Wednesday, 22 October 2014

A Way to Spend Money


Sex work is about sex and money, so I often think about money and what to do with it.  Money is just a tool with which we build our freedom, but not having any of this freedom-tool is not much fun at all.  And yet I am surprised at the drama that surrounds so much to do with sex workers' money.  Not least by ourselves.  I guess this has to do with the fact that at any time we may have to stop sex work, usually because of some kind of drama.  Must we have so much drama?  (Not necessarily).  Why do so many well-paid sex workers carry so much debt and have such stress around money?  The more money you get, the more you fear losing it.  I guess more so if you've scrimped and saved and not let yourself enjoy having it at the time.

Money is obviously such a great divider too, and we're always using it as a reason to judge.  People hate "rich pricks" as much as they hate to see people they assume are beneficiaries who happen to have cigarettes, booze and chocolate in their shopping trolleys.  We always want to tell other people how to spend their money, or mock the way money is spent or "wasted."  CEOs who earn at least 5 times more than their lowest paid staff are common, and frequently moaned about.  The ex-husband of a friend of mine overseas was made redundant and received a very golden handshake, a 7 figure amount!  It seems outrageous, but he had to leave the country to find a new job in his field, and his work was what he loved to do.

People also hate that sex workers get so much "easy" money.  One of the things people moan about in the comments on news sites whenever something comes up about sex work is that sex workers don't pay tax.  This is true, some do not, and some intend to but have not got around to it yet, some feel they can't because it will "out" them or because they are in receipt of a benefit, which they intend to get off, but don't know when that opportunity will come because income from sex work is never constant and can not be relied upon.

Paying tax (ie filing tax returns etc) is actually not that straightforward (not that that should stop anyone).  If you're legit as an escort, you also have to pay an ACC levy (the code is 95300 for Brothel Keeping, Massage Parlour and Prostitution Services).  This means that you have to either let the government know you're a sex worker or come up with some other creative title that will fit nicely into a different category.  I've asked IRD about this on behalf of a friend, no seriously, on behalf of a young woman who wanted to be a sex worker and do the right thing.  Sometimes it's hard to get a straight answer from these government employees, but I'm pretty sure the man on the phone waffled something along the lines of that they don't really care what you say you do, they just want their tax.  Correct me if I'm wrong.

So what else should we do with our money besides invest it for our retirement?  Because it can be quite a shock to have so much.  I really like the idea of Natalie Pace's Thrive Budget.

The Thrive Budget advises that 10% is spent on a retirement fund which is tax deductible (in New Zealand KiwiSaver gives a member tax credit).  The Thrive Budget also allows 10% for your favourite charities, which is tax deductible.  Now is the time to be generous to your favourite causes, and of course, to keep the receipts - I think it is 33% of your donation that you get back?  We sex workers are in a much stronger position financially than many others, it's fun to share the love.  It's good to ask ourselves what we believe in and put some money towards a cause - it's a great way to realise how well off you actually are and be grateful that you are in a position to help those who are worse off.

Spending money on fun should be a conscious thing, otherwise you can just fritter your money away on impulse spending to get some fleeting pleasure.  Natalie Pace says you should allocate a whopping 20% of what you earn on your own considered pleasure.  I have a few nice hobbies and interests that bring me pleasure, and it's nice to be able to justify spending money on what makes me feel good.  I love to spend money on art, especially if I am encouraging young artists.  It's a feel good thing and I have beautiful things to look at, watch, listen to, remember.  I adore it when talented people do creative stuff, and I love to attend art shows, live music events, plays and films, especially on opening nights when the mood is full of excitement and a lot of effort has gone into making it a real occasion.  So naturally if there is a project of a creative nature that needs some financial input, I'm so there!  I'm a big fan of Kickstarter too.  In the last 12 months I have supported a few, including Red Hot (if you look carefully at the credits when they flash across the screen for 1 second, you will see Amber O'Hara under Producers), the Cam Girlz documentary (still in production), and another cute project called Sit, Stay, Ride (nearing completion).  We all have our pet causes and encouraging people who bring beauty to the world is mine.  On a more frivolous note, I also love short but luxurious holidays and French perfume from the houses of Chanel, Dior, Hermes, Rochas etc.

A friend of mine in Sydney loves to spend her money on new clothing in nice fabrics designed by up and coming fashion designers.  If you're a dude who has discretionary funds to spend on pleasures of your flesh, 20% could get you time with a lot of hookers, what fun, among other things that give you a thrill.

10% should also be spent on or saved for education, our own or our children's (some of this is tax deductible too, if they are business-related courses or seminars, for an existing business).  I'm considering going back to university in 2016 but in this case I will not be able to make a claim on my fees however it certainly would feel great to save 10% of my money towards my education in the meantime.

The other allocation of 50% in the Thrive budget is for day to day expenses including taxes.  This should be doable on a sex worker's income.

My aim is to eventually have such low expenses that I can one day live a simple life with very little money needed.  I already have enough stuff.  The real riches in my life are family, friends and beauty, and you don't need a lot of money for these things in the end, even beauty.  I guess it depends where we see beauty or how eagerly we choose to remember beautiful experiences.  They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so is it a matter of teaching our eyes to behold it wherever we are and whomever we are with?

So far be it from me to tell you how to spend your money, despite the title of this blog post.  Money is a personal thing, but even when poor, one can still felt rich, especially in New Zealand where we are surrounded by amazing natural beauty at every turn.  And apparently a feeling of luxury can be got from even the little experiences.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Orgasms - the great anti-aging secret?

Jane Fonda - still hot in her advancing years - although she admits she has had plastic surgery, she is open about a happy sex life and her appreciation of porn.  Could this be the real reason she still has a rather sexy twinkle in her eye?

I've lost count of the number of people who have told me in the last year, since I upped my sexual activity by getting back into sex work, how young I look.  I'm not just talking about clients either, who sometimes express surprise when I reveal my real age, (which I am happy to do by the way), while the deliberately vague "40s" stays in my advertising to protect my anonymity.  Also in my "straight" life, which is the corner of my life where my non-sex working friends and family are kept, I frequently receive comments about how well I seem to be keeping, or how I don't look a day over 35, or how good my skin is etc.  And often these comments are followed by the question, "so what is your secret?"

When this is asked of me, I often suck a bit of air between my teeth, before starting with "Well actually..." and depending on who asked the question, a variety of answers are given.  More often than not though, I am happy to look the person in the eye and calmly reply "orgasms".  Sometimes I am then faced with embarrassed titters, or a loud belly-laugh, as if I was joking, and sometimes I am even met with knowing glances in return, and occasionally, I even get a request for more information.

Of course women of a certain age, are commonly flattered about how youthful we look, and this is probably not always truthful, maybe it's a mere compliment designed to make our day.  I'm happy to take that though, I love a sweet person who is trying to make the world a better place, one positive action or word at a time.

A beautiful girlfriend of mine (not a sex worker) told me she often looks at her long-time partner across a room somewhere and still finds him breath-takingly hot.  I kind of know where that leads.  It's obvious she has a satisfying love-life.  It's not for me to pry, but when she told me how her partner still does it for her, my imagination gave me such a delicious mental picture that my own tendencies to get off on voyuerism had to be consciously assigned to a more appropriate moment.

So, could orgasms be the cause of a spring in our step and a renewed enthusiasm for life which reflects in our faces?  Actually, even the most expensive beauty treatments probably can not replicate the inner glow that a sexually satisfied woman naturally exudes - you can spot a woman who has wasted her or her husband's money on essential vanity treatments but she is still the same woman behind the facade and possibly only putting out on Tuesdays when and if the stars happen to be aligned in a certain formation, as if sex is a privilege to be doled out to a man only if he deserves it because of a belief that sex is without much benefit to the woman in question.

Yet there are so many benefits to be had.  Maybe orgasms could even be the magic elixir that saves mature relationships, and I mean mature in the sense of having existed for some time - in which case, it's great for a woman to take responsibility for causing her own orgasms, knowing what they are and how to get them, by herself if need be to start with.  Women still have fantasies about men and hot sex, I know they do, why do we not let ourselves go there?


I'm sure orgasms are a cure for all sorts of maladies and issues, not that I'm a doctor.  I wonder if the idea, that women own the sex in our relationships and because men supposedly get more open pleasure than women occasionally do that we can then withhold it somehow to punish or control, is really a rod for our own back.  Maybe an active and happy and fulfilling sex life with mutual orgasms and lots of them is the cure of a lot of mania and suspicion and negativity between couples, as well as an easy and affordable anti-aging and beauty treatment as I theorised above.

I do have a doctor friend that I have enjoyed discussing the subject of sex and orgasms with in the past, and he may or may not agree with my theories.  We were recently discussing male orgasms and issues around that - for example, did you know that there is a common thing that some sex workers unknowingly do which ruins a man's orgasm?  There is even a physiological reason for this particular orgasm-stopper.  But that's another blog post. Email me.



Thursday, 9 October 2014

Dear Baby Hooker...


Congratulations!  You've recognised that you can put a value on something that there is a bit of a demand for and decided to become a sex worker.  Here are some things that I've gleaned over the years, or that I wish I'd known way back when.

Once you've been a sex worker, you will always be considered an ex-sex worker even if you only did it once, that's why I used the phrase "become a sex worker" rather than "try sex work".  So choose who you share this juicy tidbit with, for this can taint your reputation permanently as people project their perceptions onto you of what prostitution is.  Don't let it be a dark shadow.  It can be a positive thing.  Not every woman can do it, but there are enormous benefits, both financial and personal if you can.  

If you hate sex work from the start, please don't do it.  There are always other options.  To carry on doing something that destroys your soul for any amount of money will never be worth it, for your soul or your essence is really all you have that is yours forever.  This is my very attitude towards some jobs in the straight world that I would never in a million years consider doing, no matter what they paid me.

Use your time and money for good.  If you do sex work well, you will have lots of both.  Improve yourself.  Develop another professional or employment-related skill.  Invest in your future and in the time that you choose to stop being a sex worker.

Open a bank account specifically for your business of sex work and bank all your money into it. Yes, all of it. Get as much benefit from your money as you can by going legit. This will mean you have to pay tax, so always have a nice, generous amount (at least 25% after work-related expenses) sitting away in a separate account with a good interest rate and commit to growing your savings in yet another high interest account. Pay yourself a weekly wage to a personal account and operate your day-to-day expenses from that. Keep all your receipts for transactions from your work account and keep your bank statements. File your receipts by month, preferably in the order they appear on your bank statements.

Don't be daunted by the tax and money thing.  Money is power, and that's why you're doing this, right?  To get money.  You will also get power if you use your money wisely.  If you stay long enough and are sensible, you may even get enough money to buy property, which is a good thing.  It's nice to have somewhere of your own to live in when you are no longer earning big money, because mortgages are usually cheaper than rent, plus ideally you get to keep the house.  Sure, it's great to travel.  Widen your horizons.  Live a little.  But only spend what you've already earned and never touch your tax money or savings.  This is an employment situation which could come to a grinding halt for one reason or another at any moment so prepare for that with a prudent reserve. 

Invest in a smart phone. With complete records of text conversations, sex workers can keep track of callers in order to know who are time wasters (eg continually ask the same questions but never book or ask repeatedly for services without condoms) and who are lovely clients (eg who are polite and timely with their enquiries and bookings). You can assign different ringtones which is helpful on a busy day when it's impossible to pick up every call or text. Embrace technology. You will be getting a lot of calls. Make sure you have a tool that will work well for you. I feel bad when I see ladies pecking away on old phones. A good phone will pay for itself ten times over. Keep the receipt. It's tax deductible.

Live frugally, but allow yourself the occasional treat.  When I first got into sex work, I really wanted a particular expensive item of apparel.  I thought it would take me ages to save up for it.  It took two nights of sex work.  Don't get used to being able to buy things so quickly.  Don't spend so much money that you get too used to this standard of living, because it will not last.  Or you will not last.  

Don't work in a place where other sex workers moan constantly about clients. Keep your attitude about clients positive. Everyone is different and sex work is a great way to expose yourself to a wide variety of interesting people who you may or may not come into contact with in any other way. Something you say or do may make a real positive difference to someone's day. As well as that, I promise you will learn from your clients and some will genuinely enrich you and permanently influence you for the better if you are open-minded and tolerant of the various and wonderful people, places and things that life throws in our paths. Great opportunities often come about by chance meetings and embracing opportunities is what causes people to grow.

Having said that, don't see clients who do not make you feel good about yourself. Tell another trusted sex worker if you feel a client has ever overstepped the mark, have someone you can talk things through with, and don't see anyone again who makes you feel unwell. Never accept pressure to do anything you are uncomfortable with. Be clear on the law and always use condoms. Remember, the police are now on our side.

Go to your local NZPC and pick up their starter pack.  Buy condoms and lubricant gel - always use "lube" and don't be afraid to stop and reapply it if needed, to prevent broken condoms.  Find out where the nearest sexual health clinic is, tell them you are a sex worker and get regular checkups, tests and smears.  

Don't join in with negative people and before you share any information about yourself in confidence, be suspicious of gossips or those trying to persuade you to their cause against others. Also bear in mind that overt or covert threats to "out" you is not an issue exclusive to sex work, (although in sex work there seems to be a particular brand of crazy). Ambitious colleagues the world over betray others' secrets, especially sexual ones for some reason, to get an advantage. It's best to rise above this by ignoring and avoiding conflict where possible - it's never worth trying to be meaner than anyone as others can always "out-mean" you, especially if there is more than one of them or they are able to recruit others to their "cause" or to unwittingly do their dirty work. Just use your long arms to reach behind and pull out the knives thrown in your back and move on.

However, having said that, there are some lovely sex workers with real integrity who do attempt and sometimes even manage to keep such nastiness far away from them, even if sadly they are unable to do so geographically.  As the saying goes, the world is full of good people.  If you can't FIND one, however, make sure you ARE one.  I reiterate that there are sex workers who are doing amazing things with their lives and money, get to know them.  Be inspired.  Support your fellow sex workers.

Don't get into drugs.  They cost too much money, and they will make you unhealthy.  As I've said previously, you only live once is bullshit.  Life is actually long, you need to make sure you can last the distance.

Get to know your own body.  There is no law that says you are not allowed to enjoy what you do.  Where else on this earth will you find a situation where a bunch of focussed men want to please you sexually?  Let yourself go now and then.  Or not.  Or keep things for yourself and your private life.  It's your body.  

If you do it for a while and you eventually have enough of sex work and/or it's too hard as a woman and/or you must use mind-altering substances including lots of alcohol to be able to tolerate it, get the fuck out. This is now the time to call on those other aspects of your talents or build on the ones you have already invested in and improve your career options. You may be able to come back to sex work later when you are older and will have completely different clientele as well as a changed perspective on life and sexuality based on your own experience. I came back after a very long break and I enjoy it more than ever.

I wish you enjoyment and personal strength as well as self-betterment.

With love from your supporter,
Amber O'Hara

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Cleanliness and godliness


The other day I was in a cafe and there was a young mother at the next table.  She screwed up her nose a bit and said to her son, about 11 years old, "have you had a shower today?"  He was quick to say yes, but I quickly glanced at his mother and she was looking doubtful.  One of the boys I used to hang out with when I was little told me once that all he had to do was wash his knees and his mum would think he'd had a wash.  There are always tricks people try, to avoid getting in that god-damned shower.

One of the first things a sex worker normally asks of her client is "would you like to take a shower?"  Many people say, "Oh, I've just had one".  I usually inwardly smile when it takes me back to my youth and the boy who was the knee-washer.  Some are reluctant to have a shower but do so anyway.  Once back in the room however, we can tell if a man is really clean or has only washed his knees, as it were. 

I can understand that reluctance.  Not everyone has their own private shower, and some don't have that much room in the shower, either.  Is the water flow decent and does it feel clean, or will they leave the shower feeling dirtier than before?  

The only time when you should feel dirtier when you leave the shower, is when you have this kind of shower:  I once did a double with a woman, who was a queen at incorporating a sexy wash time into her session.  I came up the stairs and into our room to join in and she was already in the shower with our client.  It sure did look hot.  She was bending over and he was behind her reaching down and fondling her.  Then she stood up, raised her arms to lean on the top of the shower door with her hands, turned her head so they could kiss while he continued to soap her torso.  It was very exciting being a voyeur, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to be she or he at that moment.  They both looked like they were having a very dirty time indeed.  Water was splashing all over her face, ruining her make up, but by the end of our time with this lovely man, both of us had less than our original make-up left on our faces anyway, a small sacrifice to make for the filthy fun that was had.

The Japanese do metaphors especially well, I remember going to karaoke bars and noticing that the romantic parts of the videos were getting too steamy, they'd be cut rather skillfully to lots of watery shots - water being an erotic symbol: juiciness and purity all at once.  I was in Japan a couple of times last century, and at one place I rented in the heart of Tokyo, we didn't have a shower, so we had to go to the public bathhouses.  We kneeled in front of little showers and soaped ourselves up, rinsed ourselves off and then soaked in a very hot bath.  The soaping up was quite a ritual.  While I was lathering myself up, I used to like to hold eye contact with the man who sat on a very high chair on top of the wall that divided the men from the women.  I wonder if he's ever had such a bolshy redhead in front of him since?  

What could be nicer than a warm up together and a good old sudsy splash under the water?  There is nothing like sharing a humble shower - quite a fine way to begin some dirty fun.  (I also like to shower together afterwards if possible, just to make sure I'm sending a man home spic and span.)

The assisted washing thing is practically Biblical, even the Pope humbly likes to wash the feet of his devotees, although obviously not in the same way as the washing that goes on at Soaplands, (which is a concept like many other kinky treats, devised by the naughty Japanese I believe to by-pass their anti-prostitution laws), or in the showers of saucy working girls.  It's kind of nice to give a dude such godly treatment as part of the divine act of sex work, or should that be sex play.

Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Don't give me culture!

I share my favourites from the world of culture: film, music and the arts on my "keeper" list. These ones are all erotic and/or sex work related.

My favourite typecast actress would have to be Anita Morris, who normally plays the horny redhead. You will recognise her from the She Was Hot (Rolling Stones) video; her cougar waitress (moonlighting unofficially as a sex worker) character who is paid after taking the virginity of the character played by Rob Lowe in Hotel New Hampshire (brilliant movie with a great message, also starring a young Jodie Foster) and the conniving red haired sexpot trying to outsmart Danny deVito's character (in video above) in my all time favourite movie Ruthless People. She also made a guest appearance playing the same type of femme fatale in the TV series Cheers where poor old Cliff got taken for a ride.

My favourite highly suggestive and very intimate song by a New Zealand artist is When You Come written by Neil Finn. I'm sorry, call me dirty-minded (as if I'd care) but I get nothing out of this song other than an intensely hot, loving relationship and a man worshipping with wonder and revelling in his part in the partnership of his partner's orgasm. Gets me excited every time but also a little embarrassed because it's so personal. It's like you're in the room perving.

My favourite opera is Puccini's Madame Butterfly about a Japanese geisha who falls in love with and still hankers after an American sailor who has gone home and married an American girl. A cautionary tale. New Zealand Ballet did a beautiful production of this story a few years ago. (I also saw a brilliant dance performance of Bizet's Carmen, another great female character - she has an attitude: I want to be free to love who I want! also with disastrous results sadly.)

My favourite Tarantino movie is True Romance featuring a tough yet sweet former sex worker who embarks on a crazy Bonnie and Clyde type of adventure with her last client. Being a true romantic I loved the happy ending. Close behind on the list of my favourite Tarantino movies is Jackie Brown, not a sex worker but a strong, fearless woman who happens to be hot in a sexy, curvaceous, womanly way. (She probably wouldn't baulk at sex work either.)  NB These movies contain violence, drugs and sex scenes.

My favourite erotic song of all time has to be Everybody Here Wants You from Jeff Buckley's posthumous album 'Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk'. Who could possibly resist being aroused by the sensuous timbre in the dreamy opening and lyrics such as "coffee smell and lilac skin, your flame in me, I'm only here for this moment". A close third on the list after the Crowded House song I mentioned before would probably be Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On, a perennial motivator to listen to during those awkward who-likes-who-the-most situations before a new relationship is acknowledged to exist.


My favourite erotic artwork would have to be Brett Whiteley's famous Self-portrait in the Studio which won the prestigious Archibald prize at the Art Gallery of NSW. (I think one year he won all three of the top Aussie art prizes at the same time - the other two being the Wynne and the Sulman). His muse was his wife Wendy Whiteley usually, I'm not sure if she posed for this painting, but he has cleverly painted himself painting a nude in recognisable Whiteley style in his studio. The painting also features real hair which he stuck on, he was a redhead. Some may not have the same visceral response to this artwork as I, and this could be because of my well-known adoration of red-haired men, but I also suspect it has to do with my experiences with art lessons in the past. I've always thought life drawing is extremely sexy, a naked person being looked at scrupulously, don't try and tell me those artists (and maybe even the models) aren't thinking dirty thoughts, every time I've been to a class I've barely concealed my rosy-faced arousal. I once went to a life drawing class and took home the nude male model afterwards, once he'd got dressed of course.

And last but not least, my favourite pornstar is Manuel Ferrara. With a face like the aforementioned Jeff Buckley's if he'd lived long enough to age, the body of a hunky mature dude and a cock like, well, Manuel Ferrara, how could he go wrong? He's an award-winning porn actor, yes they have awards, and my fondest dream is to possess for my private pleasure a Manuel Ferrara Realistic Dong. I'm taking this opportunity to hint that I am hoping for a generous friend to one day send me one as a gift. I will then be able to breathlessly whisper very naughty things about how I am playing with it.

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

The Joy of (Phone) Sex


Among the men I am fortunate to sexually liaise with are interesting, intelligent, creative types. One of my clients who I regularly enjoy phone sex with is in this category and he thanked me by sending me his account of a recent session.  I find it very erotic.  He has given me permission to share it. 

I guess I consider myself on a bit of a mission to normalise society's ideas about men who buy sex or phone sex. As well as phone sex itself.  Millions of couples who are separated by distance have phone sex with each other.  I am trying to provide a service for those who choose to participate with me which is different from the $2.99 a minute options.  People can see my photos or book me in real life, they know I am a real person with body, mind and spirit as depicted in my blog.

Wake up phone sex is a particular favourite of mine.

Somewhere, in an unknown bedroom in an unseen town, a woman lies asleep. Hair the colour of glowing embers cascades over her pillow, her face partly concealed behind the careless tangles. Dawn light seeps through the curtains, caressing her body and nudging her into wakefulness.

Under the covers, she is naked. She always sleeps that way, relishing the feel of crisp sheets against her skin. Her sexuality is palpable. It is her trusted and treasured companion, intimately familiar and secure, to which she returns again and again. At the same time, it remains mysterious and seductive, an endless source of wonder: always new sensations to explore, new ways to tease and be teased by her lovers, with subtle nuances to flavour every orgasm. She savours the drowsy warmth of her bed, biding her time. Reaching down with one hand, her fingers begin to wander.

For this particular morning, we have invented a new game: the wake-up call. At the agreed time, my phone chimes to her text: “Ring me”. Returning the call, her familiar voice greets me: soft, gentle, alluring. But not immediately sexy, like a modern-day Lauren Bacall – her eroticism comes more from what she likes to talk about than how she says it. What she is thinking of; where she is touching herself; how she is responding. As a flame-haired teenage siren embracing her newly-discovered carnality, taunting the boys with her curves, smuggling them home, leading them to her bedroom, teaching them how to undress her, guiding their fingers to her wetness, straddling them. I tease her about her obvious delight in male arousal: is there anything she wouldn’t try? “Any way and every way”, she laughs. She loves using her feet, all the better while wearing black stockings. Or her tongue, or her fingers, or her breasts. “I’d take you in my ear, if I could”, she sighs.

Later, we say goodbye, each of us now deliciously awake, utterly relaxed. The dream-like world of telephone sex: fantasies shared, fantasies realised. Our love-making may be imagined, defined only by our words and imagery, but our shared sensations and our memories of what has passed between us are real. In days to come we will return to this space; and perhaps, one day, we will meet. She is only a phone call away.

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Politics and Working Girls


A working girl (in the other sense of the word or apparently the equal of*)

Like all tales of politics, this could get long and boring.  Personally, I have spent my life being a tiny dot amongst big groups of people starting with my huge immediate and wider family and large church communities, various groups of girls: single sex school girls, working girls, groups of ladies (and mixed gender groups as well obviously) in various creative and other professional pursuits.

To understand the dynamics of these situations, I have had to become a keen observer of human nature, usually from the outside. In any situation, not just with working girls, I tend to have a bit of an aversion to active participation in group situations especially when I identify those who are desperately ambitious at all costs, and who are happy to employ dastardly means behind the scenes usually due to their obvious lack of natural gifts or aptitude, not to mention intelligence.  Jealousy happens.

As I said, I'm not necessarily talking about working girls - just take a look at our current political election campaigns and you can spot the fumblers and bumblers whose spin doctors are having to work overtime.

During my straight period when I was no longer a sex worker, I was BFFs with a serving politician who I mixed and mingled with socially and privately and holidayed with - I even attended a formal political ceremony as their guest once. I have also been in love (aww, I still am a little, baby xx) with a former political speech writer whose friendship with me spans over two decades.  I wouldn't say I know any great secrets, but I have heard a couple of interesting stories.  I would even say that there are a few parallels with actual political life and the sex work scene.

There are some who like to be, or who just happen to be by default, holders of information, as an indication of their power, to be oozed out to eager listeners or given in sometimes inaccurate dollops like a mother bird feeding her chirping babies worms, but with the odd stick or lead bullet amongst them.  I personally think there is no merit in having such a position, for this is not any real personal power.  As well as that, when mistakes are made or inaccuracies eventually get revealed, one tends to wonder, "who can you believe?"  One thing is certain, if there is doubt about this, there is nothing to be had as far as honest and trusting friendship goes.  If friendship is actually your thing.  Friendship versus gossip and "knowledge" - what to choose?

I found it interesting that a blogger all those weeks back described a politician as a good mate.  Just after the politician or the blogger had got our self-described victim the politician in the shit.  I would cackle loudly at the craziness and then gloat at the comeuppance, but then you see people have been made sad or stressed or have lost their livelihood, and whatever you feel about these people and whether or not they deserve it, we are all people with things in common, even if it's only blood in our veins, and god, is this how we feel better for ourselves?  It's a sad day for each of us personally when the main thing that amuses us is the downfall of others.  Leave that to the well-known shit-stirrers who are quite correct if they have ever wondered if their mates actually despise them.  I always thought schadenfreude should just be relegated to the fetish list, I hope it doesn't become a common service on offer.

Every situation is different and I usually try and suss out the rules early: the ship girl scene was pretty violent but the rules were basic - don't take anyone else's tane (the shipgirl word for client) or "roll" any tanes. (In other words, don't steal from clients - yes, this was strictly enforced). Everything was sorted out via a physical fight, then forgotten. Sometimes girls would be fighting like men with each other then, a few days later, be bosom buddies again even though one or both might still have a black eye, bruised knuckles or a fracture, like a broken wrist.

At the Penthouse in Sydney, we girls were pretty united even though we mostly knew everyone's private business and discussions under the guise of "concern" happened behind people's backs all the time. There was no Facebook so we socialised in real ways, eg, by going out for dinner or to see bands. We would always get dressed to the nines and en masse we would certainly turn heads. Sometimes we would go to clubs and restaurants owned by clients who would kindly send over a round of drinks for us all or not charge us for our meals when it was time to leave. The rule was to be cool and look gorgeous, as this boosted the power of the group as a whole.  I can't remember major bitching among us, it was more of an us (as a group) against the clients (as a group) situation and most definitely us against the law.

In London it was every working girl out for herself it seemed and no sharing of knowledge or secrets, even for the sake of safety. Possibly this was the national feeling, Thatcherism was most definitely alive and well. I heard from a working girl I kept in touch with, that by the 90s the beautiful girls from the east of Europe were saturating the London sex scene charging next to nothing and willing to do anything which forced a change of the dynamic.  I presume this was "us who speak English as a first language" versus them "gorgeous foreign working girls".

Back in Sydney at Tudor Court there was definitely a divide between the girls on the night shift and the day shift. The night girls were a lot more glamourously turned out, seemed to live more exciting lives, and according to a day girl whose sister was a night girl, they mocked us day girls incessantly for our frumpiness and lack of big earnings compared to them. As well as that, it was a line-up system where we were all compared to each other in the cold light of day, and when one girl is chosen repeatedly over the others, girls' pride is dented and resentments are formed. The same thing happens in the days after the elections for public office.  Some gloat while others lick their wounds and false congratulations are issued as sincerely as one can muster.

Sex work in the internet age is incredibly interesting where we all market ourselves with photos and text full of promises to set our brands. There is also a couple of online forums for networking and socialising.

There is still the old-fashioned real life behind the scenes networking of some working girls. I love to catch up with working girls in real life - what a fascinating, beautiful bunch of ladies I have met in my time.  I relate better in person - my intuition has been finely honed over the years and while I tend to be a glass half full kind of person who sees the best in people, regardless I am usually quick to ascertain motives and intentions and decide where to take any associations with a person from here.  I assume everyone else does the same.

Every working girl has her own story and different goals but we all have something that can never be removed: the tainting by the stain from having once been a working girl but also the power from the knowledge that we can be a working girl. Being a working girl offers real freedom but also threat.

And so it is that it is usually another working girl that will misuse that knowledge or threaten to. That's why some bold working girls take that power back by "coming out" - they can choose to use their real names, show their faces in their advertising, reveal publicly to all they know that they are working girls or come out to their loved ones and just not give two hoots about others they know perhaps finding out. I've found the craziest of working girls, and the most paranoid are the ones who are truly leading double lives because they don't have one single support person in their straight life who knows and supports what they are doing which gives them a bridge to safely cross over from one identity to the other.

Back when you could be arrested for being a working girl, I had a close friend, still a friend today in fact, who saw a letter dobbing her in to the IRD which was written by another "friend". She saw the letter and recognised the handwriting because luckily a clerk at the IRD tipped her off, possibly in exchange for a sexual favour, and she was able to visit an accountant and get all her ducks in a row before the IRD came knocking.

In the internet age, some politicians have recently been potted with leaks which are easier to trace due to digital footprints. And so it is with working girls. We have forums aflame, rumours or suspicions (some which eventually get discredited) of text messages or other information screenshot and passed on, as well as emails and Private Messages forwarded with the original writer often being completely oblivious about the treachery. Offence is taken when one person doesn't know another well enough to know if they can trust them, and accusations are flung like shit, some of which sticks a little.  Nobody really knows what the fuck happened, I sure as hell couldn't possibly ever understand it.

Meanwhile on public webpages, there may be appearances of loyalty to one camp or other public do-gooding disguised as support towards people of one clique, while out of the public eye there is no actual support for others whatsoever. It's all just fakery, a specialty of working girls, but not just working girls.

Things are normally resolved by one person getting wind of the potential shit they have caused and a new series of emails or private messages are fired off, usually an acceptable modus vivendi. Events are normally then quiet or the nastiness and subterfuge is more cleverly hidden until the next public row which is pounced on with glee.

If you've got this far and you've thought you have spotted a reference to yourself or someone you know among these words, you are wrong.  I am talking generally and not about any particular person or situation in the sex industry, even if an event not long ago sparked a thought or two about the irony of human nature and the complexity of friendships and associations.


The sound of silence can for some be too dull so sometimes an upset seems to have been deliberately caused and again the group's collective energy is called into battle. It can take only a hint at something and a whole day can be consumed by some trying to get the inside knowledge on the crazy goings on.  Things can be implied and past misdeeds and good deeds used to justify opinions can be put on the digital table in full view for the entertainment of us all. Politics sure can be dirty.  Not to mention embarrassing.

But back to working girl life, I recently saw a survey which was a timely reminder of the unimportance of us working girls in the real world. We were ranked very low in a poll of occupations which can be trusted. No surprises there.

* Interestingly we were level with politicians, the biggest fakers of all. Oh, how can people be so cruel.

Friday, 5 September 2014

A Bossy Girl Or a Dominatrix?

Remember when you were a kid and you'd see a loud-mouthed 12 year old girl getting about with a couple of 10 year old boys in tow hanging on to her every word, she'd be ordering them about, getting them to buy her gob-stoppers and generally acting like she owned the place?  Well I wasn't that girl, but occasionally we sex workers entertain one of those 10 year old boys who were full of admiration for their older girl friend, now fully grown and asking if you can be a bossy girl.

And this is how it happened for me the other week: a youngish dude who I'd seen once before came in and when he got into the room, he told me he wanted me to be a bossy girl and to totally dominate him.   He wanted to please me.

In situations like this, because I am not a trained dominatrix and I'm concerned about the ethics of presenting myself as something I am not, I often have an inner dialogue, that goes a bit like this.

'But I've been told I'm too softly spoken to be a dominating kind of girl'.
'But I do have a strong voice, they said I could have been an opera diva way back then.'
'And then there was that dude who told me I was a paradox and called me a perfumed sledgehammer'.
'Yeah, but domination takes years of training, what if I'm not a strong enough girl for him'.
'Since when have I not been a strong girl???'
'He's not asking for a dominatrix anyway, he's asking for a bossy girl, and he's seen me before, he knows what he's in for.'
'He thinks I'd be a good bossy girl, huh?  And he wants to spend a whole hour pleasing me?  Now you're talking.'

And so we began.  Imagine my excitement.

For an hour I was in control of his mouth, tongue, hands, fingers, cock, knees and all and any other part of his body I felt like I could use.  He was a nice, strong dude obediently carrying out my instructions, without tiring, and I didn't even have to care about his pleasure or comfort.

"Start with my feet..."  "Is your neck sore yet?  Is your tongue tired then? Good."  "Make me come exactly as I tell you."  Over and over again.  "Your face got wet, oh that's too bad.  Now fuck me gently.  Now harder.  Stop.  Pull out.  Now use your tongue again."

There is truly never a dull moment in sex work and a lot of pleasure to be had, mine for the taking. And of course my clients'.  But I'm well-pleased about the number of clients who wish for me to be gratified as much as they are.  Why resist, and why fake enjoyment, when you can have.  I like to live a little.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

Advertising and "bait and switch"


With improvements in technology and the Prostitution Reform Act and ladies becoming independent and doing their own marketing, the sex industry has come so far.  You can more or less expect to get what you see in the photographs with independent escorts, although some complain of dishonest or overly-flattering photos or photos which were taken when the lady was several years younger and several pounds lighter.  It is so much nicer for men - they really are spoilt for choice and as far as I know there are no waiting rooms anywhere (like some places had back in the day) and they are highly unlikely to come across any other people, ladies or other clients, during their visit to a professional independent escort.

Independent ladies can write their own blurb and choose their own photos, revealing a bit of their personality and details about services on offer.  Rather than talking to a receptionist at an agency who will sell each lady, giving some more of a favourable spiel than others, callers can talk to the independent escort lady directly.  Gentlemen can pretty much get what they expect.

Bait and switch is a term used by clients who see images of a particular attractive woman in advertisements, usually at an escort agency or massage parlour, then when they turn up for the booking with the lady, they find there is another lady having been substituted.  If this lady is younger and hotter than the lady in the photographs, well, then there would never be a complaint, but as it is a lady that is usually older and less attractive, a few men then have their noses a little out of joint.  They feel they have been baited by the image, and then the lady has been switched.

Please note, that most agencies do not use the bait and switch process nowadays but some still do.  Back in the day, prior to the PRA, some used to as a matter of course, and I'll explain why soon.

Funnily enough, these agencies do not necessarily have an intention to deceive.  Well, no more than somewhere like McDonalds, which advertises pictures of delicious looking burgers, with all the items perfectly placed, cheese or sauce drizzled enticingly over some of the ingredients, and maybe even a faded swirly vertical line of steam, implying that your burger will be fresh, hot and totally delectable.  The reality is that the staff, in their hurry to meet targets of a certain number of burgers to be produced per hour, do not have time to perfectly drizzle the sauce, and instead it may be dribbled, over the sloppily thrown down burger which hangs over one side of the bun so that the other side is totally empty of filling, covered by wilted lettuce etc etc with a cracked bun on top and no steam, perhaps steam has converted the burger into a pile of sogginess (the previous steam has dampened the minutes-old bun).  The burger in the photo may be the ideal, but it is unlikely that the burger you are delivered is going to look like that every time.

The sophisticated honey in the escort advertisement may in reality be a pasty-skinned youngster with a bad dye job, or a mature "grandma" with a saggy tummy and stretchmarks on her down-facing boobies.  The sophisticated honey may be the ideal that the agency hopes to employ but on that particular day there is no one who comes close who is available to the gentleman who drops in.

So that's the ads.  What about their internet listings for particular ladies?  The photos show them to be so sweet. Cute poses with long legs and full breasts, sometimes a hand shyly placed over her tummy, or she demurely crosses her legs.  She may have pretty, long hair and you may catch a glimpse of pouty kissable lips.  The ads may even have been photoshopped a bit to make her look very va-va-voom indeed. Where was this young lovely when you fronted up for your booking?


The young lovely may or may not work there, or may have at one particular time and she represents the ideal that the agency would love to have there as she really gets the punters through the door.  They're all ringing up asking for her.  Or, if the young lovely really does work there, she may not be the sweet girl she is portrayed as - the agency has no control over how she behaves in the room, and if she is is not in the mood for working much, she may behave badly.  Despite all the praise and compliments she may receive from her clients, she may be grumpy and impatient with them if they take longer to finish than she would like, sending her clients home feeling like quite a piece of shit.  Or she may have been so popular and booked up that she grew to hate her job so no longer gave the warm, sweet service clients were hoping for.  The agency may even have had to let her go.

The reality is though, that if the young lovely in the ad really did work there, there would be an imbalance.  Everyone would be coming in to book the young lovely, and all the other ladies would be sitting around at the agency losing their working mojo and developing a sour attitude.  They all want a fair chance of making some money and if the young lovely is the only one that is busy, the young lovely will soon get burned out and become grumpy quickly, and the other ladies will be getting grumpy as well, for not making any money.  There may even be some office politics happening, where ladies are ganging up on the young lovely and it's all rather unpleasant.

When I worked at Tudor Court, there was a line-up system, and there was a particular lady, not especially attractive, she had a squarish shaped head and a heavy build, but she did this thing where she licked her lips and every time she lined up, no matter who else was on she would always be the one chosen.  While she was busy with clients, everyone else had a fair chance, but when she was in the line up doing her lip-licking thing, no one else had a look in.

So the agencies known for bait and switch, may believe that the fairest thing to do is to rotate the ladies.  If the young lovely really does work there and does even happen to be available, she will hide out the back so that one of the others can get some work, that way they all make roughly the same amount of money.  It's a bit of an old-fashioned idea.  Too bad about what the client wants, it was assumed he was happy with any live, breathing woman - insulting really.  Back in the day, when I was a ship girl, clients would really have to take who they were given and make the best of it.  They seemed happy enough.  They stuck with the ladies they had been seeing every time they had come into port for the last ten years because it would set the cat among the pigeons if they tried to switch.

As far as agencies prior to the internet, which has changed everything, they differentiated themselves with just a picture of some gorgeous model in a yellow pages and newspaper ads, and depending on the name of the agency and their ad, you'd expect to get a certain class of lady and pay a corresponding amount accordingly.  No one expected that the hot sexy lady in the ad actually worked there.  However, you could still ring and get a description or ask for a particular type of lady, a busty redhead or a petite brunette, or an athletic blonde and the nearest lady to your requirements would be waiting for you.

There were other places which would do the rotation system, where whoever was next up to be available would be, and no one offered GFE or anything special, but if you were lucky she was attractive and had a cool personality and a come hither quality that would draw you in and make sure you had a great time.  If it was a busy establishment, the girl would feel obliged to get you to come and out the door asap so she could go and look after the next guy in the queue, who, if they had a waiting room, would be waiting there nervously with the other guys, avoiding eye contact and hoping no one they knew would come in.  It was all a bit tacky really, that's why we ladies at places like the Penthouse thought we were all that, our dudes got to linger and mingle as if they were in a club (where all the women were gorgeous and they all wanted you) and therefore it felt more upmarket.

If bait and switch is a concern when visiting an agency, make sure you choose an agency that you can communicate your requirements to clearly.  Do they understand that you are wanting to book a specific lady as shown in the advertisement or listing?  If you get there and she is not the one in the ad, either ask to see the other ladies, or ask how long you will have to wait until that particular lady is free.  If necessary, have a print out of the advertisement.  However, if you are paying bottom dollar compared to independent escorts (less upmarket agencies tend to undercut independents by about $20 or more), you must expect that their business could be run on a rotation basis and it is not necessarily the fault of the lady that she does not meet your expectations.  If it is a concern, and you have a specific requirement rather than an easy-going, take-your-chances attitude, you'd be better off to pay a little bit more for an independent sex worker so that you can call the lady directly and clarify that all your important specifications are met before making the booking and parting with your hard-earned cash.


Saturday, 23 August 2014

In praise of quickies


I have to say, I'm not much of a time-keeper in the room.  I never schedule bookings back to back, it is very rare that there isn't enough time in between bookings for me to have myself and my boudoir looking just how I want it to be.  And when clients are with me, my attention is all on them and making sure they have the most enthralling time possible.  I also like us to wallow in each sensation as it occurs, and wallowing takes time.

So I never thought I would ever do a quickie (which is a short, usually 20 minute long booking) as I just could not see how we could fit everything in.

Then once I was on tour, and a young man called me and persisted with his request for a quickie.  My intuition told me that being a young dude, it was probably a struggle to come up with the extra $40 for the extra 10 minutes to have a 30 minute booking.  So my heart went out to him and I asked myself, why not?

I have to say, it was fun!  Remember when you were young, back in the day when sex outside of marriage was forbidden, and if you were doing it, you maybe had to do it fast because your parents were due home any minute?  Half the time you didn't even bother taking all your clothes off?  As soon as you touched, you would be groping each other, before long, dry-humping and there would be that enticing bulge going on which required immediate freeing upon being noticed.

Well, 20 minute quickies are almost like that.

Perhaps not as proper as an elegant hour-long booking or dinner date, but I think that quickies definitely do have a place.  I've seen them advertised as a "20 minute special for the busy man", and I think that has quite a nice ring to it.  You can imagine a horny man popping out for a dozen beer on a Saturday afternoon before the evening's rugby in front of the telly, and no one being any the wiser when he gets back in 40 mins looking relaxed and ready for the game; or a tradesman popping out to Mitre 10 or Bunnings to pick something up, or price something, and coming back having got exactly what was needed; or a salesman having some time to kill before a presentation or something and arriving on time for the meeting not looking at all wound up.  

Nobody can begrudge a man 20 minutes to have some fun, and it's such a short time that it can just be explained away by being held up in traffic, or in a queue at the shop, or whatever thought has come to mind.  Also it's such a little amount of money, some people spend as much at the casino, and it's gone in less time and with even less thrill.  

If allowed, life can also sidestep all its attendant mundanities and demonstrate its capacity to astonish; to remind you that you still have a capacity for the passionate.  The thing is, you have to permit yourself to embrace such potential wonderment. (Douglas Kennedy)