Not long ago, I was solicited by a prostitute. At least I think she was one. She had her pale hair pulled back in a proper bun and a trench coat buttoned to the top. We were on Columbus Circle, and after I asked her the time, she quietly asked if I wanted some company. It was a little surprising, but not because she was soliciting me. What was surprising was how discreetly she did it.
You can opt out anytime. It used to be that going to a hooker was a safe route for secret sex, and a far less corrosive way to have it than doing it with your secretary or the woman next door. Look at Irma Nici, the ex-call girl who was paid for her accounts of sessions with David Beckham. She recently told the Post that Eliot Spitzer wore white socks during sex, not black ones. Ruth, who would discuss it?
In New Orleans, a former prostitute is lending her voice to a campaign ad against David Vitter, who is running for United States Senate. This week we even have an escort peddling a sex video with a fake Tiger Woods. Here, entire governments grind to a halt each time one goes public. The play, now on Broadway, about a madam who does extremely well, was seen as a moral outrage and censored for years. Shaw had the nerve to show a mother with the smarts and gumption to make a good living using sex.
Warren declares. In a debate last week, Mr. Brown apologized again for the incident. Whitman remains indignant. Meanwhile, prostitutes, take back your code of honor. Practice discretion. We get it: you like to have control of your own internet experience. But advertising revenue helps support our journalism.
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