Rita Therese - Come

I have two vivid memories from a girl-on-girl orgy shoot I did.

When it wrapped up, a group of us went down to the beach for a swim. It was empty except for one lonely figure on the horizon, throwing branches into the ocean for the dog to catch. Slowly we began to undress, wading into the sea, feeling the sun beat down on our bare backs and chests, the waves sweeping over our naked bodies. Our bikini bottoms were tossed onto the sand. Daphne, the director, picked them up as she turned her camera on (of course, god forbid a moment of actual joy went uncaptured and unsold). We were all oblivious to the blinking red light as we splashed each other in the sea. This time, it wasnt for show. There was a raw, earthy sensuality to our decision to go naked in the ocean, one I believe that fucking on camera gave us permission to do. We had stepped so far outside of the norm that we could see norms for what they arerestrictive, stifling. Why did we need clothes to swim in? I lay on my back in the water and gazed up at the sky. Again, I felt I had found my people.

The second thing I remember is a girl from the group telling me about working in a brothel. I didnt know what a brothel was. She said to me, we have TVs in the rooms we can watch when we dont have any clients. She said, we keep the same room all day. In my mind I saw a room with purple walls and faded carpet, a tiny and ancient television perched on a dusty side table. It played daytime talk shows. I saw faded curtains, a grimy window that looked out on to a suburban street.

Could I do that? I didnt know. Escorting seemed safer somehow. More private. I was of course an idiot who had no clue but, in my mind, somehow being in hotel rooms with strangers seemed the safer option.

I decided to go with the agency whose website I liked best. It said they specialised in young girls and as I looked at the photos of smooth, taut bodies and glossy hair, I decided I wanted in. I wanted to be one of those beautiful girls, with their perfect tans and smooth, anonymous faces. When I saw the page with the rates on it, I wanted in even more. A month, I said, just while stripping is quiet. Thats enough to get me set up.

I sent in my photos, choosing carefully. Me smiling at the camera, me on set with Daphne in a tight little dress, me with my hands cocked on my hips in my best dress and a pair of glittering earrings. My phone lights up an hour later and I receive a call from Stacey, the owner. She wants me to come to Sydney that week. They will cover my flights and accommodation and take it out of my commissions. Alex, the other owner, will pick me up from the airport. I send a photo of my passport to confirm Im over eighteen and my legal name for the flight ticket, and Im booked in. Theyll even shoot photos of me for the website, they say. They promise me Im sure to be busy as a new girl. What they mean is you are eighteen and you have never had sex for money before. You are about to make a lot of money.

When I tell Peter of my plan he says, Justplease be safe.

Alex picks me up from Sydney airport in a black Mercedes convertible. Its a two-seater and we have to squeeze my suitcase in the back. Alex is handsome and charming, and dressed in Adidas tracksuit pants with a gleaming gold watch on his hand. He drives me to the hotel in Potts Point, chatting all the way.

Our clients are great, he says as he turns a corner, one hand on the steering wheel. Really nice guys. They see a lot of our girls. Its best to be nice to all of them, because they tend to book again and again. Youll learn how to do that in this industry, how to make them want to come back. Some of my girls dont even need to see new guys. Its funny, youll say to themoh, Carl made a booking for tonight, and theyll say, oh great! You really start to look forward to seeing your clients.

When we get to the hotel, they ask for a credit card for a bond for the room.

I dont have one, I say.

Alex pulls out a black American Express card.

Dont worry about it.

Ive only ever been in an expensive hotel room once before. For my eighteenth birthday my sister got me a room at The Hilton, and my friends and I smuggled my bong and a bottle of vodka in. We smoked weed on the plush bed and did shots in the bathroom.

This was different. This was my workroom.

Alex pulls out a box of condoms.

Right. Ill give you a box now, but youll need to go and buy more, and lube as well. Before the booking, take a condom and unwrap it, and place it under the pillow. That means when you go to do the booking, it will be right there. You wont have to fumble around for it.

He unwraps a condom and shows me how to place it under the pillow, thankfully, as Im sure I couldnt have figured that out on my own. He keeps talking as he walks around the room, and I feel like I should be taking notes.

Ask them to have a shower first but always give them a kiss when they walk in. Text me when they arrive, when you get the money and when they leave. If I dont hear from you, Ill knock on the door, and if you dont answer Ill kick the door in. When they kiss you, dont pull away. It makes it obvious you arent into it. Count the cash and put it away somewhere safe. Ill come and collect the commissions from you at the end of the weekend. Most girls will separate the money and put it straight into an envelope. Some of our guys pay on credit card, so we will transfer that money to you. Text me your bank details. Remember, these guys like that you are young and pretty, so dont overdo it with the make-up. Dont wear perfume, youll leave a scent on them.

He spots the packet of Marlboro Lights and my lighter in my handbag.

Make sure you brush your teeth after, OK?

With that, he gives the room a final look and claps me on the shoulder.

Dont worry, youll do great.

My first booking is a wheezing, arthritic, seventy-year-old man. He has booked me for three hours. He arrives with a bottle of champagne and when I open the door, he leans in and kisses me square on the mouth. I can feel his dry lips and scratching tongue poking around. I use my free hand to grab the bottle and usher him in. I pour half of it into one wine glass and give him a splash in another. I hide the bottle in the fridge for later. I knock back my entire glass. As he emerges from the shower, I take a deep breath and smile as I lead him over to the bed.

You are very pretty, he says. His skin is translucent and looks like its hanging on by a thread. A stiff breeze and hed be gone. He reaches up to my face and touches it, looking into my eyes. Yes, and very young.

I start to undress but he stops me.

Come lie next to me and tell me some stories.

What kind? I say.

Well, he says, running his hands up my legs, tell me about high school. Did you kiss any boys? Do anything naughty?

He comes towards me, spit bubbling at his lips.

Open wide, he says, grasping my face with his hands. Shockingly, dust doesnt fly out of his mouth but instead a big loogie.

How did it go? Peter says, picking up after one ring.

He spat in my mouth!

What!

This seventy year old spat in my mouth!

Rank!

I dont remember much about the next bookings. They all seemed like the same man, somebody in a hurry with an hour to spare. Business suits, bland, nothing noteworthy. If this was what escorting was, I felt like I could deal with it.

As a client left and I was putting aside Alexs money, I could feel a wetness between my legs. I reached down, then brought my fingers up. Bright red blood.

I remembered the conversation Id had with the girl from the shoot about working in a brothel, I had her number in my phone, shed given it to me before wed left.