There are only a handful of moments from that time in my life that still stop me in my tracks. Most of it, I look back on like scenes from a movie—distant, blurry around the edges. But not this one. This one’s sharp.
I found out one of my former clients had been arrested. Not for something petty, either. He was accused of drugging women, taking them home, and raping them. Multiple charges. When I saw his mugshot on the arrest site, my whole body went cold.
It wasn’t just any client. He was someone I’d spent real time with. Not a one-and-done. He was the owner of an adult club out in Rancho Cordova, California. Big name in that world. Polished. Put-together. Former competitive bodybuilder—body like a damn statue. Extremely sexy. The kind of man who walked in a room and had everyone’s attention without saying a word.
We had conversations—like real ones. I felt comfortable around him. Trusted him. He came off respectful, kind even. Lonely sometimes. We’d talk for hours like old friends. I used to think, “If more of them were like him, this job would be easier.”
Then boom—his face, staring back at me from a screen, with charges that made my stomach turn.
It rattled me. Because I never saw it coming. Not even a whisper of it. Nothing in his voice or touch or energy ever gave me reason to second guess him. And I pride myself on reading people. But he? He fooled me.
That’s when it hit me just how dangerous charm can be. How evil can wear a flawless smile and a perfect body. How we want to believe someone attractive and generous and well-spoken is safe—but none of that means a damn thing.
It made me question everything. My judgment. My instincts. My safety.
And the scariest part? I realized how easily that could’ve been me. All the hours I spent alone with him… just one shift in mood, one wrong night, and I could’ve ended up a story on the same site I read about him.
I never worked with him again. But I think about that experience a lot. Not because I want to, but because it changed me. It made me more guarded. Less likely to believe the nice ones. And more aware that I was playing a game that didn’t always have rules.
Some people ask how I stayed in the life after something like that. Truth is—I was already in deep. But I moved different after that. Smarter. Colder. More like a businesswoman than a girl looking for connection.
He taught me that lesson. Without ever laying a hand on me.
And I won’t forget it.
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