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Roxanne speaks: Of course this is not always true. Hookers are meant to say this to drum up more work. There are certain men outside the job, who they save themselves for. When they want to rope them in, they kiss and caress and fuck them real nicely. After all, they've had enough practice over the years. As for the client, if he behaves himself, I do some basic counselling on him. He pays for the extension. He was a nice fuck, very sensual, treating me as if I was his first girlfriend. He's easy-going and not overly concerned about ejaculation. Or if he is, he doesn't show it. I jokingly ask him to hire me to go to a footy match. I say, 'If I wear my fishnets, it's one hundred and twenty dollars an hour, sugar coated peanuts included.' I shouldn't have said that, because fifteen minutes later he asks me out to a game! He doesn't know what he's saying. He's just happy, I think. A bit of tenderness and affection and he's gone all delirious and stupid like a boy. 'Some men are very lonely, sweetie,' said Samantha, 'I don't feel anything for any of them.'
On Valentine's Day you watch all the guys bring the girls cards and flowers, because they haven't got a Valentine. A lot of the girls who work in here haven't got one either. Being single is hard in this profession, because it can get very lonely. Then again, a lot of the girls have someone special in their lives and a lot are dykes, so for them it's okay. This Valentine's Day I want six lovers, six Valentines. The letterbox is empty and the phone is silent, but at least my wallet is full and that's the main thing. Of course I turned him down for the movies. There's a little bit of sadness as I see him to the door. I see him detach himself from the situation. He is back in the outside world once more, and I've lost him. The little fish slips back into the ocean and dives down with the rainbows. It's a little bit sad. But I always leave the lonely unwanted men, at least pleased with myself. Yeah, I know I was paid for the work, but it is good that they've enjoyed themselves. It is important that I make them happy for at least the time they're here.
It's good for the money and good for my confidence. Clients feed off my good company. Some women are crude. One guy told me that a drunken escort said that she looked like Samantha Fox, and that when he turned up she was a fat moll with tattoos and a crew cut. He said, 'Within five minutes she came into my motel room, stripped the both of us and jumped straight on top of me. I came and she left me to dry on the bed with the condom still hanging. She was out the door with the money, before I put my jeans on.' 'A lunchtime quickie, huh? Serves him right,' Jackie said, smirking to herself. 'Another word of warning, Roxanne. Don't believe everything a client tells you about another girl, okay?' Jackie always stuck by the women. Even after one stole six hundred dollars from her locker, she made an excuse for why it had happened. Whilst I loved them dearly, I also knew that the girls always betrayed each other in the rooms. Money came first and for a few hundred bucks or a bit of dope or a pair of shoes, some girls would sell out on other girls. They'd sell the extras, they'd hustle in on clients, they'd sell their souls. Especially if they were addicts or on the hammer. I thought, oh well, the lunchtime quickie probably saves more time and makes more money than me. Then again, maybe I'm not exactly what I seem either. I do worry about my ability to fuck anything and be so affectionate simultaneously.
I was driving down the street towards the new parlour to start work on the Thursday afternoon of pay week. I'm thinking to myself, have I changed since doing this work? Do the palms and pandanus look any different to how they looked before I fucked one hundred men? Does the sky look more forlorn, a little paler in hue? And the answer is, no. I'm actually happy. I'm really fucking happy with my long French nails and widow's peak. I love my work and it's no longer lonely out on the horizons of the ocean, because I'm full of the wonder of myself. I'm very particular regarding my mental state and any subtle changes that might occur to my perception. It's challenging work and I intend to make sure that everything's okay inside, like one hundred and fifty percent. One thing's for certain, I won't be droning on within the single's scene about how fucked men are all the time, and why none of them will fall in love with me. I won't be saying to my frustrated girlfriends, 'How many more do I have to go through before I come to the same conclusion?' Here I've already reached the 'conclusion', and it's all about power and money whether inside or outside the industry. As Sharlena said, 'Power to the pussy, honey!' |
