Australian erotic masseuse in her early twenties. Coming out of hiatus for both workin' and bloggin'

 

Gettin’ tips, sippin’ Bollinger, watching Law & Order: SVU.

ESPECIALLY after I tell you it’s an additional amount and you’re not willing to pay it.

ESPECIALLY after I tell you it’s an additional amount and you’re not willing to pay it.

I just want it to be quiet at work today. I’m tired and sore and fragile from an emotionally turbulent weekend. I wish I was still in bed.

Now I’ve got money again I’m doing ridiculous things like looking at Alexander Wang bags to carry my books to college in.

Home sweet home

Six hundred dollars richer and aiming to be in bed by about 7.30. Can’t be unhappy with that.

Also, another girl and I have snared ourselves a regular as a doubles booking. Her and I had him last week and it was honest to god so fun. She’s been working here for a few years and really knows what’s she’s doing, so it was a good learning experience to be in the room and pick up a couple of tips from her.

The john was really into watching us go gay for pay, so even though we’d only sort of casually chatted and been on one shift together, there we were, sucking on each other’s nipples with a hand between the other’s legs.

Anyway, he came back today wanting to see us together but I was in my super long booking so he just stayed with the other girl. Apparently he has plans to come back next week for us as a double again so that’s good news, especially since he tips.

Just got out of a three hour booking, holyyyy tits! 3pm and I’m finally getting to eat my breakfast.

Lucky he was nice and young and friendly. Took a while to warm up and get talking to me (apparently he’s just not a very talkative guy), but once we hit it off it was great and he kept extending and extending. Only bummer was I kept asking if he wanted a drink so I could get a beer as well, but he kept saying no. Haha. Ahhh well.

Other than that I just had a boring old dude for half an hour and that was hardly worth mentioning and that brings us to now for today.

Got in last night at about 3am, got to sleep at about 4, then get woken up just before 10 this morning by a text from work asking if I can come in because two girls cancelled.

NO WAY.

Today all I’m doing is lying in bed and eating extreme cheese tortilla strips and it’s going to be fucking fantastic.

Oy! Standing in my kitchen eight hours ago, filling up my water bottle and whingeing about missing out on our requisite Sunday sesh because of work literally only feels like a half hour ago.

Being busy at this parlour feels good, not a chore at all like it did at the old place. I sat down for less than half an hour total tonight and I actually feel great. Now I get to go home, have a shower and snuggle my handsome man.

Sunday night

I just smashed out $600 worth of bookings in four hours, and I was sooo looking forward to sitting down for at least one hour when I got out of my last one. But, after touching up my makeup, snuggling into my dressing gown and getting ready to watch some trash TV, I find out another booking is on his way. Arrgghhh. My arms are literally shaking from massaging and having to hold my weight up whilst bodysliding.

Ahhh well. Guess this is what I wanted from my one night shift for this fortnight.

I literally cannot look at my toes without having vivid flashbacks to Tuesday evening, when a relatively famous man paid me three hundred dollars to suck on them.

Reasons I like sex workers:

  • Self-sufficient and independent. How many sex workers do you see still living at home, or mooching off anyone? None! They’re out there payin’ bills and living their own lives, getting things done.
  • Aren’t embarrassed about anything — especially sexy stuff. You know you’re never going to have trouble talking about any touchy subjects with a pal whose job revolves around meeting a stranger for the first time in their underwear, getting naked in front of them shortly after and telling them how much it’ll cost to put things in and around their pussy.
  • Excellent multi-taskers. A lot of sex workers are dedicated parents, or students, or working a second and completely different job during the day. Often they do a combination of any or all of these things and still manage to keep their shit together. Amazing!
  • Actors worthy of an Oscar. According to almost all her clients she can bang out mind-blowing orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm. According to her, she barely felt a thing. Makes a man believe he’s the most handsome and desirable living entity on the planet; is actually balding, sweaty and paunchy. Can create the most convincing backstory in half a second flat and manage to remember exactly what story goes with which client.
  • Brave and willing to stare fear right in the eye. How many people do you know that have the mettle to spend intimate, one-on-one time with a stranger who will be physically stronger than them in 9/10 circumstances? 

In summary, basically the best kind of people in the world.

Monday day shift. I was ready to dread today, from the moment my alarm went off and I got in the shower, to being on the bus and getting a text from work asking if I was far away. Turns out I was meant to start at 10 instead of 11 today. Oops. Everything felt like a bad omen, like a reason to want to stay in bed and not give a fuck about work, or money, or even life. Plus I was still super tired and a little hungover from Sunday sesh’ing the previous day.

But then I walked in and my favourite receptionist is on (I say favourite even though this is only my third shift. She’s seems very maternal and caring and makes me feel comfortable), there’s only four girls including me and I think I’d be the youngest by at least ten years — not to mention the only blonde. As soon as I came in I felt like everybody was very approachable and friendly, and this is the first time I don’t feel wound up being here. The TV is off, it’s nice and quiet, everyone is reading books or having a chat and I think I could get used to doing this shift on the reg.

Now I guess we just have to wait to see if anyone actually comes in. More fool me for starting at a new parlour in the middle of school holidays.

Back into it.

Fresh start at a new establishment this week just gone. Went on a hiatus of sorts, because

  1. I am lazy, and
  2. I had enough money to do it.

But then the money started to dwindle, and I realised that confining myself to the great indoors of my house for approximately 97% of my time and forming silent grudges against the friends who had forgotten I existed probably wasn’t the best way to spend my early twenties.

So here we are. Round two. Back again. Couldn’t stay away. I forgot how tiring it all is, even when I’m sitting there doing nothing. You know…packing your bag full of sex worker essentials: change of lingerie, hand sanitiser, prophylactics, movies or books to occupy yourself between bookings, and then carrying it from bus stop to parlour. Having to do your makeup perfectly before you start your shift and then check and retouch prior to and after every booking. Subconsciously comparing yourself to the other girls. Hearing a client come in and having to switch from girl-next-door into your sexy, beguiling work persona. Because — apparently — men don’t want the girl-next-door, even if she happens to be a blue-eyed, blonde size six.

The place I’m at now is quite different to the one I left behind, and I realise now the one I left behind is nowhere near as classy as they like to believe. There’s a much higher standard to be held to here. Girls are expected to sit with the prospective client when he comes in, to say something other than the standard 'hi how are you how's your day been', to hair twirl and thigh stroke and, I quote, ‘get his cock interested in you’. You don’t turn it on, you don’t get a booking. It’s been a crash course in my acting skills if nothing else. In the past four days I’ve become the princess of fake moaning.

We’re expected to spend a lot less time on the actual massaging and more on the teasing. No such thing as a front massage here. I’m still trying to figure out if the excess body sliding makes time go faster or slower. I guess at least I can look forward to stronger core muscles and less risk of tendinitis.

I guess I’m still finding my feet and don’t really have any friends there yet, so I can’t speak with any real objectivity. All I really know is I get paid more, it’s cleaner and we get more pay TV channels, so I suppose it’s all right for now.