Onya, 23, is trying to divulge the great secrets of her trade. “Most of the time, I’m down on L around 14th—that’s the real female stroll,” she explains, leaning against her old Chrysler convertible at 6th and K Streets NW. She’d continue with her lesson. But there’s Diane.
Diane,25, is hovering in the background, laughing too loud under the lamp light, talking smack to the other women. She is good at smack talk. This gets the other women laughing too loud. The street is empty. There are no customers. Just Onya and Diane and their peanut gallery. “I invented prostitution,” Diane boasts, adding that she’s been tricking since birth. “I told the doctor don’t bill my mother, I’ll eat the meat!”
A slack, shrimpy looking dude leans against a pair of parking meters. He says he wishes he had a camera. He’s too shy or too broke to actually pay for a trick. But he seems happy to simply be in Diane’s presence.
To make sure everyone knew her true celebrity, Diane offers a final, definitive taunt. “Everybody in pretrial knows me,” Diane says.
Diane had just pulled up in her white Mercedes SUV. It’s 12:30 a.m. Within two minutes, a customer in a silver sedan is negotiating with her. It will be $50 for a blowjob. The negotiations almost take as long as the actual transaction. The two peel away east on K and then up 7th until they disappear.
Within 20 minutes, Diane is dropped off at her Mercedes. She gets out of the sedan, adjusting her hot pink short shorts and black top. She is almost sedate in her movements. Unlike the other girl on the block who approaches cars like she’s been called to the principal’s office, Diane appears, at least, to be very sure of herself. She takes out a smoke from the Mercedes and lights it.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Diane says of her recent work. “That wasn’t 20 minutes. It took 10 minutes just to get to my spot.”