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When I ventured to Ybor City last week for The Hold Steady show at the Ritz, I had no idea I’d come face to face with my very first professional sex worker.  Or in street terms, you might refer to her as a call girl.  An unplanned event like this could only take place on a damp, sticky night in Ybor.

Great show, stellar night, lovely company but it was time to call it a night and head back to my Rabid home in the woods with the sting of Jim Beam in my throat and the humidity of July kicking me in the face.  My (until then) trusty GPS decided that 7th Ave. in Ybor was where I needed to be and failed to lead me home.  After many trips around in a circle I got fed up and stopped at Mema’s Alaskan Tacos (No ticket, No taco) for directions.  Sitting there smoking a Marlboro was a very attractive young lady and the only person in the area who didn’t look like she would tear my larynx out.  I would come to call her “Broadway Mary.”  She needed a ride; I needed directions.

In the car, it wasn't long before I began hitting her with questions about what it was really like being a call girl.

Rabid Nick Refer: So most people would assume that a “call girl” would come from a underprivileged background, but you, not so much.  What makes your story different?

Broadway Mary: You’re right, I come from a much different background then say the call girl stereotype.  I’m a New York City girl, grew up on the Upper Westside.  I’m a Columbia Grad. with a journalism degree and a summer home in the Hamptons.

RnR: And now you’re a call girl in Tampa.  What gives girl?

BM: I was tired of it all. I know it sounds lame but so much structure, so much static.  It was all to regulated for me.  I had money, a sweet fiancé, my future was set.  But I was miserable.  That much privilege was the biggest prison I could ever imagine.

RnR: So you just took off, didn’t tell anybody?

BM: Exactly

RnR: Aren’t they like ya know, pissed?  Do they know where you are or what you are doing?

BM: I have a feeling they knew I needed out and are proud of me. They do know I am alive and well. No they have no idea the life I lead and I don’t intend to change that.

RnR: Thus “Broadway Mary.”

BM: Well yeah, that was you being clever because, no I obviously don’t want to use my real name.

RnR: Ok, so you consider yourself a call girl.  Is there anything about that title people would misconstrue?

BM:  No, it’s pretty much what you’d expect, but for me personally, much classier.  I am in no means a “hooker” or “whore”.

RnR: And you get a rush out of that.  That’s the intangible you couldn’t find in your privileged life?

BM:  Exactly, the glamour and complacency of it all.  When everything is handed to you, you just don’t appreciate it.  It’s the bullshit you see on reality TV.  I refused to be just another plastic doll.  Today, no matter what you think of it, I am earning my living.  I am carving something for myself out of fresh granite and it exhilarates me.

RnR: And who might make up your typical client list?  You don’t have to reveal any of my editor’s or reader’s names (editor's note: screw you dude) .  Everybody needs loving.

BM:  (Laughs out loud).  Cute.  My clients are usually looking for a high end girl.  I work with a lot of guys, and girls, in the financial community.  They seem to need attention right now.  I have associated with two separate Buc’s players and at least one local politician that you HAVE heard of.  I don’t take just anyone, but I don’t have specific tax brackets or anything like that.

RnR: It was Keyshawn wasn’t it?

BM:  Be good.  He doesn’t have the hands for me.

At this point her boss requested a meet up to check me out, but that is for another blog.  Trust me, my first experience with a pimp is going to blow your mind.

Check back next Tuesday for Part 2 of my interview with Broadway Mary.  Feel free to submit your questions for her below as I’ll be speaking with her again.  Want inside the Diary of a Tampa Call Girl?  Hit me below.

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You can follow Rabid Nick on Twitter and find him here every Tuesday and Thursday

in the Sex and Love section of Creative Loafing.