Dear South Australian MPs and sex worker allies

09 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in Uncategorized

Tags

brothels, clients, consent, councils, decriminalisation, discrimination, feminism, law reform, laws, licensing, mandatory testing, Melbourne, nursing homes, personal stories, Queensland, rants, regulation, safe sex, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, stigma, street workers, the boss

Dear Ms. Key, Ms. Gago, members of the South Australian parliament, people with influence and anyone following the latest attempt at sex industry law reform in this once progressive but now somewhat stale state.

Please stop it! You’re making it worse!

You may think you’re doing the right thing but The bill you’re debating has been cut and paste so much in order to appease and play politics that what remains is not workable or fair and will not improve the lives of sex workers or anyone else. It’s not a game of bluff, nor is it a matter of compromise. The bill you are considering is a big step backward.

This is ridiculous. Why are politicians sitting around and deciding how sex workers should best practice safe sex. Why should they be able to criminalise some consensual sex acts between adults just because there is payment involved? Why do they get a say on how adults are allowed to negotiate sex and money. And why do we need to be kept 500 meters away from schools? Is it me who is the danger to children and does that include my own children? Or is it my client who is the dangerous monster? What is it about paying an adult for a sexual service that you think has anything to do with kids at school? What exactly are you scared of? And we’re not talking about inappropriate signage or amenities, because that is covered by different laws. And frankly, sex workers and our clients are generally discreet. You don’t even know that I’m selling sex from my home right next door to yours! And why is no sex work allowed near churches? Who is that clause designed to protect anyway? And why bother even worrying about schools and churches when the bill gives all the power for approving any kind of sex industry business to the councils, who have made it clear that they will never support brothels! So even if I tried to comply with this new law and secured a suitable location and put in a planning application, it’s going to be rejected on moral grounds and I will be back to square one. In reality councils will have about as much luck of stopping sex work from occurring as they do now. And just like now, most will be sex industry businesses will be forced to remain unregulated and underground.

And why is it anyone else’s business who I entertain in my own home or how they compensate me? Can you see through walls? And what’s the deal with all the hate on sex workers who solicit in public places? What exactly is so offensive about a woman standing on the street at night time anyway? And I don’t believe that she is propositioning your children, because it’s unlikely your children could afford it. Personally I feel more uncomfortable walking past a building site in the broad daylight than I do going to the pizza shop on Hanson Road.

And why should we have to deal with police on regular basis. I have had a lot of different jobs in my time, and never did the police come and check to see if I was bending at the knees when lifting nursing home residents, or displaying a slippery when wet sign when I mopped the floors of woollies. Why are we still being treated like this? Sex workers are not criminals. Stop making us into them. In some states of Australia it is illegal to discriminate against sex workers but the bill you are debating is discriminatory. It treats sex workers differently to other workers in comparable industries and it discriminates against different ways working in the sex industry. But even less forgivably, it will make our lives harder, not better.

Yes it’s true that most sex work in South Australia is currently criminalised. And that most of us already dodge laws, deal with police, and work underground. It is true that our laws are the oldest in the country. But please don’t change them just for the sake of it. Do not change them unless you are changing them for the better. Sex workers know what we need, its decriminalisation. Every credible report from the last 10 years names decriminalisation as the only model that will promote sex workers health and safety. Every state and Territory in Australia has a different model of regulation for the sex industry and if you need any more proof that the only workable model we know of to date is decriminalisation, all you have to do is speak to sex workers about our experiences of working across Australia. NSW and NZ have successfully decriminalised sex work for more than a decade. In those places sex workers are not criminals. We have full access to all the services and structures, protections and rights that every other worker does, and employers have the same obligations as any other employer. Sex workers all over the world are begging for decriminalisation. Its not rocket science.

In stark contrast Victoria and Queensland have different versions of licensing mixed with criminal laws that govern various aspects of the industry. Special bodies have been set up to monitor the laws and the police are still heavily involved in regulating sex workers work spaces. Not only have those laws been ineffective but they have also been expensive and dangerous.

When I went to Victoria to work I had very little option but to work in a brothel for a boss under their rules. I wasn’t able to work for myself because the only way I could advertise was to first register myself as a prostitute with the government. This process is expensive and it is unclear who has access to those licensing records or if it is possible to get your name removed from the list. Even if I was willing to buy a licence and register, I would still not have been allowed to have the clients visit me in my hotel or home. The law states that I was only allowed to visit them at their home or hotel. So I worked for a brothel. But before I was allowed to work, I was first forced to have a full medical examination, as is the law. The nurse visited me at the brothel and took swabs while I lay in an undignified way on the brothel bed. The nurse insisted I needed an anal swab too, even though I objected and told her that I did not provide anal services to my clients. But unlike when my clients ask for this service, this nurse was not going to take no for an answer and she unconsentually and unnecessarily stuck her swab in my ass.

If I didn’t want to work for a boss in brothel conditions and I wasn’t in a position to register myself with the local authorities, my only option was to solicit publicly. Street based sex work is illegal in Victoria, but obviously still exists and in larger proportions than here in Adelaide. Victorian police have taken to dealing with this by placing female police officers posing as sex workers on the streets in order to bust potential clients. What criminalising our client’s means is that sex workers are pushed further underground in order to ensure their clients safety and the booking. It means the possibility that only the clients with nothing to loose will be willing to take the risk of visiting sex workers who publicly solicit. Essentially it decreases the amount of “respectable” clients willing to see street based sex workers and leaves us more vulnerable and fewer options.

Another huge slap in the face was working recently in QLD. I worked alone from a hotel which is legal as long I work completely alone. Not even with a friend. This is obviously not ideal, but it’s workable. Until I found out that I also can’t work in same hotel as any other sex worker. I can’t do doubles with another worker unless the client organises it. Infact I cant even have any friends who are sex workers. I was told to be careful even having lunch with another worker whilst answering my work phone. It felt crazy. I got the distinct feeling that I was viewed as a piece of property by QLD government. As a sex worker in QLD I must belong to one of the only 25 government approved registered brothels in the state or I must completely exile myself from the rest of the industry. I must rely only on my clients or my employer for support. And on top of all this, they have entire sections of the police force dedicated to ringing up private workers and trying to convince them to offer a double service or a blow job without a condom, so that they can bust them. All in the name of protecting sex workers.

And then I come home to Adelaide where the old and unworkable laws are……. well, old and unworkable. I can advertise and work for myself in ways that I choose with minimal difficulty. I can work with friends as a collective, I can work from home, I can work for a boss or opportunistically. Its all equally illegal, and easy to remain anonymous, unless I’m a victim of crime and need police assistance, or unless I’m working in a brothel that police have singled out for a raid, or unless I don’t know my rights, or unless I haven’t yet learnt the police evasion strategies. Our current laws are bad, but the new laws being proposed will only make our lives harder. They won’t work and rather than address community concerns they will highlight them. The issue of sex work regulation will not be resolved until we get sensible fair and workable law reform.

We already have sophisticated systems to deal with all areas of work, industry, OH&S, public health, zoning, amenities, child protection, industrial rights and any other areas of concern. Stop with the politics and just let us access them already.

A journey out of town

20 Friday Jul 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

clients, discrimination, escort, friends and family, laws, Love, money, personal stories, Relationships, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, stigma, the boss

After writing about the time I was dramatically evicted from the country town I was working in, I wanted to write more about my regular trips out of town. For a few years that was the way I worked. I would travel to some rural location, work solidly for a couple days and return home cashed up. Sometimes I would go to different places but mostly I worked in the same town. It started with an agreement I made with my partner of the time. The only way he was going to be ok with me doing sex work is if I left town to do it.

So when a friend in the industry gave me a tip that there was decent cash to be made in a town few hours drive away, i decided to give it a go. I discussed it with my partner, chose a date and started making plans. As the time got closer, I became more nervous for different many reasons; was I going to make money? What if I lost money? Would it be worth the time it was taking from my busy life? Will I feel differently about the work after not having worked for a while? Would I hate this particular way of working? Am I going to hate being stuck with a driver in a country town, miles from home? Will my partner act weird towards me when i got home? Would he think the money was worth it? Would there be any trouble from the police in town, or the hotel management or clients or the locals? I had all this on my mind as I planned my trip. All my decisions were based on attempting to minimise my financial and personal risk.

I ran an advert in the personals section of the local town paper the week before I was going to be there asking people to book in advance, as well as for the week that I was there. I never count the money before it’s in my hand but I was hoping to get an idea as to whether it was going to be worth my while or not by asking for advance bookings and i figured that giving the potential clients early notice of my trip couldn’t be a bad thing either. When planning future trips I decided to make it a rule that unless I had 10 confirmed bookings, I wouldn’t go. Often one or two would cancel when I was already in town but I could usually pick a few new ones up too.

For this first trip I decided to use a driver. For the following trips I ditched the driver in favour of going with another worker, or even by myself but this time I wanted the security of having someone with me and I wasnt sure if business was going to be good enough to take another worker.

The day came, my driver arrived and we hit the road. I had my two phones, one for work, one for personal, a piece of paper with the details of the 12 confirmed bookings I had for the weekend, my little handbag with condoms, lube, massage oil, and a mini vibrator, a backpack with a little black dress, heels, stockings, trackies, a T shirt, make up, and toiletries. We drove for hours, telling each other stories and listening to music.

My driver was a friend of a friends, he had a nice car and he turned out to be very efficient and useful. He drove me all the way there and back, ran my errands, provided my security and even answered my phone and took bookings while i was busy. In return I paid him a flat fee plus expenses. It felt very luxurious having my own employee.

In trying to reduce the likelihood of contact with the police or being kicked out of my hotel, I decided to do mostly escort bookings where i visited the clients and only had the occasional client visiting me in my hotel. This is not my proffered way of working and in this town it was worse than usual. The town had had a big influx of workers and not enough accommodation to keep up so as a result I was visiting clients in caravan parks, share houses and on mattresses on the floor. I would have much preferred the clients visit me where I was in control of my surroundings but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and I didn’t want my first trip to end disastrously. I kept discreet, had security measures in place and charged $50 more than I normally did.

I arrived in town at around 2pm and had 2 clients booked in straight up. As we got into town, I called my first client to let him know I was close and my driver pulled into a petrol station so I could use the bathroom and freshen up. It was going to be my first client in a while, I was in a new town, visiting them at their house. I didn’t know what to expect. As I knocked on his door and introduced myself, it all came back to me, like riding a bike. I took the cash and did my thing, in and out and on to the next one. They were not easy but not difficult either. I spent the full hour massaging, talking, sucking, fucking, washing and dressing. No early minutes for me. But I jumped into the car at the end of the second job happy that I had already made enough money to cover my expenses and I was ready to work hard and go home with a fortune.

My driver had taken a booking for me while I was in the second job, this time the client was going to come to my hotel room. I had an hour to spare so I relaxed and showered in my room. All the money I made from here on in was profit and it was only 4pm. I had shaken off the nerves of seeing my first client and my phone was ringing hot. I was trying not to get too excited about money i hadn’t even made yet.

I set my room up and got myself ready for my client. My driver was waiting to make sure i was ok, and then he was going to get me dinner. While waiting for my client to arrive I answered my phone and filled up my booking sheet between 8pm and midnight. I was feeling good that i was going to make money and I still had a couple of hours free straight after the next client.

The 6 – 8pm time slot stayed empty and i remembered it’s always quiet during that time wherever you are, it’s dinner time. It didn’t matter though because I was busy the rest of the evening, finishing up at 1am, exhausted and cashed up. I soaked myself in a hot steamy shower, put on my trackies and then rolled around in my money. I am not even joking. When i publish my book, you will see the photos of me rolling in $50 notes.

I had two bookings for first thing in the morning, one with a client from the night before and the other one was in the cabin of a truck. The client was too nervous to come to my hotel because he thought that people would see him and know he was visiting a hooker which is a common concern in a small town. I often wondered when i went out for food or through the drive through, if people knew i was the hooker that was advertising in their paper. Especially after i had been to the same town a few times.

By the time I had finished the truck job it was nearing check out time and i had to make a decision. I still had bookings for the next night but only a couple, and nothing during the day. Over breakfast I considered my options, should I to stay on for another night or call it quits and head home. I had made nearly 2 grand and I was exhausted. I decided to leave on a high. I checked out of the hotel and did one last escort job on the way out of town.

The drive home felt so amazing. A renewed feeling of whore power! After 2 years of struggling on part time minimum wage, all I had done was outlay $50 in advertising plus a spare sim card and i was able to make 2 grand in just over 24 hours with very little planning.

I was tired all over but i felt satisfied. I rewarded myself with a facial, massage and manicure and pedicure when I got home.

Over the coming years I got to know the town, the clients, the hotels, the take away shops, the bars, the pay weeks, and the routine. It wasnt always as financially rewarding as the first time, but it was successful for many years. It was always hard work but it was always the same amazing feeling on the drive home. Feeling powerful, feeling satisfied, feeling the big wad of cash..

Easy cum, easy go..

09 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in Uncategorized

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

laws, money, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, stigma

Money! Money! Money!

Thousands of words in this blog and not enough about money! Too much research into sexual health in the industry and not enough about the economics. Sex work is work, like all work we choose it for many reasons, but like all work, a big factor in those reasons is often our personal financial considerations. For me the primary reason I choose sex work over other work options is the autonomy it offers me. I can work for myself with little overheads.. so I do. I would still choose sex work even if it paid the same or slightly less than other work options. But if it were to pay considerably less, sex work would no longer become an attractive option to me. Like in any industry, obviously, money comes into it.

Due to sex work being so incredibly stigmatised and not to mention criminalised, it’s likely that I may never have entered the industry if it weren’t for economic reasons, I needed the money. I choose to keep coming back for so many more reasons but to begin with, it was almost purely economics.

Yet all the surveys being distributed from naive and voyeuristic psychology students asking about our daddy issues and drug use histories trying to figure out how someone could consider selling sex, rarely ever ask about my economic situation, or my spending habits, my savings and investments. I’m not talking about questions like ‘how much money do you spend on drugs?’ ‘was your mother on welfare?’ or ‘hookers should pay tax’, I mean, meaningful enquiry into the economic situation of sex workers before, during and after working in the sex industry and the barriers for sex workers becoming financially secure etc.

Sex work is not a gold mine, most of us are not making more than we can spend, but a lot of us are making enough and not enough of us have as much as we could. I’m not saying we should all aspire to have 3 properties and an investment portfolio, or that some of us don’t already, or whether acquiring wealth is even a worthy goal to have, and I dont want to imply that I think there is any particular ‘good’ way to use our money. This post is more about representation. I am suggesting based on my own limited experiences that, compared to people on similar incomes in other indsutries, there arent enough rich hookers.

And I wonder how much stigma and discrimination has to do with it. Do sex workers’ financial situations in decriminalised Sydney more accurately represent their income than sex workers in criminalised South Australia. Or for an even starker contrast, what would a comparison of sex workers financial situations and the level of stigma and criminalisation that they live with globally look like.

I’ve never been good with money, but then I never had money before I was a hooker, so who knows which came first. My parents weren’t good with money either, probably has more relevance to my career choices than the fact that my father didn’t love me enough. Not as interesting to psychology students though.

I think sex work has given me less respect for money, the money I earn in sex work doesn’t always equate to the effort I put in. I could get paid $700 for a two hour booking and then go home straight after it, or I could sit around all day answering the phone for 12 hours and only do one half hour job for $150. Sometimes its easy come easy go. You can’t plan for it, so it’s easier to spend. Common phrases that run through my mind are ‘oh, well I might not have done that last job, I didn’t know i was going to get that booking, so it doesn’t really matter if i spend that money on… (insert vice of choice)’ or ‘ohh, i can just work an extra day and make that money back, no worries’. It sure does make it easier for money to slip through my fingers, but it must be similar to any independent contract worker in any industry.

Being paid daily and even hourly doesn’t help either. Dribs and drabs of money is much easier to be irresponsible with than large sums once a week. I’m not complaining though, I love dribs and drabs of money. And in an industry where your boss’s business could be shut down by the cops any second, who would tolerate having their pay withheld for a week!

Perhaps I’m just too generous. Having come from not much money, a lot of my non hooker friends still don’t have lots of money. I don’t know about you, but when im going out for dinner, I don’t want to go alone, so I might pay for my friends. If im doing well enough to be able to afford a holiday, I don’t want to go alone, so I might take my sister. Are other hookers as generous?

On the other hand there have been times when I led a double life, no one knew that I was a sex worker and so I almost had to be careful to not have too much money. There was never any pressure or expectation for me to be ready for home ownership when I was meant to be making $15 an hour as a waitress.

And when I’m not telling anyone about my job or the income, who do I talk to for financial advice? It’s not like financial institutions are marketing their services to me. And working somewhere or somehow in a criminalised way, like many of us are it’s hard to know where to begin, who to trust, and whether its even worth it. Paying super seems a pretty far stretch for a lot of us.

Maybe there is an element of dirty money? I don’t think this plays into it for me at all. But maybe for some people, especially those new to the industry, there is an element of perceived risk taking or doing the wrong thing which impacts on the way people view the money they make from it? Like internalised stigma stuff. Or maybe not? I’m not sure.

For me there is an element of freedom that I get from sex work which impacts on the way I spend money. I feel like sex work allows me to live in the moment, and I spend accordingly. Live day to day, place to place, no savings but confident Ill have a roof over my head. Not to mention sex work makes me a rule breaker, I already live on the fringes. Avoiding authority, not much in my real name and I get paid and play with cash. Paying tax on my sex work money is a relatively new concept and I actually have no idea what an investment portfolio is.

It’s hard to build assets in a criminalised environment when you know that the cops could possibly seize everything you have as proceeds of crime, or even worse, here in SA you could be charged with illegal possession if the cops can prove you made your money from sex work.

Then it seems that there are some people out there who see us as easy targets as well. watching us making money, busy justifying the reasons they should take it from us. Sometimes they see it as easy money, sometimes its jealousy, sometimes they convince themselves that we owe it to them. And i bet some people are counting on the belief that lots of us are not in a position to do anything about it when they rip us off. We might be scared to go to the cops, we might not know who to tell, we might not have any proof that we had the money in the first place, we might be scared of blowing our cover.

I guess another consideration is that due to the stigma and criminalisation and the discrimination we face from others, sex work is not always seen as a career by many, sometimes it’s just something to do right now. There isn’t much incentive to plan ahead if its seen as a short term option.

I guess for some there is the belief that the bigger the risk of discrimination that you face in doing sex work, the better the rewards should be, but for myself I feel like the more out and proud of my work I become, the greater my expectation that I’ll have access to the same financial security as other employed/ independent workers on decent incomes. I feel entitled to my seat at the grown ups table, and I want this money to work for me…

So you’ve met a hooker…

28 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

discrimination, friends and family, Love, mother blame, personal stories, rants, Relationships, safe sex, sex industry, Sex Work, stigma, whore shame

So you’ve met a sex worker. Maybe someone has recently “come out” to you, maybe you met a sex worker at a party, maybe a friend or lover has just told you about their sex work or maybe you’re a social worker and one of your clients is a sex worker. You might not be sure how to react, you might have some questions or concerns or you might not have an issue and want to let the person know. Maybe you have seen the Shit they say to sex workers video and the Shit they say to strippers video and you don’t want to be a cliché. This post will help guide you through those first few moments after someone tells you they are a sex worker. Take note because you never know when you are talking to a hooker.

First of all, stay calm. If the idea of sex work shocks, excites or upsets you, just relax. Don’t say something dumb in the heat of the moment. Give yourself a moment to compose yourself and consider this post before you open your mouth. If you are not at all shocked or concerned either way, then feel free to act normally.

Take a moment now to think about every stereo type you can imagine relating to sex workers. Think of the pretty woman, and the bodies in dumpsters on Law and Order, of high-class call girls, and desperate drug dependant street workers, about sex slaves, pimps and dangerous clients about sex workers childhoods, their reasons for working, their lifestyle. Every stereotypical image you can think of and then some.

I want you to understand that every single time we tell someone that we are a sex worker, we do so knowing the person we tell may have one or all of these assumptions about sex workers. When we tell someone we are a sex worker we risk having them instantly apply and compare any or all of those stereotypes to us. Imagine how we might feel when we disclose our job to you, or anyone. If its hard for you, it’s hard for us.

Its important that we see that our job doesn’t change anything for you. That you don’t presume anything about us just because we are sex workers. That you don’t judge us. If you want to respond in ways that demonstrate this, here are some hints from my personal perspective:

1. Just because I tell you about my job, doesn’t mean I have told everyone else. Please don’t parade me around the party expecting me to play the role of happy hooker for the amusement of all your friends.

2. Our job is not inherently violent, it is not an accepted part of our job, and many of us work our entire careers without experiencing workplace violence. Some of us have experienced violence at work, but it’s polite to wait for appropriate safe and supportive spaces before bringing up sensitive past events. What I’m trying to say is when I tell you I am a sex worker, don’t let the first or second or even third question be ‘so, how often do you get hit’.

3. Sex work doesn’t always include penis and vagina penetration. Sex work can be anythingand everything related to sex. Massage with a happy ending, stripping, bondage and discipline services or any number of things. Dont presume you know about the service I provide unless I tell you.

4. Don’t presume anything about my sexuality, my sexual boundaries, my sex drive or my sexual preferences. The sex I do for work is work and is not necessarily related to the sex I do for pleasure. Me being a sex worker doesn’t preclude me from also being in a monogamous relationship, or being celibate, or dating, or being fussy, or being promiscuous or being gay, or being sexually adventurous or being shy in the bedroom. All on my own terms. And just because I sell sex at work, doesn’t mean I’m always working or that I will sell it outside of work, and it doesn’t mean I’ll fuck you. But it doesn’t mean I wont either.

5. No it’s not OK to ask me if I was abused as a child, If my dad loved me, if I have any self-esteem, or what I spend my money on. All I did is tell what job I do, not ask for a psychological/financial assessment. My relationship with my parents is hardly relevant, I can bore you with my childhood stories some other time when we all start talking about childhood and daddy issues. My bills and finances are none of your business and my personal stuff is my personal stuff. Right now I’m trying to tell you about my job, and I am judging your reaction. These questions show me you are looking for reasons and needing an explanation or excuse. Your questions may seem innocent and harmless but have a look at your assumptions behind them or at the least remember the stereotypes that i deal with and understand how it makes me feel when you respond to my disclosure with questions like that.

6. If you have known other sex workers, feel free to tell me about it, particularly if you hold those sex workers in high regard. I don’t need to hear about your ex who was a hooker who you hate or about some hooker you saw in a movie who was hot. Dont bunch us together or pretend you know anything about me just because you once knew a hooker. If you are telling me about another sex worker you know, make sure its because it is ether relevant to the conversation in some other way or because you are trying to reassure me that my job is no issue and I am welcome in your group. But don’t break someone’s confidentiality. Dont point out the other hooker at the party or tell me that Dave’s girlfriend is a stripper. That’s not cool and you just made me wish I never told you.

7. Dont feel sorry for me, ask me about other jobs I could be doing, ask me what my goals are in life, offer to help me with a resume or lecture me about my future. If I need help in career planning or employment pathways I will ask. If, by the way, I do want to consider other options outside the sex industry, dont presume it’s because I hate the sex industry and am ready to repent.

8. Dont tell me if you think its hot that I’m a hooker or I’ll charge you by the hour. Its my job, I’m not at work. If you were talking to me as a hooker, you’d be paying me by the hour. In my personal life I like people who like me even when I’m not a hooker.

9. Dont compare me to other sex workers, either positively or negatively. You don’t make me feel good by telling me I’m smarter than other hookers, or that at least I don’t work off the street. You might think you are giving me a compliment, but it’s very backhanded. Not to mention, what if I do work from the street, or have worked from the street. Your judgements are showing again.

10. Dont ask me about the intricacies of my work unless its necessary or I give you permission to ask. It’s like a doctor doesn’t want to start looking at everyone’s skin irritations and swollen glands when they are at a BBQ. Also when you ask me if my clients are gross or dirty, or if I kiss, or how often I get tested, or how many clients i fuck in a shift, I know your making those judgements about me. Why else do you want to know about the attractiveness of my clients or how many of them I have sex with? You’re being grossed out and it’s offensive.

11. Dont tell me you couldn’t do it. Yes you could, you just choose not too. I’m not superhuman, I wasnt born with a whore gene. I find it insulting when someone thinks there is something inherently different about me. I would rather not work as a plumber cleaning shitty sewage pipes, but I COULD do it. Obviously.

Now, obviously there will be times when some of these questions feel relevent to you. For example if you are in a sexual monogamous relationship with someone, their sexual practices at work, especially their safe sex practices, may be important to you. I am not saying you have no rights to ask those questions, I am saying it’s probably not a good time to ask those questions at the time of disclosure. I am suggesting that you listen, trust, show your non judgement first. Then at a different time when you have had time to consider what you really need to know and for what reasons you can have that conversation. Be clear though, that your insecurities or concerns or lack of awareness are usually your issues. We may be willing to help you work through them, but it’s important you own it.

If you want to ensure that people feel comfortable and safe enough around you to disclose their sex work status, or share stories or information about their work, there are some things you can do to help make that more possible.

1. When you hear stories about sex workers anywhere ever, speak up! Show your support. You never know who around you might do or might have done sex work. Maybe it’s them telling you the story, testing the waters, checking your reaction before telling you about their own sex work.

2. When someone discloses let them know that you are cool about their job and then follow their lead. How you do this will depend on your relationship if you just met someone at a party ”ok, cool, im a teacher/nurse/student/etc” should do the trick. If its your partner “ok, thanks for telling me, i love you/ I really like you/ I support you/etc” and then let them make the next move. If you don’t get all your questions answered right then and there, it’s ok. By providing a safe space you are increasing the likelihood of getting the information you want.

3. Try saying something positive. Like “it’s great you have a job that fits around your studying/parenting/other interests or responsibilities” and just see what they say. You are all of a sudden giving us permission to talk about our job both the positive and the negative. You have shown us in one sentence that you hold no judgements. In fact I really really recommend you try saying this to someone when they tell you they are a sex worker. Let me know how it goes.

Of course all of this only applies to those that have any desire to have the person in their life in any capacity in the future and for those who want the person disclosing to feel safe in their presence and those who wish to behave appropriately and respectfully. You may have some concerns or some feelings about the issue and that is ok, you may even be unsure about your feelings. But there is plenty of time to work through any whorephobia you may have lurking later. If you are willing.

However if you have a big problem with sex work or sex workers and you have a severe reaction to the disclosure it might be best if you quietly leave the room without making a scene. Try to say as little as possible so as to not incriminate yourself any further. I just told you what my job is, not that I’m about to murder someone. I don’t need to explain myself. I don’t need your permission. I don’t need your judgement. I have heard it all before and I was expecting this. If you stick around and show me how you really feel either purposefully or inadvertently, I will react in one of two ways 1. I’ll answer your questions say what you need to hear, respond in the ways i need to get your approval and make it stop or I’ll defend myself, stand my ground, put you in your place. And you don’t want to be put in your place by an angry hooker. for real.

After all of this, if your still looking for something to say let me suggest “can I get you a drink?”

Welcome To My Boudoir

26 Thursday Jan 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

brothels, clients, escort, friends and family, laws, Melbourne, money, personal stories, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia

Yesterday I got the keys to my new work space, my very own unit! And today I did my first jobs from there. I have worked in so many different spaces over the years, both for myself and for other people but I have never had my very own place just for me. It’s all mine and mine alone and it is very exciting. Setting it up and slowly settling in, I have been enjoying the challenge of decorating my new workplace in practical and attractive ways that are economical. I refuse to spend money that I haven’t yet earned, I’m not a gambling woman. Pilfering from my home, accepting donations of old furniture from friends and towels and linen from ex workers and watching my ideal work space come together, dreaming about future white goods and artwork. I can put things where ever I want, and they will still be there in the same spot when I come back the next day. It’s so fun not having to compromise with other people!

So because workrooms, brothel décor and furniture placement is what is on my mind I have decided to write about the places I have been paid to fuck in. There have been so many different places I have had paid sex but some things were always the same.

My first ever sex work booking was in a gym after hours. I had just started escorting and my first client was the Gym Manager. During that booking his desk became my workbench, I laid back on it with my legs in the air and he fucked me. The building was dark, big and a little daunting. Afterwards I washed at the basin in the ladies toilets. These days, after so many beds, it would be a fun and interesting job, but back then for my first time, a well-lit private bedroom would have been preferable.

Over the years during escort bookings I have fucked in offices, in ware houses, in cars, in trucks, in the kitchen of a golf club during business hours, on couches, in wives beds, on the floors of empty houses with for sale signs out the front, in backyard sheds, in make shift floor beds, on spare single beds, in spa’s, in caravans, in hotels and motels and probably plenty of other places that i cannot think of.

Being in a clients home is never predictable, the clients might be but their homes and hospitality vary massively. Some clients will show you straight to the makeshift bed on the lounge room floor. Out of respect for their partners they wont do you in the marital bed or even let you close to the bedroom. Others don’t care and will have you in their bed with wedding pictures and children’s toys all around. Sometimes you get the distinct impression there might even be kids asleep in another room somewhere. I have been lucky to not be chased out of a house by an angry partner. Yet. It is a fear though, so I always keep my clothes and money close!

Some want you to have a drink with them or listen to their music or show you their garden or play a game of pool or introduce their dog or show off their big screen tv. Some wont want you anywhere near their things. Some have immaculately clean houses, some don’t. Sometimes you’re at a bachelor share pad in the middle of the day while the other house mates are at work and it doesn’t look like someone has cleaned the shower in years, let alone washed a towel for you. Sometimes you do it on their parents bed because they are away for the weekend and its cleaner than your clients bed.

The only thing the workspaces on my escort bookings have had in common is privacy. I do insist on privacy. The cars have been parked on private property (like in the warehouse haha), the trucks have cute little private bed cubicles and I wont go into a house if I think there is more than my client at home. But once my client is horizontal, my handbag of tricks becomes my portable workstation containing all the tools of my trade such as condom, lube, massage oil, toys, wet ones and a mobile phone sometimes even some lip gloss.

But I prefer in-house work, where the client visits me and I get to control the environment. I pick the music, offer the drink, invite them to lay on my bed, set the lighting and make sure I have clean towels. Make my sex work space is the way I like it. The first brothel I worked at taught me everything I know about a good sex work space. Back in those days the police were very active and my boss used to move the brothel from townhouse to townhouse in order to evade the police or reopen after a bust. She told me it was important to have a place with an address that was simple and easy to find and impossible to confuse. It was so important to reduce the likelihood of clients going to the wrong door and causing neighbours to complain and alert the police.

The town houses were 3 bedrooms with two bedrooms converted into work rooms and one being used for a client waiting room. There was a private space for workers (usually the kitchen)that was off limits to clients and whole place would be immaculate and clean.

In our work room we had a queen size firm and stable bed. No creeks or squeaks to distract our clients during the important bits. Condoms in different sizes and flavours and sachets of lube in the bedside drawer. Tissues, wet ones, massage oil and talcum powder on the bedside table. A chair for clients to put their clothes on, a CD player with something like enya or sade playing, prettily rolled up fluffy towels stacked on a small stand and another towel on the bed folded into a fan like (wh)origami. After taking the clients money we unfold the towel flat onto the bed so the client could lay on it, decreasing any spills onto the bed sheets. And ofcourse there was a clock.

Most of the brothels I’ve worked at since then were pretty similar to this set up, although with varying degrees of cleanliness, classiness, and attractiveness. In Adelaide our brothels are so basic because the illegality prevents people from investing in them. Noone wants to put in spa’s and ceiling mirrors when it could be closed down any minute. Brothels are mostly rented premises in residential areas with usually only two or three work rooms.

Some of the brothels I worked at did not have condoms or lube in the room because they were worried about them being used as evidence, so they would be kept under lock and key only distributed sparingly as needed.

Some staff rooms double as a waiting room for clients, meaning workers are always on display and on duty even between jobs. I hate that. Who wants to get stuck talking to someone elses client for twenty minutes while he waits for his worker? You have to be sweet and polite and noone is even paying you!

While most brothels I have worked in have been nicely decorated, with classy and sensual framed prints hanging on the walls there were some exceptions. One place I worked was decorated with framed photographs of the owners parents, children and family members. I always found this bizarre and slightly off-putting. I wonder if it was yet another strategy to throw the cops of the scent.

And then there was Melbourne, an eye opener. Ten work rooms, a shop front where the clients just let themselves in, big massive dressing room for the workers, showers built into every room, music playing in hidden speakers in every room, special purple lamps to do STI checks on clients, buzzers and intercoms in our rooms. And this brothel also had a couple of themed rooms, a B&D room with a big wooden chair with buckles on it, a rack with lots of toys and pain inflicting devices, and bed with bars and handcuffs attached to it. It also had an orgy room with a king size bed, a day bed and a spa in the room. But even with all the new features and modern conveniences, everything else was the same, there was still a bed, the towel folding, the tissues, wet ones, condoms and lube.

In my private work I have rented rooms with or from other workers and in hotels, motels and apartments. I bring my own towels, I put on the clock radio on for music and I take my money down to my car between jobs as there is often nowhere to hide it when in a small hotel room with your client right there. I put on the big room light for doing business and a softer bedside lamp for doing….. business. I have the same set up with my whorigami on the bed, my tissues, wet ones, lube, oil, talcum and sometimes my toys on the bedside table. I hang my sexy costumes and lingerie in sight for decoration and eye candy.

And there have been times when I worked on the floor, behind a screen on my friend’s apartment floor, or times when I worked on my other friends couch whist visiting her in Darwin (she was working from her bedroom). Times when I rented a room from the Asian parlour around the corner or from the busy suburban brothel 2 suburbs away. Each time I do my best to try ensure the space is private, clean, practical and comfortable and has some ambience or atmosphere. But even when I don’t, it doesn’t stop the clients from paying. I have always felt guilty when inviting clients somewhere that I consider not up to scratch but they never seem to care. They are not there for the towel folding or the music playing.

But I am really enjoying being able to offer my clients a shower in private, playing good music in the background and buying lots of fluffy soft towels. Maybe I should put my prices up?

I am a whore

05 Thursday Jan 2012

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 43 Comments

Tags

discrimination, feminism, language, prostitute, rants, sex industry, Sex Work, slut, stigma, whore shame

And other words you shouldn’t call me…

You may have noticed the name of my blog and my frequent use of the word whore. A lot of people have wondered why I use that particular word and many have suggested that I shouldn’t. Some people have told me that in order to win more friends I should not use such strong language, others have told me that I shouldn’t put myself down like that, I should have more pride. I’ve also been told that it is such an evil word that we should rid it from our language, no woman is a whore.

I would just like to respond to those comments before I continue:

I’m anonymous, I don’t need to compromise who I am here in order to make friends. This blog is not about conforming to appease people, it’s about sharing myself in order to offer a perspective on… being a whore.
Thanks for your concern but I have so much whore pride its dangerous, have you read my blog? Does it look like I’m consumed in hooker shame? Whore isn’t my confession and I’m not asking for your forgiveness.
And guess what? you’re wrong! some women (and others) are whores… Hi! Sorry, you can’t rid me from your language!

Whore is a word I am choosing to reclaim to describe the job I do and the stigma I face. The fact that it upsets so many people only reaffirms my desire to call myself a whore and watch the people squirm. Why does a sexually and/or financially independent or liberated or adventurous or nonconforming woman stress you out so much? Why is whore so much more offensive than say – wife or student or nurse and all of the stereotypes they imply. Who cares if I’m a whore! Whore whore whore whore whore!! I like the word slut for the same reason. As women these words control us in ways that are so ingrained in society and in our own psyche we barely recognise them. What are we so ashamed of? What are we scared of? Or who cares so much about the sex life of the person next to us? And what even is a slut or a whore? Just words often used as nasty insults rather than a descriptions of someones sex life or work life or both. Lets face it, how many people reading this have been called a whore or a slut, or called someone else a whore or a slut and it had absolutely nothing to do with sex or money? Anyone has the potential to be called a whore or a slut, these words serve to control us all by shaming some of us. The more we all run from these words, the more power they have. By reclaiming the word whore I feel like I am taking away its sting and its ability to hurt me and at the same time I am standing up to the whore hating slut shaming bullies. Standing up with woman kind, with slut kind and with whore kind, with human kind, standing tall and united.

When you call her a slut, you call me a slut, and we are all sluts… now what? Yes I am a whore, I have sex for money which makes me a whore.. so what?

Not only that, I think Whore is so powerful and strong and has an ancient and sacred context. Almost a modern day witch. I am a whore. Hear me roar!

That doesn’t mean all of us are ok with the word whore. Given that it is still used in very derogatory ways, and is considered an insult of the worst kind by most people in our society, you better be careful who you are calling a whore. Sex worker is the politically correct terminology. If you are referring to another sex worker you should use sex work and sex worker unless told otherwise.

Sex worker is the preferred language because it places sex work clearly as work. It doesn’t hold any connotations and it doesn’t make any judgements. It includes all of our community in all our diversity and shows respect to our stated wishes. Basically you should call us sex workers because we said so, and you don’t need a better reason than that.

You should not call us prostitutes. Well not without our permission. In Australia many sex workers find the ‘P’ word offensive. In everyday language prostitute has come to mean sell out or without morals and has nothing to do with the type of work we do. IE/ ‘he is now prostituting himself to corporate sector’. Even when describing our work prostitution is not always accurate. Prostitution generally refers to full sexual intercourse whereas many sex workers do not provide intercourse. I personally am not upset by the word prostitute, but if you are in the media or in politics and you use the P word despite having being asked not to thousands of times by sex workers and our representative organisations, then shame on you! You should know better! Sex worker is what you have been asked to call us, have some respect!

Other names I have been called include hooker, escort, masseuse, working girl, lady of the night, mattress actress, call girl, ho, street walker and many many many more.

They all hold their connotations and we all identify with and/or hate them differently. I personally do not identify as an escort because an escort visits the client in their hotel or home or whatever whereas I more often provide an inhouse service. I don’t mind being called a hooker, but if you’re using the word ho or whore you better use it with love. And that’s just me.

If you don’t know what language someone uses to describe themselves, use sex worker. If you’re speaking formally to or about sex workers, say sex worker. At parties and BBq’s, in the media and in online conversations, say sex worker. Inhouse sex workers, street based sex workers, escort/visiting sex workers, sex workers in strip clubs and in the porn industry, phone sex workers, male, female and gender diverse sex workers, young sex workers, migrant sex workers, private and independent sex workers, sex workers employed in brothels and agencies. Sex workers, sex workers, sex workers. You get the idea.

I know it might sound confusing, I can call myself a whore or whatever else I want but you have to call me a sex worker. If you think about it though, you will notice many marginalised groups are reclaiming and using language that was once used derogatorily against them, while at the same time asking people outside of their community use language that is neutral and respectful. You have no right to reclaim language on behalf of a marginalised community you don’t belong to unless you have been given permission. And even then, permission is usually only good for a specific circumstance or context and does not necessarily give you a free pass to say what you want when you want just because you once dated someone who didn’t mind being called a prostitute. If you are not a sex worker and you choose to use language that holds negative connotations to describe us or our work without any right to do so, you are being disrespectful. If you continue to use disrespectful language even after you have been asked not you, you are a bigot.

To put it another way,

I am a whore amongst whores, a sex worker in public and If you are lucky enough to meet me socially or get me behind closed doors… you can call me Jane.

Up ya bum!

21 Wednesday Dec 2011

Posted by becauseimawhore in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

I am always surprised when people ask me how many times I have been hit at work and they are always surprised when I answer NEVER. In all my years sex working, there have been only been two times when my client scared me and neither of these times resulted in me being hurt.

It’s important to note that if I feel uneasy about a potential client for any reason I do not accept the booking. As sex workers we develop many screening techniques that work for us, the most reliable one being our gut instincts. I also want to acknowledge that while I have not experienced workplace violence or abuse at work in the sex industry, there are many sex workers who have. Indeed there are many workers in all industries who have, but for workers in the sex industry there is less support and limited options to deal with issues or incidents due to criminalisation and discrimination. In many cases the sex work laws are responsible for making sex workers more vulnerable at work. We should also remember that for women violence is more likely to be a part of our home life than our work life, no matter what job we do. So to ask me how many times I have been hit at work just because I am a sex worker is kind of ridiculous and inappropriate, not to mention unhelpful. Imagine asking every woman you meet how many times they have been hit by a partner or family member as part of normal conversation.

So generally I get frustrated with the question and the looks of disbelief that follow my answer, but if I’m feeling generous I will follow it up with an explanation and a story. Only two bookings where I felt scared and due to my well refined de-escalation skills neither of them resulted in me being hurt. Infact one of them is now part of my collection of funny hooker stories, do you want to hear it?

I was working in one of Adelaide’s small suburban brothels one evening when this client came in. He booked me for 2 hours straight up and we headed for the small 2 person outdoor spa in the private courtyard of the cottage we were working from. It didn’t take me long to notice this guy was wired. He was racing through emotions from aggressive to horny to nervous back to aggressive, the whole time very agitated. In the spa he told me what I already suspected; he been on a massive drink and drug bender and hadn’t slept for three days. He told me about a big fight he had with his girlfriend and was clearly still very angry about it. He became more aggressive the more he talked about the fight. He re-enacted an argument using me as a prop for his girlfriend.

I was scared. I was confined in the spa with him inches from my face, yelling at me, fist clenched, veins popping, body pumped, mind scattered, pupils dilated.

“AND I TOLD HER TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH, FUCKING LISTEN TO ME”

He wasn’t calling me a stupid fucking bitch, he was telling me what he said to his girlfriend, but he sure was doing a convincing performance. In those moments a thousand things flashed in my mind but I did my best to hold his focus and find a way to snap him back to the here and now. I was worried that in his overtired, delirious, hyped up, sketched out, coming down, pepped up, clenching tight, freaking out state of conscienceness he would blur the line and vision between me and his girlfriend and then I’d be in trouble.

I calmly and gently reminded him that there were people inside the house who will come out and check on us if they hear him yelling and swearing. He lowered his voice but kept going, every now and then getting louder and more aggressive as the story peaked. He was angry and he was strong and he was unpredictable. If I had been visiting him I would have found a reason to leave but I was in a brothel and there were other workers around who will intervene the minute I screamed so i kept going with the booking.

After a while he stopped talking about his girlfriend and seemed to settle into the service. We went inside to the bedroom past the other workers where I gave them a look which said… ‘hard work’ (as opposed to the ‘funny story’ or ‘extra money opportunity here’ or ‘bored as hell’ or ‘get me the fuck outa here’ looks). They give me a ‘poor you’ look in return and I keep walking.

Behind closed doors he was still agitated and still tense, still arrogant and still strong, but less angry. We had about an hour and 20 mins left and I planned on using the last 10 mins to shower, so really only about an hour left. I knew he wasn’t going to want me to massage him, and I knew he would have trouble performing after his bender but guys like this wont to let you do your thing. They want this and they want that, now do this and try that, none of which is going to give him an erection. But he’ll rub it till it’s raw or the hour is up. I’m twisting his nipples, sucking him off, playing with myself, playing with him, on repeat while he rubs and rubs, he is hot and dripping in sweat, condoms get thrown off and new ones put on while his dick goes hard and soft and i try hard not to show my boredom whilst avoiding falling drops of sweat.

Wanking his dick and talking about various women he has fucked and sex acts he’s proud of. Again not very interesting and some of it was pretty offensive. He told me him and his mates once picked up a woman from a club, took her somewhere nearby and fucked her during which she allowed them to stick a carrot in her ass. These three guys were fucking this woman in the ass with a carrot and then let it get stuck inside her, they couldn’t get it out. Everyone involved freaked out and the guys drove her to the closest hospital and dumped her out the front.. I was appalled and I didn’t hide it. I told him I thought it was disgusting that they would be so disrespectful as to just dump her at the hospital after they carelessly lost a fucking carrot in her ass. I disliked him even more.

But there was still 40 minutes to go so I went back to playing with my vibrator while he furiously yanked on his penis trying to make himself cum. It was after I faked the 3rd orgasm (all that moaning has got to lead to something eventually) when he told me he wanted me to fuck him with one of my toys. It’s not an unusual request, I would say at least half the guys I see like some kind ass teasing or anal play even if they don’t talk about it. I had plenty of ass- play experience with clients with my condom covered fingers, but not much with toys. There was 35 minutes left in the booking and I was keen to shake it up a bit and waste some precious time in this long tedious booking by getting up of the bed, finding the right toy, putting a condom on it and getting lube organised.

I chose a smallish slim vibrator and put a condom over it. I underestimated him. I should have chosen a medium or even a large toy, he had obviously done this before. He was getting right into it and for the first time in the booking I felt the pressure mounting, now we were getting somewhere. He was still pulling on his penis, it was hard now. I knew, in the way a hooker knows that I needed to keep going at the same pace for just a bit longer to make him finally cum and then I can push him out the door. But the toy was too small and he was thrusting so far back on it that it his ass swallowed the vibrator while I clinged to the end of the condom that covered it. The whole vibrator was now inside him with only the condom hanging out and he was still thrusting. I gave the condom a yank trying to bring the vibrator back out where I could get a grip of it but the condom broke and the vibrator disappeared in further inside him.

My life flashed before my eyes. This aggressive sketched out tough guy on all fours in front of me and I lost a vibrator in his ass!!

I didn’t say anything, I shoved my fingers inside him and felt the tip of the toy. I told him to push so I could grab it and instead he tensed up and I felt it move away from my fingers. He started freaking, I told him to relax and push, it’s going to be fine I promised, I’ve got it I lied. But I had no idea what has going to happen, I was shitscared.

Like a pro, he instantly fell into foetal position, pulled his ass cheeks apart and pushed. I saw the end of the toy crowning (haha), I grabbed it and pulled it out. I told you he had done this before! The relief flooded through me, crisis averted. He was kinda pissed off at me, not only had I killed the potential orgasm, but I had irresponsibly lost my toy in his bum.

With the danger gone, his bottom in tact and only 15 minutes of the booking left I felt pretty safe and smug in assuring him that if I had lost the vibrator in his ass I would happily arrange for someone to drop him out the front of the local hospital.

Even now the memory of the arrogant, aggressive, tough guy falling into foetal and pulling his ass cheeks apart and pushing like his life depended on it makes me giggle.

The boys in brown

05 Monday Dec 2011

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

clients, cops, country towns, discrimination, fantasy, friends and family, laws, Love, money, personal stories, Relationships, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, stigma

I used to travel around South Australia and sometimes beyond for a weekend every month in order to sex work anonymously. I had an arrangement with my partner at the time that I could work with his blessing but not in our own city where the chances of me fucking his boss were increased. The first time I went away it was a risk, a financial risk but it felt risky in other ways too because I was not sure what to expect of the town, of the clients, of the accommodation, or any other variable I could imagine. I hired a driver, a friend of a friend. We agreed that I would pay him a flat fee for the weekend to drive me there and back and to all my jobs. He was employed to provide my transport and my security. I was worried that I wouldn’t make enough money to pay him and still make a good profit but I need’nt have, I was very busy. And so my successful out of town business (ad)ventures continued for a couple of years. I have many stories to tell about these trips away, about the clients, the towns, the jobs, the way I felt. But this story is about the time I was kicked out of town by the boys in brown.

It was the third time I had been to this particular seaside town and each time I had had mixed results. The first time I made a fortune and the second time I barely covered costs. But this time was going to be a winner, my add in the local paper had scored me many back to back confirmed bookings and many more enquiries.

On this occasion I had decided to fly rather than drive and with no car I had no requirement for a driver. I arrived in town alone with a reservation for a nice holiday apartment, my mobile phone, my bag of tricks and a booking sheet full of in-call appointments. It was too early to check into my apartment so I wandered around town window shopping and buying supplies for the weekend. The phone was ringing off the hook but it was mostly just my first client pestering to come and see me early. I kept explaining that I hadn’t yet checked into my apartment yet and that I would call him when I was ready. He was very eager.

It is because of over eager clients like him (among other reasons) that I don’t give out my address until I am ready to greet them at the door. I will take the booking and their phone number and give them a general vicinity of my apartment but I make them call me again 10 mins before the booking to get the full details. This stops anyone knocking at my door before I am ready, when I am not there or when I am with another client. It also means that it is only the genuine clients that know exactly where I am. Makes me feel safer.

Eventually the time came when I could head back to my apartment and check in. I had done my best to choose a holiday apartment that was suitable to work from. And by suitable I mean, no management on premises and definitely no reception that the client had to walk through before getting to me. I also consider things like, security, but not too much security. I want my clients to be able to get from their car to my front door with as little fuss as possible. And so do they generally. This apartment met all the criteria but the caretakers were hanging around cleaning some of the recently vacated apartments which always make me nervous. And my first client was still calling. I decided to let him come what was almost two hours early because that would mean I would have a two hour break before my next booking and would hopefully rouse less suspicion the from caretakers if they happened to still be hanging around.

I set up my apartment ready for work. In the bedroom I had my tissues and wet ones on one bedside table and massage oil and talcum powder on the other. In one bedside of drawer I have the condoms and lube and the other I have my toys. In an open cupboard I have my costumes, lingerie and dress ups, all aimed at exciting a client or extending a booking or charging extra. Just having them there in view is often enough to help the session along, or plant the seed for a second booking.

I cover the bed with a coverall blanket over all the bedding and place a nicely folded towel on top. When the client comes I unfold the towel for them to lie on decreasing any mess. At the end of the night I get my own pillow from home and take the blanket off the bed leaving fresh bedding for me to sleep in.

I turn the big lights off and the bedside lamps on. I like background music playing, preferably something smooth and sexy with some bass but the clock radio was often all I had.

In the lounge I had porn playing on mute. Purely to encourage longer bookings and to provide a more… inclusive service, not just a bedroom one. Which is why I also had lots of snacks and beverages to offer clients. I had higher prices and discounts for longer bookings trying to decrease clients without decreasing my profits. Mainly because I was scared of being noticed by the hotels I stayed in and so I didn’t want a steady stream of men coming and going. I had the breath mints out, drinks in the fridge, 2 mobile phones and a piece of paper full of names, numbers and times.

I was nearly ready so I gave my first client the details of where to come but asked him to wait 15 more mins and he agreed. I was hoping the caretakers would leave before he came but of course he doesn’t wait he arrives straight away. I should have known by his incessant phone calls. I let him in and I asked him how long he would like to stay for, which is really just a prompt for “let’s do business” since we have already discussed on the phone how long. He tells me and I ask for the agreed upon fee. He doesn’t have enough money.

He did the usual “Oh, I’ll go to the bank and come straight back” routine. Its annoying at the best of times but this time, I was anxious because of the caretakers still hanging around the site. I wanted him to stay rather than come and go and come back again so I asked him how much money he had on him and negotiated a shorter service for a lesser fee, just to keep him in my apartment. Again, hoping that the caretakers would leave before he finished.

He paid, he stayed and he loved it. When I showed him out I was happy to notice the caretakers had left. I shut the door behind him, chucked my money with the phones and booking sheet and went to jump in the shower. But there was a knock at the door. I thought it was going to be my annoying client who had already proven a lack of understanding of my way of doing business. I had only shown him out the door less than 5 mins ago, maybe he left his keys behind or something. I hadn’t yet given my address out to anybody else.

So I threw on my dress quickly, no underwear and opened the door. It took me a minute to process who was on the other side, two guys wearing a brown uniform. The country police.

“We have reason to believe you are running a prostitution business from here”

I laughed. “Why on earth would you think that?” I don’t know how convincing I sounded, I usually lie pretty badly, so I’m guessing I was hopeless.

Apparently the caretakers had called them. I couldn’t believe it. “I have had one male friend visit me and you think I am a prostitute!!!?” I wasn’t actually faking my indignation. Apparently my stupid client had said something to one of them on his way up. Something like “Do I pay you?”.

“So one stupid man asks if he pays the hotel caretaker and that makes ME a prostitute? How ridiculous, maybe he was wanting to rent a room or something”.

No, I have to leave the apartment regardless because it is the prerogative of management and they have asked me to leave. It seemed I didn’t have much choice so I agreed to pack my stuff. Both the cops came into the apartment to “help me pack up”.

Take a moment to think back to the scene I described earlier about how I had my apartment set up, what I was wearing, and the money next to the booking sheet, next to my phones. It became obvious what was going on.

They went all good cop/bad cop on me. They took my details and tried to insist I gave them the phone numbers for both the phones. I wouldn’t admit to their allegations and I refused to give them the second mobile number. It would link to my adds. So I told them it was my phone for my straight job and that I did not want them calling me at work accusing me of being a prostitute! I knew my rights, all I have to give is my name date of birth and address. I didn’t have to say anything else.

And THEN the bad cop came in with a camera! He was going to take a photo of me. I hadn’t even been charged with anything. I asked him if I had a right to refuse and he said “oh it’s just something we do now”. I said again “do I have a right to refuse?” He said “sure you can refuse but then I’ll take you down the station and charge you with prostitution”.

By this time in my life I knew the laws pretty much back to front. Probably better than mister bad cop and his good cop partner put together. There is no charge of “prostitution” there are a range of other charges such soliciting, receiving money in a brothel etc, but he didn’t have any evidence for anything. He had one guy, one girl and some porn. Sure they could claim I was going to engage in illegal activity by turning the hotel room into a ‘brothel’ with the booking sheet but it’s not illegal until you do it.

So I refused the photo and told him he had no evidence to press charges. I was relieved when he didn’t try anyway but on the way out he told me that if I tried any other hotel they would find me there too and I believed him. So I gave up. I changed my flights so I could fly home that night and headed out to the airport. I had hours to wait so I sat and drank the wine I had bought for my clients and contacted all my bookings to cancel and let them know what had happened.

One of my clients was so disappointed he asked if he could come see me right there, right now in the airport. After a few wines and a big financial loss this actually seemed like an option. After all I still had the whole afternoon to wait and I was bored. So I agreed. He picked me up in his ute and drove me to a quiet spot not far from the airport.

40 mins later he dropped me back at the airport and I’d almost recovered my loss. And I had another good story.

But baby, just think of what we could do..

01 Thursday Dec 2011

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

brothels, couples, discrimination, feminism, friends and family, Love, money, parenting, personal stories, Relationships, sex industry, Sex Work, single mothers, south australia, stigma

Another love story. Complete with love, lies, sex, summer holidays and a little bit of communication. When I met Luke I was happily hooking in a brothel 2 shifts a week, studying part-time, working a ‘straight’ job and parenting but I still found time to do a little partying. I was single, my kids spent a couple of nights a week with their father and I was still young so every now and then I’d go out on the town with my besti’s and on some of these occasions I got lucky. Or I should say, sometimes I went home with someone and they got lucky!

By this point in life I had made a decision to keep my sex work job a secret. I had children to think of, I had an ex partner, the father of my kids, who I didn’t want to give ammunition, I had study, a straight job and a future. I was not ashamed of my sex work, it was just such a non issue that I couldn’t be bothered dealing with the stigma if I didn’t have to, and I wanted to protect my children from it. It was sex work that had allowed me study part-time, given me the freedom to be a single mum rather than stay in an unhappy relationship, allowed me pick and choose straight jobs, only accepting those that were flexible and willing to work around my family and my study. It was sex work that meant I could buy the expensive texts books I needed for Uni, and take my kids to overpriced music lessons and still left me with enough money to have a big night out every now and then. I was desperately scared of having to give all that up and I thought that keeping it a secret would prevent that from happening.

And it worked. I didn’t tell Luke the night I met him at the party. Actually we had met quite a few times over the years, but he had never really left an impression on me before. But that night he did and we spent the night together and then later in the week another night and then an afternoon. I didn’t want to tell him my secret because then it’s not a secret. What if we stopped seeing each other after a short time and then he told everyone else. I decided it was none of his business and that if we were still seeing each other after 3 months I would tell him.

3 months came and went and Luke and I were still seeing each other. He spent time with me and the kids and it was getting fairly serious. I had dropped my shifts in the brothel back to only one per week, and I didn’t want to tell him. I knew by now that he would hate it. I knew that he would make me stop. I knew he would be upset I had kept it from him. And I knew it didn’t have to be that way. We were not living together so I still had my own expenses, and my brothel shift just moulded seamlessly into my busy and respectable life, I wasn’t technically lying…… I just said I was going to work.

I didn’t want to give up what I viewed as my independence and so I kept sex working and I kept it a secret. For nearly two years.

Possibly not the right thing to do, but I am certainly not alone. Half the people I worked with at the time were hiding it from their partners as well. It seems easy to justify when you know it’s just work. And as time went on, it just seemed more and more impossible to tell him. I wanted him to know, sometimes I felt like he just didn’t want to know. I mean, why didn’t he ask more questions, Even if he didn’t notice the extra money I was sure I was dropping hints. But no, I worked once a week in a brothel for more than 18 months and it seems my partner had no idea.

And then one day, in the middle of a big blow up argument, about something unrelated and I can’t even remember what now, I yelled the words at him. “I DON’T CARE, I’VE BEEN A PROSTITUTE THE WHOLE TIME YOU’VE KNOWN ME”

I meant it as a cutting end to our argument, to our relationship, to my lies, and possibly to my job. I had thought about what would happen if he found out and I knew he’d be pretty pissed! I wouldn’t have been surprised if he put a hole in a nearby wall. But I screamed it at him and he just looked at me blankly and said “you are not!”

And so I told him everything. His calmness floored me, so my manner changed. I lost my anger and I felt guilt and sadness for hurting him. I explained myself, I consoled him, I explained myself some more, I apologised and, of course, I did the inevitable. I promised to stop working. We talked and to my surprise he was willing to forgive me, and I guess that made him even more appealing to me.

I quit my job, took up extra hours in my straight job, and moved in with him to save money. I felt like I gave up some of my independence but I was ok about that. I kept it up for around 12 months but after a year of no sex work, and less flexibility in my other job, I was suffering financially. So was my partner, he had acquired an instant family to help support and we were all feeling the pinch. I had been faithful to my pledge to not do sex work, but we were struggling. It was on my mind, and I began making jokes about it. The bills would come in and he would be complaining so Id say, “one night in a brothel, I could clear them for us”, he would ignore me or give me an annoyed look. But neither of us could deny that money was tight and something had to give. I kept making my jokes, but I started throwing in extra sweeteners “we could even go on a holiday!”

“But honey, just think of what we could do!”

He still didn’t agree, but he seemed more open to the idea the more I kept bringing it up. One day he snapped at me “Oh for gods sake, you want to go back to work, just do it then”. I nearly squealed with excitement, but thought that might be an unhelpful reaction. So we sat and had a very open and long conversation about it. I asked him what his main concerns were. He said he trusts me, he knows it’s just work. I reminded him that he knows it wont effect our relationship, because I had already been doing it in the past and he didn’t even know. Eventually he confessed one of his biggest fears about me being a sex worker, was that I might fuck one of his friends or colleagues as a client, or I might be recognised and outed in public.

Jealousy is an awful emotion, and one that is difficult to control. Everyone experiences it differently and for different reasons. His fear seemed silly to me, but I was glad he was able to figure it out and communicate it to me. It meant that we could find a way for me to do sex work that he could live with. We decided that I would go away to work outside Adelaide, where it was unlikely I would see anyone either of us knew and where I could remain anonymous. So for the next 12 months I went away once a month to rural and regional South Australia for working weekends with friends.

And because I felt privileged to be able to go back to work with my partners blessing I used my money very wisely. I knew we were taking a risk in our relationship and I wanted to make it worth it. In 12 months, I managed to pay off our credit card debt and saved enough money to take us on that holiday I had suggested.

I used to joke that I was bribing my partner to “let me” work by paying for us to go to the Greek Islands, but it wasn’t actually like that. I did have to convince him to be ok with me going back to sex work, but we were a partnership, and I felt equal in that partnership, we had developed an arrangement that worked well for us, and sex work had become a part of that arrangement.

And it is hard to argue while holidaying in the beautiful Mediterranean summer!

Stop the Trafic – The Red Light

25 Friday Nov 2011

Posted by becauseimawhore in sex work

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

brothels, consent, discrimination, feminism, laws, money, rants, sex industry, Sex Work, south australia, stigma, the boss, unions, work, workers rights

This is part three in my series of posts about trafficking. I previously wrote about my suspicions in regards to the portrayal of sex trafficking in the media, and the motivations of the anti trafficking industry in Peak Hour, and the negative outcomes of the trafficking hysteria in The Car Crash. This post is the answer. A green light for migrant sex workers and a red light for trafficking.

If you follow on from my original post the answer seems really obvious to me. There are many sex workers all around the world who travel or would like to travel. Just let them do it.

Let people apply for working Visa’s in Australia as a sex worker. As I have mentioned, I personally have the contact details of at least 10 sex workers currently working in China who would love to come to Australia to work in your brothel, if they could get a Visa. The barrier is that they are unable to get a working Visa as a sex worker. Not to mention the process of applying for Visa’s to enter Australia is extremely difficult because we conveniently do not translate the required documents, so people who do not speak or read English, often need a third person to help them apply for their travel documents. Some of the sex workers I referred to have considered paying a third person a lot of money to assist them in travelling to Australia to work, and some knew other workers who had done that. Obviously being in a lot of debt to the person assisting you travel or your employer does create vulnerabilities for the worker though, it can take away a some of their bargaining power and in some cases could restrict the sex workers choices. A few simple changes could allow sex workers from around the world to come to Australia willingly to work. There would be no demand for stolen or coerced non sex working Asian women in the sex industry, because lets face it while having sex slaves in place of willing workers might be slightly better for short term profits, it has got to create some serious challenges. Cut out the middle man and the demand by allowing migrant sex workers to enter and work in Australia legally and independently.

That is ofcourse if your concern is stopping trafficking, and not stopping sex work.

It might also be useful to educate all sex workers, our employers, our clients and the general community about our rights, in appropriate and useful ways. Through our peer organisations and that are supported to make sure they can outreach to all sex workers from all backgrounds making sure people know their rights. Make sure we all know what we should expect and what is not OK at work so that we are less likely to be exploited or treated badly and we know what to do or who we can get more information or support from if we do have problems at work.

Of course, where I live in South Australia that would mean giving us some rights in the first place. Decriminalise sex work, and give us our rights!

Educate the wider community, health and welfare services and the police to treat sex workers with respect. Help break down the stigma of being or seeing a sex worker, so that we can talk to people about what’s going on without fear of being judged. The discriminatory perceptions that exist about sex workers and our clients doesn’t make it easy for us to share anything openly or honestly, or to voice our concerns.

Take crimes against us seriously. Dont turn it into a witch hunt on an entire industry, or blame my choice of work, just give me the support I need and deal with the crime at hand. Create safe spaces for people to report crimes, concerns or suspicions and then treat those reports seriously, and respectfully, like you would if the crime or complaint had been committed in a restaurant.

Encourage and support our organising. In Australia, we havent got our own union, but we have our own workers rights groups and organisations. Many sex workers are members of those organisations and many many many more sex workers receive support, information or advocacy around workplace issues from these groups and organisations. They are also fighting for our workers rights at a state and national level. Strong sex worker organising reduces the risks of us being exploited at work.

Stop the police raids. Stop pushing us and our workplaces, industry, employers and clients so far underground that we can barely see the light. Change the approach and try protecting sex workers instead of scaring us. Save the raids for actual crimes.

Is it really that difficult? Want to stop slavery? Free the slaves.

Seriously, allow sex workers to travel to Australia and work in the sex industry legally, educate them on how to do that, give us rights, make sure we know our rights, create safe and supportive spaces for us or our clients to report crimes or concerns or to make complaints, treat those reports with respect and take them seriously, stop thinking and suggesting that being treated badly is part of doing sex work, support us to organise to improve our work conditions for all sex workers and make the cops protect us instead or raiding us.

because i'm a whore

~ i blog anonymously

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So you’ve met a hooker…

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