Later that evening I caught up with her. In the business there was an unspoken rule: don’t inquire about other girls' tricks. But the curiosity was killing me, I had to ask. ‘How did you go with that guy?’ I was expecting a disaster story.
‘It was great, I could hit him as hard as I wanted and he’d still cry out for more.’ This was not the response I was expecting. I thought some guy must have done a serious number on her, for her to get such a thrill out of inflicting severe pain on a man.
***
Every girl at one stage or another has to combat the client who has fallen in love with her. My client’s name was Paul and worked as a repairman for a vending machine company. He was in his late twenties and quite shy. Paul was not what you would call attractive, but he was no Quasimodo either.
My job is to satisfy my client, to make him feel elated, and sex alone can’t always do that; if I want that client to come back I have to pamper his ego as well: ‘Wow, it must be great repairing vending machines all day, touring all of Sydney, no boss on your back.’ Or ‘Gee, you’ve got a nice chest, don’t ever shave it, promise me, it’s very masculine.’ Unfortunately clients misinterpret this kindness as genuine affection and Paul’s chest was starting to puff out. He was such a nice guy, but not at all confident. He only saw his shortcomings, but I saw depth, and a great capacity to love, and I told him so. Like so many clients, he obviously started thinking, She likes me, I can really talk to this woman, and she’s beautiful, I’m going to ask her out.
I didn’t want to straight out reject him, that would offend him, and I depended on his $140 a night. So instead, the standard line is: ‘Look, I just broke up with someone I was with for a long time, I just need time on my own at the moment to get over it. But thank you for the offer, you’re very kind, it’s just bad timing.’
He’ll keep coming back, and in six months you tell him: ‘I’m sorry my boyfriend and I are going to give it another go.’ I know it’s cruel, but so is the truth. It’s just business, and there was always one who seemed to lose sight of that fact.
Maybe I had done too good a job of boosting Paul’s self-esteem, as he wouldn’t take no for an answer any more. He was coming to the brothel every second night, and spending over three hundred dollars a time. When I asked him why he was doing this, he told me, ‘I don’t want anyone else touching you, I want you to know how much I love you.’
I made it clear he would have to get over it, as the notion of him and me was plain ridiculous. I told him about my saviour Ben, but he didn’t care. I refused to even have sex with him even though he was paying for my time; later I refused to take off my clothes. Nothing was going to stop this guy, so I tried talking to management. They of course were no help; they felt there should be more men like him.
Eventually it went too far and he started blackmailing me. He asked me to meet him at an all-night café after work and told me if I didn’t, he would stand out the front of the building at the end of the shift. He knew that would get me the sack. Management would think that I was procuring my best customer, and doing them out of their cut. I told him I didn’t believe him, but come the end of the night there he was, sitting out the front in his car. I walked back inside and told management, but when they looked out the window he wasn’t there.
The following night shift, like a bad dream: ‘Kate, you have a regular in the bar.’ I was now furious at this complete dickhead, and I was going to tell him the truth.
‘Why are you trying to ruin my life? Have I ever done anything to hurt you? Please, what’s it going to take to get you off my back?’
‘One date. Would it kill you to go to dinner with me?’
‘I have a boyfriend whom I love dearly—I don’t want to jeopardise that.’
‘Look, I enjoy talking to you. If you meet me outside this environment I will never bother you again.’
‘OK, but this is a one-time only deal, you have to promise not to threaten my job ever again.’
We met later that night at a café. I couldn’t understand what he thought he was going to get out of forcing a girl to go out with him and I was determined to make it as unpleasant for him as I could, but I still couldn’t bear to hurt his feelings, it’s just not in me to be spiteful. By the end of the evening I thought we had reached a compromise and I vowed to be his friend and call him if I ever needed anything or just simply to talk. In return he promised to stop harassing me at work.
The following morning flowers were on my front doormat. My god, he knew where I lived. I called his number and invited him over for a chat—sure enough, he knew the address. I pleaded with him to leave me alone.