Transcript
Performer/Singer (0:09)
$0.10 a dance that's what they pay me Gosh, how they weigh me down 10 cents a dance Dandies and ruffles guys tough guys who tear my gown Seven to midnight I hear drums loudly the saxophone blow Trumpets are tearing my.
Interjecting Storyteller (0:53)
Eardrums.
Performer/Singer (0:56)
Customers crush my toes Sometimes I think I found my hero but it's a queer romance all that you need is a ticket Come on, big boy 10 cents a day.
Dixie (Podcast Host) (1:31)
Hey, everybody. Welcome to the Bodi Storytelling Podcast. This week, our theme is Turning Pro, about people who got their feet wet and learned on the job. Those jobs might include sex work. They might include domination and a few other things. So I think that by the end of this, you're gonna have learned a few things, too. We've all had that fantasy about what it's like to get paid for the best thing in the world. And these stories are about people who gave it a try, and we're gonna live vicariously through their true adventures. Our first story this week is from a collaboration show with the Risk podcast. When they were here in San Francisco a few years ago, and Alice pitched Kevin, Allison, and I a great story, and we loved it so much, we put it on stage. And this recording is from that night of stories. The theme of the night was secrets, and this storyteller is Alice Page.
Audience Member/Listener (2:42)
Wow.
Alice Paige (Storyteller) (2:45)
I moved to San Francisco about two years ago and very quickly realized that this is a very difficult city to survive in and that I needed a job that would pay a lot for relatively few hours of work. I moved here for graduate school.
Interjecting Storyteller (3:06)
So.
Alice Paige (Storyteller) (3:07)
Sex work seemed like a viable option. But I, however, had no desire to have sex with people for money or even not for money. Although I did feel it was time to put these puppies to work. And so a friend of mine suggested that I combine my love for misery with my desperate need for money into one profession. Becoming a dominatrix. Now, I have to say, I was intrigued. Getting to yell at men for a living and. And those fabulous heels they wear. So the same friend found me a job opening at a BDSM co op in Berkeley. Of course, where else? And I promptly submitted an application with all the necessary requirements. Two full body length photos, a description of why I wanted to do this job. I want to kick men in the balls for a living. Okay. I learned at the Folsom Street Fair that this is extremely fun. And my available times. I received an automatic response informing me that they had received hundreds of applications and if they wanted me, they would contact me. So in the meantime, I decided to do Some research on what exactly a BDSM co op would entail. See, I'm originally from Washington D.C. so I understood power play, but not quite the nuances of BDSM or how this would work in a co op situation. Aren't co ops for fresh vegetables, not whips? And would there be communal chores? Like, would taking out the trash take on a whole new meaning? Would I be punished if I didn't fulfill my duties? But the co op at least provided all the gear and the training. So I began to imagine what exactly the training would involve. Proper spanking techniques, safe words, appropriate levels of verbal abuse. I had never read Fifty Shades of Grey. Would this be required reading or absolutely not. The email also informed me that I must be available twice a week from 10am to 8pm 10am really? 10am I am not a morning person, so I'm barely just beginning to function by that time. But I had no idea that people were getting their kink on at 10am on a Tuesday. That is dedication. My morning routine usually consists of brushing my teeth, getting dressed, maybe if I'm lucky, shoving some food down my throat, hopefully getting myself to work or school on time. I had never considered eating my eggs with a side of corporal discipline. And meanwhile, I was able to find the co op website online and quickly discovered that I would in no way fit in here. All the women were 1950s pinup, glamorous, gorgeous, seductive, unique. Kind of like Dixie here, or like Betty. Meet Betty with an E. Betty engages in anal play, erotic role play, water play, switch play, sissy play. I had never heard of most of this play. I didn't know what it would involve, but I did think that it kind of sounded like the most fun I'd have since my recess days had ended. So lo and behold, a few days later, I received an email, a response email asking me if A I had any visible tattoos. No, we're good there. I'm Jewish, no problem. And B if I would be interested in scheduling a phone interview. And just a few days after that, I was on the phone with a British woman who described herself as the headmistress. I'm sorry my accent is so bad. Who probably began yelling at me for everything I said or didn't say say. Now I'm terrified of confrontation. Yeah, I know this seems completely contradictory to becoming a dominatrix, but just hear me out. I've had breakups that have lasted for years because I'm too afraid to confront the fact that I no longer want to be in the relationship and tell them that I need out. I have conversations with people on the bus that I miss my stomach because I can't stand to tell them that I can't listen to their life story anymore. But since moving to San Francisco and living in the damn tender knob area where I have seen more shit, literally and figuratively, than I ever care to admit, I've had to toughen up. But before, I was a huge softie. So as this British headmistress snarls at me on the phone, I suddenly realize this is probably part of the test. She's trying to see how I'll react as a future dominatrix. She's breaking me in, so I suddenly shriek at her.