My first escapade abroad was to Bali. I was very disappointed; being Australian, Bali is like our seventh state, so hardly an exotic destination. The other thing that irritated me was that there were to be five girls chosen to travel together from our photos online and Sabrina was one of them. We were told that our client was an international singing group that required us for three days. We were all aglow with visions of the hottest stars of the day and already arguing about who was going to snag the lead singer. In Sabrina’s mind, it went without saying that she would have first choice.
Upon arrival we were taken to a resort that had been entirely booked out by the band. We were all familiar with them but they were not an English language band. The manager greeted us at the reception. He was very nice looking and I was soon to learn that I had been his choice. He held a clipboard like an extra appendage, it never seemed to leave his hand. We were each given our envelopes containing US$5000 and he led us down to a private beach where the band members and their entourage were taking in some sun and cocktails. We were introduced and allocated: the lead singer had chosen the Hungarian girl and we all thought this was an odd choice, as she was very girl next door and definitely no super model. Best of all, Sabrina was allocated to the lead singer’s elderly uncle, who had come along for some fun and sun by invitation from his nephew. He would have been in his late seventies, and walked about day and night in his Speedos, holding his dick. He had obviously been a very heavy set man who had lost a lot of weight because his skin now resembled an illustration from the old children’s book The Saggy Baggy Elephant. He spoke absolutely no English, but laughed at everything. He was having the time of his life. Sabrina couldn’t hide her repulsion, and we couldn’t hide our amusement.
Each girl went to their partner, ordered a drink and stripped down for a swim. All except Sabrina, who was whisked away for an immediate romp with a very horny old man. We barely saw Sabrina for the next twenty-four hours thanks to Viagra. The rest of us, on the other hand, were taken shopping, did tours, swam and sunbaked to our hearts’ content.
By day two, Sabrina came down with a dreadful migraine and had to immediately return to Singapore, to be replaced by someone who wasn’t so selective and actually understood her job. I’m just sorry I missed the moment she was forced to return her money and cop a massive lecture from Mr Peters.
Most of the escort work that Mr Peters sent us to was just as leisurely, days filled with dining out, sitting by pools or exotic beaches and topped off with an occasional bit of nookie. I visited Holland, Paris, America, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, India, Bangkok and a few countries in between, but the easiest job I ever had was in Dubai.
Three of us were chosen.
Mr Peters asked: ‘Do any of you have your periods due in the next week? If you do, you need to tell me now because I can’t send you.’
We all looked at each other with a wry grin, slightly amused by the question. We shook our heads.
‘OK then, you all need to go to get a full Brazilian bikini wax before the end of the day, this is the address of the lady who does them. No wax, no ticket!’
With everything waxed and packed we took the first plane out the following morning. Upon arrival at our destination—a palace!—we were each given US$6000, shown to our rooms, then instructed to make ourselves at home. From my room I could see the pool, which seemed already overcrowded with contestants for the Miss Universe pageant. One of the girls went down to the pool, and I chose to take advantage of the library, which was complete with a gentlemen to assist me in locating any book my heart desired. Every fifteen minutes or so, a very well-spoken man would approach me to ask if I needed anything. By about the third interruption of Anna Karenina, I wondered how far I could push him, maybe ask for a lamington or two slices of toast with Vegemite? Instead I did the courteous thing by claiming I was satisfied with my water. He still approached me at regular intervals with fresh ice and a top up.
I overheard two girls talking. I couldn’t understand every word they said because they were speaking in Afrikaans. Apparently the language is so close to Dutch that I could comprehend the important bits. I was pleased that some good had come from my grandparents after all. They were talking about royalty and royal family, they mentioned drugs, and then they talked about stealing clothes and jewellery from girls’ rooms.
They noticed me listening to them, ‘Where are you from?’ one of the girls asked acidly.
I wanted to say I was just a dumb, one-language-speaking Skippy, but opted for ‘Australia, are you girls German?’
They didn’t even answer my question, they just walked away.