Business in Bed

Really, the only reason to work as a whore would be to work from your bed. You know those days when the sheets are satiny soft with repeated washings, and the sun comes streaming through your window all day, and your DVDs are ripe for the plucking? Actual work-work seems so tedious, so banal in comparison. I mean, really, you could just tell your client to scoot over while you watch South Park. Now that's cutting edge: a whore who just wants to watch TV. A Netflixistute. A Tivho.

Everyone says that once married, "bed" goes out the window. I wouldn't know; I got engaged to a pencil but broke it off. What do you want? The laptop was hotter. And since we've met, it's often in bed with me. Writing. Naked.

Anyway, my house of ill repute could refer to that it's actually the one place where you can pay to NOT get fucked. I'll pour you coffee, I'll hit the play button, but we won't play, get it? See: it pays to actually be in a relationship with me, rather than attempt commerce. Comes with English muffins! Toasted! Butter!

What am I saying here? I'm saying that being a working girl shouldn't have to involve working or girl. I'm saying I've got to save it up for when I go out. Reference "Just Two Things." (Scroll down.) Remember? I'm not a paid escort, I'm a WRITER and ACTRESS.

But if by hooker you mean that you pay me to not do what you say you're paying me for, then I'm game to be that person I'm not for as long as it takes for me to not do what I won't. And if by red light district you mean the shine on my shoes, why thank you. They look almost as good as my...