73-year-old escort reveals the grossest request she’s ever had from a client

“It Wasn’t the Sex That Shocked Me”: A 73-Year-Old Escort Reveals the Grossest Request She Ever Received

At 73, Margaret has heard just about everything.

She’s been called beautiful, disgusting, sacred, invisible, powerful, and replaceable—sometimes all in the same week. She’s listened to confessions whispered in the dark, absorbed loneliness like a sponge, and watched men cry with their heads in her lap. She’s seen bodies in every possible state of decay and desire. She’s worked through decades of changing laws, shifting morals, and evolving fantasies.

So when she says one request stands out as the grossest she’s ever received, it’s worth listening.

“It wasn’t sexual in the way people imagine,” Margaret says, sipping tea in her small apartment filled with plants and old books. “That’s the part that still turns my stomach.”

Margaret (not her real name) has been an escort for over 40 years. She began in her early thirties, after a divorce left her with two children and few financial options. What started as a temporary solution became a long-term profession—one she approached with pragmatism, boundaries, and an almost anthropological curiosity.

“I’ve always said this work teaches you more about men than any psychology degree,” she laughs. “And sometimes, unfortunately, about humanity in general.”

A Career Built on Boundaries

Contrary to popular imagination, Margaret’s career wasn’t defined by nonstop sexual extremes. Most clients, she says, wanted something far simpler: companionship, validation, the feeling of being wanted without having to earn it.

“Men paid me to listen,” she says. “To tell them they were okay. That they were enough.”

Over the years, Margaret developed firm rules. No violence. No humiliation aimed at her personally. No illegal activities. No requests involving other people without consent. And no requests that made her feel less like a human being.

“That last one is hard to explain,” she adds. “You know it when you feel it in your gut.”

Most clients respected her boundaries. Some tried to push them. A few walked away when she said no. That was part of the job.

But one request, made by a man who seemed utterly ordinary, crossed a line she didn’t even know existed.

“He Didn’t Want Me. He Wanted What I Represented”

Margaret remembers the client clearly, despite it being over a decade ago.

“He was clean, polite, well-dressed. Middle-aged. A professional type,” she recalls. “The sort of man you wouldn’t look at twice.”

He booked a longer session and arrived on time. No red flags at first. They exchanged pleasantries. He complimented her home. He seemed nervous.

Then, carefully, almost academically, he explained what he wanted.

“He didn’t ask me to do anything sexual,” Margaret says. “He asked me to be something.”

The request involved her age, her body, and her perceived proximity to decline and death. He wanted her to play a role that stripped her of dignity, agency, and humanity—not through physical acts, but through symbolism.

“He wanted me to represent something decaying. Something shameful. Something he could project his disgust onto.”

Margaret pauses before continuing.

“It was about control, but not in the usual way. He wanted to use me as a stand-in for everything he feared becoming.”

Why It Felt So Gross

Margaret has fulfilled plenty of unconventional fantasies over the years. Age gaps. Power dynamics. Emotional roleplay. None of that bothered her.

“This was different,” she says quietly. “Because it wasn’t about desire. It was about contempt.”

The man wasn’t aroused by her. He was aroused by the idea of reducing her.

“He spoke about my age like it was a disease. Like I was already halfway to the grave,” she recalls. “And he wanted me to agree with him. To confirm it.”

What disturbed her most wasn’t the content of the request, but the emotional labor it demanded.

Continue reading…