The most ironic thing happened the other day.
2 days after I wrote the post about 'certain people make better stories...'
God went and rolled the perfect one to my door.
My day started off like any other; Summer waking me up like a banshee and me going through my missed calls and texts while lying in bed, refusing to stand up.
I message my suitors.
"Sorry I missed your call please call back to arrange xx"
One message in particular stood out;
"American Cassidy you're probably asleep right now so I hope you'll reply back eventually. I think your hot as fuck but you won't see me. Please organize a booking and I promise i'll be a regular every week for the rest of your days on Adultwork."
So, I reply
"Why won't I see you?"
"I think it's just bad timing, I seem to alas catch you at a bad time. But, I'm not a time waster Cass I go the money I am disabled I'm just looking for a time whether it's today or another day I can wait. Let me know when you're free."
It's kind of pathetic how many people find it necessary to claim hey will be a regular. Most claim it only to the feel they have the right to a 'discount'. I used to calmly reply, "You get a discount after the 4th booking" in my American Girl Next Door accent.
But now I'm just like
"Ew, No." click...
Anyway, I assumed this wannabe 'regular' would be like mos guys and not show up; so when he called to say he was running late and just waiting on a cab; I had to scatter.
I now ask all supposed 'dates' to call and let me know when they're 15 minutes away. This gives me time to fix the date room ( make bed, fabreeze etc) and get on some sexy underwear.
Summer-tyme, my roommate, needs 45 minutes- 1 hour to get ready. I think I was like that at one point, but quickly grew tired of getting ready for people who do't even show up.
My 15 minute scatter now over and done with I found myself catching my breath in the front hallway. A loose fitted long tank top covers the lime green bra, underwear and black hold-ups I have on.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I take one last deep breathe,
pull a smile;
and open the door.
Naturally, my gaze was fixated at eye level and then found it' way down, down until it met a young, handicapped man in a pretty hi-tech electric chair.
I was completely caught off-guard.
I stuttered while motioning to the stairs behind me.
"I didn't know..." I managed to get out.
Without hesitation, he began moving his upper body weigh forward, trying to get off the chair.
"It's ok, i'll manage' he said.
Still caught off guard; but awkwardly trying to help- I offer to bring his chair inside.
By this point he ha crawled inside. Due to his disability I wasn't really able to understand his speech just yet.
"No, the chairs fine" I managed to understand.
Thankfully, summer-tyme could hear me struggling and the obvious awkwardness of the situation.
"Do you want me to bring the chair in Cass?" Summer shouts from our dressing room/ sunbed room.
"yeah Please" I reply.
She emerges cheer and loud while I offer to guide him towards the stairs.
The amount of strength and strain required from his body to make his way over was hard to watch.
A) I'm a nurturing person by nature- so I want to help, even when people say 'i'm fine', which is what he was doing.
B) In my line of work, greeting someone and the first few minutes set the underlying vibe for the session.
C) I was super fucking stoned.
As he rested at the bottom of the stairs, I go to help Summer with the chair.
"Don't worry about the chair, it's heavy as fuck. It's locked too."
Summer, who moments before declared she was super women, admitted defeat and the char was abandoned on my door step.
So now, the whole street and anyone driving or walking by can see this chair.
It became quite clear the stairs wee not going to work out. Summer and I thought out loud together until we agreed to re-arrange the dressing room to accommodate since it was on the ground floor.
At the time I thought we were handling the situation quite well. But, looking back we wee running around like chickens with our heads cut of.
I continued trying to help guide him while he persistently told me he was fine using the walls to hold his own wight.
While Summer and I each take our own corner of a sheet and start making the bed she takes initiative to ask him the questions.
He opened up, telling us he was from Compton and living with family here. Due to his disability I hadn't noticed his accent. He was in his early 20's, dark skin, beautiful eyes and long eye lashes.