“I slowly moved towards the stairs, checking my breath,
fixing my hair, moving all my valuables into zippered
hidden pockets in my bag. As I reached the top of the first
landing, I noticed that the colors of the walls did not
change, the building did not get nicer and there was a
distinct medical/nursing home vibe to it. Pale hospital
green walls surrounded me. There were dirty trays of halfeaten
food outside doors, American flags hanging on the
walls, tattered paper candy canes on doors, doors left wide
open with televisions blasting, but not a person in sight. I
held my head up and got ready to assume my dominant
persona: Josh the fisting power top. Josh wouldn’t not let
this shit get to him. Josh would command the space, he
would pound his Timberland boots down the hall and let
his presence be known. Most importantly I WAS Josh and
I was not going to let the color of a wall and a strange
building that smelled like piss get to me.”
-
fixing my hair, moving all my valuables into zippered
hidden pockets in my bag. As I reached the top of the first
landing, I noticed that the colors of the walls did not
change, the building did not get nicer and there was a
distinct medical/nursing home vibe to it. Pale hospital
green walls surrounded me. There were dirty trays of halfeaten
food outside doors, American flags hanging on the
walls, tattered paper candy canes on doors, doors left wide
open with televisions blasting, but not a person in sight. I
held my head up and got ready to assume my dominant
persona: Josh the fisting power top. Josh wouldn’t not let
this shit get to him. Josh would command the space, he
would pound his Timberland boots down the hall and let
his presence be known. Most importantly I WAS Josh and
I was not going to let the color of a wall and a strange
building that smelled like piss get to me.”
-
- Josh Ryley
Read the rest of this story and more sex worker memoirs in Prose & Lore: Issue 1