Most of my ideas come from dreams — at least, the seed of my stories. Last night, I had another unusual sex dream which might show up in a story.
Being a dream, it makes very little sense in reality, but the setup was this: I was in a conference center, and there was some kind of sexuality conference going on. One of the “panels” was… interaction with sex workers, sex included. Of all kinds. There were two cozy, dim, low-ceilinged rooms with a collection of student lounge type velour-covered armchairs and loveseats, and about 15 attendees milled around in them, waiting for the sex workers to show. I was an attendee, but I was also a reporter, maybe a blogger. All I remember is that I was there in some kind of official capacity and carried a small camera.
The sex workers entered, and to my shock, there was quite a variety — almost like circus folk. Men, women, but also a midget and two young teens (!), a boy and a girl who were maybe around 14. I was quite disturbed when one of them came on to me. Still recovering, I incoherently refused any hands-on demonstration, and didn’t know what to think when he got offended. I think he actually said, “I’m not man enough for you?”
Waving him off, I drifted through the rooms, looking for someone to talk to. I almost tripped over two white pod-like sleeping bags, from which emerged two flushed women who had obviously been masturbating together.
All of a sudden, I wanted to have sex with a sex worker, too. A built black tattooed man caught my eye, but I was specifically looking for a woman. Then, I woke up, thinking “wtf?”
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