Hookers: Their Lives in Their Words Page 3

  One punter who I knew well came to my house and after doing the business he told me he had left his wallet at home. I knew he was a friend of a friend, so I told him to pop the money in later. Of course he never showed so I give him a few weeks then knocked on his door. His wife answered and I told her who I was and what I did for a living. She called her husband, whose jaw hit the floor when he saw me standing there. Before I left she must have kicked the shit out of him but it was worth losing the money just to get even with the fat little slimy toad.

  In the course of my chosen profession you sometimes have to visit the clap clinic to get yourself sorted. On one occasion I got chatting to the nurse and he was asking me loads of questions about being a hooker. I told him everything, from what I charge and what I would or wouldn’t do. About a week later he turned up at my home and started visiting me once a month for over a year. You’d think that seeing where he worked and the people who turned up he would be one of the last to visit a hooker.

  I’d often pick up customers in the most unusual places. After one court case for prostitution I got sent to prison for four months. Downstairs, waiting to be taken away, one of the guards got talking to me and took my address and later became a regular customer. He would turn up in his uniform and after a quick cup of tea we’d bang away for hours on the last Friday of every month. I guess that was when he got paid.

  I would stand on certain street corners with the other girls waiting for punters to turn up. In the daytime the area would be a normal residential area but at night you’d have hookers, punters, undercover coppers and drug pushers everywhere. One car pulled up and I leaned over to the open window to speak with the punter. I then noticed he was my best friend at school’s father, who used to take us to the cinema and pick us up from the youth club when I was just a teenager. ‘Hi Carissa,’ he stuttered. ‘Just stopped to see if you need a lift anywhere?’ He was very nervous, so I declined his offer and thanked him all the same. With it being dark and all the make-up I had on, there was no way he knew who I was until I walked up to the car. I think he was relieved that I didn’t say yes and get in. He must have thought I would tell his wife or daughter.

  I was standing around with some other girls late one night when I noticed a new girl working alongside us, she was pretty and looked about twenty-three. I was just going to introduce myself when a car pulled up and this little old woman jumped out of the passenger seat and quick as a flash grabbed the screaming girl by the scruff of her neck. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ she screamed. ‘Wait till your father hears about this one. All the money we gave you and this is how you treat us, get in the car you dirty minx.’ Turns out she was the girl’s mother. I would have tried to calm things down but for an old bat she was as strong as an ox. She threw her daughter into the back seat like a rag doll. When the old hag looked at me I looked away and pretended I was just walking past.

  My mate Donna sent this one punter around to my house and he must have weighed thirty fucking stone, no kidding, he was one of the biggest porkers I had ever seen. I told him I wanted an extra £25 for straight sex as he could break me and my fucking bed. There was no way I was going to let lard arse get on top of me so I went on top of him. It was like making love to a fucking walrus and he smelt like one as well. He was so big that when I was on top of him I thought I was going to burn my arse on the light bulb.

  Later, when we spoke, I was telling him that Donna was earning twenty per cent of all my takings for introducing customers – she now worked in a masseuse parlour so was getting me loads of work. Lard arse then tells me that he had to pay her an introduction fee of £15 before he could meet me. Not only was Donna earning off me but she was taking off my customers as well. After that Donna and I had a big fallout and didn’t speak for three months or so.

  These days I get most of my callouts from the internet where I advertise my services. I don’t take new customers back to my home, just regulars I’ve known for years. My mobile number and email address are on the net. I never answer any number that’s withheld as most of the time it’s a wind-up. Out of all the phone calls and emails I get, the most asked question is do I do anal. I don’t know what the fucking attraction is but that’s what they usually ask. I tell them yes of course but if they hurt me I swear I’ll scram their eyes out. One guy hurt me doing that years ago and I couldn’t sit down for a fucking week.

  Every year I tell myself I’m going to pack it in soon but so far I’m still here: have no knickers, will travel, that’s me. I really have no interest in children but I suppose if I found the right man I’d settle down. I may even move away one day and start life afresh, who knows?

  Chapter 4

  Colleen

  Age: 26

  Bradford

  WHEN I WAS eighteen I decided to go into adult entertainment, porn films and all that. By the age of twenty-two I was making films, stripping and working as an escort, or hooker, for an agency. I always had a good body and was never short of boyfriends so I thought I’d make my looks pay for a better lifestyle.

  The films are difficult to make and I can’t say I enjoy them at all, in fact they can be very painful. Try to imagine what it must be like when some guy who’s stacked like a donkey gets on top of you and starts thrusting away like a jack hammer. Stripping is easy but the pay can be shit. I’d probably earn more stacking shelves at Tesco’s.

  Being an escort is a lot more lucrative, as the dirtier I am the more cash I can earn and I can get really dirty. Most of the escort girls I know have sex for money, after all we are hookers at the end of the day. I wouldn’t walk the streets as that’s really dangerous, but, when I get a new customer, within the first ten minutes I tell him that sex is on the table if the price is right. I never tell them at first how much I charge but ask them how much they would pay. If it’s more than my usual fee then I get on with the job at hand. If it’s less than what I would normally charge then I let them know how much I want.

  The richer the client, the more I try to please him, as I know he will ask for me again and a few even pay extra or bring me a gift. I’ve had loads of jewellery and expensive clothing bought for me. One guy even offered to have my whole garden landscaped if I wanted it. Seeing as my garden is about the size of a shoebox I opted for clothes instead. I think every hooker is looking for that one customer who will be their big payday but in real life it doesn’t really happen. When they get bored of you then it’s on to the next younger and prettier girl.

  Once my car broke down twenty miles from home and I didn’t have a lot of cash on me. A van driver pulled up and after looking at the engine told me the car was cooked and wasn’t going anywhere. I asked him for a lift but he explained that he was going in a different direction. I told him I would fuck the brains out of him in the back of the van for a lift. He was happy with the deal and I was happy to get my lift home.

  By now I was well into making porn films. Even though I was young I learned the game fast and knew who I could and couldn’t trust. The films I made all got sent abroad. Germany seemed to be buying them, probably even financing them. After a hard day on my back, putting the finishing touches to this one film, I was approached by one of the cameramen. His name was Steve and he had a proposition for me. He told me of an uncle of his who would pay good money for sex. He had lost the use of his legs and was still able to shag, but couldn’t get any action. At first I told him I wasn’t interested but after thinking it over I said I was up for it. He gave me the old guy’s number and told me to give him a ring in the next few days after Steve had spoken to him. I was on £700 for two hours’ work.

  Two days later after speaking to the old guy I turned up at his home. I can’t really say that I was nervous or scared at all, after all I’d been making hardcore porn films so I really didn’t give a toss. There wasn’t really anything that I couldn’t handle: unless he had a donkey, Boy Scout outfit and table tennis bats I probably had seen or tried everything. He was about fifty years old, large build,
average looks and in a wheelchair. He didn’t mess around and got straight down to business. He gave me a drink, told me what he liked and asked me to go into the downstairs bedroom, strip off and he’d be with me in five minutes. The bedroom was stunning, full of art deco figures and paintings. The old guy obviously had money and I was probably one of many young girls he paid to entertain him.

  He wheeled himself into the bedroom, got into bed and stripped off. For a few seconds I just lay there and felt his hands explore my body. I then turned him over and got on top of him until he came. He asked me to massage his back for him and that’s what I did until he was ready for a repeat performance. We lay there talking for a while until it was time for me to go. He took my mobile number and paid me £750. I hadn’t been there for more than an hour and a half so I was happy with the cash.

  He phoned me every few months and I would earn good money from him. I told him that I had been a stripper and every time I turned up I would start the evening for him with a slow striptease which he always enjoyed. I visited him loads of times over the years and made over £10,000 just off the one customer. I haven’t heard from him in a while so maybe he’s found someone else or he’s dead.

  Escort work was really my cover for being a hooker. I joined an agency and the work came rolling in. I was now earning regular good money from the escort agency so I stopped making porn films and concentrated on being a top class escort. The idea of working for an escort agency is that they get calls from the punters, get you the work and the punter by credit card pays them the introduction fee. The one thing the escort mustn’t do is arrange to meet the punter without the agency knowing. That’s the way the agency lose their fees, and probably over time the punter as well. The agency was run by some heavy gangster types but I thought what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. I had got myself a new car and the payments each month were very high. I decided to give the punters I met through the agency my mobile number and told them to phone me direct. I had just been to one Asian guy’s house, fucked him and given him a blow job and no sooner was I out of the door when he phoned the agency and told them that I was doing them out of their fee, the bastard!

  Monday morning I was lying in bed at my home with some guy I had picked up in a nightclub the previous evening. On Mondays I usually took my young nephew to school but that day my sister was taking him, as she had to speak with a teacher there. I was just enjoying the fact that I had nothing to do all day when my back door got kicked in and two fucking huge thugs marched into the bedroom. They accused me of ripping the agency off for over £1,200 and demanded the cash back. I don’t know where they got that figure from but they were scaring the life out of me. The guy next to me woke up to find me stark naked being slapped around the bedroom by one of the two ugly gorillas. The other one grabbed him out of the bed and pinned him to the floor, nearly choking the bastard to death.

  The one who was slapping me around and demanding money said they would beat the fuck out of ‘my boyfriend’ as well as me. I didn’t mind them hitting him but I wasn’t up for it. I gave them £1,000 from under the bed and they took £100 out of the guy’s wallet. After giving me one last slap they fucked off. I felt a little sorry for the guy I was with but they didn’t do any real harm to him. We didn’t say anything for a while then very softly he whispered, ‘Does this thing happen a lot to you?’ and we both laughed out loud. We managed to lock the back door and went back to bed.

  ‘I’ll get you your money back,’ I told him, ‘as soon as I can, I promise you.’

  ‘Those twats who came in here just now said you were a hooker working for their boss. Guess I’ll just have to take the money off you in goods instead,’ he explained.

  I didn’t really get what he meant and told him, ‘What do you mean, like my TV or stereo?’

  ‘No not like that,’ he laughed, and gently climbed on top of me. ‘Like this,’ he whispered in my ear.

  After leaving (not on my own accord) another escort agency, I set up on my own. I called myself ‘Clair’ and advertised in the back of local newspapers, online and in adult magazines. I was doing great, if I only had five customers a week I would be raking it in and I averaged between fifteen and twenty-five so you can imagine how much cash I was making. By now I’d moved my new boyfriend in and things were going well for us. His name was Simon and he knew what work I was doing, and it wasn’t a big issue with him.

  He was a bouncer and I’m sure he sold drugs as well. Between us we had over £30,000 in cash hidden up in the attic. We made a plan that when we got to about £100,000 we would fuck off to Spain and start up fresh by opening up our own club. Each night when we finished work we would talk about what our club or wine bar would look like. When we got enough cash saved we would sell our cars, our belongings and fuck off with just our clothes, jewellery and cash. Every punter I wanked, sucked or screwed put us closer to our dream.

  It was late on a Wednesday night when I got home from a punter’s house who lived nearby. I was tired as the guy was on Viagra and wanted to go on all night. It had been a hard couple of days as I had been swamped with work and just wanted to use my bed to sleep in for a change. The house was in darkness and I assumed Simon must have stopped for food with his bouncer mates after the club had closed. I stripped off, jumped into bed and was fast asleep in a matter of seconds. I must have woken up at about eight o’clock and realised Simon hadn’t been home all night. Fearing the worst I called his mobile which he didn’t answer. I phoned his brother, mother and his friends and nobody had seen him. When I sat down to drink my coffee I noticed that the coat rack by the front door was empty of all Simon’s coats. He had about three and they were all gone, only mine were there. I rushed to his wardrobe and it was bare, stripped of all his clothing bar a few old T-shirts and jumpers. In the bedroom I pulled down the ladder to the attic and found all the money was gone. The nasty fucker had taken the lot, every last penny I had in the world. Downstairs I found all my jewellery except the few items I was wearing gone as well.

  What could I do? I couldn’t tell the police that all the money I was making as a hooker had been nicked. Crying my eyes out I phoned his brother who came around to see me. When I explained what had happened he asked me where his brother’s passport was. I looked for it but it wasn’t where we kept it, in fact mine had gone as well. We realised he had fleeced me and left the country and taken my passport or destroyed it so I couldn’t follow him until I got a new one. His brother was a fair guy and he lent me £60, which wouldn’t go far but it did help. He sat me down and explained that he had no idea his brother had this planned but he did know he was seeing some waitress when I was at work sometimes. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t told me before but Simon was his brother and he couldn’t grass him up.

  There I was with every penny I had made gone, even my grandmother’s antique engagement ring. Everything I had worked for stolen by the one man I loved and thought loved me. Every penny I had made from porn films and working as an escort. I still work as an escort and put money away each week. I was left in a lot of debt by my boyfriend and it will take years to pay off. I make a fairly good living and still think about retiring one day.

  Still, I don’t recommend any girl leading the life I’ve led. I would give anything to have a steady job, husband and kids. Trouble is I’ve been left so much debt that no regular job would pay enough. Not only that I don’t really appreciate money the way most people do who work nine to five. After all, I could make £2,000 in one afternoon making a porn film or £250 to £450 from one callout as an escort. Even if my debts were paid I couldn’t go back to earning £200 a week in a factory, could I?

  After what happened with my boyfriend and the few mental punters I’ve had over the years I don’t think I’ll be ready to trust another man for a few years yet. Hopefully one day I’ll be out of debt and maybe I’ll retire to Spain or take a holiday there and cut the bollocks off my ex-boyfriend when I see him.

  Chapter 5

  Faith
>
  Age: 28

  London

  Diary extract: Friday, June 2, 2006

  I must have woken up at around half past nine with a splitting headache. I took too much powder last night and drank way too much vodka. I jump in the shower and wash off the cheap aftershave some fat punter left all over my neck. I have a large bruise on my arm, where a customer grabbed me and squeezed my arm till I cried out. Some guys like to do things like that just to show they are in charge. I put it down to their wife being the boss in the home and them being hen-pecked. When they pay me for sex they think that they can do what they like, and treat me like shit. That’s why I don’t do anal any more as some guys can really take advantage. Last time I ended up having stitches at the local hospital.

  My mate Paula came to see me and we talked yet again about me getting off the drugs. She said she could see my ribs through my top and knew I was still smoking crack. I can’t understand why she is so concerned because she is one of the biggest cokeheads I know. She then tells me that this is going to be her last year on the game and she is going to put money away each week. I tell her that she won’t manage as her so-called boyfriend takes most of her money. She’s not happy because she knows I’m telling the truth and anyway every year she tells me is going to be the last year, since I’ve known her.