Sex to me is something special, something sacred and beautiful to be shared between two people who love each other. I had meaningless and empty sex in my teen years which I later regretted. It always meant I felt empty afterwards, even though I had felt special and loved for a short while. Over the years I grew to understand sex in a new light and saw it as something you don't just give to anyone. My boyfriends would wait months until I was ready to give over that special part of me. So, to say I was desperate when I went to the brothel is an understatement. I knew it would create problems for me emotionally, however I told myself that the overwhelming stress of debt would be eased and I would deal with the emotional side later.
There wasn't much time in between calling the Madame I knew to express interest to actually driving to the brothel. It was in the outskirts of town, a place I knew no one I knew would be traveling to. It felt like a long drive to work, however it was comforting to know that the time is what would keep it a secret. When I finally arrived I parked my car around the back, far out of view of any other traffic.
Inside the brothel was clean and beautifully presented. Cameras monitored every hallway and each bedroom was large with fresh sheets, nicely rolled towels, a shower and spa, as well as a bedside table with two bottles on it labelled: lubricant and massage oil, as well as a basket of condoms.
The Madame took me to a bedroom and said it was mine for the day. Over the phone she has assured me there will be no pressure and it would be a girly day of doing hair, make-up and watching movies. If/when clients came, I would be relaxed and ready to take them on. When I arrived I came in my comfiest pair of pants and a singlet top, with my hair tied up messy and without make-up as I figured I had at least an hour to mentally prepare. I was wrong.
"There is already a client waiting for you," she said. "The phone's been going busy this morning with news of a new girl. You are going to sell like hot cakes! You are 19, a size 6 and like a virgin."
It had been five years since I was nineteen, but I was often mistaken for being a teenager by the general public. I was baby-faced and the Madame told me it would work in my favour. Size 6 wasn't much of a stretch. A year earlier I was sucking into size 10 jeans, but the enormous amounts of stress I was under meant the weight shed off me until I was 45kg. To be honest, I have no real knowledge of what size I am as I haven't tried on new clothes for six months because I cannot afford them!
The Madame asked the client to wait for a ten minutes while I got ready. I rushed everything! I quickly grabbed out a change of clothes from my bag: a see-through singlet and frilly panties. I let my hair down and brushed it, hoping the client wouldn't notice the very obvious change in colour that was my re-growth. No time for make-up, I chucked on my heels and got debriefed by the Madame.
"The client has been here before. He is a nice guy and thought he would be great for your first time." She instructed me, "Just go in and introduce yourself. Feel free to say you are nervous and I will go in afterwards and take care of the money. He just wants a 30 minute service."
When I walked in I was absolutely shocked. The young man before me was good looking! He was the type of guy who I would be flirting with if I met him out and about one night. Late twenties, full head of brown hair, nicely built body and gorgeous smile. Why would a guy like him be coming to a brothel?
"Hi, I am River," I said, feeling stupid that I picked such a fake-sounding name. Of course he knew it wasn't my real name. All of a sudden I began to worry what he would think of me. I didn't want to be fake. I didn't want to be seen as a stupid girl selling herself to meet an addiction. "You'll have to forgive me because I am so nervous. This is my first time doing anything like this."
"Don't worry, I'm nervous too. I've never been to one of these places before" he lied. Was he playing into a fantasy or trying to be sweet to make me feel more comfortable.
"We can be first timers together," I giggled. "How 'bout I meet you upstairs and I'll let the other lady take care of the money."
I walked out of the room and over to the Madame and let out a deep breathe; "What now?"
"I'll walk him upstairs and get him comfortable. Go up and do a sexual health check and pop him in the shower. After the shower give him a massage and take it from there. If you have any questions or if you're unsure about anything, press the intercom button."
I waited in a room downstairs until I saw the Madame reappear holding cash in her hand. I was now on the clock. I walked up the stairs and into the room where I saw the guy sitting on a chair. He mentioned his name to be downstairs, however I could not for the life of me remember it.
"So... I've been informed that I have to do a sexual health check on you, which is probably as awkward for me as it is for you", a laughed of. He stood up and dropped his pants like procedure.
A sexual health check in checking visually to make sure there is nothing wrong. I was surprised that this was the first time I had ever conducted one, as it is something every women (and man) should check with any sexual partner they have. It really is something that should be taught in schools since promiscuity is so common and culturally acceptable. I was shown earlier a poster of what is not okay and the kinds of things you need to avoid. The check also includes milking the man's genitals slightly to check for abnormal discharge (not pre-cum), however he cannot use the bathroom for 30 minutes prior as this will clean out the tract.
After going through quite an awkward moment of judging a penis which was already happy to see me, I watched the guy undress. His body was probably the nicest I have seen in the flesh. Nicely built, trimmed body hair, a tan line that suggested he was definitely a beach goer and a very, very nice arse. Once again, why on earth does this guy need to come to a brothel?!
I talked with him while he was in the shower, laughing about life and finding out what he does for a living. Throughout the conversation I learnt he had a university degree, well-paying job that was about to send him to London to live and work. He was eight months out of a break-up with a serious girlfriend. I didn't ask if there was a current girlfriend. The thought that I was with someone else's man mortified me.
I massaged his back and turned him over. I had no idea how long it had been. All I knew was at 25 minutes there would be a message saying 'thank you' spoken over the intercom and I would have five minutes to finish-up whatever it was we were doing and pop him in the shower. I was terrible at keeping time.
It has been years since I've had to use a condom. With previous boyfriends we have had STI checks and I have been on the implant. How on earth was I meant to work on sizes? First condom I tried I rolled it on the wrong way, so grabbed another. Too small. Grabbed what I thought was the next size up and rolled it down as far as I could get it (yes, this is relevant).
I was with a nice guy with a nice body. I wanted to kiss him, however I told myself not to as that is reserved for relationships. I can't give him anything. The sex was intense. He knew I liked what I was in him and I think it fed his ego a bit. We looked in each others eyes while I was on top leaning in close to him. He kissed my face and neck. In my mind I told myself that I was going wild and having a one night stand and really I should be paying him. This is what a lot of girls do when they're single. But part of me knew it was empty, meaningless sex. It didn't take long before he came and I faked an orgasm.
I looked at him with shock "I wasn't expecting that to happen" I lied. I wanted to give him that extra bit of satisfaction of thinking he made me happy as well. Then I got off him and realised something was missing: the condom. I reached inside of myself to pull out the piece of latex that had slipped off. I freaked out.
"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" he said, sounding genuinely concerned.
"Umm... yes," I kept my cool. "Is it okay if buzz downstairs."
"Sure, I know it's your first time and this is possibly the worst thing. If it reassures you, I got tested a month ago and I am sure I am clean."
"You're my first client and prior to this I was tested so I am fine," I replied.
I walked over to the intercom and told the Madame the situation. She told me to come downstairs. I left the young bloke sitting on the bed. Downstairs I was told that they could arrange for a sexual health clinic guy to come out and test me. But for now the guy upstairs has ten minutes left and to go give him a massage.
I went upstairs and offered the man a massage. He had gotten dressed in the brief period I was downstairs. He told me he didn't want a massage, he was just worried about me. For the next ten minutes we sat on the bed, I held his hand and stroked him arm and talked to him about life in general. He told me about what he wanted for his future and I shared with him my dreams of my future. For a brief period of time he saw ME, not River. In the entire experience I saw myself in that situation doing the job and did not distance myself emotionally except for a few lies I told him.
I asked him why he came to the brothel when he could easily get a girl in a nightclub. He explained to me that he wanted sex without dramas. In a nightclub he would have to buy a girl drinks all night in order to take her home and even then that isn't a guarantee. With any woman he would have to pay a price, whether it is taking them out for dinner or buying them drinks, and after the deed the women can form emotional attachments. A brothel made more sense to him. He pays the price and knows for sure he will get sex without the girl wanting commitment.
When I came downstairs I decided that I needed to be someone else. I needed to become River. I didn't want to recognize myself. I changed my outfit into something that I wouldn't wear usually. I put on a red corset with a Japanese-style print, g-string with a suspender belt and stockings. I put on a long blonde wig and did my make-up with smokey eyes and red lips. The girl in the mirror was not me.
For the first time ever I viewed myself with awe. Stepping into the role of River I could finally see the beauty in my body. I always knew I was thin, but never saw it. In front of the mirror I admired the way my body was, the corset making my breasts look full. River was stunning and would catch the eye of every man.
Second client arrived.
"He is hot," the Madame told me. This is probably the worst thing she could have done. My expectations were so high from the last guy. "He's got a sleeve of tattoos and recently had a smoke".
The smell of cigarettes on a man may have been appealing to her as she has been having nicotine withdrawals all day. Even though I looked like River, I still felt a lot like me and cigarette odors were definitely not appealing. I walked into the waiting room, a lot more confident this time. The man was probably around forty years and showing signs of aging. He had an average body with a laborer's arms covered in tattoos.
"Hi, my name is River. It is really nice to meet you. It is my first day today, but I thought I'd let you know that I offer other services such as costume fantasies and toy shows for a little bit extra. Are you interested in either of these?"
"No, thank you. Just the standard service."
"30 minutes."
"Yes."
"Okay, how about we go upstairs and have fun?" I said. This so was not me.
I lead Mr Tattoos upstairs and did the sexual health check, took the money and popped him in the shower. I took the money downstairs to get some change and when I returned, popped it on the nightstand hoping he would be too shy to take the change when I was in the room (which I was wrong, but it would have been a nice tip).
"Would you like a massage?" I asked, laying him across a fresh towel I had placed on the bed.
"Yes," he said lying his naked body down. I barely touched him when he asked, "aren't you going to take your clothes off?"
"Sorry, it's my first day... don't really know what I am doing. Of course". Really what I wanted to say was: you are a dirty man and I don't want you looking at River's or my body!
I sat on top of his arse, massaging him without a response. I decided to lean forward and brush my breasts on his back. He let out a moan. 30 minutes hurry up and be over with!
"Let me massage you," he said. I was nervous, but went along with it.
I lay on the bed, my legs tightly together, my body tensed up as his rubbed me. There was no way I would be getting enjoyment out of this massage.
"Roll over," he ordered, which I went along with. I kept my thighs tightly closed together as I lay on my back. He rubbed over my breasts and down to my stomach, making comments about how beautiful I was. He looked at me in awe, like I was an expensive car or the most delicious meal in front of him. He did not care for one moment how I felt, he just cared that for 30 minutes he had purchased me.
At one stage while he rubbed my torso his hands both joined up around my throat and for a brief moment I thought he was going to choke me. I don't know if he noticed the fear in my eyes. His hands then went down my body and tried to force my thighs apart. I slid them open no more than a centimeter, afraid that if I appeared too friggid he would demand the money I so desperately needed back.
"Can I lick it?" he asked.
"That costs extra," I replied hoping that he wasn't going to pay it, "plus it will need to be done with a dam in place so there will be no direct contact". I wanted to make it sound unappealing, and luckily it worked. "Let me give you a blow job, yeah?"
Saying 'yeah?' after a statement was something I learnt in sales. If you say "yeah" and nod, the person is more likely to say 'yes'.
After slipping on the smallest condom I could find (I suspect that may be the reason the man goes to brothels rather then trying to swoon a judgmental woman who may insult his small penis) I proceeded to give oral sex. Within 20 seconds I was wanting to vomit. Even though he showered the smell was bad, the taste was bad and the fact I was doing it for someone I hated made it worse. I immediately stopped, inserted his penis into my vagina and spend a minute having terrible sex.
Afterwards I asked if he wanted me to fill in the rest of his time with a massage. He said no, that he had got what he wanted and feels more relaxed now. I walked him downstairs in a towel and showed him the door.
I went into 'my' room, ripped off the wig and the towel and jumped into the shower. The Madame walked in to find me in tears. I cried as I tried scrubbing myself clean. I tried to wash away where he kissed down my body. When I emerged my black mascara had run down my face.
The Madame sat with me and tried to convince me to get myself together, that it was River doing those things, not me. For an hour she tried to talk me around, but no amount of money could get me to see another client. I changed into the comfy clothes I wore to work that day, trying to feel more like me. I was told that everyone breaks down after their second client and that it was normal. I just had to see one more and I would be fine. One more and everything I was feeling would go away. Biblical verses I memorized from church kept filling my head. Sex was something special and there was no price tag I could put on it.
But I needed $1000 by the end of the week and my two clients had only brought me a small fraction of the way. After this, stripping would be easy. No one touching me and no one entering my body taking something I wanted to keep precious. I needed the money and I had to do whatever I could to get it. Prostitution was now out of the question, so dancing, something I love doing usually, was an easy choice in comparison.
