There’s a persistent myth about sex work: 

that it’s a last resort, a grim necessity, something you do until your "real" life begins. For me, nothing could be further from the truth. 

I genuinely love my job.

Questions always come up, rarely asked with judgment, but always with a certain underlying assumption both from my closest friends who know the deliciously perverted world of Lore and from the wonderful clients I see regularly.  Is this temporary? Is your art making enough money? How can we support you? What do you need to get out of this?

I appreciate the concern. But let me be crystal clear.

Yes, my entry into this work was born of survival. It was a means to an end at a time when I desperately needed one. The only thing that made me hesitate was the sting of stigma. My first thought wasn't, "Oh, this will be fun." It was, "This will pay the bills."—and the fear of what it would mean for future love. Could I ever find a partner secure enough to understand?

Then I took the leap.

My first client was kind, generous with his tongue, affectionate, and caring. My second client was kind, generous with his tongue, affectionate, caring… charming. My third possessed all these qualities, too, wrapped in his own unique self. And so did the fourth, and the fifth. They were… just people. Incredible, fascinating, normal people. I went from being terrified to being genuinely excited for my next appointment. An hour with them became two, then three, then eight.

In the art world, the assumption is always scarcity. The narrative is that we are starving artists, barely scraping by, waiting for our big break. So when someone finds out I do sex work, the math is easy: she must be doing this because the art isn't paying. Let's help her get out of it so she can just be an artist.

Listen, I am a self made established artist, a multi-hyphenate human with an Ivy League master's candidacy and a CV that spans from Palais De Tokyo to underground zines. My art has blossomed. I am not a struggling artist dabbling in sex work to keep the lights on; I am an established force in the creative world.

 As I write this, I’m performing in and music-producing a major play, and painting a mural at a local café. My art sustains me. The financial pressure that once defined my entry into this work no longer exists. I am not battling scarcity. I am not surviving. I am thriving.

I choose sex work because I genuinely, unabashedly enjoy it.

Sex. Is. Work.

But it can also be art

I see it as an art form in itself. It is my oeuvre. The art of connection. The skill of reading a stranger and knowing the exact right moment to caress. The art of holding space for a vulnerable client to shed his armor and unleash the fierce animal within. It’s the challenge of ensuring, at the very least, a moment of deep-rooted pleasure. It’s a craft, and I’ve honed it.

This work didn't break me; it saved me. It taught me more about my own resilience, my boundaries, and my self-worth than any Ivy League classroom ever could. I am not lost. I am not in distress. I am not waiting for a handout to escape. I am found, and I am flourishing.

And for those still in the survival chapter I once knew—I see you, and I hope you find what you need.

As for me, when you book me, please know this with absolute certainty: My excitement to meet you is genuine. My desire to get to know you is real. My wish to experience pleasure with you and watch you revel in your own enjoyment is not a performance born of desperation or scarcity.

 It is a choice born of abundance. It’s my choice. And with you, I have chosen to spend my time.

with love, 

💋 Lore