Basement Brothel

I just found out that the hippie sex business in the basement got evicted.

Maybe I should explain a bit. When I first moved in here, I needed to track down the apartment manager but couldn't find her phone number. I did Google search on my address, hoping to come across the original listing for the building. I found it, but I also found other listings for my address. One of which was for a very Berkeley-esque massage service that offered tantric services and nude couples massage in "the womb". The Womb was what how they referred to their apartment, which was located in my basement.

I, of course, found this to be hilarious. I really don't care that there's sex workers working in my building. Catching the odd client looking nervous and befuddled in front of the building was a great source of amusement. It was they way they were marketing themselves as a hippie massage-spiritual healing center that really gave me the giggle-fits. I'm all for spiritual sexuality, but I've found people who use their spirituality as a pick-up line to be skeezier than jocks at Marina bars. Spiritual sex, for me, is something that takes place in the midst of a deep and meaningful relationship. It's not something you drop $300 on a stranger for.

I've been using the plural, because that was my understanding of the situation. It seems that it was just a guy working as a male escort, but he had a long string of "girlfriends" who were apparently there purely an a professional basis.

I never mentioned it to anyone else in the building. Really, how he makes his money is his business and I have friends who have made their living in similar ways. I didn't want to be the asshole who got him evicted. I did have a hard time keeping the smirk off my face whenever we ran into each other doing laundry (which he, of course, did all the time).

I noticed signs up for apartment showings, and as I headed out for an emergency grocery-get quarters for laundry run I saw the manager. This is when I found out which apartment was being shown. She gave me a tour. It's a nice place. The ceilings are low, as befits a basement apartment, but it has hardwood floors, and an enormous long room in the back that would be an ideal dance studio or rehearsal room. If it wasn't for my lease on the Off-Market rehearsal room, I'd rent the place simply as a rehearsal studio. My pockets aren't that deep, however.

It seems that the combination of increased business for the basement brothel, combined with a routine fire code inspection, blew the lid off the operation and our friendly neighborhood sexworker got evicted. Apparently there was just a little too much velour to be perfectly safe... regardless of the context.

I'm a bit concerned that whoever we get to replace the last tenant won't be as colorful, but I'm heartened to hear that a couple of scientists are looking at the apartment. If I'm in luck, there will be explosions and abominations of nature lurking by the washer and dryer in no time.