Working in the sex industry as a brothel manager for 12 years brought about some amusing incidents. The following blog details a few of those incidents.
Sex workers would rely on part of their income through regulars; clients that chose to book only them. On one shift a client called to book a particular lady that he claimed he saw regularly. I informed him she wasn’t in yet but was scheduled to start in a couple of hours. I made a tentative booking as I’d learned early in my brothel manager career never to confirm a booking until I was sure that the sex worker was available as frustrated angry horny clients weren’t pleasant to deal with.
When the sex worker arrived I informed her that John Black had rang for a 10pm booking. She could not recall the name and cast me a puzzled look when I informed her that he’d claimed he was a regular of hers. The client arrived as scheduled and I buzzed the girls lounge to tell the sex worker her booking was waiting at the front desk. When she saw him she welcomed him warmly and as she took his arm to lead him down the corridor towards an available room she quickly turned to me for a moment with a puzzled look on her face and silently mouthed, “I don’t know him”.
The booking time never started until the sex worker confirmed with reception, so when the sex worker returned to my desk, after getting the client into the shower and performing a STI check, to pick up miscellaneous items such as condoms, lube, etc she told me to start the booking time. “All ok then, even though you don’t remember him?” I enquired as I passed her a small basket containing the necessary tools of the trade. “Yes, I remember him now. That’s Bent Dick”. It seemed the STI check helped with her memory recall.
Another regular client was a little delusional when it came to the reality of the client/sex worker relationship. The client had invited the sex worker he saw regularly to his birthday celebration as his personal guest. She had informed him that she was happy to attend as long as he was ok with paying for her company. He was confused as he had invited her as his guest and not for sex. She came to me to try to get him to understand. I explained that his only relationship with the sex worker was professional and not social and as their connection was business only he would be paying her for her time no matter how the time was spent. He seriously could not comprehend this no matter how many times both the sex worker and I explained. Eventually I lost my patience and informed him sternly, “she’s not your girlfriend. She’s a fuck you pay for. If you weren’t paying you’d have no relationship with her at all. Got it?” He looked at the sex worker as if waiting for her to chastise me for being so mean. She looked back at him in silence until the poor guy finally got it.
On another occasion a very handsome client showed up at the transsexual parlour, his ripped body obvious under his tight-fitting suit. The transsexuals were in a tizzy once they met him and all hoped they’d be the lucky sex worker who’d be chosen for the booking. Once he’d chosen, the happy winner led him to a room to prepare for the booking. When she returned to my desk to confirm and start the booking time she had a disappointed look on her face.
“You look a little upset. What’s up?” I asked.
“He’s got lingerie under that suit that’s prettier than anything I own. He wants me to show him how to do his face up with make up. He even wants to borrow a wig for the makeover. That’s the only service he wants. He only picked me because he likes how I do my eye make up. Go figure!”
There were plenty of amusing incidents I witnessed as my time as a brothel manager. These are just a few. Keep visiting my blog each week to hear about more as they come to memory or better yet, read my book.