"You should be a porn star," my mother says. "You're so comfortable with nudity that you might as well get paid for it!"
My grandmother concurs with her.
These playful taunts weren't actual words of encouragement meant to propel me to porndom; rather, it was simply a funny response to an 8 year old with a propensity for nudity. Some people might protest that saying such things to an 8 year old was irresponsible, but in their defense I was a very open and curious child, and I made it obvious early that even though I didn't really know what porn was, I thought the mystique around it made it cool.
Fast forward 20 years and I've got a nice new pair of tits that I'm just raring to show.
The first time I ever put a nude online was last fall; I was browsing a certain image board that shall remain nameless (though I'm sure most will guess what it was) and stumbled upon a thread imploring trans* like myself to post lewds. I had yet to explore my sexuality since transitioning, and figured I'd give it a shot.
It went well.
If there were ever a moment that I would have given in to my base impulses and become the stereotypical out of control sex-addict porn star, it probably would have been then. The positive reinforcement from that experience was so alluring that I wanted to just throw everything else away and jump right into full-time sex work. Thankfully, logic prevailed; I finished the semester and kept myself busy with work. I started dating again around this time.
A few months went by and I decided to do porn some more; I got a twitter and started promoting myself. People were interested, and I was less gung-ho and more responsible. Other than my initial hyperfocus, I hadn't considered actually working for a studio, but rather just slutting around a bit on the internet. That all changed when I met Jazz.
No not that Jazz.
Jazz was a dominatrix and freelance porn star. We met at a new years party in Houston and discussed our experience with sex work; I was captivated by her tales and presence, and she took me under her wing to teach me what she affectionately referred to as Hoe Economics.
Rule one of Hoe Economics was always do stuff on your own terms; there are plenty of girls and guys who sell themselves short or do things they reallllly don't wanna do because they either don't know their worth or are desperate to make a name for themselves or just really need the money. At all costs, that pitfall was to be avoided.
Rule two was to always verify who you're shooting with; as I almost found out from experience, there are plenty of people who will talk themselves up most unscrupulously. Sometimes it's just a guy hoping to have a hot talk with a porn star. Sometimes it's because someone wants to kidnap or murder you. Either way, within the first five minutes of a conversation with a prospective producer or photographer, if you don't have deets than you ask for them. If they cant give you them, then bail.
Rule three was to always discuss payment ASAP. This goes along with rule two; it's really easy to forget this detail if you're speaking with a smooth enough talker. Jazz once had plans to shoot a hardcore set with a supposed big name, only to find out the day before he wasn't going to pay her until after the video had sold enough. That's a no-go, you're providing your time and labor, you get payed that day.
There were more rules, and I always thought that she should teach a class on this stuff. Utilizing the coveted skills of hoetry I learned, I secured a pro set with one of the most well known sites catering to transgender porn.
it's taking me a lot longer to find SFW pics than it should >>
Our story ends here for now, for a few reasons. The first is because the rest of the story approaches a topic that I know has already been discussed by someone I know and am close to; I don't wish to move into their territory while it's still being developed. Furthermore, I'd rather not ride in the wake that someone else created; if my story does well, I'd like it to be because it's genuinely interesting, not because it's touching a topic that was made hot by someone else.
Finally, I think ending the story here makes sense; this is the story of the large chunk of my life that led me to the day I'd take of my clothes for the whole world~
