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I was at Pity Girls for about 8 months in total. It was escort only, based at a no frills office building in the centre of the CBD with a nice big car park. It had a small office used as the phone room where the receptionist took the phone calls, a bathroom with a shower which was in need of a clean and ofcourse the ‘girls room’ which is the lounge where the workers hung out between jobs. It had a big tacky old modular lounge, a day bed with a single mattress and pay TV (a novelty to me back then). Typically there would be a coupla sprawled out bodies sleeping while we waited, a stiff looking driver pacing around or staring at the tv alert and waiting for the next job and a bunch of fast food wrappers, overflowing ashtrays and empty lemon rusky bottles. On a quiet night there would probably be another driver and some workers out in the car park listening to car stereos and sharing joints, bitching and giggling. On a busy night the place would be deserted and workers would be taken out early in the night and wont come back till daylight. While the escorts were mainly ‘ladies’, there were also ‘rentboys’ and ‘trannies’ as they were marketed in the industry back then. Of course most of our clients were men (but not all). In the phone room the receptionist  had our ‘description cards’ with our assigned hooker name, a set of random body measurements that rarely reflected our real body shapes, a vague romanticised description and a tickbox list of the ‘extras’ each of us may offer (usually for extra cost) or our do’s and donts, these might include – kissing, toys on you, toys on them, golden shower, role play, dominatrix, bi double, couples, anal. It was a pretty steep learning curve as i fumbled my way through my first few months, learning my new job. And while i certainly loved the lifestyle that sex work afforded me, I didn’t love it all. It takes a while to settle into a new job and figure out what you like about it, and what needs to change. But I did.

The Pro’s and Con’s of pity girls, escorting and sex work.

  • I loved the disposable income.
  • I hated the shit pay.
  • I hated working all night.
  • I hated wearing nightclub clothes in the daylight.
  • I hated drunk groups of guys.
  • I loved drunk lonely old men with gold credit cards.
  • I hated going into fancy hotels looking like I don’t belong.
  • I hated wandering around dark blocks of flats looking for the right number.
  • I loved it when my driver walked me to the door, checked out the house first and took the money safely back to the car.
  • I wasn’t so keen on sitting on my clients couches and talking to them politely waiting for them to take the lead to the bedroom.
  • I hated fucking in their wives beds with photos of their kids on the walls.
  • I hated doing group bookings where a couple of us workers would see a group of friends. We would stand awkwardly waiting while the clients would awkwardly try to figure out which one wanted to see who, trying to be nice to each other, trying not to offend the hookers, but not wanting to get stuck with the one they found unattractive, we didn’t care, we just wanted the to make a decision. And then often we would all be doing the deed in same room. We wouldn’t swap partners, but i still hated on the injustice of all these extra people seeing me fuck and not paying for it.
  • I loved doing group bookings when I was with my trouble making friends. One night I remember my friend leaving the hotel room of a group of guys we had just seen and she was wearing their hotel’s plush towelling robe under her nightclub clothes, after she had spent the booking heckling the poor guys in the way that only she could do.  She cracked me up.
  • I loved doing doubles and couples when I got paid twice as much for half as much work.
  • I loved that my agency always took my side over the clients no matter what.
  • I hated that my agency treated the clients like shit and encouraged us to the same.
  • I hated my name. The receptionist on shift  named me at my interview because I couldn’t think of my own fake name. I was Chantelle. I chose a new fake name as soon as I left Pity Girls.
  • I hated it when the receptionist promises the client a tiny Italian lingerie model with an accent just to get their commission, and then send me and I’m left dealing with the disappointed and grumpy client.
  • I hated it if I got stuck in the car with a  dum driver for the whole night,  who drove slow making me  late for my bookings  and again leaving me to deal with an unhappy client.
  • I loved getting my favourite driver, we would listen to all his cool cd’s and smoke pot and he made me laugh lots, and one time when a client cancelled me at the door because I wasn’t ‘his type’, my favourite driver told the client that he wasnt our  type either and we laughed hysterically as my driver demanded a cancellation fee. I loved him for that.
  • I hated being rejected at the door, or sent to fake addresses.
  • I hated driving all the way north from all the way south, wasting 2 hours on the road just for a half hour booking that only pays $35 bucks!

I hated that when I finally told my usually supportive, open minded mother what I was doing for a job, her response was a very angry and hurt: “how long before you stick a needle in your arm” *phone slams down*

I loved it how  eventually (days not weeks) my mum calmed down, sat down  and told me her concerns which led me to changing workplaces. I went ‘in-house’. I stayed a Pro, but I dumped a bunch of the cons!