escort diary® of Claire Keeler

Share this...

I am giving a talk tomorrow night at Cambridge Uni on 'Sex Work and Intimacy' more specifically where is the intimacy in sex work?  Eeeek! (thinking about naming names, haha! just kidding! Wait for the book peoples, wait for the book, especially wait for the book dedication, that will really impress the BBC. See my twitter feed re broadcaster gate) and it got me thinking about my connection with the sex industry.  People do ask me all the time how all this came to be.  How did we get to this point?  How did I get to this point?
Where the fuck did Claire Keeler come from?! So let me give you a run down of my sex work journey. It's somewhat amusing. This shit makes me laugh. Look away now if you think this is going to be story littered with sexy graphic stories, it's more likely to be littered with sarcasm and the occasional mocking of the stupidity of the people making money off the men and women doing the dirty work so to speak. 

I have met a lot of stupid people in this line of work.  Let me repeat that, a lot of stupid people, once again I stress it's mostly the people profiting from sex work without actually doing the sex work but also includes the client who showed up with dish washing gloves on because he was afraid of diseases to the escort agency owner who tried to convince me to come to a hotel for a shower,  to the photographer who dropped his daks wanting a cock shot ,  becauseas we all know, cock shots are the money shots and I can't forget the man who offered me a 'better' life in a semi detached house in Hounslow, thanks but Clapham Old Town suits me just fine.

I first started in the sex industry whilst I was in my final year of my undergraduate degree, like many women at uni it was a viable option to earn a bit of cash on the side whilst working part time and studying a degree that had 30 contact hours per week (yep, not one of these pissy arts degrees, my MA is a pissy arts degree hehee) I had no idea where to begin so answered an advert in the local leader newspaper for lingerie waitressing.  I went to a house in the burbs (I know right, where the fuck was my security checks, just hopped on the tram and off I went but it was the 90s, everyone I know was still smoking pot back then and somewhat more relaxed about these things)  Seriously, we had a smoke-in at La Trobe uni to protest for the legalisation of pot.

I walked into the house and a skinny tired looking blonde by the name of Suzie bounded out of the room yelling 'we so want you, you are so pretty, we really want you' okay, so I signed up for a job that paid $50 per hour, big bucks to a broke uni student living in Preston before Preston was hipster.  I guess I don't need to explain what lingerie waitressing is,  but it would involve me floating around a room be that a bar or some dodgy golf club on the peninsula serving drinks, talking shit. Mostly talking shit, it's what I am good at.     Mostly wearing a lace body suit (I did say it was the 90s but then again they are back in vogue) Most of the men were well behaved, a few negative comments about my body but nothing that detracted from them being wankers who deserved pity.

After a few shifts and a bit of confidence, I progressed to topless waitressing. Yes, serving drinks sans bra and top. I was kind of tall (taller still in heels) skinny, pretty and my boobies perky enough not to have to lie about my age.  I lasted one summer.  There is no way you want to be topless during a Melbourne Winter.  One day I was asked to do jelly wrestling for a bucks party and that ladies and gentlemen was my cue to exit.  Seriously, jelly wrestling! Haha, thanks but no thanks.
Skip forward from my undergraduate and I am now studying post graduate with an $8000 up front fee atMelbourne Uni.  Fuck, how am I going to pay for that?!  Arrrhhh I know!

Table top dancing and enter another skinny fake slightly coked up blonde by the name of Anna. If anyone worked as a table top dancer in Melbourne during the 90s, you must know Anna. Anna was a bitch. The owner said I would be ideal to work as a table top dancer, Anna on the other hand just did not warm to me (can you imagine) You had to pay a fee to work there every night and you had to dance naked for free to the priceless whore classic '"Kiss You All Over'  You know the one 'until the night closes in' .  I shotted vodkas like there was no tomorrow before my first dance. I felt like an idiot. A naked idiot.

Table top dancing, Ha! Ilasted two nights. TWO NIGHTS! On the second night, one of my friends walked in and I was outed so to speak. I did see him at a friends wedding, promptly told him he was a wanker whilst pissed. You know the type of guy, rugby players who somehow make it to uni with no necks.  He ended up marrying one of my friends. Such tragedy.  I did not quit because I was outed,  I could just not fathom the need to dance naked on stage without being paid for that.  Should have known better to go down Kings Street although I will admit to drinking at the Sports Bar and going to the Tunnel Nightclub.

I decided to get a Managers job at Blockbusters instead and spent 12 months arguing with people about their late fees 'but it's just 50 cents, yes, I know only 50 cents, cheap fucks.
To be continued. With the tale of the massage parlour owner who wanted a free hand-job and my first encounter with the Muppets who run escort agencies.

click to view my profile page

SCARLET BLUE.
INDEPENDENT ESCORTS AUSTRALIA
TERMS AND CONDITIONS FOR USE OF SITE
By clicking “AGREE AND ENTER” below, you confirm that you are over the age of 18 years and have read, understood and accept the Terms and Conditions for use of this website. Please click here to read the Terms and Conditions.