Getting a booking

One of the reasons I started this blog was because I was curious as to what actually happens in a brothel. I know what generally happens, but I was looking for details. I think I have been working long enough now to give you a general idea of a pretty average booking.

The brothel where I work is a two story building, discreetly located and with ample parking. The open plan ground floor mostly consists of a reception area, a lounge, and smoking area. The rooms are upstairs, and each girl has her own room for the entire shift.

I arrive early in the morning, I'm normally first, occasionally I meet the night girls packing up and heading home. I normally take the same room and the cleaners now know to clean my room first. I unpack my bag: liquid soap and loofa inside the shower (the soap provided is not very nice and the dispenser sometimes doesn't work), a bottle of listerine and a hair-tie outside the shower.

The bedside table has a lamp and a box of tissues provided. I place a nice display of three regular condoms, three large and three small on the table with a bottle of baby oil and a container of lubricant. In the drawer I unpack more condoms, clean underwear, moist towels and my make-up. My coat, comfortable shoes and bag is pushed under the bed.

I carry a handbag that I only use in the brothel, it contains whatever book I'm reading, notebook, pen, super-stay lipstick, mirror, a purse with condoms and lube for outcalls, menstrual sponges and tampons (just in case), deodorant, nail file, nail polish, wallet and phone. Everything I need for the day and no extra clutter.

We wait in the lounge, reading our books until the doorbell rings. Some girls chat, some girls smoke, some girls nap, we make cups of tea, and chill. We answer the door ourselves. I always have the shot of fear that on the other side of the door it might be someone I know. It hasn't happened yet, but New Zealand is a very small country. A new guy often chooses to book the girl who greeted him at the door, so it's always a good idea. The men often walk past straight to the reception desk ignoring you. I totter along behind spewing out pleasantries, and offering a hot drink or a glass of water.

The time wasters, or tire-kickers will dome straight in, get themselves a drink and sit themselves down, from the moment the doorbell rings all books are away, all shoes are on and all girls are looking as available (but not necessarily as amicable) as possible.

We get chatting, sometimes it's hard work, sometimes the conversation just flows. Many men will make a decision early and book straight away (this is all done at the reception desk with the shift manager), others need to be convinced. To be honest none of us really do much convincing, we are all nice and friendly but open flirting and overt conversation is not often done, maybe because we try to maintain a level of etiquette downstairs, or more likely because we all know it's a brothel and we can't be bothered giving it the hard sell.

Sometimes men will push it "so what do you do?", "are you a nympho?", "What are you into?" this could be because they are looking for something in particular, or it could be because they are looking for some free dirty talk for the wank-bank. I find it's best to answer with something like "my specialities are diverse" (I know that's an oxymoron I could guarantee you that the client would miss it) "is there something in particular that you are looking for?".

When a client books either they go to the shift manager who then calls the chosen girl over, or they ask the girl directly who will then lead them to the shift manager to take the booking. The shift manager is always very clear about the amount of time paid for "Lucy, could you please look after John for one hour." that way there is no misunderstanding about booking times. In order for him to relax and so he relates to me on a human level I continue my pleasantries all they way to the door. I want to ensure that I give the impression that I am providing a service, and I'm not a product for hire.

So that takes us from the door of the brothel to the door of the room. I'll tell you the rest in another post.

x Lucy

It's the lies that hurt

I find the lying difficult. Only to the people I care about. 5 days a week I head off to work at my lovely day job and come home to my flat that I share with 5 others. We all ask each other 'how's your day'. On the 6th day of the week they kinda know I'm not at work, but I always disappear before 9am and return sometime after 7pm. I think my flatmates might assume I go to my office job on Saturdays. Occasionally they ask where I'm going or where I've been, I always say to a friend's house, I use the name of The Manager, it make me feel like it is less of a lie.

This I'm ok with, I like my flatmates but I'm not close to them.

I do have other friends who I want to tell, I know they will be cool with it, but I just don't have any reason to tell them and I'd prefer to keep my prostitution information limited to a need-to-know list. This knowledge that I'm keeping secrets from people I like doesn't sit well with me, and has, over the past year, resulted in a resurgence of an annoying social anxiety disorder: blushing.

I know blushing is normal and no big deal, but it can really hinder my ability to be myself. I tend to be an open and honest person, and fearing that I might be found out, knowing that I'm lying by omission increases the frequency, depth and sensation of my blushes. I used to have a huge blushing problem a few years ago, I when to a hypnotherapist (that made it much worse), a clinical phycologist (who was patronising and condescending) and finally a acupuncturist that reduced the blushing and my general anxiety levels.

So I've gone back to an acupuncturist, I find the sessions painful and the anxiety of seeing the acupuncturist actually now outweighs the anxiety from blushing (or anticipating blushes that inevitably result in blushing). But it's not as bad as it could be, if I think it is getting out of hand I might just tell my friend what I do. But for now I'll keep my secrets to myself and deal with the sensation of heat and redness with as much grace and dignity as I can muster.

Fortunately I don't blush in the brothel, guess I'm just comfortable there, nothing to hide.

Getting better

I've had some interesting clients, and I'm getting regulars. Overall business dropped off rapidly for a while but is slowly coming back. When I started 4 jobs was average, now the days are only one of two jobs with a lot of waiting around in between. There's several contributing factors, I'm no longer new, so business from brothel regulars will drop off for me unless I can get my own personal regulars. The brothel's website has been down for over 2 months, I think in the sex industry if you don't have an online presence you are totally invisible to potential new clients, and it looks like my brothel has no intention of getting the site up again. Finally, business is slow all over, the agency Dorian works for normally has 6 clients per day, some days now it only gets one. I guess as an economic indicator the sex industry lags rather than leads.

I've started to get some really fabulous regulars. There is a beautiful gentleman who sees me monthly, the first time he brought chocolates, as he has got to know me he has begun bringing me books - non-fiction, Christopher Hitchens and the like. It's really sweet and he totally spoils me. Another weekly regular that I look forward to seeing is a young man who enjoys a really intimate hour and a half of holding and kissing. he is one of those clients I always want to ask what brings them to a brothel. And then there is one other who also likes the 'girlfriend experience' who has become a regular, he is overweight, it has opened my eyes up to overweight people, there is something actually quite nice about being with a larger man, they are warmer, more huggable and soft in a very comforting way.

I hope I don't become complacent or bored, I want to be able to maintain the same standard of service over a long period of time. Satisfying my clients tends to give me a great deal of satisfaction myself.

There is a regular in the brothel who I have had a job with once... actually there a several regulars who come to the brothel who I have had a job with once. We call them tire-kickers or time-wasters. But this particular one is a bit draining, he haggles, and haggles, asking if he can come twice, or more, asking if he has to take a shower, asking if I can extend the time, asking if we can do a deal. He's asian which doesn't help with racial stereotyping. I'm going to give myself a rule that if I can't get him to make a booking in 10 minutes I'm going to walk away. He's just not worth it. It's a brothel, not a bar or a drop in centre.

I've had a bit of an emotional week, I broke it off with the boy. He is really lovely and I absolutely fancy the pants off him, but he wasn't treating me very well, he hasn't been telling whole truths and also making commitments (like spending more time with me, doing more stuff together etc) that he just can't honour. I know that he likes me too, and that he does want to be able to be with me but he just doesn't have the time for me, and as much as it hurts me to break it I kind of have to. I can't accept being treated badly even if it means the alternative is the horrible empty loneliness of having something lovely for a very brief period of time and then losing it.

Wow, bit of a rant there, I'm still a bit fragile and tender.

But in other news (good news too) I have managed to get a spot for a week in an amazing brothel in Sydney. So I'm popping over to Australia for a weeks working holiday. If this works out I'll take more trips over. The prostitution laws in Australia are similar to New Zealand. I'm looking forward to it.

Also I brought a strap-on and have started writing a menu of extras that I thought I might like to offer. I'll let you know once I have it worked out.

Shifts worked: 25

Total jobs: 76

Unique clients: 59

Keeping the balance

Aside from the risk of STDs - that are greatly reduced though obsessive use of condoms and lube - a working girl needs to watch out for other health risks. I've now had my Hep B immunity checked, they never got back to me, so I assume in the NZ health care system that no news is good news and I don't need a booster. I have also had a flu shot for this year, if you are suspicious of vaccinations watch this TED talk, vaccinations are brilliant, they save lives... and in this case prevent the inconvenience of being sick for a couple of weeks.

As far as I know there are 3 main, minor, health issues that regularly effect prostitutes and here is how I'm going to work on preventing them:

Thrush

It's a common and annoying fungal infection that results in a very and uncomfortable vagina, and discharge that is not unlike cottage cheese. I don't know exactly why it effects prostitutes, maybe it is the amount of lubricant that we use that upsets the balance in the vagina and turns a nice healthy balance of natural yeast into a horrid angry world of angst, discomfort, pain and stress. I think the trick with thrush is not to over treat it. I felt an itch a couple of weeks ago, and thought it could be thrush and decided not do a panic buy of the strongest medication. I cut out sugar (and didn't enjoy my morning tea nearly as much) and started to eat at least one natural yogurt each day, and the itch went away. I now take a capsule of "good bacteria" (acidophilus which is in natural yogurt) each morning to help stay in balance. This has had a fantastic side effect of helping my bowels that have been dodgy since a stint in Africa a couple of years ago.

UTI

Urinary tract infections, again very common for working girls, a bacterial infection that effects the urinary tract. I'm no doctor, but I did read a reason why this is a problem for working girls: when females are turned on the clitoris swells which pushes closed the urinary tract preventing any bacteria from getting in. Prostitutes are more likely to have sex when they are not turned on. A couple of the symptoms are always needing to pee, and a feeling you need to pee. So my prevention plan for this one is to pee. Yep, I maintain a high intake of liquids during my shift and keep the liquids moving through me to flush out my system. If I think I might be getting a UTI, I hit the cranberry juice hard and that seems to clear it up. There are concentrated cranberry tablets available, but cranberry juice is delicious.

BV

This one is new to me, but when Dorian described it to me I'm sure I have had it before but just didn't know what it was... the worst sounding name ever: bacterial vaginosis. Eugh. Like thrush it is an imbalance of natural bacteria, different bacteria I guess. The symptoms of BV are very smelly vaginal discharge that is (unlike thrush) watery, and itchyness. Sounds horrible. But apparently it has an easy fix with a cream or tablet from the chemist and I've read that eating garlic helps. I have heard (but could be wrong) that it can be brought on by frequent use of lubricant which can upset the ph balance. I'm going to deal with this one just by being aware of it, and hopefully catching it early if I do get it.

So that is my routine for a happy vagina, bacteria tablets, drinking loads of fluids, cotton underwear when not on shift. I also rinse my mouth with anti-bacterial listerine after every client, take cold sore prevention tablets, and I'm going to start cleaning the showers with anti-bacterial disinfectant at the beginning of every shift to prevent athlete's foot.

I feel like it is a weird game of killing bacteria (the bad bacteria) and growing bacteria (the good bacteria) to maintain that perfect bacterial balance.

Getting it on... line

I'm developing an stronger online presence. My profile picture is now of me, yes, that is actually me with the majority of my face cut out and no tattoos showing. I also now have a twitter page for discovering and sharing interesting tweetable links and info that we stumble upon along the way. You can find me at http://twitter.com/LucyJtweets .

I was thinking as I cropped out my own face who I was protecting by hiding my part-time occupation. Really, my family are pretty open minded, they know me and they know I make often strange lifestyle choices but my choices are reasoned and I have a good sense of balance. Sure my mother wouldn't brag about it to her friends, but she was very tolerant when I tried my hand (tits, arse) at lap dancing a few years ago. My friends also know me and they are open minded. It's all the other people, the people that I perhaps shouldn't care about.

I don't want any of the customers from my day job to know I spend 11 hours a week being a whore because they might not see it the same way that I do and judge me or my company. I don't want to hear the opinions of my flatmates' friends or my workmates' friends or my friends' friends on the sex industry or what it means to be a hooker. So I don't tell anyone to protect myself from other people's judgement. Some days I think I should be braver than that, other days I think I'm a very wise woman with a good sense of self preservation.

I must say though I have a lot of admiration for those who work in the porn industry and those working girls who have their faces showing on brothel websites and escort forums.

Work on Saturday was good, one lovely regular and a couple of new clients. One bought me a box of delicious handmade Belgium chocolates. Yum.

I'm getting better at talking dirty too, I had a client who spent 3 hours talking about fantasies. That was fun, I would just take his ideas and run with them thrown in a few extra adjectives along the way. I also had another client who was into stockings, this foot fetish thing was not as easy as I thought it was going to be. He was not very clear about his kink. He asked if my stockings were laddered or dirty, I said no (because they weren't) he was most disappointed because that was what he was into. If he had just said that to begin with I would have been happy to play along. It's all about communication in the end.

Shifts worked: 14

Total jobs: 51

Unique clients: 46

A proud prostitute but a silent prostitute

I'm enjoying being a prostitute, I find it interesting and unusual and I feel like it gives me insight into strange and wondrous worlds. I also feel like it stops me from disintegrating into the hum-drum averageness of a mundane life (a great fear of mine). But I can't share this with anyone. I guess that is where the blog comes in. There are wonderful people in my life who, when they say "what did you get up to on the weekend?" I'd like to answer fully, honestly, openly, have a bit of a laugh and move on. But that can't happen. I'm a whore and that's not normal... or acceptable.

It's kind of annoying in many respects, but it is part and parcel of the job. I am grateful that I have Dorian close by to chat to, and Amazon only an email away. An excellent example is recently I got a really great review on New Zealand Adult Forums. I was utterly delighted, I have never read a written review of my sexual performance before. The reviewer was wonderful in that he gave away enough practical details to be accurate but left enough out that my identity and an air of mystery remained intact. I was so excited I emailed the full review to both Amazon and Dorian. But I can't post it on facebook or print it out for my mum to stick on the fridge. I guess forced anonymity keeps me humble in a way.

I take great pride in my job and really, really want to deliver fantastic service, but sometimes it's hard to tell if you are really reaching each individual customer on their level. I know you can't please all the people all the time, but I want to be the best I can be for each client. I do some things better than others, I'm great at providing the 'girlfriend experience' and I'm not so good at providing the 'pornstar experience' which means I'm good at listening, smiling and making eye-contact. I'm not so brilliant at athletic fucking or talking dirty. The latter I'm working on. The Em & Lo blog used to have a really good post on dirty talk suggestions, they used to have a massive amount of really good posts that got lost when they changed their URL. Oh well at least there are places like about.com for dirty talking basics. Yep, even a pro has to look it up sometimes.

Talking about blogs, I really enjoy reading Cocaine Girl, a very human, very raw, very honest account from a London prostitute, writer, and junkie. I admire her and at the same time I want to save her, and then I criticise myself for wanting to save her as I know there would be many people who would not think my lifestyle choices are my own and would want to save me from myself. I also like a blog called Courtesan: luxuriant woman which has a variety of rather poetic resources, but can be a bit too media-heavy for my little computer to handle.

Did I mention I got a fantastic client review on an adult forums site?

Working during my period

This post was bound to happen sometime. I have my period for 5 days out of each 30, I work 3 days out of 30, one day I was going to work a shift while I had my period. My period is ridiculously heavy for the first 30 hours and then very light for the rest of the time. On Saturday I happened to work during that 1st 30 hours.

I thought I had it all under control. I have had sex during my period before with the assistance of a fantastic product recommended to me by Amazon called a Beppy. It's an artificial sponge that has been shaped to sit over the cervix and collect the blood, it has a hole molded in one side that you can hook a finger into to retrieve. Beppys even come in a lovely 'wet' variety that have a nice smelling lube that makes it easier for insertion and kind of cleans as it goes in. Wonderful product. Not sold in New Zealand (I'll probably buy them online and get them sent over... it's worth it).

I had a menstrual sponge which I thought was the same. Mistake. Firstly the sponge was natural so it was inconsistently textured and not as dense at the beppy, therefore it couldn't hold as much blood. Secondly it wasn't as soft as a beppy and I thought it might have been felt by the clients. and thirdly there was no hole, it's a sphere, which meant the easiest way of getting it out was to pry it way from the sides with the tips of the fingers or use an opposable thumb... thumbs are much shorter than other digits and this is not an easy task. Removal involved squatting at the bottom of the shower attempting to retrieve this elusive device that had been pushed way, way up there. Fortunately the heavy bleeding meant the sponge was full of liquid and easier to retrieve. If I couldn't get it out I would have had to had a bath to fill it with water and dig it out then. It's a messy and unglamorous business. Of course done only after the client had left the room.

I had two jobs, both lovely men, and at the end of both jobs there was blood on the end of the condom. Eugh. On both occasions I swiftly move in and removed the condom, folding into a tissue before they noticed. During orgasm a part of the brain shuts down, there's an interesting article about it on How Stuff Works. So while they slowly recovered full brain function it was not too difficult to sneak that past the clients. And there was no blood anywhere else so I think I managed to get away with it this time.

What I have learnt for next time: 1. Avoid working during the heaviest time of my period, 2. when using a sponge only put it in just before sex, use a tampon for the rest of the time and 3. get some Beppys from Europe.

I'm not very good at remembering people

I can't seem to remember faces, or names particularly well. Recently I have seen a few men about town who may or may not have been my clients. A couple have given me a little nod so I have nodded back and smiled then instantly wished I had winked because that would be a much cuter gesture... actually, I'm not that practiced with my wink, it might end up looking like I have something in my eye.

Tonight I was at a bar with some friends and met a mutual acquaintance who maybe had been a client, maybe not, I honestly don't know. I have been over my notes and don't seem to recognise him from there. But he did call me 'baby' at the bar and said when we were introduced "oh we already know each other very well". Do we? It is quite possible that he was never a client but we have met before. I do wish I had a better memory for people.

Since I last blogged I have worked another 2 shifts, the highlights include an old chinese man who was like a 12 year-old boy in mentality, he would grab my breast like he was squeezing melons, squeal in delight then hug me enthusiastically. There was an Afghani man who was hairy like a gorilla and who had shaved himself with clippers so he was prickly all over and the sheets stuck to him like velcro. There was a lovely truck driver who just wanted to talk, from him I learnt how to bleed poppies for opium. There was also a endearingly sweet man who was a virgin, I asked him if he wanted to stay that way, he said yes, so I gave him an amazing body slide - thanks to the amazing body slide technique taught to me by Dorian - and he left satisfied and with his virginity still in tack.

The boy continues to be amazingly tolerant of my lifestyle choice, a quality that I treasure, it can't be easy dating a hooker. I asked around the other working girls and they generally don't tell their partners. One client I had dated a working girl for a long time and said he found it very hard. Relationships do change things, I can't quite put my finger on it at the moment but I find I spent a lot more time acting at work now, as opposed to just being. I don't speak to the boy about specific events at work. I even found myself unusually uncomfortable talking about a recent court case in New Zealand in which a client was fined for requesting to not use a condom during oral sex (I have not been able to find any information on this online).

I went to my doctor today, got a prescription for condoms and an appointment to have a blood test to see if my last hepatitis B vaccination is still working. Prevention is better than cure.

Shifts worked : 10

Total Jobs : 41

Total unique clients : 38

In a good place right now

Today at my day job my boss - seeing I had another light week ahead - jokingly suggested that I go 'on the game' to help the company pay off it's next GST bill. I blushed, hopefully it appeared to be a blush of 'oh-the-suggestion' more than a blush of 'if-only-you-knew'. It would never have been interpreted as a blush of 'oh-I-say-that's-inappropriate-humour-for-the-workplace' as my day-job is a very fun, light, un-PC and easy-going place to work.

I didn't work in the brothel over the weekend, I had other things to do. I love the flexibility of this job. I caught up with Dorian, she occasionally does jobs for another brothel, it's a lot more exclusive than mine, and the work tends to be on-call rather than shift work. Although to demonstrate either how good she is, or how high-class her establishment is, sometimes she can be booked a week in advance.

It was great to sit down with another working girl and just chat. It has made me realise how much has changed in my life since I started working as a prostitute. Even though I only work part-time the changes have been immense.

- Finances: there is no doubt, this occupation pays well, I have a student loan debt (which doesn't really count, they are pretty ubiquitous for any New Zealander educated in the 90s) and a large ($11,500) debt from travelling (which does count). Previously this would keep me up at night, now I know that the travelling debt will be clear in one year.

- Freedom: a knock on effect from knowing I'll be debt-free (not counting student loan) in one year, and will have been able to save enough money in the year after that. I don't have to stay here in boring little New Zealand, I will be free to travel, or move, It's good to have choices.

- Home: as soon as I started working I realised that I no longer had to live in a filthy, damp, dark flat, I could get a nice place, closer to town. It is only a little bit more expensive, but before working I was reluctant to make any changes that might incur any higher outgoing costs.

- Quality of life: I'm over 30, I have lived overseas for 10 years, and even though I have always worked very mundane and unskilled jobs, I always managed to save about one third of my income, I have found that impossible in New Zealand, even though my day job pays me very well for what I do, I found myself not seeing a movie, or buying a drink because it would stretch the budget too much. I don't want to think like that in my 30s.

- Sexual confidence and competence: practice may not make perfect, but it sure helps. Getting to explore a wide variety of sexual practice is both fun and educational.

- Better understanding of men: I'm learning a lot about people. Maybe because I'm not yet jaded, I'm learning that everybody needs a bit of love, that everybody wants attention, everybody wants to be liked. Some people have to pay to get that. It seems unfair as I think everybody deserves to be loved.

- Strengthening interpersonal skills: seeing the humanness in people I think makes me a better person. Some of the skills I use in the brothel (first impressions, making people feel comfortable, sales, self-promotion etc) transfer very well to other aspects of life.

So overall I'm financially more stable, I'm more confident, and generally happier. I really don't want to glamourise prostitution too much, because it's a just a job and it does have it's own disadvantages. Working a 6 day week and not being entirely truthful to people I care about is not ideal. But at this moment, for me, it's working out really well. best decision I made since moving back to New Zealand.

A posh wank and telling The Boy.

Yesterday's shift was my slowest one yet. Only two bookings all day. It was Waitangi Day in New Zealand, a public holiday with a lot of events on, So even though it fell on a Saturday I guess the punters had other plans.

I did a "posh wank" which consisted of pulling down on the client's balls and putting a couple of fingers up his arse (inside a condom and with lube) while he masturbates. I started out trying to find the prostate, I understand it's about 4cm up on the belly side, my fingers are not that long so when I thought I had it I was limited to the types of strokes I could do. I then realised I had completely the wrong approach: I needed to look him in the eyes, thrust my hips and look like I was fucking him. It's about connecting with the client and attending to his specific needs, not about attempting a by-the-book technique. It was fun, I told him he should buy a strap-on and bring it in next time.

I have been on a few dates with a very lovely boy. It's all going well and he's utterly desirable. I invited him over to my house for dinner (with sex very much implied). We met up in the park before hand and chatted about our days, I was nervous. I would be disappointed if he couldn't handle it. I would understand if he wanted out - not every man can handle dating a women who regularly has sex with strangers. But I thought that it was his right to know what kind of woman he was getting involved with. Also, I like this guy, I want to spend time with him, I want to get to know him better, the longer I don't mention it the harder it would be, and the more I would have to omit along the way. I didn't really want to tell him, but I couldn't see a way to not tell him. Better sooner than later.

I had made him promise to keep it a secret first. I had spent the week trying to find a way to phrase it softly, I went with "On Saturdays I work part time as a prostitute". Pretty to-the-point. Surprisingly, it worked. It's cool, we were able to have an open and frank conversation. Me admitting to being less-than-ideal as a date actually allowed him to open up and admit something he had been reluctant to share. And it was all good, in fact very cathartic.

That night we had delicious sex with no time limits, no enforced showering, no secret insertions of lube, no obsessive checking of the condom, and a hell of a lot of fun. Awesome.