I never thought that the path to enlightenment would lead to having sex with a prostitute in the back seat of a limo. But sometimes the search for God gets a little too serious, and you need to lighten up a little. Besides, she was very pretty.
I didn’t have intercourse until I was 22. I’d like to blame my celibacy on my conservative Catholic upbringing, but plenty of other Catholics were having fun well before I did. And by the time I was 22, I had been a Buddhist for five years. So I guess the buck, and the sex, stopped here.
Striving for world peace and enlightenment was a tough job. In the 1970’s I belonged to a Buddhist sect which has been described as militant, intolerant, fanatical, materialistic, and power-hungry. I was one of the bad boys of Buddhism, known officially as Soka Gakkai International (SGI).
But we didn’t see ourselves as bad boys and girls. On the contrary, we were earnest and sincere in our attempts to convert the world to the One True Religion (ours, naturally). On the other hand, sometimes we would ridicule “inferior” religions, badger potential converts, pressure our members to give time and money to the cause, and intimidate our underlings to get them to conform to group expectations. Long hair and beards were frowned upon, but obedience was a virtue. Some leaders threatened others with batsu (divine punishment), and at a Young Men’s Division meeting one of my leaders, “Mr. Mayabatsu,” humiliated a youth by calling him a “girl” and then making him shout “I’m a girl!” while the rest of us sat in stunned silence.
We allowed ourselves to suffer a lot of psychological and spiritual abuse. But we believed that this “training” was intended to strengthen us in the spirit of yumyo shojin (valiant and courageous practice), and so we endured our Buddhist austerities while we chanted for cars, sex, money, world peace, and the victory of our Komeito political party in the Japanese elections.
In the early 1970’s we were downright prudish about sexual matters, or at least our Japanese mentors were puritanical about how we young Americans channeled our youthful passion. But by the mid 70’s our pent-up desires began to boil over. I could only be a Japanese boy scout for so long.
Fortunately for my libido I was appointed leader of the Berkeley branch in 1974. My sexual adventures began when the lovely young women of Berkeley Chapter apparently concluded that my leadership position (the only sexual position I knew) was an aphrodisiac. They never said so in so many words, but they were not as drawn to me before or after the four years I served in that capacity. I wasn’t a great lover, but being perceived as an authority figure and rising star gave me an air of virility which I did not deserve.
With witty “Micki” I was so good in bed that she was inspired to become a lesbian. What I remember about “Lisa,” besides her endearing aura of innocence, was making out with her on her living room floor while listening to Judy Collins sing “Send in the Clowns.” Even then I sensed that that bittersweet song was somehow an appropriate tune for our doomed romance.
I have only fond memories of those and other women I knew and made lust with at that time. I wish I could say that I loved them, but I didn’t. But I love them now.
By 1980 I had concluded that having a spiritual awakening and a Soka Gakkai leadership responsibility were mutually exclusive, and so I lost my social status and sex life with my return to the rank and file. I accepted my new-found celibacy, even as I longed to break free from it. And then, opportunity knocked.
The great and noble President of Soka Gakkai International came to San Francisco in October of 1980, and I was invited to be part of the Control Center, our base of operations for his stay at the luxurious Clift Hotel. Status was very important to the President, who radiated power and authority in his expensive business suits as, followed by fawning aides and furtive security men, he strode from his limousine through the opulent high-ceilinged lobby to an elevator reserved for his use only. Our Sensei (master) from Tokyo had his lieutenants inform us that the Clift was a five star hotel, lest we forget that his importance on the world stage entitled him to enjoy the best that money can buy. And his status allowed him to enjoy the protection of armed Buddhist bodyguards in suits, a couple of whom showed off their pistols to me in the Control Center.
My room at the Clift was the Control Center, the communications hub for the glorious leader’s entourage and security detail. After a day or two my roommate “Dan,” another devotee, began to disappear for longer and longer intervals, leaving me to hold down the fort alone while the President and his retinue made local appearances and went shopping at expensive stores a couple blocks away in Union Square. I was disappointed at Dan’s abandoning his post, but said nothing about it to our comrades.
As the day arrived for the potentate’s departure, Dan began to confide in me about his wanderings. He had been cruising the nearby Tenderloin district, hanging out with prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers, and assorted other denizens of that tawdry neighborhood. He claimed that he simply enjoyed talking with them, getting down and dirty as he verbally explored his dark side. I didn’t care for the garbage-strewn, urine-smelling streets of that shabby precinct, and so didn’t press him for details or question the veracity of his account. He assured me that he was looking forward to leaving the elegant Clift and going home to his wife in the suburbs, and asked if I had a girlfriend to go home to.
No, I didn’t. And I was burned out after our marathon activities at the Clift on behalf of world peace, and feeling lonely and depressed about returning to my gloomy little apartment in the East Bay. I confessed to Dan that I dreaded the letdown that would surely follow the conclusion of our recent stress-inducing efforts to promote global harmony. After listening sympathetically to my plight, Dan had an idea.
He had volunteered to return the black stretch limousine to the rental place once the President had departed from San Francisco. But there was no hurry to return the limo, so we might as well use it for some fun before he brought it back. He got behind the wheel and produced a joint. Our inhibitions began to melt away and we laughed uproariously as Dan raced up and down Nob Hill, slamming on the brakes and gleefully watching the startled looks of pedestrians as they reacted to the screeching tires. I didn’t like scaring the wits out of people, but Dan’s joy was infectious and we both badly needed to blow off steam, so I laughed long and hard.
Dan decided that I needed to get laid. Being a married man who had already gotten into trouble with his wife for cheating on her and giving her venereal disease, he didn’t dare risk his marriage again. But I was single, and he loved talking to prostitutes, so why not combine my need and his negotiating skills? I demurred, saying that I didn’t find prostitutes attractive, and that I could only have sex with a beautiful woman. He assured me that if we looked long enough we could find a babe. I hesitated, then finally agreed on the condition that I had veto power on the selection of the woman, and that I would not pay more than $30.
Dan suggested that I sit in the back seat, and he would pretend that he was my chauffeur and that I was a rich man looking for a night on the town. I didn’t want to lie about who I was, and felt silly pretending to be wealthy when I was actually unemployed and almost broke. But Dan was excited by his fantasy and insisted that this was a good way to impress the right prostitute, so being stoned, horny, and curious, I went along with the idea.
I wasn’t very good at spotting prostitutes, but Dan had a sharp eye for the ladies and pointed out several candidates. I rejected all of them as being too old or gaudy or ugly. I was beginning to hope that Dan would get tired of his game and call it quits, but he wasn’t discouraged, and was obviously enjoying the hunt for sex. I was having a good time being driven up and down the hills of the beautiful city, and no longer cared whether we accomplished our objective, when Dan pointed out a striking young woman. She was gorgeous and curvaceous, with long dark hair and lovely legs and a sexy miniskirt. I gave my approval, and Dan moved in for the kill.
He maneuvered the sleek limousine alongside her and rolled down his window. Smiling and oozing charm, he introduced himself as my chauffeur and told her that Mr. Wigginton would be delighted to enjoy her company for awhile. She eyed him suspiciously, looked at both of us with our short hair and clean-cut looks (a Soka Gakkai leadership requirement in those days), and said, “Forget it – you guys are cops!” She walked away, but her rejection only whetted Dan’s appetite for the chase. He drove us around the block, then pulled up alongside her again.
Grinning broadly and exuding confidence, he complimented her on her looks, and assured her we were not cops. He said that Mr. Wigginton didn’t get down to the city from northern California very often, being busy running his various businesses, but that she was in luck because he was in town, and this could be the beginning of a great opportunity for her. He then managed to talk her down from a much higher price to $30. She got in the car.
I felt sorry for her. She was obviously still afraid that we were cops, or that we might not be the gentlemen we appeared to be. I sought to reassure her that we were nice guys just out for some fun. We made small talk, and she mentioned in passing that she was an Aquarius. When I discovered that we had the same birthday, she accused me of lying, but I protested that I was telling the truth, and to prove it, showed her my driver’s license. Once she saw my picture and birthdate, she relaxed, realizing that I was being honest and open with her. She was 21 and I was 28, but we did have at least one thing in common.
Dan drove us to a secluded area down near the Presidio, and she and I took off our clothes. God, she had a hard body! And perfect skin. She was of mixed race – Hawaiian, Filipino, white, as I recall – and stunning. Dan kept his clothes on, but was eager to watch as he climbed over the front seat and sat opposite us while we proceeded to bang away. The back seat was surprisingly uncomfortable and awkward for me and her, especially since she was the one on her back. I was very excited, but she was so rough in her bucking up and down that I couldn’t have an orgasm. But that wasn’t a problem for voyeur Dan, who was the only one of the three of us who managed to reach a climax. I envied his success, but at least I had had the pleasure of her body.
You’d think Dan would have been satisfied with his release and our adventure. But once we two Aquarians had put our clothes back on, Dan turned mean. He told the woman that he had a gun, and that she would have to do whatever we told her to do. She was terrified, and I was outraged. I knew damn well that he didn’t have a gun, and couldn’t believe that a fellow Buddhist would be so cruel as to torment and threaten anyone, let alone a vulnerable young woman. In reality, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Cruelty and guns were not unheard of in the Soka Gakkai.
I angrily demanded than he stop the lies at once, and promised her that she was completely safe and that Dan would not harm her. I insisted that he drive us back to where we had picked her up, and there I gave her the $30, saying that I had enjoyed her company, and that I wasn’t really a rich man after all. She was visibly relieved and grateful, and gave me her name and phone number in case I wanted her services again.
I never took her up on her offer, to my later regret. But while I would have enjoyed another encounter with her under more sane circumstances, I felt guilty about using her for my pleasure, even though we were both consenting adults. Some part of me knew that what I did with her wasn’t right horniness.
Dan’s behavior toward the woman was inexcusable and disgusting. At the time I was grateful for his imaginative attempt to bring me some comfort during a difficult time in my life. Now I understand that Dan, like SGI, was using and manipulating me in a way similar to how I allowed the prostitute to be manipulated.
But I still laugh at the thought that a couple hours after our rich and imperial religious leader was impressing onlookers with the dignified and choreographed arrival and departure of his limousine status symbol and its escort vehicles, I was screwing a hooker on the same backseat that had served as his traveling throne.
I left the Soka Gakkai four years after my rendezvous with the young woman, having decided that that organization was more a hindrance than a help on my path of awakening. We took ourselves way too seriously in SGI, and allowed our lofty ends to justify our corrupt and hypocritical means. Ironically, our Buddhist movement was a world of illusion, but it took me 15 years before I finally realized that, for me at least, enlightenment and SGI Buddhism are not compatible.
I’m still not much of a ladies’ man, I’m sorry to say. But I’m much happier than I was back then, having learned to follow my own inner wisdom rather than that of some religious leader or organization.
So I guess you could say that having sex with a prostitute in the back seat of a limo DID lead to a limited form of enlightenment. Maybe I got to have my climax after all.
David Wigginton 