So people sometimes ask me, “what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
First of all, the place I work is really rather nice and I can honestly say, I am in the best working situation I have ever had. I set my own hours, my own rates, and I only see who I want to see and do what I want to do. I have my own bathroom, my room is beautiful, clean, warm, stylishly simple, I can play nice music, and the house itself is not crowded with busy girls. I like that.
This is how I earn money now. I earn an honest living, doing an honest service, and I put money aside for tax as a sole trader, just like every other law-abiding citizen.
I would find it stressful relying on WINZ, effectively being owned by the government and told where I have to apply for work and which courses I have to turn up for. To avoid dealing with WINZ when I needed assistance was the primary cause of my return to sex work after a long break, (even though I had had an unsettling experience in the past which caused me to leave sex work once and for all back in the day). My re-entry into sex work happened at a place in Wellington. (We had relocated for a very short time after the Christchurch earthquakes and it was not a good move financially). I needed money fast and lots of it. I did not know about independent sex work at that stage, but I did love the agency I found myself at, the house, the manageress, the way it was run and furnished. Pure class. I am thankful that my brief experience there was so positive, removed the fear I had, and paved the way for where I am now.
When I got back into sex work, I wasn’t thinking about the sex, I was driven purely by a need for money to pay for accommodation and take care of my family.
I know that it is a dangerous job (like social work, mental health work, mining, forestry, the army or police) and also, unfortunately, despite the positive benefits my work has for society, prostitutes and prostitution is socially unacceptable, almost like what Kenny does. I take sensible precautions to avoid the dangers and I wouldn’t talk about what I do down at the ladies’ prayer group if I belonged to one because I don’t need anyone else’s false perceptions projected onto me. While perhaps it would be for them, for me it is not unpleasant, I don’t need pity and I am not a lost soul who needs rescuing. (If I knew the ladies’ prayer group – hey, Jesus had a mate who was a hooker – or any other people I know were cool with it, I wouldn’t have a problem sharing about it).
Now I am an independent sex worker in Christchurch and I am staying for a lot of other reasons. One main one is that I get to express a side of me which there is no place for in my other non-Amber reality. Sure I can do all this for one man, but that would be boring, I like variety. So then I could even do this for a series of men, for free, but that would not pay my mortgage, and I think emotionally it would exhaust me.
I am a born tease. I love flirting and joking with men, I always have. I didn’t realise how much I missed that side of me, which had been suppressed for too long, until I began sex work again. I love to kiss, caress, suck, lick and fuck.
I love the attention of lots of men, different men, wow, there are some sexy dudes out there. I get to play with them for varying lengths of time. Sometimes some of them come back and we start again from where we left off. It delights me that so many men enjoy having sex with me, and that they pay me for it. If they are sexy I tell them. I tell a lot of men they are sexy. I even tell them that I tell a lot of men they are sexy. But I wouldn’t say anyone was sexy unless I meant it, after all, I don’t owe anyone any compliments.
I love that here, for my clients, I can wear sexy lingerie, stockings and suggestive clothes, and I have no place else to dress like such a temptress, or “act like a whore.” (Why should that have such negative connotations?) I love preparing: putting on makeup, deep red lipstick, soft eyeliner, tousling my hair, choosing my lingerie, pulling on my stockings, and deciding what will be going on top of it, how many or how few other items of clothing. Finally, my shoes. Shoes that are totally impractical to wear in everyday life. I love wearing outfits that women would tut-tut about if I wore them anywhere else and that men would not be able to take their eyes away from.
I love that a man is watching my legs and my derriere as he follows me up the stairs into my room. I wonder what he is thinking. I am smiling at him and talking as dirty as I want to. I have not had any complaints about my language.
I love my body being touched by different men who do things in different ways. I love that some men make me come. I love the shoulders of a man, his chest, the difference between his body and mine. I have said before that I love cocks. I love looking at them, touching them, playing, fucking, deciding what else to do with them or where else to put them.
So in answer to the question, a nice girl like me is being a bad girl in a job like this. That’s what I’m doing, and being a bad girl really turns me on.