thick shove himself into her as she lay screaming on her back, his thrusts unrelenting. She had gone into this session to scam this man out of his purchase, and it ended with him sticking his fingers into her open mouth, calling her a "good girl" while her feral howling reverberated off the walls, punctuated by the collision of his enormous size ramming into her like an iron piston.

At the end of that threesome, we were both physically spent. When done correctly, something mystical can bind two women to one another when they are had together by the same man—and as such, I wound up passing the rest of the evening with her in her bed, wrapped in each other's arms; but unfortunately, the sexual intimacy was not to last.

Roughly a week later, the francophone would launch into a public tirade and berate me in front of everybody present in the brothel during a house-wide weekly meeting with the brothel owner, accusing me—in a public setting, no less—of undercutting her business by offering lower prices than her, which—as anyone who has read my previous articles will undoubtedly notice—is a patently absurd complain to make, because we as licensed prostitutes are the ones who set our own prices without external interference. Beyond the blatant unprofessionalism, it became unambiguously clear to me that my sentiments toward her were not reciprocated. After her vicious outburst, I took her aside privately and insisted that, if she had a problem with something I was doing, she should come speak to me one-on-one in the future. Suffice to say, my displeasure was enormous, and I immediately suspended any and all attempts to be close to her.

I think that she belatedly realized that she could weaponize her sexual allure against me, similar to what she could do with men, for she invited me to spend the night with her in her room again a few days after our confrontation, but I did not acquiesce. By then, it was too late. The unethical nature of her character was clear, and she was trying to curry favor without having to alter her pathological behavior. It would be the last time she would try to woo me with sex.

I recount this story to demonstrate the dangers of whores who surreptitiously wield their sexuality as weapons to achieve unscrupulous ends. Because I am a woman, I am shielded from these underhanded machinations to a certain degree, because these conniving whores are typically unaccustomed to using sex to target other women, because the game theory objectives are somewhat different in comparison to men. Even still, the damage that sex workers can inflict extends far beyond a unilateral consideration of losing money—a concern that holds true for both men and women. Case in point, one of the managers directed a young, Oriental prostitute to seek out my advice, because the latter informed the former of similar malpractice in a threesome booking with another villainous prostitution on the premises—the one who pushed alcohol on the gentleman who did not want to get drunk. Apparently, she too sought to subvert the sexual experience, drawing out the session as much as possible to run out the timer. In fact, the subterfuge was so egregious that the client did not even get an opportunity to penetrate the young Oriental, who—disturbed at the fact that she was getting coerced into participating in an unethical scam—found herself in a very similar situation to what happened with me and the francophone. Unfortunately, unlike my client, this poor gentleman knew exactly what was happening. He left the brothel without even having achieved sexual climax, utterly disappointed and frustrated.

At this juncture, I wish I could simply provide a checklist of things to do in order to help men sure that they do not fall prey to unscrupulous whores who have no interest in actually providing deep and legitimate sexual satisfaction. I wish there existed a way to reliably vet prostitutes with epistemic certainty, but the fact of the matter is—the status quo of the legal brothel world as it currently exists in the state of Nevada is set up against those who aspire to provide excellence within this field. The business practices are frozen in time—ossified responses to a legal framework that has not budged for decades, thereby rewarding lazy stagnation over proactive innovation. The examples of this ossification are so numerous that they could easily fill an entire article on their own. Upon further reflection, that is a subject about which I will probably need to extensively write in the future, for the people who suffer greatly on account of these problems are the legions of weary men who ought to be able to find sexual reprieve without having to navigate an invisible booby trap. In lieu of that exposition, it is important to note that this ecosystem of problems is precisely the reason why my involvement with Erotica Sinica has progressively grown over time. When I first signed on with Erotica Sinica, my principal concern was how this organization could help improve the efficiency of my business. Now, as my understanding of Erotica Sinica's entrepreneurial mission has deepened over the years, it has become clear to me that this is the only organization in the entire sex industry that is trying to erect a comprehensive infrastructure from outside the current business models that would be able to dispel the epistemic uncertainties of purchasing sex from a prostitute. This also explains why I seek to put forth this material, both in terms of writing as well as pornography—I want men to accurately know what they can expect when they come to see me. But ultimately, these are intermediary measures against entrenched sex work pathologies. Ergo, the sooner that Erotica Sinica's operations can achieve critical mass, the sooner these ossified pathologies can dissipate.

My experience as a prostitute indicates that a man's capacity for greatness is intricately tied to his need for sex—great ambition requires great satiation. Despite the fact that my earliest sexual inclinations were towards women—and the fact that there was a period during my young adulthood wherein I actively considered the possibility that I was exclusively a lesbian—there have been multiple times in my sex work career when I have been overcome by the beauty of men and male achievement. Returning back to an allegorical comparison with the Aes Sedai, this is something that the Green Ajah appears to uniquely understand and actively cultivate when compared to their colleagues. It's worth noting that even in The Wheel of Time narrative—the director would later explain—when the Warders undergo the magical spell that binds them to an Aes Sedai, they functionally become super soldiers. They become faster, stronger, and more resilient against fatigue and ailments than a normal human man, which—combined with their world-class expertise with the sword—transforms them into an army of Myrmidons (i.e. the shock troops that Achilles leads under his direct command in The Illiad) that ensures the physical safety and interests of the White Tower. After having their men suddenly taken from them during the Time of Madness, the Green Ajah has cultivated and preserved an institutional understanding that the greatness of male achievement is a rising tide that lifts all boats, which is why they rightfully look upon the Red Ajah's man-hating ideology as a deeply dangerous form of hubris. If women are to reliably benefit from male achievement, then men must be free to embody the reaching for eternity that drives their ambition in all aspects of their existence, which is why the sexual component is inescapable. The Green Ajah appear to be unique in their understanding that a man's drive to thrust himself into a woman's body is not just an attempt to physically implant himself into her, but an attempt to metaphorically implant himself into the future, and given the enormous regard that the women of the Green Ajah have for the fruits of heroic male accomplishment when it is actually accessible, it makes completely logical sense why they—despite the enormous supernatural power and prestige that they themselves wield—willingly and constantly offer their bodies to the Warders for sexual use and gratification. This is fundamentally what Alanna Mosvani means when she says that to be Green is to "love men"—to recognize the absolute indispensability of great men to keep the all-consuming forces of Chaos at bay—and I know of no better allegory for the role of a whore who actually seeks to improve the world.