Consent to this!

Tags

clients, consent, disability, false consciousness, feminism, rants, Sex Work, stigma

Another big reminder as to why i stay anonymous. As to why, if we met at a party, i aint going to tell you the truth about my employment. Not only does the South Australian law make me a criminal, sex negative religion and cultures make me immoral, but now, feminists and do gooders make me a victim.

There are some who would like to have ME believe that i am not actually choosing to do sex work. That i am not able to give meaningful consent, that all my clients are raping me. No matter how i protest and beg to be believed and listened to, my experiences are denied, twisted and used against me and my work. Men become the enemy, my clients who are mostly men, are paying to rape me, and i am too damaged to understand this.

Bullshit.

In an attempt to try to challenge this steriotype of men as my abusers and me as a victim, i posted a story about one of my clients who had a disability. Often my work with clients who have a disability is understood as a community service, and it is in this context that the letters to the editor change and we are offered respect for the work that we do. But not this time. Now obviously, i am raping my client. It seems impossible for sex work to happen without someone raping someone else. It seems impossible to believe that meaningful consent is possible when it comes to sex, or money, or both combined.

I should have known better than to think i could alter people’s strongly held believe systems that sex is bad mmkay. So im not sure why i am bothering to write this now, but i need to get it off my chest, so please, indulge me.

These people believe that there is no way i am able to give real consent to do sex work due to outside structures. So since i live and have always lived in a patriarchal world, it is impossible for me to have any real choice about participating or promoting this system, or i am too stupid to have any critical analysis and so cannot see my actions for what they are. Or some bullshit.

Or that because i do it for economical reasons, that isn’t really a choice, because i wouldnt do it if it werent for the money. And even if I say i have other choices about how to make money, but i choose sex work for the extra money, for the flexibility and autonomy, they say, its not real choice because there isnt enough choices for me that are high paying or flexible, and if there was maybe i wouldnt do sex work. I call this crystal ball thinking… and i dont understand the point? Yeh if I won the lottery maybe I’d spend my time blogging and writing and bringing up happy healthy children and walking my dog near the ocean, instead of going to work. But, um, just because that’s not in my list of possible choices right now, doesn’t make my current decisions or my consent to sex any less valid and meaningful!

And now my clients who i can clearly demonstrate are not abusing me, are being abused by me! So now women and people with disabilities and people who havent won the lottery are not able to consent.

So it makes me wonder, what in the eyes of the anti sex brigade, what IS the magical formula for meaningful consent to sex? What are the required characteristics? Im guessing, it can never include a paid transaction.

Let me be clear. I consent. My consent is as meaningful as your consent to have sex with anyone ever. I am not the only one who’s decisions and choices are influenced by the society i live in. All of our decisions are effected by the context of our world. Obviously. My choices are not less valid than yours just because i choose to get paid for sex and you dont.

You are right, I am not independently wealthy, and I am a women in a man’s world. But I still have the ability to say yes, and mean it. And just because I believe in my right to say yes does NOT mean I don’t still demand the right to say no! Two words yes and no, watch me use them! That’s right, I am woman, hear me roar!

And my clients consent. Meaningful, informed, considered, purposeful, premeditated and continuous consent. Even those clients who have a disability. They do not loose their ability to consent just because they have a disability. There maybe extra considerations to take into account, but they are still able to consent to sex. They still have the RIGHT to consent to sex. They still have the right to make decisions about their body! (Although sadly not a right that is always afforded to many patholigised, institutionalised or marginalised.)

Not only do both my client and I consent to sex, but i believe that the sex i have in my sex work service is the MOST consensual sex i have ever had. It is so heavily negotiated with explicit boundaries discussed upfront in minute detail.

I do not just find myself falling into bed with my clients after a few drinks or a few dates when one of us guesses the time is right. We do not just ‘go with the flow’ with nothing spoken. I do not dutifully agree to my husband climbing on top of me and having his fun for no other reason that its the expectation. No.

In my service both I, and my client have discussed, negotiated and consented to:

1. Where and when we will have sex

2. How long the sex will go for

3. How much money it will cost either of us

4. What sort of protection is used

5. What either of us is not comfortable or prepared to do during sex

I do not think i have discussed sex and my expectations of sex, and my boundaries and needs from sex so openly with any potential sexual partner in my personal life.

Yet somehow, people are way more comfortable with me picking up in the pub and falling into bed that night with no discussion.

Or marrying some dude that just does missionary and finishes in 5 minutes once a week.

That is meaningful consent, apparently, but money = rape.

Bullshit!

His first time…

Tags

autism, clients, consent, disability, personal stories, Sex Work, virgin

A woman had called me during the week. Her son had autism, was about to turn 30 and was a virgin. She wanted to make a booking for him to see me on Saturday as it was his birthday, and to loose his virginity is what he wanted for a present.

Oh God, the pressure. As i got ready for this booking i was becoming increasingly nervous. This poor guy was a virgin, and I’m being entrusted with giving him his first sexual experience… and a birthday present no less!!?? Welcoming him into his ‘dirty thirties’. He had probably spent the last 15 years imagining how this might go. i had a lot to live up to. Intense.

And his mum had organised it! She planned to bring him over in a taxi, what was she going to do for the 45 mins while him and i were in the bedroom? i hope she didn’t want to wait in the lounge for him! How embarrassing.

He arrived with his mum, all three of us extremely nervous, although i just went into automatic pilot. Fake it till you make it! I’m being payed to put their nerves at ease, so i cant be acting like its my first time too! The mum smiled and giggled nervously as she assured me she didn’t want to wait inside and would be fine going for a walk and will see us in 45 mins. I led Daniel into the room, explaining to get undressed, lay on his tummy on the bed, and i will return to give him a massage.

After the massage i turned him over, he laid very still, smiling widely as i touched him and spoke softly to him, checking out that he was still enjoying it. His erection went up and down, and i had to take his hand and show him that he was allowed to touch me. He had never touched boobs before… let alone anything else. The booking was difficult, and he could not keep an erection long enough to achieve an orgasm. He liked it when i took his hand and showed him how to touch me, he liked it when i gave him a lil show with my toys, but he didn’t like oral sex and the other penetrative sex wasnt going to work very well. We were both nervous, but I kept checking with him softly asking him which bits he likes and which bits he didn’t. In the end I tried giving him a hand job, but that didn’t work either. Time ran out and we both knew it wasn’t going to happen this time.

I felt a little disappointed as i said goodbye to him and his mum at the door. I couldn’t make him cum but he was grinning ear to ear! i spent a few minutes imagining what he was telling his mum about the booking…. Then I jumped in the shower, took my money and went out dancing on a Saturday night.

*later edit to address concerns about consent* I take consent very seriously and take various actions throughout the booking to check the consent of my client with everything i do. This is something i attend regular and ongoing training on.  Daniel and his mother were referred to me from their sexuality counsellor after looking at options for Daniel to have sexual interactions, as was his ongoing and stated wish. This was his 30th birthday present, had been planned and discussed and requested by Daniel for months.

Pity Girls

Tags

clients, escort, money, personal stories, safe sex, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, the boss

My first time. This is my first blog and after nearly two decades in the sex industry, i have a lot to catch you up on. Let’s start at the beginning, please indulge me as i tell you about my first night as an escort. At ‘Pity Girls’.

Haha, Pity Girls. It’s an in joke. It’s what the other escort agencies nick named my work because it rhymed with it’s real name and because we apparently scored lowly in the ‘high class’ department. A reputation that as far as i can tell, seems to depend soley on the way the workers look and the cost of the rent in the building you work from. Stylish apartments and skinny 18 year old workers =- high class. Ex housing comission house in the suburbs and workers with stretchmarks = not high class. Having a reputation for being ‘high class’ as i found out 3 employers later, has nothing to do with good work conditions. In fact I don’t know why, but the nicer my surroundings have been, the more shit my work conditions were. I might explore this in another post. But anyways. ‘Pity Girls’ wasn’t high class. In any sense of the word.

After my big scary brush with the law earlier in the story, i had not returned to the sex industry. I had a go at other jobs that young people do, check out chick, delivered the paper, and other empowering careers like that. Hating on bosses, and early starts, and low wages it wasn’t long before my motivation to get up and go to work left me. On one of my ‘sick’ days i was watching daytime soapies with my friend. She had bought me lunch. I bitched about work, and demanded she tell me how she had afforded to buy me lunch AND a bunch of new outfits. And so tell me she did.

It was an easy decision to walk out on my lunchbreak at work the next day and not return. Knowing i didn’t want to be there, and having another option, it was almost too easy. Going for an interview and starting work as an escort was not a big deal to me. I didn’t loose sleep over it. After my first shift I didn’t feel guilty, dirty, violated or ashamed. I felt tired, and I felt satisfied that I’d worked hard and made money, and that I could do it again tomorrow.

At pity girls back in the day (mid 90’s), we got paid….. wait for it……. $35 for half an hour and $50 for an hour. My shifts started at 8pm and finished between 4am and 8 am. With the low pay and the time lost on the road travelling too and from bookings, on a busy night I took home $300. Yep, not high class. Not big bucks for long and tiring hours. But at the time, wow! that’s $300 in my pocket every night I worked. Not bad for an 18 year old. We had to pay for  our own condoms and lube, and (i found out later) the business marked them up, so took a profit from that too. Bad form.

But at least at Pity Girls, we all had our own drivers who would drive us to and from bookings, take us to the door, take the money from the client keeping it safe, check the house out to make sure no one else was there, and wait out the front for us. They were paid to be our security. This wasn’t the case at other agencies I worked at later. I felt safe at Pity Girls. And stole a lot of the safety strategies i learnt there to use throughout my sex work career.

My clients ranged from young drunk guys after a night out, old lonely widows, husbands who’s wives are out of town, truck jobs, couples, lots of ‘party bookings’ where a group of clients would book a group of escorts (the sex was still one on one but often in the same room), fancy hotels, club houses and workplaces. Infact my first ever booking was in a gym, after hours, with one of the employees.

I was nervous about getting naked in front of strangers, as, like many women, I had some body image issues, but i resolved to fake it (confidence) till I make it. But giving a massage, letting them touch me, having sex… did not upset me. I found it easy right away, but it took me  a while to develop a pattern and learn the ropes. It wasn’t until a week after i started sex work that A CLIENT told me that I was supposed to use condoms for oral sex. Woops. Just because you know how to have sex, doesn’t mean you know how to do sex work.

I stayed at Pity Girls longer than I should. Once i left there i realised how much money i could be making elsewhere. But it took so long to explore other options because i was scared. Scared of the law. Escorts are left alone by the police. It is too difficult for the police to get the evidence they need when the sex and exchange of money was taking place in a clients home. But the stories that management would tell us workers about police harassment at every other sex industry business ensured my loyalty to Pity Girls. For a while.

Just another day in an orifice..

Tags

clients, discrimination, false consciousness, feminism, laws, personal stories, rants, safe sex, sex industry, Sex Work, stigma, the boss

Im not sure exactly what you all think goes on during a sex work booking, but from the conversations i have with people about sex work, it seems folks have gotten the wrong idea. Now i don’t claim to speak for all sex workers, and i realise i am only just one person. But I have done a lot of reading and talking, and i have met a lot of other sex workers over the years, i have worked with lots of sex workers over the years. I feel pretty confident that my experiences are similar to many other sex workers experiences. I am not the only sex worker saying:

I find sex work boring not abusive.

I often find the bookings mundane and repetitive. I find my thoughts drifting to a phone conversation i had earlier, or writing a shopping list in my head or trying to figure out where i am up to in my song timings. The sex is mostly vanilla, the clients simple, the bookings uneventful.

My clients don’t want to hurt me

My clients ask if i kiss and cuddle, not try to hurt or rape me. I dont particularly care for my clients, but i certainly do not hold any ill feelings towards them. And i have not had clients who display any ill feeling towards me. I occasionally have clients who try to push the boundaries of my service and i have occasionally had clients who did not show me the respect that i would like, but i have not been raped by a client, and i have not been hit by a client. Maybe i have just been lucky. Luckier than i have been in my personal life. Or maybe not all clients want to hurt sex workers. Most of my clients are quiet, nervous, shy with often very basic sexual interests. Again… boring.

I don’t have a pimp.

I have at different times worked for an employer, in partnerships with other workers and i currently work for myself. I chose to do sex work. I called the agency, they didn’t approach me. I told them when i could and couldn’t work so it fit around my other commitments. I wasn’t being fed drugs by men with gold chains and a cane and bad temper. I wasn’t a runaway. I will mention i have had some shitty sex industry employers, both men and women. But nothing that some OH&S regulations and industrial protections couldn’t fix. I am fighting for smoke free workplaces and shorter shifts, not fighting cos i was tied to a bed and forced to do anything…. again, boring.

I know how to say no:

And i do regularly. I, like most sex workers have do’s and don’ts in my service. My service is a standard vanilla full service. I stay in control throughout the booking, taking the lead, providing the service to the client.  I do not sell my body to my client, or even rent it. My clients do not expect  to be able to do whatever they want to me, like a piece of meat with no holes  bared. No. I give a great massage, i don’t do anal, i always use condoms for sex and oral, and put your hands here not here please. Controlled, negotiated, safe, regulated……… boring.

I’m not a callgirl, a junkie or a nymph.

Im just your regular average looking, plain dressing, vagina possessing, consenting adult. You wont pick me on the bus. You wont notice me as we both pick up our children from school. Im not going to tell you happy hooker stories at a party. I’m not going to show up dead in a dumpster. I’m not waiting to be rescued, and i’m not making a million bucks a night in designer suits and perfect hair, a credit card machine and a pager. Im just me. A woman going to work, coming home, and doing my thing discreetly…. boring.

Boring plain unexciting sex workers like me exist everywhere, just like our even more boring clients. Don’t forget about us in you’re feminist theory, in your law making, in your newspapers, in your crime shows, in your romantic comedies, in your dinner conversations, your social research and when your making assumptions about sex work.

And don’t presume the person you’re talking to hasn’t done sex work. We’re everywhere. But we’re not likely to tell you.

A happy ending

Tags

brothels, clients, personal stories, rants, sex industry, Sex Work

There is a joke that goes ‘when you pay a hooker, you’re not paying for sex, you’re paying for her to leave afterwards.’

My standard full service, like most others i know, is sold in time blocks of half an hour or an hour. Many sex workers offer shorter ‘quicki’ sessions and many specialise in longer bookings including over nights, dinner dates or even holidays and companionship. But personally i hate that shit. I’d much rather stick to my routine, do my thing and get them in and out. I can’t be bothered making half the money doing twice the work talking and being interesting, charming and unnoffensive  for prolonged periods of time.

Im a wam bam thankyou mam kinda hooker. Fucking is way easier than talking and faking an orgasm during boring sex is way easier than faking interest in a boring conversation.

But hey that’s just me. Luckily there are heaps of sex workers who feel differently and happily cater to the huge diversity of clients and their preferences.

I digress….

So when you sell your services in such a time limited manner as 30 and 60 minute blocks and charge handsomely for  you get kinda obsessive about time. I time all my bookings by the song on the CD i play. In a half hour booking its 1 song on straight massage, 2nd song the massage gets a lil sexier, 3rd song i turn them over… etc. The goal is to make sure I go through all the motions in the time allowed, leaving 10 mins for both of us to shower afterwards. Time management is so important. The way I manages their time is one of the ways I stay in control. I don’t want to go overtime and rip myself off, but I also don’t want to run through my entire routine too quickly and be left handing control over to the client, or kick them out too early leaving him feeling ripped off ensuring they wont return again ready to part with their hard earned cash.

All this without looking a clock during the booking. Ever. God forbid, you be accused of being a ‘clockwatcher’ (a term used in internet escort review forums to describe workers who constantly check the clock and make you feel rushed).

But no matter how well i plan it, there are times when my timelines fall short. For whatever reason, there are many times when we have arrived at the final destination 15 mins into a half hour booking, or worse, an hour booking. Maybe its cos the clients eyes were too big for their belly and they booked an hour when they only needed half, or maybe its just im so good at my job. Or maybe i miss calculated my songs.

Now the whole point of this post is….. So they cum too early…….then what? Then i have to use my powers of mind reading, which i use often throughout the course of a sex work booking. In this case i’m using mind reading powers to guess whether the client in question is from the ‘she better not be a clock watcher, time thief’ school of thought, or the ‘im paying for her to leave, not guilt trip me into staying here and chatting about the weather for the next 15 mins” school of thought.

Dont get me wrong, once they come, we dont go again, but i will offer a massage or a chat, or a shower, or….. whatevs, just to fill in the time. But i have this distinct feeling that after the erotic rush is physically released, like the very second it is expelled from their body, they just want to get out of there, in a hurry. But almost just as often, i think they feel guilty cumming and then just going.

I’d love it if they did cum then just go.

But instead we more often sit there and exchange awkward words, or I lazily and boringly massage them for the never ending minutes (or CD songs) till it’s acceptable for us both to mutually finish the booking. With a smile.

I want to say, ‘it’s fine to leave now you know’ but my mind reading skills are confused by their busy, anxious and sometimes annoying attempt to conform to the unwritten rules of “how to behave respectfully after sex with a woman you dont know” code of conduct.

Bless them. Just put your pants on and go already.

Eventually the song signals ‘it’s time’ and i tap their bum dismissively and jump up disappearing to the shower. When i return, they are dressed. I show them the door and kiss them on the cheek:

“thankyou, please cum again.”

ring ring ring

Tags

clients, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work

I have three different mobile phones for the different lives i lead. And never the twain shall meet! The ring tone on my sex work booking phone sends me insane. I hear it in my sleep, literally (cos i forget to turn it off before i fall asleep). It’s like my cue to groan, or swear, or in the case of the 3am call – shove it under the pillow to just make it stop.

Don’t get me wrong, i like my job, i want the bookings, but i HATE the phone calls. Depending on where i advertise i could get up to 100 phone calls in a day, and depending on my luck, or my phone manner, or the cycle of the moon or something, 100 phone calls could equate anywhere between none and 10 bookings in a day. Although i havent done 10 bookings in one day since i was 26. Because i’m lazy in my old age. And cos the phone calls drive me crazy, i cant contain my sarcasm.

Try doing this 100 times a day and still having energy for the ones who actually show up for a paying booking:

me: (sickly sweet voice) hello…….

them: i saw your add in the paper, can you tell me some more?

me: (takes deep breath ready for boring standard rehearsed monologue) sure, im offering PASSIONATE and RAUNCHY  full service……bla bla bla bla *insert spiel covering prices, a big sell about how attractive i am playing up my most sellable qualities and not mentioning the rest, giving my location and availability* i have recited the spiel word for word again and again, so its hard work to make it sound upbeat and perky, like it’s the first time ive ever considered how big my boobs are or that my apartment is discreet.

them: do ya do fantasies?

me: i sure do, what were you thinking off?

them: uuummmm i dunno, what do you do?

(I hate this, and they all say it. When i don’t need the money so much i get quite annoyed with them and say something like- “hunny its your fantasy, why don’t you tell me what you want and then we can negotiate” and when they say “ahhh well, um, what fantasies do you like doin?” i reply “my fantasy is for you to come and give me your money, plus a large tip, then pretend to get an urgent call and leave immediately!” stupid questions!)

but today i need the job so i reply-

me: well my service starts with a very sensual massage and goes from there, the service is very passionate and raunchy and includes mutual oral, toys and dress ups. (some sex workers charge extra for this, but i am really bad at ‘upselling’ so i keep my standard price high to cover these ‘extra’ services)

them: ok, um anything you don’t do? (again, stupid bloody question, of course – there’s lots i don’t do… kids, animals, snuff bookings, i could be here all day listing all things i don’t do… )

but i know exactly what they are really asking me..

me: no, sorry i don’t do greek (anal) and all my services are protected (condoms)

them: oh ok. what time are you open? (am i open? i presume he means my legs..??)

me: im available most days and evenings, by appointment with a minimum of one hours notice.

them: ok, can i make a booking for tonight?

me: sure, whats your phone number?

them: beep beep beep beep (I think sometimes they think making a booking is just a polite way to end the conversation!)

and so i answered the phone to this script 42 times today so far and scored two jobs..

This is a raid….

Tags

brothels, clients, laws, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, the boss

So where i work and have always worked, sex work is illegal. South Australian laws are really old and confusing and most of us are not entirely sure exactly where we stand. And even when we do know and understand the presice ancient legal word of the law, it’s the policing tactics that have a bigger impact on our daily lives, and they can change without rhyme or reason. Or maybe there is a reason that im just not aware of. Or maybe i have suspicions about possible reasons, but i aint writing it here. Or maybe there is no rhyme or reason. But the changing faces and farces of the South Australian Police is a story for another occasion.

This is the story of my first raid. I was 18. A receptionist in a massage parlour. I used to make $80 for 10 hours plus $2 for every job the business did. Kind of like a commission. It seemed like good money at the time, cash, no experience necessary. I mostly enjoyed my job there. Loved the other workers. Hated the bosses, but even back then i stood up for my rights and that of my colleagues.

It was during an era when brothel raids in Adelaide were insane. It was not uncommon for some brothels to have up to 3 major raids in a night, some workers clocked up to 50 separate charges of “being on premises in a 12 month period. One of my friends now has 84 counts of “being on premises” on her criminal record.

In an attempt to avoid this kind of police harassment this parlour was a very “straight” parlour. It was a health center that offered massages. Well that was the mask we wore. I would quote prices for a “full body massage” to potential clients over the phone or in person. Full body massage is code for massage with a happy ending. But if the potential clients didnt understand the secret language, we were in no position to educate them! We had to be careful, any client could be a cop. Not until the workers had undressed them would we know for a fact that they were not going to bust us.

My job was to answer the phone, greet clients, take money for the services, fold towels and clean spa’s.

I knew how to play it safe. It was drilled into me. My arrogant bosses would sit beside me and listen to every word i said on the phone yelling at me if i said anything they decided was putting us at risk of the cops. One day i even remember him threatening to ‘slit my throat from ear to ear’ if i got us in trouble. I wasnt scared of him, he was just a prick. But i didn’t really think about it much further than that. I was just a receptionist right? And plus our boss promised to look after us with the best lawyers if the worst should happen.

One day a woman came in for a job interview. She hadn’t worked before and my boss interviewed her. She was meant to be interviewed by the other business partner but my hot shot boss wanted to play the hero and interview the new girl, so he came in on his day off. She was the second woman that week who had been interviewed. I remember it well, he was showing off, bragging to her about how busy we were, showing her our booking sheet, telling her all our secrets.

She was a cop.

So was the other woman who came in for an interview.

The cops had been watching to see which bossman worked on what days and sent in undercover cops posing as women looking for work on different days trying to entrap both men. Haha. I still find it amusing that my boss was trying to be the big man and it made him get busted twice. Its the only amusing thing about the situation.

The undercover female cops came for the interviews and left without incident, not revealing they were cops, promising to call for a roster. Two days after the second interview i was showing a client in when there was a pounding on the door. I froze. They banged and hit the doors screaming “THIS IS THE POLICE! OPEN UP! THIS IS A RAID!”

Before i got to the door, they had managed to get the door open themselves and were storming in. Immediately we were all separated and then began a very long, lonely, scary 20 minutes.

They had stormed into all the workrooms, separated clients and workers, leaving workers alone while they bullied the clients into making statements against us. Threats like “you better tell us what you were doing here or we’ll go discuss this at your workplace” would have some clients giving us up in a second. Unfortunately this was one of those clients.

When the police finally got to me, they had one of the clients with them. They gathered us workers in a room. The main cop asked the client “which is the one who took her top off?” the client pointed at Melissa. “which is the one you paid the money too?” The client pointed at me.

It took 6 weeks for me to receive my summons in the mail with a court date to respond to charges of:

“receive money in a brothel”

“be on premises of a brothel”

“keep brothel”

I never heard form the bosses again, so much for their promises of the best lawyers.

I live with those charges against my name.

But at least i wasn’t arrested and held without bail. That’s a raid for a different story.

whore’s wisdom

Tags

brothels, discrimination, money, personal stories, Sex Work

Business has been quiet lately and so you get to thinking, and talking, and noticing funny little things. It’s so funny how things work out, funny the little way the world revolves, or the tide comes at the evening, or you think of someone and then they call.

And its funny how in the sex industry the phone doesn’t ring for hours and then 3 people ring and want a booking immediately and meanwhile u missed 2 calls while taking the bookings (yes you accept all three bookings for immediately, because whores wisdom tells you that one wont show up, and the other will be in and out quickly and one wont mind waiting for a short time.)

Funny how all 3 guys are named kevin

Or funny how noone rings the dam doorbell untill 30 seconds after the pizza is delivered.

Oh… here is a good one. I used to work in a parlour where the girls did ‘intros’ for the client one at a time, after they chose a girl they payed for the booking. If they did not see a girl who they wanted to see they were under no obligation to pay or stay, so ofcourse we would often have guys coming in for nothing more than ‘a look’. The boss told me once that if he sits on the bed, he never stays. I didn’t understand. She explained:

“I always tell them take a seat.. and i point to the chair, and over the years i have noticed that if they choose to sit on the bed, rather than the chair, they never ended up paying and staying..”

At first i couldn’t believe her, but i started paying attention and she was right!

So eventually when the receptionist would tell us to intro and the guy was sitting on the bed she would yell out “intro, he’s a bed sitter” and so we wouldn’t need to make much effort. Hey for any of you working in this type of situation, start paying attention and let me know if its true for you…!!!

While we are on that note, when they says they left their money in the car, you know they’re not coming back.

And another fact, for some clients the actual fantasy is to reject someone hot, so they come to brothels to look you up and down and then say in a patronising voice “oh, i wanted someone taller/shorter/skinner/curvier/bustier/younger/older/blonder/darker/anyone but you”!

Its funny how the least responsive clients, who looked like they was grimacing the whole way through the booking and left early without so much as a kiss on the cheek or a smile, is the very same client who becomes your most regular client spending hundreds on you every week.

It’s hilarious how if you tell clients how excellent you are, they believe you. If you tell them your worth 50 bucks, they pay it and attempt to demand everything on the menu (and even stuff that isn’t) and if you tell them your worth $500, they still pay and think you must be a princess.

It’s annoying how most clients think they are your only nice clients.

It’s funny how you don’t remember the client, untill you see the weird mole they have on their upper thigh, and that’s when you suddenly you remember that he was the guy who lived in the country and likes you to keep your shoes on.

It’s amusing how desperate some clients are to pretend that they made you orgasm, so that you don’t even need to fake it, a little bit of a sigh will have them asking “did u cum?!”

It’s great how you can sometimes be desperate for some fast cash, and so you start thinking how you just need that regular that always books for 3 hours at a time and pays for the fantasy dress up extra, to give you a call, and then he calls you…

Because i can

Tags

discrimination, feminism, laws, money, rants, Sex Work

Because I’m a whore I have been able to take risks safely; because I’m a whore I have been able to explore my fantasy’s without confrontation; because I’m a whore I have been forced to consider my future; because whore I demand my worth, emotionally, physically AND  financially; because I’m a whore I make goals and have the ability to achieve them; because I’m a whore carbon tax does not scare me; because I’m a whore I have been accepted into a world where judgement is scarce and intimate friendships are formed and not forgotten in the space of a 6 hour shift; because I’m a whore I have learnt that beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder; because I’m am a whore I have skills in boundary setting, assertiveness, acting and cock sucking; because I’m a whore I will not settle; because I’m a whore i am comfortable in my skin; because I’m a whore I have been forced to explore and accept my innate power; because I’m a whore my rights at work are worth fighting for; because I’m a whore I am illegal; because I’m a whore I pretend I’m not…..

Whores i know

Tags

discrimination, money, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work

There is Ella. She is 28, married and trying to get pregnant. We’ve been friends forever. She works for herself full time. She has her cottage all set up, just a cute little one bedroom place with a spa bath and a discreet entrance. Every day she goes to work and each evening she comes home. Her husband knows what she does and although it sometimes causes tensions, they work through it. Ella is happy with what she is doing, makes good money, feels proud of her business, pays tax, but worries what others think and what that will mean for any future children. For this reason ella also studies part time while she is at work. Ella specialises in fetishes, particularly humiliating her clients.

David is 26 and loves women. David describes himself as ‘gay for pay’. David is a party boy, lives it up on the weekend, and gets into making music during the week. David gets his clients from the internet who are a mix of married men, gay identifying men, young men, old men, business men, blue collared men and everyone in between. David sees a few clients a week and he uses the front room of his house. Not many people in Davids life know what he does, and he does his best to keep it that way.

Katie is 32 and works in a brothel. She has been working in the sex industry on and off since she was 18. In between that she has studied, worked at various jobs, but keeps coming back to sex work, she chooses it for its flexibility. Although she often goes off to try different ideas, she is still not sure what she really wants to do with life, and she feels lucky to be able to explore many options with the sex industry to fall back on. Katie is also a lesbian. She is single, and struggles to talk to other lesbians about her work. Usually when she finds herself in a relationship she has stopped work.

Ben is 34 and has a sugardaddy. They have been ‘together’ for 10 years now, but have a strictly business relationship. Ben’s sugardaddy is married to a woman, super rich with plenty of time and money to play with. Ben entertains his sugardaddy 4 days a week between 11 am and 3 pm and takes 2 holidays a year with him lasting 2 weeks each. In return Ben has his own luxury townhouse in the CBD (as in.. Ben owns it) and gets a generous weekly allowance, bonus’ and gifts.

There is my friend Nalia. Nalia is a single mum with 3 children.  Nalia is 42, works part time in a job she loves. She is passionate about making a difference in the world and being a great mum. Nalia had done sex work once or twice as a teenager but, it was more what she reffers to as survival sex work. She wasnt in a good place at the time and sex work was just a means to an ends. As a result her memories weren’t as empowering as mine have been. However at this point she is in a different place. With three kids doing well, and a new confidence Nalia has decided to give it another go. She doesn’t have to. she has enough money to just get buy, but Nalia really wants to put a deposit on a house this year. There is no way she can do that on her part time job as a single mum. She she decided to use her weekend a fortnight when the kids where at their dads to go away to sex work. When Nalia comes back from the weekend, she is exhausted but still finds time to count her wads of cash.

and i know so many more and diverse whores. i know migrant whores, who were whoring it in their country of origin, before they came here looking for better working conditions. and now they work sending money home to their family and saving money for themselves.i know whores that suck cock for a quick 50 bucks while they are on their way to buy a cola, i know whores that spend their money on drugs and those who spend it on their clothes and those who spent it on their friends and those who spend it on their lovers and those who spend it on their debt and those who spend it on their houses and those who spend it on their animals and those who dont spend it. i know whores who are 60 and ive met whores who are still in their teens. i know whores who charge $600 an hour and then the same whores ive seen charge $60. i know whores who are voluptuous, cuddly, athletic, busty, pert breasted, long legged, petite, statuesque, hour glassed figured, fuller figured, long hair punk hair, boy hair girl hair teeth, no teeth, hairy, smooth, smelly and clean, etc etc etc etc etc…