My Space Orphan trilogy has sold very well (by my standards). Enough so I’m beginning to get a fair amount of online attention. Questions about sequels to my other six books. A few nasty emails which my spam filter mostly deletes before I see them. A few enquiries about being on con panels. And last week an email from a “fan” who says that for the low-low price of $400 an hour I can come to her apartment and have sex with her. How could any young woman who has seen the picture on my site’s bio page want to have sex with a man as old as me?!!
Turns out a college student at one of LA’s universities. She’s a part-time hooker. Curious, I spent the money for a date with her. Instead of a sex session in her apartment I turned it into lunch at a restaurant near the off-campus dorm where I met her. There I got her to talk about where she was born and grew up and her experiences in college. Then we returned to her apartment with 15 minutes to go on my hour.
She seemed in no hurry to end our session. Instead she casually removed all her clothing including underwear and sat on the couch talking as if she’d done nothing more consequential than removing her sweater.
I tried to hide my facial and other reactions though my voice surely betrayed me. When my hour was up she matter-of-factly suggested we spend a half hour having sex. Because she was such a fan of the trilogy the price would be $100, half her standard rate. I declined though I was tempted; she is gorgeous. Even with a condom I was leery at sharing her with perhaps dozens of other men.
Instead we talked while she sat perfectly comfortable in just her skin. I brought up all the usual condemnations of prostitution: its poisoning of sexual attitudes in many ways, its degradation of women, its support of patriarchy and trafficking, etc. In her third year at college the textbooks in her shelves included several feminist classics and textbooks for advanced physics and chemistry, drama, marketing, and video production. So I wasn’t surprised when she turned all my points aside with counter-points which were clear, concise, and occasionally witty.
After a while she became bored with the topic. She stood up and told me she had homework and must get to it, ending the discussion with a point she thought conclusive. When she graduated she’d have zero debt, a substantial bank account, and the luxury car parked outside her dorm.
And thus I had my first adventure in literary microcelebrity.