few favours he would change the dates on some of my receipts, such as paid through to July rather than June for example.
***
I may have been earning good money but I was still pretty naive. I seemed intent on learning the hard way. One evening a client came in drunk, with a serious case of verbal diarrhoea. He kept on and on about how beautiful I was, but I dismissed his words, since he’d soon be sober and wouldn’t even remember his visit. However, the next day he was waiting outside for me when I arrived at work. He fell all over me, telling me how fabulous and awesome I was, and invited me to his place for a drink the next day. I said yes because I didn’t realise I could say no. I thought surely he knew the drill—I go to his place and he’ll pay me and I might get to keep the lot for myself. I didn’t tell any of the other girls, which was a pity because they would have put me straight.
When I arrived at his house, he poured me a lemonade as I didn’t drink alcohol. He proceeded to seduce me on the couch and I let him; why wouldn’t I—I was getting paid, right? Afterwards, when I was dressed, a woman walked in. It was his wife; I listened, dumbfounded as he introduced me as someone selling linen door to door. She was asking me tricky questions like where were my samples and I suddenly had a lightbulb moment: this guy didn’t care about me—he was just after free sex! Why was I backing up his bullshit? He had no intention of paying me! How ignorant I was not to have said no in the first place. I got even with him before I walked out by telling her how we’d met and that we’d just had sex.
***
I tried to stay in regular contact with my agent in Brisbane. I began getting work as an extra in films and video clips. Once, while we were on location, I went drinking with the crew after work. Someone thought it would be amusing to slip me something with a bit more kick than my soft drink. Uninhibited, I began dancing to a Meatloaf song and the cameraman secretly filmed me dancing.
The clip of me dancing around the campfire ended up on the desk of the big boss of Gala Records. This man was obviously impressed because he rang me and asked to meet in relation to doing video clips. I told him I lived up on the Sunshine Coast and if he was ever up that way to call me. Although I was happy to come down to meet him in Brisbane, his schedule was erratic and I thought it best to leave it with him.
I was still under sixteen but managing to get in to local nightclubs on my nights off. I preferred weeknights as the men weren’t as drunk. My clients were mainly divorced and looking for sex without complications. Sometimes they were out-of-town businessmen who felt a bit naughty being away from the wife and kids. Surprisingly, a lot of the really young guys didn’t choose me. They preferred the older women.
I did get a lot of handsome footballers. Many were regular clients; they had a high sex drive, so I would often see them two to three times a week. At first it was beyond me why they would need to pay for sex, but after talking to a few of them I understood that it was easier for the football stars to pay me for sex than cope with the football groupies following them around, hanging off their every word and teasing them with their bodies. If they had sex with these girls, the girls would assume they were dating. Two weeks of teary phone calls would eventually degenerate into ‘You’re such a using prick’, accusations and even threats of ‘a drink in the face next time I see you’. I could see their point, and I thought it admirable that if they were not looking for a relationship, but needed sex, they should see me.
Surprisingly, it was a client who gave me my first orgasm. I was really tired, I’d been dancing until four am, working since eleven am and it was now eight pm. John was a surf life saving coach and personal trainer for the men in the professional football teams. In his day he was
***
I may have been earning good money but I was still pretty naive. I seemed intent on learning the hard way. One evening a client came in drunk, with a serious case of verbal diarrhoea. He kept on and on about how beautiful I was, but I dismissed his words, since he’d soon be sober and wouldn’t even remember his visit. However, the next day he was waiting outside for me when I arrived at work. He fell all over me, telling me how fabulous and awesome I was, and invited me to his place for a drink the next day. I said yes because I didn’t realise I could say no. I thought surely he knew the drill—I go to his place and he’ll pay me and I might get to keep the lot for myself. I didn’t tell any of the other girls, which was a pity because they would have put me straight.
When I arrived at his house, he poured me a lemonade as I didn’t drink alcohol. He proceeded to seduce me on the couch and I let him; why wouldn’t I—I was getting paid, right? Afterwards, when I was dressed, a woman walked in. It was his wife; I listened, dumbfounded as he introduced me as someone selling linen door to door. She was asking me tricky questions like where were my samples and I suddenly had a lightbulb moment: this guy didn’t care about me—he was just after free sex! Why was I backing up his bullshit? He had no intention of paying me! How ignorant I was not to have said no in the first place. I got even with him before I walked out by telling her how we’d met and that we’d just had sex.
***
I tried to stay in regular contact with my agent in Brisbane. I began getting work as an extra in films and video clips. Once, while we were on location, I went drinking with the crew after work. Someone thought it would be amusing to slip me something with a bit more kick than my soft drink. Uninhibited, I began dancing to a Meatloaf song and the cameraman secretly filmed me dancing.
The clip of me dancing around the campfire ended up on the desk of the big boss of Gala Records. This man was obviously impressed because he rang me and asked to meet in relation to doing video clips. I told him I lived up on the Sunshine Coast and if he was ever up that way to call me. Although I was happy to come down to meet him in Brisbane, his schedule was erratic and I thought it best to leave it with him.
I was still under sixteen but managing to get in to local nightclubs on my nights off. I preferred weeknights as the men weren’t as drunk. My clients were mainly divorced and looking for sex without complications. Sometimes they were out-of-town businessmen who felt a bit naughty being away from the wife and kids. Surprisingly, a lot of the really young guys didn’t choose me. They preferred the older women.
I did get a lot of handsome footballers. Many were regular clients; they had a high sex drive, so I would often see them two to three times a week. At first it was beyond me why they would need to pay for sex, but after talking to a few of them I understood that it was easier for the football stars to pay me for sex than cope with the football groupies following them around, hanging off their every word and teasing them with their bodies. If they had sex with these girls, the girls would assume they were dating. Two weeks of teary phone calls would eventually degenerate into ‘You’re such a using prick’, accusations and even threats of ‘a drink in the face next time I see you’. I could see their point, and I thought it admirable that if they were not looking for a relationship, but needed sex, they should see me.
Surprisingly, it was a client who gave me my first orgasm. I was really tired, I’d been dancing until four am, working since eleven am and it was now eight pm. John was a surf life saving coach and personal trainer for the men in the professional football teams. In his day he was
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