During our nightly phone chat, I opened up to Landon about what happened at the restaurant.
“I had a bit of a panic attack tonight while performing. That’s never happened to me before.”
“Are you okay? What did it feel like?”
“I’m okay now. It just felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was trapped in my own body with nowhere to run. I think I’ve been bottling my feelings up, and they finally turned against me.”
He didn’t immediately respond.
“Your feelings about me…about my past?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’ve been really trying hard not to think about what you used to do, but it’s been like an ever-present ghost following me around anyway.”
“As much as I don’t want to, I think we really need to talk about it.”
There was no other answer for me to give him except, “I agree.”
“Please, just ask me whatever you want to know. Rip the Band-Aid off. Let’s just get it all out there so we can deal with it. That’s the only way you’re going to know whether it’s something you can look past or not.”
I knew the questions in my mind; I just didn’t want to necessarily know the answers. But this limbo couldn’t go on forever. So, I took advantage of the open floor he was giving me tonight and just started shooting off my questions.
“You said these women were all married?”
“Yes. Each one. But for the most part, they were in bad marriages, either open relationships, or the spouse was cheating, too. Sadly, I’m finding that’s pretty common among some of the wealthy people here—so many getting divorced or having affairs.”
My next question was perhaps the hardest one to ask, but I still had to know. “Did you ever…enjoy it?”
He exhaled. “I love sex. You know that. There’s probably nothing more that I love doing. But there’s a big difference between having sex with someone you choose versus someone who’s using you and vice versa. The idea of the latter repulses me now. But at the time, I would just zone out, detach myself from the situation. While I can’t say I enjoyed it, I can’t say I hated it, either. In the moment, it never felt like I was being used, never made me sick like it does now.”
“Were they all attractive…like Carys?”
“These were wealthy women who knew how to take care of themselves, so yeah, they were all attractive, not women I would have chosen for myself, but they were attractive, nonetheless. I couldn’t have done it if the person repulsed me.” When I stopped talking for several seconds, he asked, “Are you okay?”
My emotions were all over the place, and at one point, I lost my composure a bit. “God, Landon, how could you let them take advantage of you like that?”
“I was lost—depressed. Some people turn to drugs or cutting, other forms of self-harm. I turned to using my body but managed to convince myself it wasn’t that bad because I was benefitting financially. The way I saw it, I was doing it in fancy, private places on my own terms, not selling myself on the street to just anyone. On the best day, I had myself convinced that it wasn’t really prostitution, that it was something else. I didn’t account for the fact that a little piece of my soul was being stripped away each time, and that it would all eventually hit me at once. I also didn’t take into account that I would have to look into your eyes someday and admit to you that I sold my body. I wasn’t thinking…period.”
I pondered whether what he did was really all that different than my having sex as a teenager with boys who were using me. Sure, they weren’t paying me, but they were using me just the same.
Over the next hour, as painful as it was, I kept asking Landon question after question. I didn’t want to have to talk about the details ever again, so I made sure every bit of morbid curiosity was satisfied. He was being so amazingly open with me, even though I knew it was really difficult for him.
Among other things, he told me that most of the women wanted more than just missionary sex. They asked him to play into their bad boy fantasies, things like being slapped, sworn at, called a slut, or screwed from behind while having their hair pulled—things their husbands didn’t do. One woman even asked him to piss on her. I couldn’t believe he was admitting all of this to me, but in a way, it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to wonder about any of it anymore. It was basically the ugly truth, but at least it was the truth.
It freaked me out a little, because as he was telling me some of this stuff, I found myself getting turned on. It was a natural reaction to my imagination putting Landon into any kind of sexual scenario.