Archives for posts with tag: sex work

What makes ladies and men for that matter turn to the world’s oldest profession? One may answer money and to those who have few (if any) financial resources prostitution may appear to offer them a way of obtaining financial security. However to state the blindingly obvious there exist ways for those lacking in resources to obtain money which do not entail becoming a sex worker. For example the domestic help industry is booming in the UK. In London a cleaner can earn between (approximately) £6-10 an hour for general housework including cleaning and ironing. I have employed a cleaner for many years and my current helper earns £6.50 an hour for 3 hours making a total of £19.50. No academic qualifications are required to enter the world of domestic cleaning and the market is, as I said above booming. Given the health of the domestic cleaning sector why do large numbers of ladies choose to become prostitutes rather than availing themselves of the opportunities offered by the domestic cleaning sector?
One obvious answer is that of money. While a small number of cleaners may earn £10 (and, very occasionally more) per hour, most domestics receive between £6-8 as their hourly rate. In contrast ladies who work as professional escorts can receive upto £1000 for spending the night with a client and, of course providing what is known in polite society as “personal services”. Many ladies will charge rather less for an evening’s company (anywhere between, approximately £500-800), this is however still a significant sum of money. Some may ask why given the lucrative nature of high end prostitution do not more ladies (and men) enter the world of sex work? Having used both cleaners and escorts/prostitutes I sometimes speculate on that very issue. My answer to the question for what it is worth is that most people have a deep seated aversion to becoming a prostitute (indeed the very idea would never enter the minds of the majority of people). The majority of ladies would rather launder my dirty socks for cash rather than service my more personal requirements and I can’t say that I blame them! To most individuals money is not the most important factor. They would rather earn £6.50 an hour and feel good about themselves than earn a great deal more but feel worthless.
No doubt some escorts will respond that they take pride in their work and do not feel worthless. I wouldn’t dispute this, however having used escorts for many years I know through having built up professional relationships with a number of ladies that beneath their smiles there often lurks deep unhappiness. A number of ladies have confided in me that they suffered abuse as children while others have been in (or still are in) abusive relationships. Abuse does no doubt act as a factor leading some ladies (and men) to sell their bodies. However many individuals who have suffered abuse do not go down this road, consequently abuse can not be sighted as the determining factor in explaining why people enter the world’s oldest profession      .
The fact of the matter is I simply don’t know why people enter the world of sex work. In truth there are many and complex reasons, however there appears to be no overarching explanation as to why ladies (and men) take this momentous decision.
I would be interested to hear your views on this interesting and contentious subject.


I have read Harry Clifton’s Monsoon Girl innumerable times, however I remain unable to fully comprehend the poem. On the surface Monsoon Girl is about an affair between a westerner and a Thai girl, however when one delves deeper Clifton provides hints that the girl may be a prostitute “Your nudity dapples the walls with shadows, and splashes the mirrors like a vision, in the blue light that bathes you, a pleasure-girl on a lost planet, sincere but only at night …”. The term “pleasure-girl” hints at a lady who in return for the things which money can buy provides sexual services, in other words a prostitute. However the words “We’ll come here again, as we did before …”. may suggest a mistress rather than a prostitute. In Thailand the line between prostitute and mistress can be very thin.
Clifton intimates that the relationship is not one of equals, ” … and dream the rainy months away on pampered beds where forgetfulness lies down with executive power …”. It isn’t explicitly stated but the implication is that the man in the poem is a rich western executive availing himself of the services of a Thai sex worker. Alternatively the girl in the poem may be an employee of the powerful executive who is engaged in an affair with him either out of love, for money or, perhaps a mixture of motives.
The poem ends with the implication of exploitation, “elsewhere the night will separate us, having sowed within you miscarriage of juice forever …”. I’m not sure what to make of these lines. Perhaps the man in the poem has infected his partner with a sexually transmitted disease rendering her infertile.

(For Monsoon Girl by Harry Clifton see The New Poetry edited by Michael hulse. Bloodaxe Books, pages 174-175).

As a child I was physically abused by my mum’s partner. The abuse occured over many years and entailed having my head held under water in the bathroom sink and being forced to hold a vacuum cleaner above my head for a prolonged period. One particular incident which sticks in my mind entailed my mum’s partner twisting my arm so hard that I thought it would break. My mum was outside the front door and was not able to see what was happening inside the house. She called to me asking whether I would like to go to the supermarket with her. I answered “yes” and Dave (I’ll use his real name as none of you know who I am) said I couldn’t go and twisted my arm behind my back until I called to my mum that I had changed my mind and that I did not, in fact wish to accompany her to the supermarket.
Another vivid incident which remains indelibly imprinted in my mind involved me reading an amusing book while my mum and Dave where watching television. The book being very amusing I laughed frequently. Once my mum went to bed Dave strangled me and said that I shouldn’t have laughed. Obviously he didn’t kill me  or I’d hardly be writing this now! However he did cut off my air supply for several seconds and I was, to put it mildly extremely frightened.
These experiences knocked a great deal of confidence out of me and I believe that they are a significant factor explaining why I use prostitutes. I like women and love chatting about books and other things which interest me. I often make ladies laugh and know that I have a good sense of humour. However I find it difficult to pluck up the courage to ask ladies out. It is all too easy to pick up the phone and order an escort from an escort agency. Encounters with escorts don’t entail love. At best one achieves a sexual release and can enjoy a conversation with a nice lady but, at worst they leave me feeling empty and sad.
I have had several long-term relationships with ladies including one failed marriage.
I need a proper relationship but to achieve this I need to give up my use of sex workers, take my courage in both hands and go out and meet ladies.

Our bodies entwined in my bed, I know not what thoughts fill your
head. Your skin is warm soft and near, but are “you” truly heare? Is
your mind in this place? No you inhabit another space.
Another guy pawing your intimate parts, something shrivels and dies
deep in your heart. Do you sense the pain I feel, or is your sadness
all that is real?
There is pleasure in your kiss, moving inside you brings temporary
bliss. You make me feel good for a while but as I fuck I die inside.
Prostitutes come and go the bliss of release fleeting as summer snow,
this pursuit of whores I must let go.

“Young girl looking for work” the advert on the internet said. I replied “kind, generous man looking to spoil a young lady” which was, I hoped subtle enough to intimate that I was looking for sex but not so crude as to cause offence to a girl looking for work other than escorting. The response came back “sure” and nothing more which made me think that the advertiser was inviting me to take a long walk off a short cliff, consequently I disregarded the reply. However, several days later I received a further e-mail simply saying “Hello”. Nothing ventured nothing gained I thought and responded that I was looking for a lady to take out to dinner etc. Again I hoped that my message would be subtle enough to indicate my wish for “personal services” without landing me in hot water by explicitly requesting sex.

A day later I received a text “Hi it’s Sara, you e-mailed me”. To cut a long story short, after the exchange of numerous texts Sara and I agreed to meet in central London for a meal. She explicitly got me to promise that I was only looking for companionship and with a twinge of guilt I gave that assurance.

The day arrived and I waited with some nervousness for Sara to arrive. As I stood in Victoria station I thought “is this a set-up? is she a time-waster? Will she arrive?” My phone rang, “It’s Sara, where are you?” I gave my location and was soon in the company of an attractive lady of British/Pakastani origin (Sara was born here but both her parents are from Pakistan).

Over dinner we both grew at ease in each other’s company. Sara had just turned 18 and it was an enormous turn-on for me to be in the company of an attractive 18-year-old.

Sara’s scent and her sweet girlie chatter was very erotic. This combined with the gorgeous scent she had on made me giddy with desire. I wanted to invite her to a hotel for, err “a massage”, however, as the bard says “conscience does make cowards of us all” and I held my tongue. God knows I wanted Sara. However it was a public place and I cringed at the prospect of a sceene where Sara to react badly to my “proposal”. In addition I was aware of my text in which I’d explicitly said that I was simply looking for company. I wouldn’t have been the first guy to lie about his intentions (or the first lady either)! but a wee small voice of conscience helped to stay my tongue.

We parted at Victoria and while travelling home I texted Sara about meeting, at my flat. She responded quickly and following some juggling of arrangements we agreed to meet on Friday evening.

On meeting Sara for the second time I was again struck by her sweet young teenage inocence. She had, had her purse stolen on the train and was most concerned about how to tell her grandfather about it (it was a present from him and Sara was concerned about how he would react). I found her concern touching and felt a stab of guilt that on reaching my flat I would try my level best to get Sara into bed with me.

Could Sara really believe that most men seeking the company of girls such as herself would be content simply to be seen parading around with an attractive young lady on their arm? I don’t know the answer to that question. On the one hand Sara is due to start university in the next month or so and one would hope that those with aspirations to higher education possess intelligence. However intellectual capacity is distinct from common sense so perhaps Sara was an inocent abroad in a world which she only dimly comprehends. On the other hand Sara told me that a friend of her’s (also 18) was meeting a guy, in London Bridge on the same day as our assignation. I asked her whether her friend provided services other than companionship to which Sara replied “no”. Perhaps her friend merely meets men for lunch but I had a feeling that she might well do more even if she failed to tell her friend Sara about the “extras” which she offered her clients. Again I have no way of knowing.

On reaching my flat and sitting together on the sofa I asked Sara if I could give her a hug to which she answered yes.

Later I asked whether Sara could give me a “non-sexual massage”. I know it sounds corney but that is in all truth what I asked! She agreed and we moved to my bedroom. I stripped to my boxer shorts and lay on the bed while Sara massaged my back. “Would you like anything else” she asked. “Massage my stomach please”. As Sara’s hands moved softly over my stomach I felt my penis stir  to life. I wanted to say “play with my dick” but instead I said in response to Sara’s question as to whether I wanted anything else, “massage my legs”. The pantomime continued with me desperately craving relief but asking Sara to “massage my arms”. Finally Sara said “I guess we’ve finished”. It was now or never. I stayed silent for what seemed an age then “Can you massage here” I said pointing to my penis. “No”. “I’ll give you £100 extra and another £50 if you take off your top and let me play with your breasts”. Sara paused I guess enduring her own moral inner conflict. Money won and she agreed. Sara was inexpert at masturbating guys so I took over and while Sara dug her nails into my nipples (which I adore) I pleasured myself with my right hand while stroking Sara’s firm young tits with the other.

When I came it was a blessed relief. In fact the best orgasm I’ve had for a long time. Part of it’s intensity came from having achieved my goal, having got a young lady to masturbate me.

As I write I have mixed emotions. I enjoyed the “massage” and would like to see Sara again, but did I spoil the inocence of a vunnerable young girl? Sara is an adult, however a girl of 18 is not, on the whole as mature as a lady in their mid to late twenties. She is not a child but she is girl-like in many respects and, to be honest this is part of her charm. Sara could have stuck to her initial resolution of “no” and I would, of course have respected that, however she chose to render extra services.

Maybe I am idealising Sara. I only know what she told me about herself, about her Muslim beliefs (she is a Muslim but wears no head scarf and uses perfume and puts on high heels). However I feel that there is an essential honesty about Sara. She is, in essence young and inocent but, as I write this a smile creases my face (am I being naive and self-deluding I ask myself)?

On 20 July I wrote about how Mercbaby, a working girl who advertises her services on had stolen the sum of £120 from me (see This post is by way of an update on the situation. Unlike in fairy tales the story has not had a happy ending!
I did report the theft to the police, however there advice was not to press charges as it would not be in the public interest to do so. The argument of the police is that they have limited resources and it is more productive to use them in solving crimes of violence. As a secondary issue the policeman with whom I spoke advised me that the media might well take an interest in the case (if it came to court) with the obvious potential for embarrassment to yours truly in terms of having my face splashed across the media. Being a retiring kind of soul I acted on the premise that discretion is the better part of valour and opted not to press charges.
I am still angry over what happened (who wouldn’t be)! however I am a believer in the old saying that “what goes around comes around”. Sooner or later Mercbaby will be faced with a client who steals from her or refuses to pay for a service which she has provided. When this happens Mercedes will have no right to complain (although, doubtless she will do so loudly) as the customer will only be doing to her what she has done to me and, for all I know to others also). Life has a way of repaying both the good and the bad turns we do and Mercbaby will, I’m sure find that out sooner or later.
One of the points which the police made concerns the fact that the world of escorting/sex work operates in a legal grey area (I.E. it’s not illegal but it is on the margins of legality). This is a big problem the answer to which is, surely to decriminalise prostitution thereby protecting both sex workers and clients. Sooner or later this will, I think come to pass but the moral police who wish to control what consenting adults do in private will fight it tooth and nail.
With decriminalisation must come properly funded help for those who wish to exit prostitution. This should include training in a variety of occupations together with counselling for those men and women engaged in sex work who feel that they would benefit from it.

I have launched a new blog ( which, as it’s title suggests deals with erotic fiction. I have thus far published one post which can be found at Please feel free to drop by. Kind regards, Someone