“Well we all pay for sex one way or another. At least hookers are honest about the price.” Cal Lightman – Lie To Me (TV series, 2009)
I wish I could lay claim to that quote. Maybe I should at least get in on a T shirt or even get someone to tattoo it onto me (but not the small of my back as a tramp stamp!) I am a hooker. I am a really good hooker. During the winterer I am an escort in Tenerife, because it is warm and I love the volcanic scenery and the really peaceful atmosphere. And there are enough clients to keep me happy. In the summer I am an escort on Ibiza, where the atmosphere is buzzing, exciting and energetic. Basically Ibiza is good for five months of non-stop partying. And at my end of the market, the clubs and the mooring for large yachts also attract enough of the right type of wealthy men keep me busy and happy.
I have been an escort for nearly seven years now, straight from college. It seemed like the best choice for a woman who was modelling throughout my three years at university and whose degree was totally useless for anything other than getting a job in a call centre. I look good and I have a good body. That is not arrogance. Those, together with my intelligence are the tools of my trade and I work hard on both my looks and my physique. I think of it as no different to a professional athlete staying fit and developing their skills, or an actress maintaining her looks and working on her voice and acting skills.
I enjoy what I do and I make more money than my boyfriend, who is about to become a partner with one of the most well known management consultancies. He sells the inside of his head and his physical stamina to do the hours. I sell the inside of my head and the way my face and body looks. Yes, I have sex for money. But in one way or another, like the man said, we all pay for sex one way or the other.