There's no escort handbook that prepares you for the moment your client turns out to be your own son. The hideous pair of white granny panties I wore for the occasion carved their seams into my skin as I struggled to catch my breath, grappled for the right words to explain to him, to the man I raised, that his mother sells her pussy to pay rent. I knew in that moment that there could never be another like it: this degrading, this humiliating, this impossibly unfair. That is, until the next moment came, and I realized that my son already knew. After all, it had been him who called. And when he called, he requested his mother personally, along with a hideous pair of white granny panties.