Clients

Men and women are wired very differently. The sex industry taught me that. Men are creatures that are, mostly, visually stimulated. In the cinema, action, violence and sex is a box office attraction. With males, when they visualise sex or any body part that reminds them of it, they desire sex too. For us females, sex tends to be much more emotional. 

Some of the clients are married, it's just a fact. Don't kill the messenger. I'm talking from experience. I'm not condoning extramarital sexual relationships as a lot were sad fellows whose intimacy had been curtailed. They were happily married but sex had stopped, though usually not by their choosing. If a man has to beg his partner for sex maybe it’s because he ain’t doing it right. Foreplay starts outside of the bedroom for us females. Exhaustion and stress affect one’s mood. Intimacy can start with emotional support and chances are a woman will want to get closer when she feels valued for more than her body.

Sex might not be a big part of a healthy male’s life but it is an important part. They are simply wired that way. Sex is huge in advertising and that shit is everywhere. Seeing sexually charged images puts men in the mood. The urge to have what is denied, but attainable, can be impossible to ignore time and time again and, as a result, self-control is in short supply.

Men are also vain creatures. They need to be desired. There are those that are married with sex available yet still seek sex elsewhere. Most still love their wives, with pictures of wife and kiddies often shown at reception and in rooms reflecting pride for their family. Yet, they're about to book a sex worker. I cannot tell you why he feels the need to stray sexually. I can tell you though, mostly, they all suffer the same condition of ‘cummer's remorse’. One night stands also suffer this condition. Thus, this is often a once-off occurrence. 

Men's mental boxes don't touch. Women, mentally, are different. Our thinking isn't as linear as theirs. Our mental boxes are much more connected. This doesn't mean males are less intelligent. They just process their thinking differently to us females. Our biggest mistake is assuming they are capable of thinking as we do. Most men just don't and can't. 

Men love ‘sex box’ or ‘euphoria world’ as I like to call it. It's one of their favourite mental boxes, second only to their ‘nothing box’. Most men love to think of nothing most. Thus the man cave was invented. The ‘nothing box’ is ‘haven world’ to them. When in ‘euphoria world’ no other state exists to the male. The married male is no longer a family man. Mentally, he's now in a whole different stratosphere. While in lust mode it's just him and the female. A body he sees, feels, smells and touches before him and all his senses are attuned. “Surely this bliss, here and now, is all that matters”, is the thinking of males when aroused. 

Once he's cum he often can't get away quick enough. ‘Cummer's remorse’ has set in. The guy who just an hour earlier acted like I was his new best friend was now a stale breeze that flashed by as the door slammed behind him. 

Sex transpired, not love. Once the lust balloon had burst (he’d cum), it was all in the past. He's not too sure now if it really happened as it's no longer of any importance. Brothels are not places of affairs, ladies. If your partner partakes in such a place he strayed sexually, not emotionally. The disapproval, anger and indignation is still yours to feel. We females feel so scorned for, to us, sex means so much more. It's how we are wired. 

The only time our wires touch or cross is in an important part of our identity. Our vanity. The instinctive human trait of that need to be desired. In this, we do not differ. With males and females that human need is exactly the same. Unfortunately, we really clash in how we feed our desires. 

Of course, married men aren't the only ones that frequent brothels. I was surprised by how many physically disabled also visited such venues. It seems the world’s pre-judgment of these folks also makes it hard for them when it comes to finding intimacy. Those seeking discretion for whatever reasons were also frequent visitors to establishments I have worked.

Others in this predicament are the widowed. A lot of these men still loved and greatly missed their wives. Female companionship with no strings attached was their main motive for seeking us out. A sweet elderly gentleman who'd nursed his wife through many years of illness needed the courage to call and inquire about our services. Luckily I'd been working in the brothel industry for a few years by then. I knew instantly why he was uncomfortable about the decision he was making. Many of his generation had married young and stayed faithful. He was uncomfortable with being with a different woman. He knew his deceased wife would understand, yet still felt guilty. 

Australia is a sporting nation. My hometown of Melbourne catered to this. Many well-known sporting celebrities were clients. Celebrations into the night might include feeling the need to celebrate with others. With us, it wasn't going to be public knowledge the next day. Discretion in our profession was essential (hopefully). We are a safe place for them - no kiss and tell. Of course, this went for other celebrities too. We also make it safe for the female population in general. Being a place where a bunch of horny guys have somewhere to go, on that boys night out, instead of trawling the streets looking for action, decreased risks of violent and sexual assaults and hassling the non-interested. 

Our most common client, from my personal experience, was the single/separated/divorced client. Early on in my career, as a brothel manager, I was rostered to work Christmas Day.  I was surprised to find business booming that day and commented to a sex worker on what kind of loser spends Christmas in a brothel. She educated me to the fact that a lot of these guy’s loved ones weren't part of their Christmas that year. Maybe it was their first Christmas after a breakup or maybe they just didn't want to be alone today, of all days.  Mother's Day was the only day of the year where business was dead. I'm talking seriously dead. I guess the visuals on that day is a real mood killer. Rightly so, too. As it should be. 

In brothels, it's all only about sex. No affairs are happening. Well, not with the non-delusional clients anyway (which are very much in the majority, thank goodness). Without payment, most clients wouldn't have a chance. Knights on white horses were frowned upon. There is no saviour needed.  For the majority, in Australia, this job is a chosen occupation. No one needs saving. Clients are making wrong assumptions and judging by believing otherwise. Thank you, but it is not reality.

Simone was a slim 26-year-old brunette. A natural beauty that worked day shift to supplement her career in a very competitive field where jobs were scarce as a ballerina. So, she moonlighted as a sex worker to make ends meet. French by birth, Simone had spent most of her life in Australia. In every other way though, she was still French. 

Simone was very picky. Many a time a client would comment on how one of the ladies had been rude after meeting each sex worker one on one. Ladies were allowed to refuse a client if they felt uncomfortable spending time alone with them. 

It must have been slightly daunting and puzzling to be enticed by each lady bestowing what her services entailed when amongst them, one who's one and only answer upon greeting them was the French word for no. Her finger pointed upwards, quickly waved from side to side, and then followed by a retreat. “Well, she is French” would be my only response when a complaint was made. I always knew it was Simone they were referring to. 

Often clients would demand to speak to her again. I'd tell them not a problem, but I'd warn she'd only remind of her right to refuse. Guy, was a regular client of Simone’s. He travelled back and forth from South Africa to Australia for business. The business was his and it was apparently successful. He dressed well, was intelligent, good looking and in his mid-thirties. His South African accent added to his charm. 

I was therefore puzzled when I had to intervene between him and Simone one day. She came into work expressing that Guy was no longer welcome as her client. He could choose another girl as she was no longer available to him. 

He calls later that very day wanting to book Simone. I tell him I am not able to comply. He says he will pay her $300 extra for a half hour booking. His constant pleading has me relenting. I respond that I'll try as I figure there would be no harm in asking. Simone rolled her eyes and huffed and puffed. She decides to accept on the condition I am available if needed. I enquire if he's trouble. She responds he's harmless, just stupid and doesn't listen. 

Within minutes of Guy's half-hour booking with Simone the alarm goes off for her room, room number 5. I'm up those stairs like a shot not knowing what to expect. As the door of room 5 was open I could hear raised voices as I hit the top floor.  

“So, it's all about the money?”, Guy can be heard saying.

“Yeees!” This from Simone. 

“Stop it! You're acting like a prostitute”.

“It's because I AM a prostitute”.

I've entered by now. I turn to Guy. He wasn't dumb by any means. How could he be so delusional? 

“Guy, you do realise her name isn't really Simone? That she doesn't live in this brothel or room 5, don't you? She's not real. She's just a fantasy”, I tell him. 

“You're wasting your breath”, from Simone. “Give him back his money. Booking is cancelled”, she ends. 

Poor delusional, Guy. Again, pun intended.