Cauliflower, Elephants, and Stage Names: How It All Started

It all started when an acquaintance of mine, a flight attendant flying long-haul routes through Dubai, casually mentioned how she would spend her overnight layovers. She proudly confessed, “I landed, showered, met him at the Burj, went shopping the next day, flew home with two new handbags and with enough in my account to last me a whole year.”

She said it the way someone might talk about dropping off their dry cleaning, as if this lifestyle was simply an option. I eyed her beautiful new Chanel handbag, though that’s not what enticed me.

As I listened, I wondered whether there was a way to combine my love for physical intimacy with something slightly more practical, like buying weekly groceries for my cats and me, while also paying off student debt.

The following week, I was browsing a bookstore when I stumbled upon a book of real-life experiences from a call girl. Intrigued, I read it in one sitting, put it down, and immediately Googled “High-end companion agencies near me.” Before I could think twice, I emailed every single one in my city, shut my laptop, and went to bed, fully expecting to not hear back from any of them.

The next morning, I received an email from Tammy with a time to meet for an interview that Thursday. I was elated.

I smelled coffee in the air as I walked into the office building. Her email instructed me to check in at the front desk before waiting in the lobby. “I’m here to see Tammy,” the words spilled out.

It was a few minutes past 2 p.m., when Tammy was expecting me, so I used the time to look over my résumé. I read over my skills proudly, feeling more ready than ever for my interview. It was my first interview after graduating from university, and I was proud of how much time I had put into my cover letter and skills list.

Her assistant, Jeremy, popped into the waiting room, all smiles and small talk, and led me to Tammy’s office. He swung the door open, and she spun around in her chair to face us. The first thing I noticed was how glamorous she was. She had voluminous red hair and a plunging neckline that I stared at for far too long. I cleared my throat and set my folder on her desk in front of her, almost like an offering. She fluttered her long lashes at me and motioned for me to sit as Jeremy left the room.

“What’s this?” she asked, eyeing it.

I was excited, breathless, and launched into my rehearsed pitch. “I just graduated! Look, I’ve listed my parents as my references! I worked for my aunt’s dental office throughout university, so…” I stopped myself and pointed. “I’ve also listed her as a reference here. You can call her to verify my work experience!!”

She nodded, her eyes now on her computer screen, then asked dryly, “Preferred name?” as she started typing.

I beamed and tapped on my résumé. “My name’s right here! I have many nicknames, but you can call me by my full name.”

She stared at me for a moment and squinted. “No, honey… your model name.” I frowned. She looked perplexed and slightly annoyed. “You know… your provider name? What is it?”

I wasn’t sure. She tried again, “A stage name. Honey, what’s your stage name?”

I blinked. I didn’t have one. I didn’t know I had to have one prepared.

She let out a sigh, stood up, walked to the whiteboard on the wall, grabbed a marker, and began helping me through the process of picking a name. She asked if I had any ideas.

Meanwhile, I was fixated on the fact that she hadn’t even opened my résumé yet. I had always been praised for my customer service skills at the dental office. I wanted Tammy to know that. The patients would always bring me gifts - there was even one patient who came in every month with a homemade cheesecake just for me.

She snapped her fingers, pulling me out of my thoughts, and pointed to the whiteboard. I said, “Oh… well… I did this stripper name quiz online once. You know, your pet’s name plus the first street you lived on as a kid? So… that would be Papillon Ash! I can go by that, right?!”

As a kid, I had a dog named Papillon, which means butterfly in French. I thought it was cute. I smiled because I was certain Tammy would approve.

Her jaw dropped. “Whaaat?”

She shook her head and told me that was a poor suggestion. She was likely questioning every decision that had led her to call me in for an interview that day. I admired her figure as she stood in front of me, helping me come up with a stage name. After we finally landed on a name, she handed me a stapled packet to fill out while she typed up my new profile. I flipped through it and started filling out the likes and dislikes page. I wrote down “cauliflower” under dislikes and “elephants” under likes.

I filled out the rest and handed it back to her. She read silently, then sighed. “Honey… no, no, no. I need to know your physical likes and dislikes, like in the bedroom. I am not asking for your food or animal preferences. You know… a ‘dislike’ could be poor hygiene, and a ‘like’ could be generosity.”

She yelled for Jeremy to come into the room to tell him what I had written. They laughed, and he chimed in, saying that some clients might actually appreciate it as a refreshing change from the usual answers. She sighed again and told me she would leave “cauliflower and elephants” in my profile as a placeholder until I got back to her with the correct answers. Jeremy nodded at me before leaving the room.

Tammy then asked for photos. I scrolled through my camera roll and showed her family vacation pictures, you know, me in a bikini, with my family waving in the background. I asked if those would work.

Again, she looked annoyed. She started to say something, frowned, then shook her head and uploaded the photos anyway. She said they would suffice until I could schedule a photoshoot with her photographer. She asked if I wanted my face blurred in my bikini pictures. Since I didn’t know what that meant, she decided to blur them anyway (phew, thank goodness). I wondered why I had to blur my face, though, as it is what I am complimented on the most, but I complied.

The interview ended shortly after. She called Jeremy to lead me out, glancing up from her screen just long enough to say, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait, when will I know if I’m hired?” I blurted out as I stood up to leave.

She blinked slowly. “Uh… hired? You were hired from the moment you walked in, and I saw you. I mean, look at you. My clients will love you. Wanna start tomorrow?”

I had so many questions. “Oh, uh, thank you! Wait… what do I wear?”

She looked me up and down (I was wearing a simple, business-casual suit) and shrugged. “That’ll do.”

I was confused by her answer. I had thought I would have to wear a tight mini dress and stilettos - maybe that was just in the movies though. I started to walk out when she stopped me, took my body measurements with her eyes, noted them, then waved me away and went back to typing.

Jeremy grabbed my arm mid-question and whispered, “Just be confident. And whatever you do, don’t act new. You’ll be fine.”

The door shut behind me with my unopened résumé still sitting on her desk.

The next day, emails from Tammy started flooding my personal inbox (yes, the same one I used for family), each filled with client requests. I let them pile up, as I was too nervous to begin meeting with clients.

She must have sensed it, because she invited me to a meet-and-greet later that week, presenting it as a chance to mingle with other providers. I got to meet other girls like me? I didn’t have any friends in this world, and I was excited to make connections. I was still hesitant, but when I checked my mailbox later that day and saw a late notice from the student loan department, that was the only push I needed to attend Tammy’s party.

When the day of the party arrived, I showed up at the hotel wearing the same suit Tammy had approved during my interview, just with higher heels and some gold jewelry. Jeremy was waiting downstairs to bring me up to the penthouse suite. When I stepped inside, it was packed. Girls my age were dressed beautifully, men were in sharp suits, and I immediately felt out of place. I went to the bathroom to remove my ugly Hanes cotton grandma bra, stuffed it into my handbag, and applied some red lipstick. Though nobody could see it through my suit, I felt more confident with it off. I walked out to find Tammy standing there. She handed me a drink, gave me a quick tour, introduced me to a few people, and then disappeared, leaving me to figure it out.

After about twenty minutes, I was still feeling out of place, so I decided I would quietly make my exit.

I was weaving through the crowd to head out when I met him, someone who would become my first client.

Early 30’s and just over ten years older than me, he was the complete opposite of the stereotype I had naïvely imagined. He motioned for me to sit beside him on the couch, and we clicked instantly, like two people who had accidentally found each other at a cozy house party.

He confessed he had been out of the dating world for over a decade, deep in a long relationship that ended with a broken engagement. I listened as I admired the stunning watch on his wrist.

I was intrigued.

We discussed our shared passions, particularly our mutual affection for humanitarian causes and volunteering abroad. It felt organic.

I later told Tammy I was interested in meeting him, so she happily arranged a date with him for the following week. She said it would be a six-hour date, which would be plenty of time to pick up where we left off. I was thrilled, I just had to remember to go by my new stage name!

Now I’d finally be able to buy my cats sardines in fresh water from Erewhon and send an extra-large payment to the debt collector. Dreamin’ big, baby!

To be continued…