Inside Adalis
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Memoir, Culture, Sex Work, Education, Life Lessons

Inside Adalis

NYC’s most in-demand escort

Photo by Tom Leishman from Pexels

Well known as one of The Big Apple’s most successful and in-demand working girls, Adalis has long been a favorite on the New York scene. But it’s not just her delicious body that all the Big Apple boys admire. It’s her innate intelligence, existential angst, and sense of humor that drives them wild.

Here Adalis reveals her innermost thoughts and feelings as regards the male gender of the species, and the career path she has chosen. Adalis is no bimbo as you will soon discover. Her candor and forthright approach can at times be disarming and even disconcerting, but the information contained herein is well worth studying, even if the truth may make you look in the mirror and peer into your very own soul.

As I lounge leisurely in my cozy apartment, sitting in a soft chair given to me by a client, with television whispering quietly in the background (also a present from a client), I type away my thoughts on my brand new laptop (yet another token of esteem from another enamored client).

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to have a realistic perspective on men, as they pamper and spoil me, lavishing praise and gifts on what they perceive as an icon of feminine lust and longing. But really, when I analyze the truth of the matter, I’m nothing but your average girl next door whose very active sex drive and love for money propelled her into the career I now enjoy.

Forget about that old prototype of the sexually molested child who has no choice but to become a working girl. While it’s not bull shit in every case, it is in mine. None of my brothers, uncles, cousins or father ever laid a hand on me.

If I have a bad attitude about men (which I don’t always), it comes from some of the knuckleheads who’ve passed through my door and handed me their money in exchange for my services. Men are often very unenlightened, selfish (which could be because they’re paying for something), and worst of all, completely out-of-touch with what a woman wants.

And too often, I can tell that many guys aren’t just acting that way. They’re no different with dates and even wives. Somehow, they’ve gotten as far as they have in life without even a clue that women aren’t simply receptacles for their unbridled sexual desires.

Now it may seem ridiculous to say all this as I sit in a lap of luxury almost completely furnished and financed by the very guys I malign, but trust me, all these presents came from exceptions to the rule, or just guys with so much money that a few hundred or a thousand bucks doesn’t mean anything anyway.

What I like most about this job is the money I earn. Obviously, it would be very difficult to make as much as I do in another line of work. But that’s not the whole deal. I also get a big kick out of satisfying men.

But give me one guy with an offbeat sense of humor and a sixth sense as to how to keep me interested…and I’ve found somebody I want to spend some time with.



An intelligent guy also commands my attention. I pride myself on having an intellect and I figure if I can surround myself with adroit minds, I’ll emerge that much smarter from the experience.

Like most girls in my profession, men with fame and fortune are powerfully attractive. There’s something about their stature in the world I want to share. Unfortunately, I often have ambivalent feelings of jealousy and admiration in their presence, and thus find myself intentionally ignoring their celebrity in an attempt to put them in their place.

Having a dick connotes power in our world. That ferocious throbbing, growing, invader is the human race’s most enduring symbol of dominance. And when you’re a woman, the only way to usurp that authority is to wrap your hand, mouth or vagina around that symbol and command that it release its essence.

The moment a man begins shivering with pleasure and pulsating with satisfaction is the moment I live for. I feel like David slaying Goliath. And that to me is raw feminism and unadulterated female power. Whatever I say or do goes and that’s it.

Ditto for gorgeous and or endowed clients. Most women prefer their men handsome and hung. But unfortunately, most guys in this category know what they have and act accordingly. There’s no bigger turn-off than a man who knows what he has and chooses to flaunt it. And this is the guy who gets the roughest treatment from me. My world is full of that kind of fool, and every time I put one of them in his place, I feel like I’m doing womankind a service.

The real truth is that while I exude confidence with my customers, I also have my insecurities like everybody else in the world. If I’m not feeling so beautiful one day, a gorgeous client will make me feel a little prettier. If I don’t feel like Einstein on another, a rocket scientist with a hard-on instantly elevates my IQ. And if I’m feeling a little less than very talented, an accomplished artist will help me through the day.

I guess you could say I’m a parasite of sorts. I live to feed off my favorite clients. And often, it’s not their big wallets that brings me the most satisfaction, but rather their God-given talent that turns me on.

A lot of people think my profession is fascinating. Women are secretly envious of all the men I get to sample. They should only know that 99% of the job is deadly drudgery. But there is that 1% — like those times when a celebrity walks through my door…or a really cute, down-to-earth guy makes me laugh and smile and feel good about myself — that lets me know why I chose this profession in the first place. Anybody can come to my door, pay his money, and get lumped in with that 99%. But be that 1% guy…and you’ll leave with a spring in your step and a new lease on life. And that’s a guarantee!

P.S. Adalis left the business 20 years ago and is now a real estate agent and building manager. This is a ghostwritten piece I wrote on her behalf. We didn’t speak about the article beforehand. And really, I was projecting a little (or a lot) when I wrote this. If only a sex worker felt this way — and could herself put it down on paper? She could rule the world.

Here’s a story about what happened when I submitted this piece to an influential editor while pretending to be Adalis: