Mr G… My beautiful Cerebral Palsy client

I wrote this piece approx a year ago for another site. I’d like to share it with you… 

I cant recall the first time I was contacted by Mr G. Nor can I recall whether it was by text or actual phone call. I do however recall the honesty and sincerity in his voice and I remember the trepidation I felt upon agreeing to see him. I had seen clients with disabilities before. How hard could this possibly be? Cerebral Palsy. Ok, heard of it before. Never met anyone that has it though. Mr G had explained that he was in a wheelchair and would need assistance. No probs. Easy. Yeah….easy. Easier said than done.

With each booking there’s always some nervousness on my part. Come on…I’m about to fuck some total stranger! Of course there’ll be nerves! lol. To say I was shitting myself would be an understatement. lol

Mr G opened the door and I looked in to see him sitting in his wheelchair. Early 40’s, short/shaved hair, beard and the most amazing smile I think I’ve ever seen. He was beaming!! Mr G loves to talk and that’s awesome. I’d much rather a client talk my ear off than have awkward silence. He explained that he had tried to get working ladies to come in the past. One didn’t even bother coming through the front door. One took his money and went to the car for ‘change’ , she never returned. One lady even asked for extra money, despite advertising that pensioners get a discount. These experiences had left him feeling really low, but he persisted. I’m glad he did. I wanted to show him that not all working ladies are money hungry leaches. There are some of us who take our jobs seriously.

Fast forward a couple of hours and I left his house a different person. I knew. I understood. For a brief moment I was brought into the world of someone with a disability. It was a revelation. I was touched. I was humbled. I was, and forever will be, grateful.
Sex work is not just about sex. It’s about companionship. A shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen to your woes.

This is all jumbled, so please forgive me. What I want to convey is how I feel. To make you understand what it’s like for me and Mr G. To get a glimpse of our wonderful relationship.

My encounters with Mr G usually take around 2 hours, even though he books me for an hour. I also give him a discounted rate. Why? Because I can!! lol.

Let me describe him for you. As stated earlier, he is in his early forties, single, never married, no kids. He has limited movement but still has feeling throughout his body. He is one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met! He sometimes stutters and his speech is a little slurred, but I understand him. I can see the frustration in his eyes, when he knows what he wants to say, but it comes out staggered and stilted. Despite his mother living in a nearby suburb, she seldom visits him. In fact, no one visits him. He lives with another disabled guy,who, fortunately for him, has much better mobility and is often away from home. The only person that sees my client on a daily basis is his carers. I’ll come back to the ‘carers’ a little later on.

In a ‘normal’ booking it kinda goes….knock on door, client welcomes me in, small talk, off to bedroom, kissing and kanoodling, sex, afterglow, shower, goodbyes. Easy. Let me now explain how my bookings with Mr G pan out.

I’m greeted at the door. He usually says something awfully sweet. Last Wednesday he said “I think you get more beautiful each time I see you”. aaaawwww. Blushes. I kiss him on the cheek and we spend a few minutes ‘catching up’. Then I go to the laundry and wheel the trolley with the equipment into the bedroom. On the trolley is the hoist and harness (see pics).

Mr G has to repeat the instructions to me every time I come over. He’s patient. I like that. There’s a bit of forwards-backwards stuff. I usually forget that the trolley needs to go out of the way, and that the space between the bed and wall can only accommodate either the wheelchair or the trolley, not both! So, wheel the trolley in. Place harness on the bed. Turn on hoist, press the button to release the cord that’s attached to the stick bit with the hook on it, so it can reach the slidey thing on the roof (god don’t even know what these things are called?! lol. Once the hook is through, I press the controls for the hoist to be lifted up off the trolley. Back up the wheelchair. Trolley placed in front of bed. Then I swing the hoist over the bed, so its out of the way. Turn off hoist.

Headrest needs to be removed from wheelchair. Can’t quite reach behind. Back up wheelchair again. Bella removes head rest and places it on the floor outside the bedroom.

Back in the room, this is the tricky bit, as I need to undress him. Keep in mind, he has very limited mobility. His arms and hands are bent at awkward angles. I have a jumper to remove. I grab one arm and pull him forward so I can lift up the jumper from his back. I grab the other arm and do the same with the other side. It’s a slow process as I can only pull up a little bit at a time. Left side….right side….left again…..right again…. nearly to the shoulders…left, right. Once the back is lifted up then I pull up the front. Removing the sleeves are tricky because of the awkward angle his arms and hands are in. Then I pull the jumper over his face and up over the back of his head. Yay!! Jumper off!! The tshirt is a bit easier as there are no sleeves, but still pulling him forward to pull up the back of the tshirt is tricky. Same goes with the singlet. Next comes the trackie pants and undies. It’s so hard getting my hands between him and the chair. There’s not much room at all and when you’re trying to do it quickly, it gets frustrating on my part. Frustrating, cos I can see how hard it is for him to try and lift himself off the chair. His boots are strapped onto the wheelchair, so that gives him something to push against. He arches his back as much as he can. It’s not easy for him. I can see the strain on his face. It’s so damn hard for me to reach around to pull down his pants. One side of his chair has an extra ‘bit’ on it, I’m assuming to keep him upright. It gives me even less room to reach around!!. Finally, after a lot of grunting and huffing and puffing, the pants and undies are pulled down to his knees.  Yay!! We’re undressed!!

Now comes the harness. The harness needs to be pulled down behind his back, so again we have arching and grunting. I pull the harness as far down as I can, and because its quite thin I can slide it under his bum to his thighs. First one side, then the other. Next we unbuckle the boots from the chair. I then have to pull the hoist over to the wheelchair. Mr G manoeuvres the chair so that its underneath the hoist. The leg parts of the harness have to go over the leg its next to then under the opposite one. There are two straps to each leg. There are four ‘legs’ to the hoist in the shape of a C. There’s a small gap in which to pass the loop of the straps through. So each leg strap passes through the ‘C’s. Then it’s time for the ones near his arms. One loop in each of the front ‘C’s. That leaves us with the strap around the head. Each end needs to go through the middle of the front ‘C’s and clip together. Time for lift off.

Turn on the hoist again. Press the button so it starts lifting him. You know those cartoons where there’s a net and the prey steps in it and the net gets pulled up? It sorta looks like what’s happening now. The poor dear is squooshed up in this harness. Boy bits all squooshed. Head pressed into his chest. So undignified. I try and get him up high enough to clear the arms of the wheelchair. Then swing him across to the middle of the bed then try to turn him around so he’s facing the right way. Sometimes manage it without a hitch. More often that not, Bella fucks up!! Which means that poor Mr G is left hanging there like a Christmas pudding. Remarkably he is still able to patiently instruct me as to how to turn on the chair to reverse it so that his legs can clear it. Anyone played with an electric wheelchair before? omfg!! Talk about hair trigger! As much as I try to keep the knob straight as possible so the chair goes back in a straight line, and mind you, I only need it to go back a foot or two, I always manage to change the angle so that the chair backs into the wall!! So then untech savvy Bella has to then move the chair forward again in order to try reversing in a STRAIGHT line! Meanwhile Mr G is just hanging around, patiently waiting for me. Finally, chair out of the way! Press control on hoist to lower him down. Once he is on the bed undo the clip, remove all the straps, lift hoist out of the way and turn hoist off, untangle the leg parts of the harness and spread harness out nicely underneath him. YAYAYAYAAYAYAYAYAY. We’re done!!!! Finally!!….. Now we can have sex!! lol.

By this stage I’m usually sweating like a marathon runner, my hair is dishevelled and I’m feeling about as sexy as an oompa loompa! But you know what? Even though I apologise to Mr G for my less that glamorous looks, he still manages to say something awfully sweet to me, like….”all I see is a goddess here in front of me”. *sighs*.

Mr G sleeps on a single bed….. On a higher than normal single bed! So when I fling myself onto the bed, I need to make sure I don’t end up going all the way over and hit the floor on the other side! Luckily I haven’t done anything as dumb as that…..YET! lol. There’s lots of kissing, stroking. I always make sure I move so that my breasts are close to his mouth, which isn’t all that hard to do considering the size of my boobs! I reckon I could still make them reach even if I were at the foot of the bed! lol. Sex is in cowgirl position, me on top. Now, with an able bodied client I jump around for a bit up there, then when the hammy’s start aching I can change positions. Nup. Not gonna happen here. Bella has to keep going….and going…and going. Bella is not really fit! (in case you hadn’t already gathered that, lol). Thank God we can grind. Grinding is good. And then….eventually……we have…..an explosion of fairy dust and butterflies and harpsichords playing Beethoven! Or something like that. lol.

Once the deed is done, we always try again after a short break, but usually little Mr G is cactus. Clean up time. Then….what Bella dreads! We gotta do……. the whole thing….. ALL OVER AGAIN….. IN REVERSE!!! :O

Hoist on, harness over under legs, straps, clips, lift up….pull across…shit…forgot wheelchair…pull back…wheelchair on…move forward…pull across..spin around..client down….re adjust wheelchair position so I don’t let him land on the ground!!….harness off, clips undone..hoist up, turn it off, pull out of way…..buckle boots onto chair, pull up undies and pants, singlet on, tshirt on, jumper on, headrest on….trolley over….hoist on, hoist down, hoist off, fold up harness, undo hook thingy, trolley in laundry, towel in laundry. Bella now collapses in a heap!!

As you can see, my booking with Mr G differs somewhat from a ‘normal’ booking. Just a tad. lol. It is however, the most fulfilling, the most rewarding and the most emotional of my bookings. I cry with him, I laugh with him. I feel his pain, and at the end of the booking, I revel in his joy!

We’ve spoken about masturbation. He doesn’t bother as it’s far too much hassle. Too difficult to accomplish. Too difficult to clean up afterwards. He’d be horrified if the carer realised what he’d been up to. Something that’s so simple for us able bodied people, is so hard for him to achieve. How lucky we are. I’m still thinking of a way to make this possible for him. Perhaps a ‘fleshlight’ of sorts? With changeable/disposable insert, as rinsing and drying a normal fleshlight insert would be a challenge. Hmmm….all so hard :(

There was once a time when he told me he had a new carer and he didn’t think the carer had done a good job of cleaning him. It was with much embarrassment that he told me this. He could obviously smell something was not right, as did I. Without batting an eyelid, I donned my gloves, took out my wipes and wiped his groin where the ‘carer’ had failed to do so. The amount of times I’ve heard “I’m sorry” from this dear client is unbelievable. “sorry to put you through all this Bella”…”sorry to make you work so hard”. Even my threats of a backhander if he doesn’t stop apologising don’t seem to help, lol. If I didn’t want to do it, then I wouldn’t be there! This particular time however, there were tears in his eyes when he said he was sorry. How could he possibly apologise for something that is out of his control? For something he cannot help? It hurt me to see him like that. Something so basic as personal hygiene is left to the hands of a stranger. A stranger who obviously doesn’t really care. A stranger who goes home and no longer has to worry about his job. It’s done.

Mr G told me he had recently put in a complaint about this ‘carer’. His very first complaint in 18years and the ‘powers that be’ took the carers word over his. I was livid when he told me. You could see he was crushed by their decision. People had let him down once again! I told him I would be happy to call them about my experience, but that wouldn’t quite work would it? ‘Hello, I’m calling in regards to Mr G’s carer. I’ve found that his carer doesn’t do a good job of cleaning him. Who am I? Well..ummm…  my name is Bella and I’m Mr G’s hooker.” Yeah….nup. Wouldn’t go down too well.

I would dearly love to get Mr G a computer and hook him up to the internet. I think he’d have an absolute blast surfing the net. At the moment, all he has is the television and an old Nokia. The ones without cameras. Can you imagine what it’s like to be confined to a wheelchair, no friends or family to visit and yr only form of entertainment is the television? I’d love for someone to donate a laptop or even a mobile phone with internet access. But, then I guess the problem would be the cost of internet :( Is there no government department that could help him? Does anyone know? Perhaps if he were able bodied and unemployed he could have those things, or if he were an immigrant? Yes, I’m being nasty…. cos I’m angry, and upset and I feel useless. Society seems to have forgotten those with disabilities. They have needs and wants just like everybody else. They have feelings and urges. I’m damn proud to be a sex worker! I’m honoured to be Mr G’s sex worker!!

I’ve sorta waffled and jumped from one topic to another. I hope I’ve made some sense!

Be grateful for what you have. Don’t take things for granted. There are people out there much worse off than yourself. Make the most of what you have. Be happy :)

post script:

About CP : What is Cerebral Palsy?

CEREBRAL PALSY: BASIC FACTS 

Cerebral palsy (CP) is a permanent physical condition that affects movement. Its effect can be as mild as just a weakness in one hand ranging to almost complete lack of movement. 

There are three main types of cerebral palsy and each involves the way a person moves. Movements can be unpredictable, muscles can be stiff or tight and in some cases people can have shaky movements or tremors. 

People with cerebral palsy may have seizures and other impairments affecting their speech, vision, hearing and/or intellect.

Cerebral palsy, except in its mildest forms, can be seen in the first 12-18 months of life. It presents when children fail to reach movement milestones. Babies most at risk of cerebral palsy are those born prematurely or with low birthweight. 

In Australia it is estimated that a child is born with cerebral palsy every 15 hours. Worldwide, the incidence is the same - 1 in 400 births. There is no known cure. For most, the cause is unknown. 

PPS: Since writing this story, another beautiful client of mine sent me a brand new Compaq laptop to give to Mr G. I have the most amazing people in my life!! Eternally grateful. xx

another poem…

Always the practical one

She has a cunning plan

Life taken by her own hand

Would not allow for heirs

A threat to the law

A weapon brandished

Forcing another’s hand 

Would ensure her intended result

She contemplates

Maniacal grin across her face

Crucifix held in hand

She steps out into the searchlights. 

poems….

A smile on the outside

Eyes reflecting the sun

A facade

A heart beating strong

Red blood coursing thru my veins

Involuntary

A soul growing weary

A body getting tired

Resignation

Inevitable :(

We knew it was gonna happen didn’t we? It was inevitable. She, who wouldn’t let anyone in, has done so.. and consequently has had her heart broken.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this? I guess in a way its cathartic.

I guess deep down I always knew he never wanted me the way I wanted him. Was kinda hoping he would see how fucking awesome I am and run into my arms… lol. Pathetic aren’t I? Lol.

I sent him an acrostic poem a week ago. Good lord! How grade 3?! Lol. Man.. even writing it now.. it sounds so dumb! A day later I texted him ‘I’m missin yr kissin’. Reckon I got any replies to any of my messages? I don’t need to answer that do I?

Anyway.. today we communicated by text. Apparently I have issues… I enjoy the drama… oh! And the best one of all…. “You’re fucked in the head”.

I’m omitting bits… I told him yesterday I was distancing myself from him. Perhaps that caused his anger. I don’t know. All I know is that with everything I say, it seems to be wrong.

I would do anything for this guy. I’m totally smitten! I find myself wishing he was with me … hanging out with the kids and I…. going to the movies with me…. Just chilling watching a dvd with me. But I know he doesn’t want me.

Then why is he so angry with me? Is it the rejection? I’m not rejecting him… I just can’t hurt myself any longer. He’s made no effort to show me how he feels. Our daily hour plus phone calls are non existent. Text messages are days apart. Thrill of the chase perhaps? Now he knows I want him, he doesn’t want me anymore? Aarrgghh.. Who fucking knows?!

“You’re fucked in the head”. It’s been going thru my mind all day. Even in the middle of my booking. Talk about mood killer!

My ex used to say nasty shit to me. It hurts. Hurts even more than physical pain. I used to wish he would just hit me rather than say the shit he used to say. Because words can’t be erased. They play on your mind. Over and over and over again.

And as I sit here writing this… the tears are rolling down my face. They haven’t really stopped all day. I’m letting him go. I don’t want to waste his time. I’m not the right woman for him.

“You’re fucked in the head”  Thanks… thanks a lot.

Bella fell in love? what the?….

So….. how the hell did this happen?

How did Miss ‘I don’t need a man, never gonna get involved with anyone again’ manage to fall arse over tit in love?

Well… it started last month on a trip interstate. A long time ‘fan’ booked me cos he wanted to meet me. Upon rocking up to my hotel room… he looked a little bit scared.. a little bit young… a little bit nervous. He spoke well though and was extremely respectful. The lack of eye contact however had me a bit nervous. The flinching at my touch had me perplexed. Did he not want to be with me? Aaaaah yes… now I remember….. he didn’t want sex… didn’t think he could please me.. just wanted to meet me.  Fair enough…. But I’m a highly sexed human being.. you gotta want to touch me dude! How can u resist me? I fucking rock!! Lol .

Anyway.. to cut a long story short… the 2 hour booking lasted all night with him leaving in the morning. God it was good to cuddle all night. Yes we had sex… yes I enjoyed it. We kissed.. omg, what an awesome kisser! His touch.. his smell… his cheeky smile (when I managed to make him smile).. the perfect package.

Fast forward 24 hours and I asked him to come over again the next night. Why? Cos I enjoyed his company. Cos he was easy to talk to. Cos he told me my eyes were hectic (sucker for compliments!). Cos he had an interesting past. Cos…. I couldn’t stop thinking about him!

This guy has been in my brain constantly! So much so, that when he told me he was unwell and needed medical tests etc, I flew up to be with him and support him. What the fuck Bella?! Since when do you forsake work, kids, home for some dude?? Are you insane? I guess so.

The week with him was magic. Just seeing him.. being with him… sleeping in the same bed with him was wonderful.

We didn’t have sex… not once :( We fooled around a bit the first night. When he got the diagnosis of his illness, he suddenly felt worse.  Psychosomatic? Maybe. Hypochondriac? Perhaps. Lol.

That made me want him even more. Why? Is it the ‘mother’ in me that wants to look after him? To protect him? To hold his hand and tell him everything will be alright? Is it just because I’m a nurturing and loving soul anyway?

Which brings me to … what is love to me. Love. Pffft. Bullshit. Yeah I’m cynical. Love doesn’t last forever. You gotta be kidding yourself if you think it does. People ‘fall’ in and out of love all the time. I tell my girls that … Nothing lasts forever. Harsh? Yeah…probably. But life is harsh… deal with it.

I thought I loved my then husband. Yeah.. I did love him. I worked hard at my marriage. I put up with a lot of shit. Even after all the abuse and crap that was thrown my way I did all that I could to salvage my marriage. When only one person is doing all the hard work… its futile.

I’ve learnt that now. Relationships are a two way street. If something is worthwhile having, then it’s worthwhile fighting for. Relationships are about give and take. Compromise. Not losing your self identity. That’s where I went wrong the first time around. I lost who I was and became bitter and resentful. Bella disappeared and in her place was a mother and a wife. Where did that fun loving, smart arse, sexually charged woman go? She got buried underneath responsibilities and housework and nappies and shit. Literally and figuratively!

So, what does ‘love’ mean to me? Hmm… love is not just saying the word.. ‘I love you’. Love is the way you treat someone. For me, loving someone is wanting to be with them through thick and thin. Enjoying the great moments life has to offer and working together through the not so great times. Love is supporting someone… being a shoulder for them to cry on… someone they can rely on. Love is acknowledging that we make mistakes and forgiving that person. Love is being able to say ‘I’m sorry’. Love is being able to say ‘I know you fucked up, but I still wanna be with you, let’s work it out’. Love is being able to look at the positives and not dwell on the negatives. Love is being able to laugh at yourself. Love is looking forward to being with that special someone. The contentment one feels when they’re together, no matter what they’re doing.

I don’t fall in love at the drop of a hat… but I do get feelings for people. Ones that I care about. I don’t want to. I don’t plan to. It just happens. I go from ‘I don’t wanna be with anyone’ to ‘omg I’m so lonely’ so quickly, anyone would think I suffer from a multiple personality disorder! Lol.

Am I even making any sense here? I have to get this all out of my head. I can’t function cos he’s constantly in my thoughts. I can’t have a booking without thinking of him and feeling guilty. I’ve never, NEVER felt like that before!

So, what is it about this guy that makes him so special? *insert loooooong pause*

I don’t know. My daughter asked me this question the other day. I could only come up with one answer… cos I like him and I enjoy his company. Cos I get butterflies in my tummy when I see him. Cos the butterflies rap dance when he kisses me.  Not much to go on hey?

What do I want from a partner? I want someone who isn’t afraid to tell me how they feel. Even if it makes them sound ‘wimpy’ (Bella likes the word sensitive). I want someone tactile. Touch me… hold my hand… don’t be afraid to show affection in public. Kiss me randomly. I want someone that can make me laugh. Someone who can see the lighter side of any situation. I want someone who acknowledges that I’m human and I fuck up and that it’s okay to do so. I want someone who will stand by my side and support the decisions I make. A shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to my rants. Let me vent… don’t try and ‘fix’ the situation.. just let me vent and I will eventually bounce back. I want someone to tell me that their life is so much better for having me in it. Someone who smiles at me when I enter the room. Someone who tells me they’ve missed me. Someone who ignores all the pretty girls cos he knows that I have the prettiest soul. Someone who gets along with my kids and can just be their friend. Someone I can trust and rely on. Good Lord!! Who is writing this shit? Invasion of the body snatchers perhaps? Lol

Let’s think logically now. Why won’t this work. Difference in age. Difference in location. I have kids, he doesn’t. I can’t have any more kids…he says he doesn’t want any, but who knows if he’ll change his mind. According to him, we are anatomically unsuited… Bella is a heifer… and he keeps losing weight! He doesn’t wanna have sex with me cos he keeps saying he can’t please me. (what a load of hogwash!!). That first night together he did all sorts of wonderful things to me!!

So, why not just enjoy each others company while we can? Just take each day as it comes. No expectations, no disappointments….

 Cos I don’t want to waste his time. Time he spends with me could be time spent with someone his own age. Perhaps raise a family. Achieve the things he’s always wanted to achieve.

……..

I want him. I want to be with him. I want to touch him and hold him and kiss him tenderly. I want to lay in his arms and just breathe in his essence. I want to share his life with him. I want to travel with him. I want to help him achieve his goals. I want to fuck him within an inch of his life!! (who wrote that? Lol).  I want him to want me too. :( 

He doesn’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to get hurt. I’d never hurt him intentionally.

Why is this so bloody hard? Why can’t I just switch off my emotions? Why is he in my fucking head 24/7??

Pretty accent don’t mean no pretty heart!

So there I was enjoying a night at home with the kidlets, when I received a text from a client I had contacted earlier in the day.

“hi Bell. Call me if possible for an appointment”

“when did you want me?”

“at 10pm”

I call him as it’s only an hour away. I asked the standard question of how long he wanted me for. I hate, hate HATE being answered with “lets start with an hour and we’ll see from there”. Grrrrrr!

As I didn’t have anyone else booked for later that night, I didn’t stress too much about it. Time was changed to 10.30pm. Brilliant! Plenty of time to shower and get ready. Oh! And he had a damn sexy Italian accent! Yumm.

So, off I head to one of Melbourne’s more affluent suburbs. Double storey house, fountains in the front garden, gates and fence across the front. I press the video intercom and wait. ……….

The client calls me on the phone…”I’ll be another 5 minutes”

No probs. ‘I’ll wait out the front then?’

“yes”

hmm…ok then. I wonder why he didn’t buzz me in? Having a shower and doesn’t want a stranger in the house? Maybe. *shrugs*

I wait ten minutes. Starting to feel nervous now. Please don’t let this be a wild goose chase!

I decided to call him. “are you okay darl?”

‘yes, I’m two minutes away. I’ll be home shortly.’

Oh! Huh?! He’s not even home? Wtf?

He finally arrives and I meet him at the front gate. He unlocks it and I follow him into the house.

It’s a beautiful house! Immaculate. Front garden landscaped perfectly. Polished floorboards inside. Plasma tv. Coffee maker in kitchen. Leather lounges. Artwork on the walls. Nice! Very very nice.

We stop in the kitchen and he takes a good look at me and grunts. Yes….I said grunts. Or maybe it was more an exasperated sigh. Nevertheless, it didn’t sound very welcoming. Self esteem starting to plummet now. I can tell he’s not happy, so I take out my hair clip and release my long, wavy hair. Hehe..I have sexy Medusa hair. Well, I think it’s sexy! Lol.

“Am I not what you expected?” I ask tentatively.

With his arms outstretched (think, the fish I caught was this big), he says “you’re so…..so…..solid!”

I think he said solid…or was it thick…..or maybe even chunky.  He used one of those adjectives. I was too busy telling myself ‘don’t cry, just don’t fucking cry’, to really pay attention.

“ummm…did you not read my website? I do state that I’m a big girl”

“I didn’t read all of it”

Hmmm…that sexy Italian accent is starting to sound less and less sexy.

“That’s ok. If you don’t want me I can leave. I will have to charge you an $80 cancellation fee”

He umms and aaahs and says more things about the way I look . I can’t even look him in the face. This guy has just insulted me. Sexiness level=Zero.

“Up to you darl. I can stay here for the hour and we can have some fun, or I can leave”

“How much you charge for the hour?”, he asks.

Fuck I hate that!! You already know what I charge. We discussed it during both our phone conversations; one at night and one earlier that afternoon. PLUS, it’s on my site where you got my details from in the first place!

I’m starting to get a bit angry now. Treating me like an idiot doesn’t sit well with me!

With his designer clothes and snakeskin (or could be alligator skin) shoes, he nonchalantly leans against the marble bench top.

“How about we do a deal?”, he says.

How about you go fuck yourself, I’m thinking to myself!!

“I give you $200 for the hour”

Oh yeah, sure…insult me and now barter with me. Man I’m feeling sexier by the minute! NOT!!!

“I’m sorry luv, my rates are $300”

Mr Slick then says “$250”

“Please don’t insult me. If you don’t want me, I can leave. My rates stay the same”

OMFG!! YOU GO GIRL! Don’t back down!! Yay me!

He pulls out his money clip. Money clip! Who the fuck has money clips these days? There’s a wad of $50’s and he counts out 6 of them, throwing them on the bench like they’re tainted or something.

That’s great dude! You’re making me feel so welcome. Pffft.

I thank him and put the money away. Then I follow him up the stairs.

He doesn’t need to have a shower or freshen up. Apparently he had one before he went to drop off that ‘thing’ to his friend. Cool mate…who fucking knows how long ago that was!

He undresses and stands in front of me.

“I’ve never done this before”, he says.

“You’ve never had sex?”, I ask with a cheeky smile on my face.

He doesn’t get the joke. Over his head.

”I haven’t done this with a BIG woman” Accent on the ‘big’.

Try to feel sexy Bella….go on girl…you can do it. Ignore what the silly twit is saying. Pretend he’s a sexy hunk….not the 60year old, pot bellied Italian import that he is.

He’s rough. Grabs me by the head and sticks his tongue down my throat. EEEEWWW! What is that? That’s not a kiss! That’s a reverse colonoscopy mate! What the hell are you searching for down my throat with yr tongue?!!

He guides (read pushes) me onto the bed and tries to climb on me.

“Darl, why don’t you lie down and relax? I’ll do all the work”

I need to gain control. I need to show him that I’m the boss.

So I crawl between his legs, thinking the sight of my boobs engulfing his cock would turn him on. BABOW!

Dick erect, but eyes firmly placed on the ceiling. Good Lord man! Am I THAT repulsive?

He finally looks at me, only to grab my head and push it towards his cock!!

Jokingly I say “It’s okay, I know where to go” and remove his hands. Fuck I hate that!! Don’t push my fucking head onto your cock muthafukker!!

Even though this guy made me feel like shit….I still wanted to make him happy. So hard to feel good and sexy though. Pretend Bella…just pretend girl. It’ll all be over with soon. Usually I don’t have to pretend. Usually I’m enjoying myself because the client is enjoying my company.

He flips me over and spreads my legs.

“Let’s see what we have here”

Ummmm….what exactly were you expecting dear sir? A penis? Second set of legs? Tentacles? 

It’s a vagina ffs!!!

No Bella, you’re not allowed to head butt the client! Please remove those thoughts from your head!!

Thought I’d have trouble getting him to wear a condom…but thank fuck there was no problem.

He thrusts away for maybe 2minutes….silent gasp, eyes closed…..he’s cum! Yay!

Jumps up…doesn’t let me clean him up…jumps into shower.

Errrrmmmm….is that it? Is that my cue to get dressed and leave? He hasn’t said anything. Perhaps I’ll put my undies on so I don’t look like a twit.

Waiting……waiting….waiting……. Fuck dude! Long shower! Guess he really wanted to scrub that fat hooker smell off him or something! Lol.

“Umm..is that it? We still have time”

“That’s it for me”, he says.

Fair enough. Not like my pussy is aching for you to fuck me again dude!

“How old are you?”, he asks.

‘I just turned forty’

“You don’t look forty”

“Really? How old do I look? 50?” hehe.

No response to my joke….goes over his head….again.

‘You look late 20’s, 30’

Well fuck me! A compliment! Maybe he’s not such a douchebag?

Ten seconds later…

“Can you give me a lift to the city?”

Que? Pardon?

“Sorry darl, I’m headed the opposite way” Be pleasant Bella. Remember, you’re not allowed to hit the client.

“That’s ok. Just go down the freeway then back onto the Eastern”

Is this guy for real? Do I have ‘taxi’ stamped on my forehead?

For a moment I actually considered giving him a lift. After all, he just paid me $300 for 20 minutes or so. But then common sense kicks in. Sorry dude. Can’t do it.

I follow him to the front gate, apologising as I go. “Sorry I’m not what you had in mind”.

He says nothing. I kiss him on the cheek and thank him for ‘tonight’. Exactly what I was thanking him for…..I have no fucking idea!! Lol.

Jump in my car and go to pick up eldest daughter from Noble Park.

The first thing I think of is…. I can’t wait to share this with my twitter friends. How do I relate this story in 140 characters though?! lolololol

3rd instalment…..

#1 client/fuckbuddy- negative

#2 client- negative

#3 client- negative

#4 client- negative

#5 client- negative

#8 client- negative

I was really worried about client #8, seeing as #7 came up as positive. 

Strange that he was all clear, however I’m so glad he was. He actually booked me a couple of days ago…. so I guess he still ‘loves’ me. lol 

2nd instalment…

One of the biggest drawbacks in this industry is that peer support is lacking…and in some cases, non existent. Who do you speak with when you get the news that you’ve contracted an STI? Telling my family wouldn’t get me the support I needed. Telling a ‘normal’ friend about it wouldn’t suffice. Hell…I couldn’t even tell a fellow worker! The shame! My God…I was so ashamed!

I wrote snippets on twitter alluding to my dilemma. Who can I tell? Total strangers? Someone I knew? Someone in the industry? I needed someone that wouldn’t judge me. Someone that would still love me afterwards.  It was on facebook that I saw a message from a friend….*light bulb moment*. Christian! Fuck yeah…perfect! Christian, fellow worker, works for RHED http://www.sexworker.org.au/ , sex worker activist and above all….friend.

Luckily Christian was working late at RHED. Friday nights is ‘Hustling to Health’, so he’s on till 10.30pm. It was so good to be able to tell someone who wasn’t going to judge me. Someone who put things in perspective for me. Someone who could give me the best cuddles everrrr!!

He asked me….’how long have you been working for?’…approx 4 years…’and how many guys would you have had sex with?’… good lord! Fuck knows?! Hundreds…’and this is the first STI since you’ve been in the industry?’….yeah… ‘well, there you go! Don’t be so hard on yourself’. Lol, easier said than done, but yeah, I understood what he was getting at. There’s obviously a greater risk of getting an STI being a sex worker, than say a bank teller, lol. So…I’ve been lucky I guess.

Christian also pulled out the Victorian Infectious Diseases Bulletin from last June. I’ll quote from the most recent publication…to keep the numbers up to date. http://www.health.vic.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0017/530612/VIDB-13-3-web.pdf

A total of 4,207 cases of chlamydia were notified to the department during the second quarter of 2010.

Fifty-six per cent of the cases (n=2,344) were in females and 44 per cent (n=1,836) were in males. Sex was not reported for 27 cases. (nfi what this would mean. Alien probing perhaps?)

Of the 548 females for whom enhanced surveillance data were available….

Six females also identified as sex workers and two reported sex worker as the source of infection.  For the remaining 89 cases (16 per cent) this information was unknown or not reported.

Of the 556 males for whom enhanced surveillance data were available…..

Among the males reporting a female sexual partner, 52 per cent (n=323) reported having a casual sexual partner, 39 per cent (n=126) reported having a regular sexual partner and two per cent (n=5) reported sex worker as the source of infection.

So, by these figures we can see a really small number of infections were from sex workers. Okay, okay…so let’s assume not everyone was honest…. Even if you were to add 10% or even 20% to the sex worker figures…it’s still relatively low.

Those stats are pretty awesome…but it still doesn’t help me! In a way I felt I had single handedly perpetuated the myth that sex workers are disease infested. I had let the team down. I failed my fellow sisters & brothers. I’d lost all credibility. How would any fellow worker want to work with me again? Clients! Fuck….I’m gonna lose clients. I now have a ‘black mark’ over my head. Whenever anyone is with me…there will be doubt in their minds. I know it. It’s only natural. I don’t blame them. Perhaps I should’ve said….If anyone is with me…. If…. :(

RESULTS SO FAR…..

To date I’ve got two replies back.

#6 Client – Negative results

#7 Fuckbuddy – Positive results

I’m not drawing any conclusions. How am I to know if #6 was really telling the truth?

Enough for tonite….

:( it will pass and eventually be a distant memory, stay safe and strong.