The website was an instant hit. At the time I still shared my home and did rent rooms to a couple of other working girls. We all charged the same rate, were on par physically, yet I was kicking their arses. Of course I anticipated backlash from it, and I expected my discreet identity to be torn to shreds, but at the time everyone already knew what I did, so who was I really hiding from? A part of me thought it would really only be potential clients who would see the website, because you had to call first to get its address. However, deep down I knew it had the potential for ruin. I could have obscured my face, but I chose not to.
Another tool we used was to keep a record of all clients in the phone so that when we were having quiet days we could do a big call round: ‘Long time no see, give yourself a break and stop in for a bit?’ That usually aroused five or six clients a day. All regulars were saved as John Mechanic, John Dentist, Tom Chemist, etc. But just like Santa we also had a naughty list: Barterman1 was a client who knew the prices but arrives $50 short and full of excuses. Alwayslate4 speaks for itself. If clients were rude on the phone they were recorded as rude1, rude2, etc. That way if rude5 called we knew not to even bother answering the phone, same when Heavybreather6 showed up on the caller ID. If a client made an appointment and didn’t show up, his number was saved as NoShow1, NoShow2, etc. Clients tend to forget which ads or phone numbers they have phoned over a space of time. But with this system, we knew a little about who was calling, so when any of the Noshows called we relished our chance to waste a bit of his time for a change.
‘Hi I’m ringing about your ad in the paper, can you give me a description?’
I’d describe any Miss Universe type to get them hooked.
‘What services do you offer?’
‘Any and all of them!’ Once again, an answer that they would never hear from Cleo’s lips.
‘So do you charge extra for Greek or golden showers?’
‘No, am I supposed to? I’m really new to all of this.’
‘Do you offer natural French?’
‘Why, I don’t think you can catch any diseases in the mouth. Can you?’
‘Very unlikely, sweetheart! Don’t worry I won’t come in your mouth anyway. So what are your rates?’
My biggest problem with this little charade was trying not to laugh. All of the girls listening had to hold pillows over their mouths so that this numbskull couldn’t hear them in fits of hysterics.
‘Well, I have a $160 rent bill due today, would that be too expensive?’
‘How about we make it $160 an hour then, give or take? What’s your address?’
Now because my objective is to waste as much of this prick’s time as possible, I first had to establish where he was so that I could make up my fictitious address. ‘Where are you calling from?’
‘I’m leaving home now in Wanneroo.’ Which, if you don’t know Perth, is miles up north.
‘Oh, you’re in Wanneroo.’ All the girls would quickly yell out faraway suburbs, while one of them quickly searched online for ‘Kwinana Police Station + address’ which is a very southern suburb about an hours’ drive for NoShow.
‘OK do you have a pen? My address is 25 Sulphur Road, Kwinana. I really look forward to meeting you, see you soon.’
I know it’s nasty but sometimes a girl had to get her own back.
Every now and then some random gent would just turn up saying his friend had given him the address and he ‘just wanted a look’. Some would turn up and start bartering: ‘Oh but I’m a poor student. Bit cheaper please?’
This really got my back up: ‘This isn’t Bali, my friend, and I’m not a fucking T-shirt. I tell you what, have you got $20 on you?’ The client would look at me slightly bemused and quickly fork over $20. I would pop that bill straight in my bra and then tell him to piss off. ‘That’s my inconvenience fee. You knew the prices, you agreed to pay, you have wasted my time, which is very valuable, now get lost!’ In no time flat the balance would come flying out of his back pocket.
‘You’re short $20.’
‘I already gave you $200.’
‘Yes, my service includes French, mutual French and sex for $200, an ear fuck is $20 extra.’
In my time I heard so many cockamamie justifications for infidelity, including: ‘It was just a head job, it’s not as if I’m fucking anyone.’ We call that excuse the Presidential loophole. Or ‘Can I just get a massage and hand relief, because I’m trying to remain faithful while my wife is away.’ But my very favourite is the excuse when clients claim that they are visiting me to ‘give the missus a break’. This excuse is generally reserved for pregnant wives or post-pregnancy wives. My home was right near the maternity hospital, and I am embarrassed to admit how many clients would tell me that they were in the area visiting the wife after the delivery and thought that they would pop in for a quickie. Made my skin crawl, but Cleo just took the cash and smiled.
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