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A disappointingly generalizing article in HuffPost Germany, has prompted me to dig this old thing up as a counter-balance. I must say, I expected HuffPost to be less one-sided and sensationalist than this, and I am deeply disappointed in them. 

Seven years ago, I conducted an interview meant to impress my sociology, psychology, and politics professors in film college. I was far from naive and knew exactly what and who to approach, as I was working weekends as a “babysitter” for Brussels prostitutes. I say babysitter because the original term, which translates into “lady of company”, is rather confusing. It sounds like “prostitute”, while the job is all about keeping the girls company instead. My job was to keep track of each girl’s clients, her earnings, tend to complaints by either her or the customer, translate in case of language issues, buy food or condoms or whatever the girls urgently needed, and also, to step up in case of danger. Many of the girls were from Eastern Europe and didn’t know how to deal with Belgian police, which is also a task that was mine to do on their behalf when the cops conducted ID checks. 

My day looked like this: at 6 am I would arrive at my designated brothel in Brussels’ red light district near my former high school, and sit down next to the counter with my note book and envelopes. Each envelope had one of the girls’ fake name on it, and it’s where I would put her money to keep safe. The rooms were crappy, nothing but a couch and a nightstand behind a curtain, but this did create a save athmosphere as nothing happened behind locked doors and at any sign of violence, only a curtain would stop the babysitter from gouging a client’s eyes out. Obviously, the girls could hold on to their money themselves if they wished to, but they rarely did.
My pay was a small portion of what each client gave the girl. It was expected of the client to give me this fee in addition to the girl’s money, so that she would have the full amount, but sadly most men either didn’t know this unwritten rule, or disregarded it, so the fee was taken from the girl’s money. The prices (standard) are, or were, what do I know, as follows, and it was frowned upon to ask for less or do more for the same price because it was unfair competition:
15 minutes “fuck and suck” – 40 Euros, 30 were acceptable, and so were 50.
An additional position – like missionary and doggy – would add 10 Euros
If going down on the lady was included, the 40 Euros became 75. Yes, lots of men wanted to go down and were happy to pay. 
Anal was an extra 100.
30 minutes “fuck and suck”, any number of positions, 150 Euros
1 hour, 250. 
Of 40, I got 2.50.
Of 150 I got 5.
Of 250, I got 10.
As you can see, us company ladies are not evil pimps exploiting those poor girls. Most of us were elderly people whose retirement funds wasn’t enough to survive on. What’s a granny gonna do? It was a small fee per client, but added up considerably as most of those girls served an average of 20 to 40 men per 12 hour shift. Now imagine what kind of money they went home with. Some girls could afford to work only weekends and still buy a house after only a year or so.

The rooms were located in places that posed as bars, with a small fridge, a counter, and a few bar stools. And overpriced drinks no one ever bought. Obviously, everyone knew these were not bars, and those bikini-clad ladies were not waitresses, but on paper, and hence by law, they were because they could be. 39 such bars next to each-other in the Capital of Europe. The girls sit in large shop windows, on bar stools, in sexy clothing, and it’s not always easy to tell whether they choose the men, or the other way around as both get a good look at one another before committing and there is a lot of dismissive hand gesturing happening behind the window: “Move along, sucker”. 

The interview I conducted, was with Lenore (not her real, and not her working name), who had worked there for about 5 years, as well as in the Antwerp-based municipal super brothel called Villa Tinto, and on her own. About VT it’s worth mentioning that this place has finger print recognition in each room, three alarm buttons in strategic places, and its very own police station for when these buttons are pressed or she doesn’t enter her code along with her fingertip every other hour (sign that something is wrong). Each woman gets her own room with a nice bed, a bathroom, a mirror, and a “shop window”, but must obviously bring her own sheets. Very nicely done.
The interview was conducted in French. Lenore was 24 years old at the time and a photography student at a nearby art college. She worked not to finance her education, but for spending money. I found her to be a sober (literally and figuratively) woman, full of wit, intelligence, and life experience. She was the polar opposite of the battered victim the media love to send to the front lines of prostitution reporting. Chubby like me, she was more covered than the slimmer girls but no less confident.

Questions are asked from an uninitiated person’s point of view.

Chubbs: “Lenore, how are you?”

Lenore: “Bored. How are you?”

Chubbs: “Good, thanks. Why bored?”

Lenore: “I’m happy you pay me for my time, but I’m not getting laid with you, am I?”

Chubbs: “…nope. Do you get a lot of clients who just want to talk?”

Lenore: “No. I’m honest in my advertizing. I offer you the porn experience, less blah blah, more boom boom. One old man once paid me for a whole hour of talking though.”

Chubbs: “About what?”

Lenore: “About how happy he was to have found me, a BBW [beautiful big woman] who reminded him of his first crush many decades ago. She had inspired him to draw the female figure, and after much searching and yearning, he was thrilled to see me. I was perfect to him. He was wonderful. For his 250 Euros, I ‘had to’ sit and listen to him telling me how to be confident, and how beautiful I am, about how men become more appreciative of my type with age, and how even young men tend to like them big, but are embarrassed to admit it. It was a great talk! He wanted to come back and draw me, but he never did. I hope he’s well.”

Chubbs: “I wish I’d met him. About the porn experience, what does the average client experience look like with you? How does it work?”

Lenore: “I advertise on obvious portals, but most clients see me as they walk past. Most are looking for a lay though. Hand gestures ask for the price, and upon agreement, more details are discussed at the door which can only be opened from the inside, for safety.”

Chubbs: “I guess. This is a Muslim neighborhood, I bet there’s lots of intolerance?” [my was I small-minded then]

Lenore: “Muslims are less scary than their image. Lots of them walk around with bumps on their foreheads around here.”

Chubbs: “Why?”

Lenore: “Because, after sinning, a devout Muslim will pray extra hard, and bump his head into the prayer carpet. And, this is a place of sin.”

We both chuckle. I had noticed Arab men with forehead bumps and bruises around here. Oh myyy.

Chubbs: “But back to the porn experience…”

Lenore: “Yes. There is also the GFE, the girlfriend experience, where you give him more than just sex. I’m too real for that. So if the client accepts your terms, he follows you to your room, past the company lady – you – whose job it is to get a good look at him to remember him for future reference. If he’s a lovely man, he will be remembered for friendlier service, if he’s an asshole, he’ll be remembered for a call to police. He hands me the money and I hand it to the company lady who keeps it safe for me, and I head back to the room where we undress, and usually get to it right away as most clients pay for the 10 to 15 minute package.”

Chubbs: “No cuddling?”

Lenore: “On the client’s time, sure. Most men I do, actually come with quite a bit of passion; they want to hug, grab, kiss, and squeeze me against their chest to breathe in the scent of no-strings-attached affection. And then they sleeve up and stick it in.”

Chubbs: “Do you set an alarm?”

Lenore: “Some girls do; I think it’s rude and a mood killer. It’s the company lady’s job as well as the girl’s to keep track of time. 3 minutes to finish, she will call the girl’s name to wrap it up. It puts lots of clients under pressure as they want to cum happily, and not be whipped to the finish line. Some pay for more time, others finish on time, but some…”

Chubbs: “Some?”

Lenore: “Some are disrespectful and keep going, and many girls lack the confidence to just say no. They think it’s rude or dangerous while usually, it ends in a resigned sigh and, well, the end. But most of the time, the company lady’s call has such authority that things go smoothly.”

Chubbs: “Indeed, what about bad clients?”

Lenore: “We have them. Everyone has them. Lawyers, clerks, cleaners, teachers, I hate the stereotype of the evil john. Most do respect me as a human being and care about me to the extent that they would not hurt me, some have genuine affection in their eyes – many actually. If they stick it in the wrong hole or bump me roughly, they stop and apologize. Some are assholes though, and asshole johns tend to be rapist johns. Surprise-buttsex johns, hold head down johns, take off condom johns, those types. Since this work is intimate and risky, an unpleasant client is obviously more unpleasant than the bitch bickering at the register. But they are by no means the norm and I have the same legal recourse as any victims of sexual transgressions. Most are nice.”

Chubbs: “What about the other stereotype – the amorous john? Do you see those?”

Lenore: “Yes! There is one who is in love with my older coworker, and he calls and cries all the time how he wants to leave his wife for her. She tries to ditch him for his and her sake, but he’s persistent… I also have some of those. I handle them by ditching them and refusing to receive them. I don’t want this and I refuse to sell false hopes. There is also one who has a crush on the Greek girl, and brings her chocolates each visit. But as he’s a gentleman, all the other girls and the company lady, get chocolates, too!”

Chubbs: “Who is your average client?”

Lenore: “He is usually Arab or black and in his 20s to 40s, if white he’s usually in his late 30s or up, and goes for 15 minutes and begs to go down on me.”

Chubbs: “Is there a reason to the racial distinction?”

Lenore: “Whites tend to start liking, or feeling comfortable openly liking, big girls after maturity sets in. Blacks tend to love them big to begin with. Arabs, I don’t know. But they are the most passionate of all! Whites are kinda boring and the least clean on average while blacks and Arabs are spotless throughout. Blacks are always so happy to see me that they often cum way before their time is up, and they laugh that off, too. I see the way you’re looking at me [I was an idiot then]; actually those Arabs treat me very well most of the time. Though one went so crazy on me my neck was full of murder-looking hickeys. Colleagues laughed because, they could hear I liked it, and they saw it on my face afterwards – I wanted him to come back [laughs]”

Chubbs: “So who are those clients you want to see again? Do lots of sex workers have clients they’re happy to serve?”

Lenore: “Absolutely! A minority of johns are those oversexed, instinct-driven animals you keep hearing about. For example, I have this one man, about 45, very well-hung, very intelligent, we chat in Chinese and two more languages when he comes, and he pays the company lady out of his own pocket. Once another client had injured me – I had a dry spell, not his fault – and I had a slight bleeder. So when my Chinese speaker – not a Chinese – saw this, he decided to just sit and cuddle instead of adding to my pain. I wasn’t in any, yet not even did he want his money back. Then there was this black man who called me his princess. He was married with children, but without me, there wasn’t much of a sex life so it was either seeing me, or divorce. He was happy, his wife was happy, I was happy. He was very gentle, too. Or the geek who would come talk about video games and the newest Batman movie or comic releases. I like Batman, so that’s wonderful!”

Chubbs: “OMG ME TOO! Anyway…”

Lenore: “But I also love certain clients for the sex. I am here for the sex as much as I am for the money; I’m a nymphomaniac. I like it long, hard, deep, and rough. I like when a man goes animal on me. Non-violent animal, mind you. Some choking, I love. A bit of slapping, yay. Jackhammer sex, awesome. Beatings and whippings, no. So I have this one, who hardly says a word, always has a stern face, well, he is all that. He hasn’t been here in a while and I’m tempted to call him to book me privately. I can feel the blood pulsing in my ears when I think of how he…”

Chubbs: “It shows.”

Lenore: “Gah…”

Chubbs: “With all this, what are your thoughts on concern trolls wanting prostitution outlawed for ethical reasons?”

Lenore: “These people are ignorant. I’m sorry, but they are. They only believe the dark, dramatic, angsty side of it that is purported everywhere. They insist every hooker is a broken victim, has suffered or is suffering abuse, and isn’t really doing this willingly, even those who think they are. This is true for some, even for many, but I doubt that in our western society, it is the norm. I have worked with around about a 100 girls two of which we knew – you know these things – had a pimp, and one of these pimps was abusive. The other was little more than a paid bodyguard and a procurer of clients, for a fee, but his lady was annoyed with him at the most, not scared and not needing to be. She just had language issues and he was convenient to have around.”

Chubbs: “So you don’t think outlawing sex work is the right approach to end abuse?”

Lenore: “Absolutely not. If we could come out of the hooker closet, we could be more reliant on law and support organizations to help us in case of need, and pimps may have a harder time getting us to sign up with them in the first place. Sadly concern trolls make this hard by beating us down and trying to push us into the victim role when we merely try to open up.
Many hookers like myself and lots of escorts are independent, but others don’t have what it takes and are at a high risk for ending up being pimped. Forced prostitution and violence are also more likely where both the girl and the pimp must safeguard their secrecy and invisibility. I was never approached by a man who wanted to pimp me except in the very beginning, and only once. Because I’m confident and manage to do everything without help and say no to drugs and even alcohol. Unless you snatch me off the streets and shoot me up with heroin, you cannot pimp me. And me being very open about my job with my friends and family, and pretty much everybody knowing, helps. I am not someone who can disappear. I am a citizen. I am registered. I am known. My character is known. This makes me reasonably safe. I am approaching my job as if it were totally legal and unstigmatized. You don’t steal a dog if the whole town knows whose dog it is.”

Chubbs: “So who is at risk of being pimped? Aren’t most Eastern European girls?”

Lenore: “It’s not black and white. I know many EE girls who come out of their own free will, to pay off a mortgage, or finance their childrens’ education. Not all are dragged here in shady white vans. However, language barriers, poverty, lack of education, ignorance, naivety etc. do put foreign girls at risk, for example the model career scam. This is why police keep an extra eye on girls with foreign accents. Then there are drug addicts, but around here there’s few of them as all the girls are in plain sight and no brothel too small to hide certain girls in the back, wants a problem girl. So pimps don’t really manage to put them to use in this particular setting. We only want sober, sane, willing, and kinda-sorta-legal girls here; others put as all at risk.”

Chubbs: “So what to do about forced prostitution and human trafficking?”

Lenore: “Handle it, but not by ruining it for all of us. We deserve to do our jobs if we choose to. It should be our right, as it is a fuel truck driver’s right to take that risk and feed his family that way, no matter how many fuel trucks blow up. Same for high-rise construction workers. Just because, say, 5 out of 100 fall to their death, you have no right to put the others out of business. Legalize it, regulate it, supervise it. Don’t demonize the entire industry.”

Chubbs: “What about STDs and the accusation that you are home wreckers?”

Lenore: “STDs? What about condoms? We are all responsible adults here. Most of us insist on condom use, but those who don’t, are no different from the people who fuck around without involving money. Hooker Aids is no worse than slut Aids. Except, well, you got it for free from the latter. As for home wrecking – the other woman is a symptom, not a cause, of a deteriorating relationship. We don’t seduce, we’re sitting there ready for the taking. By men who have already made up their minds that they want to have sex with another woman. These men approach us, not vice-versa. Even if we do give them the final push, they could just decline. If they don’t, then they have something to work out with their wives or girlfriends. A man in a happy relationship doesn’t cheat, unless cheating is the only thing that keeps him come home to his woman happy. Yes, some men tell me that they’re staying with their withholding, gone-unattractive, or otherwise sexually frustrating wives because they know they can get this satisfaction elsewhere. Some say they feel resentful when they can’t. They all say they love their wife, they want to stay together, but can’t be expected to wank for the rest of their lives just because she doesn’t want sex or sucks at it.”

Chubbs: “Are you blaming the cheatee?”

Lenore: “Yes and no. I mean, they get to blame us for their marital problems… While we’re merely a sign that something is wrong at home. Seriously though, cheaters are bastards and obviously, they should try and work it out with their partners first. But if the only thing that can hold the relationship together anymore, is having sex elsewhere, well..? It is every partner’s right not to want to have sex, and no husband must rape his wife. But no person can be expected to be happy without sex for long. Nobody must take it by force, but you can’t blame anyone who will stick it in a willing hole if the official partner keeps withholding for whatever reason. Sex is important to mental well-being in adults. If you’re going to not have sex with your partner, you should have stayed friends. A non-asexual marriage or romantic relationship has sex as a basic part of the damned deal. If you hate having sex with your partner, then open your mouth. If talking won’t help, agree on seeing other people within an open relationship, or part ways. But don’t force someone to stay exclusively with you if you’re not going to give them what any romantic adult relationship promises. It’s cruel and makes no sense. If you’re not fucking him, what do you care who is? That other woman may be the only reason why he comes home to you with a smile rather than a sigh.”

Chubbs: “People gonna kill me for saying this, but I couldn’t agree more. What’s the most extreme that’s been requested of you?”

Lenore: “Well, most clients just want a blowjob and vaginal sex in a basic position, but one wanted his dick humiliated and abused, which was difficult for me as I worship the D; another chained me to a cross to paddle me and I almost fainted from my feet barely touching the ground. There were requests for threesomes, but this place doesn’t allow them for safety reasons. One man at a time. I guess the most extreme requests I got, all boil down to me peeing on them, but I don’t do that. It’s embarrassing and disgusting, and in this place, a huge mess I guess.”

Chubbs: “Has this job changed you?”

Lenore: “Yes, absolutely. I started feeling like a sexual woman. I used to be that girl everyone friendzoned by default, my tits were invisible because my belly is bigger than them. I finally feel attractive and desirable, and I have grown very confident and self-aware. Before, I couldn’t even go to the doctor for fear of taking my clothes off. I thought I was hideous. Now with an average of 15 men a day who choose me out of over a hundred girls in this street, I know I’m just fine. It has also taught me things about human nature, about men, about myself. And it’s nice to be able to book a spontaneous party trip to Sydney because you know all it takes is 3 or 4 days of doing what I love. Fuck till I drop with that pleasant quiver in my thighs.”

Chubbs: “How long have you done this for?”

Lenore: “5 years almost. But I’ll be quitting soon, I’m afraid.”

Chubbs: “After everything you just told me..?”

Lenore: “Yes, the economic situation makes it hard to be picky. I am still no best seller, and people have to be mindful with their money in these times, and hookers are the least important investment other than art and theater maybe. The daily rent of these rooms is 250 Euros. I need to be able to cover that and make a profit that justifies the hard work. It is hard work. 12 hours of looking impeccable and cheerful and not falling asleep while having sex with the 16th guy, try doing that a few days in a row, sober. My profit is declining. I turn down 1 in 10 men. I won’t be able to afford that for much longer, and I will not work if it means I must comprimise and violate my own rules, and in doing so, myself.”

Chubbs: “I see. Will you miss it?”

Lenore: “Oh yes. I will still be offering escort service where I don’t need to pay rent and you ladies, but part of the fun of working in this setting is the excess as opposed to spending hours with one single bore who will talk and talk and talk and fuck you for ten minutes tops, and then expect you to sleep comfortably next to him. Many girls prefer that over the shabby setting in this brothel, but me, I enjoy to–“

Chubbs: “Fuck till you drop?”

Lenore: “Yes.”

Chubbs: “To conclude… Any advice for hookers-to-be?”

Lenore: “Certainly. First off, you must be confident, assertive, and self-loving, otherwise this job may be your downfall. You must have and impose your rules upon yourself as well as the client. You must never cross certain lines, like being flexible with condom use or allowing things you don’t really want. You must stay sober at all times. Never fall asleep with a client you don’t really know. Never agree to use substances, and never agree to have someone rent you out as he will come back more and more possessively and before you know it, you’re his whore. Be proud. Know you’re doing nothing wrong, and that you’re making your clients happy if only for a while. Sex is basic and fun, societal taboos are bullshit.”

Chubbs: “Well Lenore, thanks so much for your time. All the best for the future!”

Lenore: “Thank you. Hope to see you among our ranks some day.”

Chubbs: “Ah, I wish. Too shy. See ya.”

…

Now, in light of this, I want to take up the points made by HuffPost in their depressing article:

1. “The image of the self-determined sex worker is a lie”.
In some cases it is, in others it is not. Many women choose this job, and by choose, I mean out of their own free will. Not finding another kind of job still makes prostitution a choice of one’s own making. And even “despair choices” are not the norm; many girls just want more money for less hard work, a perfectly understandable attitude. Society begrudges them this because society daren’t join in. People making big money easily have always been hated. I call envy. Lenore didn’t want to exhaust herself combining a part-time job with her full-time studies, so she choose prostitution as a means to earn in one day what normal day jobs yield in a week or even a month. Promiscuity in women is a social taboo, but we exist. And there are those among us who decide to monetize their passion. This makes sense to me.

2. “Prostitution objectifies women”
Oh please! Everything objectifies us. To the fashion industry, we’re an upgrade to shop window dummies, to the movie industry our tits are the cash cow that compensates for a bad plot, in print media, we’re the ever-imperfect work in progress that needs to buy this and buy that in order to look acceptable to a patriarchic society that wants pretty, subservient women to please male eyes. Don’t single out sex work just because its objectification of women is more obvious than “Lose those pounds so strangers can fap to your sight” in all those magazines. If a sex worker knows what she’s doing, she is probably fine with it. Don’t make her moral/conscience decisions on her behalf, it is not your place. It is not your right. The very statement objectifies her as a willing sex worker has a choice in what she’s doing, but she cannot choose for you not to label her one way or another.

3. “Men are not instinct-driven animals”
This is true. The context of this statement is that without prostitution, there would be more rape because men just can’t help it. No, no, I don’t think so. I don’t think a rapist would pay loads of money instead of taking it for free by force.
However, men, as women, are sexual beings. We must never take sex by force. But we also must not be expected to go unsatisfied when we can find a willing partner. Some men are unlucky when it comes to casual or serious dating, others have specific desires most likely found in the form of paid services. Some men are shy and lose the inhibitions when they know that rejection is less likely when money is involved. Others simply want the no-strings-attached, find-fuck-forget bang. Hookers guarantee this. No calls in the morning, no wanting to meet the family. There are so many legitimate reasons to see prostitutes that are not about men being savages or rapists-otherwise. Let them enjoy services offered, for god’s sake.

4. “The clients’ wishes become more extreme”
So, decline them. If they’re not imposed by force, I don’t see the problem. Some sex workers enjoy or at least specialize in these very requests. The article lists a bunch of unsafe or potentially disgusting practices as a reason to demonize sex work, but if the woman offers them or accepts their request, so what? I repeat: responsible adults. Consenting, responsible adults. Get out of their bedroom, or parking lot, or whatever, HuffPost. Also, while unsafe, swallowing cum after a blowjob is far from extreme. The writers have obviously not been to a sex and erotics fair.

5. “Prostitution makes you sick mentally and physically”
In some cases, this is true. But then you’re doing something wrong, or you are not cut out for it. It’s like the army. Some enlist and come back okay, some come back fucked up and with the realization that playing hero at war ain’t their thing. It is a high-risk job. Yes. But let’s not generalize. Even if a sex worker suffers abuse, and most probably do at some point, it depends on the individual how well she deals with it. What about slaughter house workers? You cut throats and limbs, you hear and you cause screams of agony and fear, you bring death. Well HuffPost, where’s your article on that? Hookers bring joy, butchers bring death, who should be more messed up upon retirement? How sex work changes you, depends on you and how you approach the job, and yourself.

6. “Sweden outlawed prostitution in 1999, and it was a success”
As described by HuffPost, it sounds utopic, but there is a dangerous premise here: “Women work out of financial despair or by force of pimp, johns can choose not to use them”. This right here, is the assumption that all sex workers are forced, either by pimps or by circumstance. This is not true. Also, punishing the john for visiting a sex worker who works out of financial despair rather than at gun point, also indirectly does punish the sex worker, while the article states that there are no repercussions for sex workers legally. The punishment is worse than prison – it is poverty. If she sells – wrong, rents out – her body because that is the only way she can feed herself or her family, how fucking cruel are these Swedes to deter her clients from enabling her to keep her home and her health?? 
The Swedish law may have advantages, but also disadvantages. Consenting sex workers and their clients deserve no punishment, not by law and not by going out of business.

The HuffPost article.

Media:

Confessions of a Working Girl by Miss S. – enlightening!

Secret Diary of a Call Girl with Billie Piper! – Cheeky, fun, and actually pretty real.