Hookers: Their Lives in Their Words Read online

  Suddenly a young lady entered the room and she was rather pretty. I started to explain about my accident and my disfigurement but she stopped me and in her Scottish accent said it was none of her business. She laid me down on the bed and before I could arrange a price she was making love to me. She even undressed me and supplied a condom. I didn’t last long and explained it was my first time and I was rather nervous. ‘Well,’ she laughed, ‘you can take more time next time you visit.’

  Over the next few months I received the attentions of the same girl many times. I couldn’t get her out of my head and spent hundreds visiting her. One day I picked up the courage to ask her about her life. She told me she was from a bad Scottish family and had run away from home a few years earlier, moved in with a friend for a while but two years ago found herself homeless. That’s when she turned to prostitution after another friend had introduced her to the club and brothel owner.

  She also told me she was single and that’s when I pitched the speech that I had been practising for days. I told her that I had money from my accident and owned my own home. I had a good job and apart from enjoying a few drinks with Tom had no bad habits. I asked her if she would move in with me and, looking back, I was stupid to even consider it. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I just imagined that she would just pack her job in and move in with me. Now I realise that I must have seemed like a complete idiot.

  She sat thinking on the edge of the bed next to me and after what seemed ages she spoke. ‘I’d be a fool if I just moved in with someone I didn’t know and you’d be an idiot to set up home with a hooker.’ I thought to myself, that’s the end of that, but she carried on: ‘I’ll make a deal with you: take me out on a few dates and we’ll see how things turn out.’

  We went to the cinema, for meals and for walks in the country and within a few weeks we were living together. That was over thirty years ago and we are still together and I couldn’t be happier. Of course we moved home so we wouldn’t bump into any of her old customers or friends and I changed jobs and so did she. The only thing she ever asked of me is that I don’t ask about her past and her family. I’m happy with that as it’s only the present and our future that I’m concerned with.

  I know some people reading this will think that to move in with a hooker is a stupid thing to do but look at it this way: if she can look past my disfigured face then I can look on my lovely wife and not dwell on the past.

  The Soldier

  I was stationed in Germany for a few years. We were told not to visit the local brothels but of course we all did. A lot of Army wives got the clap from their husbands after they slept with hookers. Once ten of us turned up at a brothel to find they only had two girls working and one had just gone out for her dinner; seems hookers get dinner breaks like the rest of us! This big blonde said she would do the ten of us one at a time for the equivalent of £25 each. Within an hour she had fucked and sucked us all. As fast as one was getting his trousers up, she was on to the next one. It was nice to see someone dedicated to their job.

  Within a few weeks we had all visited the doctor having caught the crabs. Two of my mates had passed them on to their girlfriends so they had to not only deal with them but their girlfriends wanted to lynch them.

  I got to meet quite a few prostitutes and most of my mates were also regular late-night callers. One lad I was sharing barracks with was a little bit pervy and would spend a lot of his wages on hookers. In fact he started to see one at every given chance he had. He was besotted and must have spent thousands on her. I think she really did like him as she was always buying him small gifts or maybe that was one of her ways of keeping him as a client.

  One night he came back to the barracks a little down in the dumps and one of the other lads asked him what the problem was. It seems the hooker he was seeing had to move away for a while to care for a dying relative. She must have been worried that some other tart was going to take all his cash because she bought him a blow-up doll so he wouldn’t be lonely. Each night he’d have the doll in bed with him and at first we all thought it was funny. He would shag it for a while, then kick it out of his bunk bed and go to sleep. After a few weeks of this some of the other lads took offence because he would take the doll in the shower with him each day to clean it out!

  On this one occasion he went out on the piss with a few of his mates and for a laugh one of the guys shagged his blow-up doll. Late at night he turns up a little worse for wear and in the dark we could hear him going to his locker and fetching out his doll. I could hear him mumbling under his breath and a locker slamming but nothing more. It was very strange that he didn’t comment or make a big scene and for the next few days he was quiet and a little withdrawn.

  Not long after we had to clean the barracks from top to bottom and I went into the big cupboard where we kept all the cleaning equipment. Stuffed in the corner was the blow-up doll, which now had stab wounds all over it and its throat slit. Around its waist, tied on by string, was a large piece of cardboard with the words ‘Two-timing slut’ written on it.

  When I was on a tour of Ireland with the Army we were always getting ‘dickers’ coming on to us. These were prostitutes who would also earn a few extra pounds by letting the IRA know who you were, or by getting you alone somewhere where they could do you in. Over the years I knew of a few lads who got caught out that way.

  We were patrolling down this one street when this dicker comes right up to us all, shaking her arse all the way past the patrol. A couple of us said something but one of the lads was around the corner, facing the other way, making sure nobody was coming up behind us. He turns around to find the dicker has thrust a gun in his face. Suddenly he starts to laugh and she snarls, ‘I don’t know what you’re laughing at, prick. I’m going to blow your fucking head off.’

  ‘Not with the safety catch on you won’t,’ he answers, and in the confusion he snatches the gun off her.

  Suddenly one of us realises that he’s not with us and, fearing the worst, we get back around the corner. My mate has got the dicker on the floor and is using her gun to beat her face to a pulp. Normally, back home in a pub or club, if you saw someone doing this you would intervene, but this wasn’t back home and she had meant to kill him. When we finally got her in to our superiors we showed them the gun and explained that while being chased she fell over and landed on her face. My mate had the good sense not to use his hands on her because if they got marked, it would look like he had done her over.

  The Married Man

  My mother had passed away and I was left rather a large amount of money which, with my own savings, meant I need not work again. I had put on a lot of weight so my wife signed me up for a year at a local gym. I had never been the type to train but decided to give it a go.

  After a few weeks I found I was getting nowhere. I hadn’t lost a pound and was contemplating giving it up. I was just getting out of my car to go for another boring session when this young lady approached me.

  ‘Looking for some company,’ she asked.

  I thought she was joking or mad so I started walking away. She came over and explained in graphic terms what she would do for £40. I thought, what have I to lose, and went back to her place for the best sex I’d had in years.

  Before long I was seeing her twice a week and loving every minute of it. My wife was telling her friends how dedicated I was to my training and how much weight I had lost. In fact I was only going to the gym once a week and all the other days I was banging this young hooker.

  Then one day the gym phoned the house and said to my wife that their records showed that because I was only training once a week I should train off-peak which would save us money. Of course my wife didn’t tell me but decided to investigate what was going on.

  The following training day I drove to the gym, picked up the hooker and went back to her flat. As I pulled up in the car I noticed my wife’s car pulling up behind us. We got out of the car and quick as a flash I said to the girl with me, ‘There you
go love, you look a little better now, have a nice cup of tea and a hot bath and you’ll feel better.’ I turned away from the bemused hooker to be confronted by my irate wife. I explained that the young lady had fainted at the gym so I had gentlemanly offered to give her a lift home.

  ‘She probably fainted because she had no knickers on and was wearing a belt for a mini skirt,’ snarled my wife and punched me straight on the nose.

  There were ructions as I tried to stop the old trout beating up the hooker and then the hooker tried to stop the old trout beating me up.

  After buying the missus a new car and a trip to South America we are now once again on speaking terms. No more gyms or hookers so I’m now fat again and the old trout watches me like a hawk.

  Chapter 10

  Lynn

  Age: 31

  Bristol

  I CAME DOWN to Bristol from Manchester when I was about fourteen. My mother and father got divorced and I chose to stay with my father. I had quite a normal happy childhood until my father found out my mother and my uncle, his brother, had been seeing each other behind his back. Turns out my mother was pregnant and my father was over the moon at first until she told him that it was his brother’s baby and she was leaving him. My father and uncle fought in the street and the police were called. My dad wasn’t charged but was told to keep away from my uncle. From what I gather from my dad some of our family were siding with his brother against him. The best thing for him was to get away and rebuild his life somewhere away from all the trouble.

  My father was a good mechanic and through a friend he was offered a job in Bristol. He asked me if I would like to move with him but said that if I wanted to live with my mother he would understand. I felt really sorry for my dad, it was like the whole world was against him. I’d always been a bit of a daddy’s girl so I decided to move with him. Dad had found a two-bedroom flat near the garage where he was going to work that suited our needs. My mother had been told of my decision and sent my dad a letter with a list of all the furniture and things she wanted left at our old house when we moved out. At that time she was staying at my grandmother’s and was more concerned about what she was entitled to rather than my well-being.

  The day we left, Dad had a friend help us move, he had this big removal van and we filled it with everything we could. We absolutely emptied the house of everything, even took all the carpets, curtains and even our old Christmas decorations. Dad left a note on the fireplace for my mother which just said, ‘Fuck you.’ From then on it was just my dad and I looking after each other. He’d make breakfast for me before he left for work each day and I’d have his food ready when I came home from school. At the weekend he would do the shopping and I would wash and iron our clothes. Both of us would take turns cleaning the house and making the tea; Dad loved his cup of tea. We never had a great deal of money but we were never skint.

  Eventually when I was a few years older my dad would have different girlfriends but he never settled down again, guess my mother hurt him too bad. By the time I was twenty-one it seemed as if I was going out with a different boy every month. As soon as I’d get bored with one, another would catch my eye. I was working full-time in a pie factory and every time I’d go out for a drink with the girls that worked alongside me, I’d end up bringing a different boy home to meet my dad and whatever girlfriend he had at the time.

  I was about twenty-five and still working at the pie factory when our line manager told me that I was wanted in the office. One of the girls took over my job for me and said that it was never good news when they wanted someone in the office; she even joked that I’d probably been spotted having a fag in the toilets again. I was directed to a small room by one of the secretaries. Inside we were met by a man who I didn’t recognise but I noticed he was wearing the same overalls as my dad. He was trembling as he told me, ‘I’m sorry but your father’s had a brain haemorrhage and he’s dead.’ Next thing I remember is waking up on the floor with the secretary and my manager trying to lift me onto a chair.

  The next few weeks were a blur with the funeral and relatives I didn’t even know turning up. I don’t think I would have coped if it hadn’t been for a lady called Barbara who worked in personnel. Barbara helped with the funeral, contacting family members, the bank and getting my name down as the tenant of the flat. She was an absolute godsend and I’ll always be indebted to her. I took four weeks off work and then returned as I had major bills to pay. It seemed as if, no matter how much overtime I did, I still couldn’t get ahead of the debt I was in. It wasn’t long before I was looking for better paid work elsewhere. I scoured the local papers but nothing seemed to be what I was looking for. I then noticed a small advert which read, ‘Escorts wanted, good money to be earned.’ I dialled the number and the gentleman on the other end of the line arranged an interview for me.

  At the interview they told me that most of their customers were single men who due to business commitments had no permanent women in their lives. They needed someone to take to parties, restaurants and social gatherings once in a while. If at the end of the night you stayed with the customer that was entirely your choice and nothing to do with them. The agency got their ‘introduction fee’ through the customer’s credit card and the escort girl asked the client for her fee, which they told me ranged from £100 to whatever I chose really. They asked me if I’d like to join and start earning some real money for a change. I thought to myself that all I’d have to do is be seen on the arm of some old fart and get well paid for it. I’d be stupid to refuse and couldn’t understand why everyone wasn’t doing it.

  Looking back now I was a little naïve, in fact stupid, to think that someone was going to pay me good money and expect nothing in return. The following Saturday I came home from shopping and as I got through the door the phone rang. It was the agency and they wanted to know if I was free to work that night. I told them I was and they explained that the customer had asked for two girls and could I meet up with the other girl outside a club a few miles away at seven o’clock. I showered and put on my shortest, most expensive dress. My stomach had butterflies in it, just like when you’re on a rollercoaster and you’re about to go over the edge.

  I turned up a little early and was met by Sarah who was a few years older than me and had been an escort for over four years. The client and his friend were to meet us inside the club, so we went in and got a few drinks in. I asked Sarah loads of questions and she answered every one truthfully. I then asked her how much I should charge and she said that it all depended on if you were going to have sex with the client or not. If not then you just charged £100 but if you decided to get into bed with him then it was about £250. Sarah said that she often slept with the customers and was bringing home over £1,000 a week. In fact every other escort she had met also slept with the customers. She could see I was a little nervous and reassured me that if I didn’t want to sleep with the customer I didn’t have to.

  Suddenly we were joined by the two men who we were going to escort for the night. They were both well-dressed and in their forties, not good-looking but not ugly either. They bought us drinks and we danced a few times and it seemed to be going along quite fine with no hint of sex. One of the men seemed to know Sarah so I guessed he must have hired her before. Looking back now I think the agency put me with Sarah to learn the ropes. She was there to put me in the picture and guide me.

  A few hours passed and we all went to a local restaurant then back to one of the client’s apartments. A few more drinks there and before I knew it I was alone with one of them in a bedroom. The man I was with was just as drunk as I was and we collapsed on the bed, kissing at first but within a few minutes we were having sex. I must have just got carried away with everything. I remember riding him for ages, trying to make him come. We didn’t even use condoms so I was lucky not to catch something or get pregnant. Finally he came, and we both collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. A few hours later I heard a knock on the door and Sarah calling my name. The client I was
with was still sleeping with his arm around me and his hand still firmly clutching one of my tits. I slipped out of the bed and quickly dressed. Sarah said it was time to leave and said she had my money for me. Outside she split £500 half each and within minutes I was travelling home in a taxi.

  The next day I had a bit of a hangover but didn’t really feel bad about what I had done. After all, to tell you the truth I enjoyed it, the conversation, the dancing, the meal afterwards and even the sex. It was nice to have someone pay so much attention to me, even if he was a lot older. Sarah had given me her number and later that day I phoned her and we chatted about how the night had gone. I said even though the night was fun I didn’t think I could sleep with the customers, even though I had the night before. She sounded a little disappointed and asked if the money I earned would come in handy. I explained that I had a lot of debt and the money was indeed very handy. That’s when Sarah said, ‘Then why not just do it for a few months and pay off all your debts? You could even put maybe a few thousand away for a rainy day.’ For some reason her words made sense and I agreed to meet a few more clients until I got myself straightened out.

  After all, it wasn’t as if anyone I knew would find out, as I asked for clients who lived a few miles from my home. Thing was, if I met someone in a pub and went for a meal with them, then maybe I would sleep with them – so why not earn some money out of it as well? I knew it was basically prostitution and I was just trying to justify my actions. A few days later Sarah phoned me and said she had been asked by a good customer of hers if she could bring another girl for a private party. She immediately thought of me and I agreed to it knowing the night would take me a step closer to paying off my bills. I was told not to mention anything to the agency as they would play fuck. They didn’t like their girls going out on their own, stealing their clientele. Sarah said, ‘As far as I’m concerned it’s my fanny and I’ll do what I like with it.’