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The last thing I want to do is move back in with my parents or my best friend. Unless I turn this around I might have to. I haven’t told a soul, but I’m nearly broke.
Yeah, yeah it doesn’t look like my neatly ironed linen pockets are full of lint. I know I have all the outward signs of success. I run my own business. I own my condo and car outright. FFS I graduated from an Ivy League school. But I can’t tell anyone what I do for a living or that my business is failing. If you keep it a secret, I’ll tell you.
I sell sex on the internet.
No, I’m not doing webcam work or anything like that, after all I’m from Connecticut. We Yankees like to keep it clean. I’m an adult webmistress. I made sexy websites that separate men from their hard earned money. And it was easy getting suckers, ahem, men to do that until free took over the web. Now my potential customers get off long before they pay for the good stuff. So my once booming business is suffering. If I don’t figure out something soon, I’ll be out on my butt because property taxes and car repairs don’t pay for themselves. So I'm going to hop on over L.A.'s hottest gay bar. There's gotta be some inspiration there, right?