Hi there, I’m Alice Little. I’m a legal sex worker. You might have heard my name before. I’ve been in a lot of headlines. I’m not just bragging here- to be successful in my career, publicity is a requirement. Seriously. I need you to pause when you see my name. I’ve spent a lot of time choosing the right photos for those articles. Something polished. Poised. Slightly provocative. Something that makes you look twice.

Hi there, I’m Alice Little. I’m a legal sex worker. You might have heard my name before. I’ve been in a lot of headlines. I’m not just bragging here- to be successful in my career, publicity is a requirement.

Seriously.

I need you to pause when you see my name. I’ve spent a lot of time choosing the right photos for those articles.

Something polished. Poised. Slightly provocative. Something that makes you look twice.

But I don’t just want your interest. I want your curiosity. I want you to wonder who I am underneath all those carefully selected pics. Getting to know someone is a lot more intimate, don’t you think? So let’s start over.

I’m Alice. 

I’m a legal sex worker. I’m also an advocate for other sex workers, a business strategist, and a woman who has built an entire career around one of the most important, if often misunderstood, aspects of relationships: intimacy.

Now, I’m not just talking about sex here. Sex is nice, sure, but it’s also short-lived. I’m interested in everything else too. I enjoy the teasing banter before the bedroom and the quiet moments after we’re done. More importantly, though, I enjoy the conversations where you feel safe to be yourself. I want to see who you are when you’re not putting on an act for me.

These moments are what I’ve built my career- and my life- around. Once you understand that, the headlines you’ve read about me start to make a very different kind of sense.

Real Care Requires Real Infrastructure

I’d like to think that most people care. Seriously. The world has been pretty exhausting lately. But when you’ve had the opportunity to meet and spend time with as many people as I have, you realize that people are a lot more nuanced than what they’re reposting on the internet. 

So maybe I’m a bit of a romantic at heart, but I believe that most people do genuinely care about others. The problem isn’t whether we care, it’s understanding what care should look like.

In my line of work, care is often expressed through romantic gestures. It's emotional and instinctive and incredibly sweet.

I enjoy your compliments. I appreciate your thoughtful gifts. And I love when you’re spending quality time with me. But real, genuine care requires you to look beyond the present moment and consider what makes that intimacy possible.

I’m talking about systemic infrastructure.

Affordable medical treatment is a real need for millions of people, and everyone deserves access to healthcare. That shouldn’t even be up for debate.

That’s why I helped build Hookers for Healthcare.

I’m not interested in providing intimacy inside a system that overlooks the people who provide it. Intimacy is a real need that many people don’t have access to- that’s why sex work has always been an important and relied-upon profession. Yet the individuals providing that intimacy are often intentionally excluded. 

Health insurance is often complicated and sometimes unreachable for us. It’s difficult to take time off for illness or recovery because we have no built-in safety net. Getting sick is more than inconvenient, it comes with a real financial risk.

Hookers for Healthcare is about real-world change. We’re advocating for real, logistical medical infrastructure within the sex work industry, because we deserve the same basic care as anyone else.

That One Time I Sued the Governor of Nevada

I’ve been a legal sex worker for more than a decade. In that time, I’ve learned that our industry often operates under different rules than other types of businesses.

The pandemic was a prominent example of this. While other industries were allowed to reopen after the lockdowns, brothels remained closed down. We faced the same risks as everyone else but were held to entirely different standards. 

The message was loud and clear. Some work is essential, some is acceptable, and some can be shut down indefinitely without consequence. I bet you can guess which category sex work fell into. 

It didn’t matter that our work was legal. It didn’t matter that my colleagues and I rely on our jobs to support ourselves and our families. It didn’t matter that the work we provide is frequently considered essential by our guests.

The only thing that mattered was public perception, and that perception said that we were disposable. I disagreed with that and still disagree with it.

I’ve built my career through hard work, discipline, and empathy for others. I’ll never sit quietly by when someone else decides my industry can be canceled simply because it makes them uncomfortable. 

Sex work is often treated like something people choose to indulge in- an optional luxury. But people need connection. They need to be seen, touched, and understood. That need didn't disappear during the pandemic- if anything, it became more important.

Closing the brothels didn’t make sex work disappear, it just caused people to seek it out in places that offered less oversight and more risk. That’s what happens when policy is influenced by society’s discomfort rather than reality. 

Suing the governor of Nevada wasn’t just about making sure the brothels could reopen. It was about dignity. Because we are not an afterthought, and we should not exist outside the systems designed to protect all workers. If intimacy is real, so is the labor that goes into it. And real labor deserves real protection.

I Stand For Personal Choice and Autonomy

People often assume that sex work is passive. That it’s something that just happens to a person instead of a career they actively choose to build. That’s never been the case for me.

I’m not an employee, I’m an entrepreneur. That distinction matters more than most people realize. I’m not just providing my time to guests- I’m providing attention and intimacy. It’s an entire experience. And that experience can’t be rushed, managed, or directed by someone else.

In a traditional job, you’re given a schedule. Your availability is decided by your boss, and your boundaries are negotiable. That doesn’t work for me. Sex work requires control. 

I control how I spend my time and who I spend it with. Being an independent contractor allows me to decide how many appointments to book, how long they’ll last, and what kind of services I offer. It lets me control my branding and decide the level of relationship I’ll have with my guests. This is a business, and it requires independence, strategy, the ability to adapt, and an understanding of value.

That’s why I’m against being reclassified as an employee. Not because I don’t care about protecting the rights of sex workers. Of course I care about our working and living conditions, but protection shouldn’t come at the cost of personal choice and autonomy. 

Free Time? What Free Time?! (It’s For the Goats)

Don’t worry, I’m not always ‘on.’ When I’m not working, I’m in Colorado. Working. On my farm. 

This is a different type of life. It’s slower, more physical. I’d say quieter… but I have goats. Mostly goats, a lot of goats. But I also have horses, guinea hens, and a pig. The work is sometimes simpler, but it’s not easy. It requires a lot of attention. I can’t get distracted when working with animals, they’ll notice that immediately. 

I like that, though. In many ways, it’s similar to the way I’ve built my career. I pay attention, give genuine responses, and I don’t offer more than I can actually give. And once I’m present, I’m fully there.

People sometimes assume there’s a separation between these parts of my life. That my  farm life is the ‘real me.’ But it doesn’t feel that way to me. My farm and my career are built with the same ideas in mind: choosing to show up and choosing to care. 

Whether I’m on my farm or at the brothel, it’s all about intention, and all aspects of my life are the ‘real’ me.

Just the Tip of the Iceberg

Okay, so let’s all let out our collective breaths. You’ve made it to the end, and if you’re still reading, I hope that you’ve learned something more about me. What I do isn’t accidental, it’s not passive, and it certainly isn’t silent.

I’ve built my career around getting (and giving) attention. But it’s more than that. It’s about understanding what people need even when they don’t have the words to explain it for themselves. I love what I do. I love sex, I love cuddling, I love murmuring sweet nothings in a lover’s ear while being held by them. I love hearing about your day and sharing about my own. Intimacy matters.