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"Cherry- 23, Size D, Lightskin, Specialties: Blowjobs, Lap Dances"

That's what you see next to my picture on the "Intimate Fantasies" website. It's all bullshit, honestly. My name is Kali. I'm 26, I'm actually a 34C in bra sizes but when horny rich guys see the "D" they're more inclined to buy.

I am a high end escort, as one might say. Old rich white men call my pimp and arrange a meeting place and talk about the money situation. Even though they pay thousands of dollars to have sex with me, I only get a few hundred when the job is done. Why? Well, let's just say I thoroughly read contracts from now on.

I live in a shitty one bed, one bath in Brooklyn. One the side of being an escort, I write stories. Ones about underdogs who get themselves to the top. I want that to be me. I post my stories online where anyone can read them. And as a matter of fact, the New York Times offered me article space in their next edition.

Of course I wanted I accept, but it stipulates in my Intimate Fantasies contract that I can't take up work from other employers, or else I would be revoked off all profits from the last year. So yeah, it's a pretty fucked up system.

But I'm getting out. I'm going to march to the big mans office, put my foot down, and demand my two weeks. How hard could it be, right? No strings attached..

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