There's this weird thing that happens when clients realize I'm trans. Some of them get weird. Not all, but enough that I've developed this sixth sense about how interactions are gonna go.
Most trans sex workers know exactly what I mean. The moment someone's energy shifts from casual interest to some performative fascination or, worse, total fetishization. I'm not here to be your educational moment or sexual curiosity. I'm a professional who happens to be trans.
My rates are the same as any other worker in my tier. My skills are the same. But somehow clients think they get to negotiate differently with me. Like my identity is some kind of discount card or extra service menu.
The regulars who respect me? They're gold. They treat me like a person. They understand transness isn't a spectacle. It's just part of who I am. Those clients become repeat bookings, good references. They understand discretion and mutual respect.
Safety is always the first calculation. Always. Every trans sex worker I know has her own risk assessment matrix that's way more sophisticated than cis workers need. We read rooms differently. We watch body language differently. We survive differently.
Just another Tuesday in London, yeah?