Prostitution- sexploitation?

[MoogleViper]

OK, here's the prostitute story. It's pretty long, so don't expect an easy read.

 

OK, a few months ago me and 3 friends went to Amsterdam. They are Dan, Nath and Gazareth (he played in some previous forum telephone games that some of you may remember).

 

As soon as we get to Amsterdam, Nath is constantly going on about wanting to sleep with a hooker, and doesn't want to do it on his own. Since Gaz and Dan are both virgins, he pesters me to do it. I say that I don't want to.

 

Anyway, after a few days of this, I relent and say that I'll go and consider it if one takes my fancy. Gaz also decides that he wants to do it. Nath tries to convince him not to, while I say that he definitely should. (Background info: Gaz is one of the most socially awkward, and completely naive people you could ever meet. A girl he liked used to constantly insult him and tell him to leave her alone, eventually deleting him on facebook. However he's still adamant that she liked him.)

 

I think that he should sleep with one and get it over with. We all start making predictions about what will happen. I say that he'll be incredibly disappointed and hate it (but insist that it'll be better for him to do it with a prostitute and get it out of the way, than with a girlfriend and risk ruining a relationship). Nath thinks that he'll fall in love with the prostitute.

 

Anyway we go down to the red light district. It's about 1-2 in the afternoon, and there are a shit load of tourists. Also about 80% of the windows are empty. We wander around, a little bit nervous and awkward. Gaz decides he's going to go ask one about it (get prices and stuff). He finds out that it's €50, and a few of the ground rules (no kissing, must wear a johnny etc.). We continue walking around, and Nath just takes the plunge and goes with one. Me and Gaz wander around a bit more, before meeting with him. He gave us the details, and said that it was €50, but she wanted another €50 to take her top off (she was wearing a police woman costume). We decide to make sure that we ask up front what we get for the money, so we don't get ripped off, and head back to the apartment for the rest of the day.

 

That evening, me and Nath decide to go out on the pull. We end up in a packed club. Nath tried chatting to a group of 6 girls, who couldn't hear and/or understand him. He says he's going to buy them drinks, and we head to the bar. We go to give them the drinks, but 4/5 out of the 6 girls just refuse to accept the drinks, much to the amusement of a nearby Polish man. I down the rest of the shots and tell Nath that I'd rather go somewhere else (he's still trying to chat them up, talk about flogging a dead sheep). We go to another bar where we're the only non-staff people in there. Then we try to go to another club, but find out it's a private party. I'm feeling frustated by this time so I tell Nath that we should just go to the RLD.

 

We head there, but from this direction we end up wandering down some really shady backstreets, with gangs of drug dealers lining every corner (including one guy who angrily shouts something at us as he walks by, in a foreign language). We get to the RLD, and wander round. I'm seeing a few that I quite like, then I spot an attractive Thai woman. Having always had a thing for oriental women, but with it being very unlikely that I'd ever get with one, I decide to go with her. I walk in ask her how much et cetera, and pay her the money (you get 20 minutes for €50). She tells me her name is Cindy/Sindie, and tells me to get undressed (as does she). When I'm naked she comes and (in her very thick Thai accent) says, "Oh you handsome" (think of FMJ, and you'll know the accent). She pushes me onto the bed, puts the condom on and starts sucking. We start kissing on the lips and I start touching her lady garden (both of which seem to not be allowed at every other prostitute). We start having sex in a variety of positions. Throughout all of this she keeps saying (and remember her accent), "You should be my boyfriend" and "I love you". It's a little bit awkward. The first time she says, "I love you", I don't say anything which makes it more awkward, so I decide that next time she says something I'll say something back. A few minutes later she says, "I love you" again, to which I reply, "thank you". Feeling like an idiot, I think that I have to try better. The next time she says, "I love you" I mumble "you too".

 

After this it's been a while, and I'm nowhere near close to finishing. I start getting worried that I won't finish, and wonder what will happen. Anyway as we near the time, she pulls me off of her, gets me to straddle her waist, and gestures to me to wank off onto her tits. However at this point I'm just worried about finishing, so I start to beat off furiously. I finish myself off, and expect it to fill up the condom. But to my surprise, it erupts out. My thought pattern is "Shit, is there a hole in it? Wait, what the fuck? I'm not wearing one!" I realise now that she must have taken it off when she was pulling me on top of her, without me realising, but at the time it was a bit scary.

 

Anyway, I see it erupt out of the end. As I said, I was really concentrating, just trying to finish, so I miss her chest, and it hits her on the cheek. She's startled for a moment, before saying "You come long".

 

Anyway I pay her, wash my cock in the sink, thank her and leave. Nath goes with another one. The door that he entered is shared by a number of prostitutes. So by the time he's come out, a large group of guys have gathered, who all begin cheering him.

 

Two days later we decide to go again, this time with Gaz. We go in the evening as we previously discovered that their shift changes at 10pm (way more and way hotter) and there aren't any tourists around. All this time Gaz has been saying how he's going to ask them loads of questions. We say, "What the fuck for? Just ask how much it is and what do you get." he says that he wants to go with one that's really cool. I start getting frustrated with him, and just tell him to go and ask one. He goes up to one dressed as a schoolgirl, and asks her so many questions that she just shuts the door on him. I'm going to reiterate that, he got rejected by a prostitute.

 

He goes with another one. As it's his first time, he expects to pay an extra €50 to have a second go (knowing that he'll finish really quickly). He goes with one, and comes out after about 20 minutes (not the full 40 minutes he should get for the extra €50), looking really despondent. We press him about it, and he says that when he got in, he found out that not only was it an extra 50 for added time, it was an extra 50 for sex. The first 50 only covered a blowjob. They actually argued about it for a while before they had sex. So despite us telling him that he only needs to ask how much and what he gets, from all of his questioning, he doesn't even get the right information. He also didn't finish a second time, as he was hating it so much he just asked her to stop (hence why he came out early).

 

We go elsewhere, and manage to find another RLD. Nath goes with one, and comes out saying it was the best sex of his life.

 

The next night Nath wants to go visit the same prostitute, and Gaz wants to go with one again as well. Nath finds the same one, and Gaz goes with another one. Gaz comes out after about 4 minutes, saying it was way better. He said they spoke a lot and got to try a few different positions (most of which sound stupid). He said they moved around the room trying to find something for him to put rest his foot on, so he could thrust into her (remember that she was about 6 inches shorter than him, and was standing with her legs together). He then said that they tried missionary, but he didn't like it, so they switched to her having her legs closed, and him straddling her...

 

Anyway Nath comes out with a smile on his face, and Gaz says he wants another, so we go back to the main RLD.

 

He finds one he likes, but wants to check out some others. When we get back round to her, her curtain is closed. I suggest he goes finds another, but he insists he wants this one, so we wait until she's finished with her punter, and then he goes in...

 

He comes out about 15 minutes later. He reveals that the sex only lasted about a minute, but they talked for ages and she was really nice. He keeps insisting that she actually liked him, much to our protest.

 

A few things he said:

G: "she was really nice. She asked me what music I was into, and I told her I liked heavy metal. She said she liked heavy metal as well."

Me: "She was probably just saying that."

G: "No she named a band that she liked."

N: "Who was it?"

G: "I dunno, never heard of them."

Me: "Yeah she probably made that up."

G: "How could she just make up a band name?"

[Later that evening we began making up band names base don objects in the street:

Me: "I really like The Rusty Bicycles."

N: "I love Broken Streetlights."

etc.]

 

 

G: "I asked her about her dreams."

Me: "What did she say?"

G: "She said she didn't want to be a prostitute, she just needed the money. So I offered to help her out."

[bear in mind that Gaz is unemployed and lives with his parents]

 

[after trying to convince him that she didn't actually like him]

G: "She does like me, she told me to remember her."

Me: "Yeah, remember her when you've got another €50 to spend."

G: "No she didn't mean it like that."

N: "What did you say?"

G: "I said I could add her on facebook. But she doesn't."

Me: "She probably does have facebook."

G: "She said she didn't."

Me: "Yeah she doesn't give it out to customers."

 

G: "She told me her name, but I asked her what her real name was." [this girl was Bulgarian]

Me: "What was her real name?"

G: "Crystal."

Me, N, D: "..."

 

Me: "I bet she paid you a compliment didn't she?"

N: "Did she say you have nice eyes?"

Me: "No, I bet she complimented your hair." [he has long hair]

G: "Shut up."

Me: "haha, what was it?"

G: "She said she likes blondes."

 

Many jokes were had at his expense. Especially as both mine and Nath's predictions came true.

 

Nathan went back to the same prostitute a third time on another night.

 

In the end I slept with 1 prostitute, at a cost of €50. Nath slept with 3 prostitutes a total of 5 times, at a cost of €300 euros. Gaz slept with 3 prostitutes at a cost of €250.

 

TL;DR I come long.

 

 

A person who has sex with a prostitute, it says a lot about what they think of women.

 

Does it though? I don't want to end up derailing this thread into that discussion, but I don't think it does. Sure, some may approve/disapprove, but oldest profession blah blah blah. There's lots of other issues around it such as maltreatment etc, but it IS legal in Amsterdam and I presume somewhat more regulated and stuff(not saying it's 100% problem free) so why not? View it on the same line as masturbation, I'd say.

 

Your post seems loaded Emma, and tbh knowing Moogle from here and the couple meets we've both been at, PLUS the more recent posts in this very thread by him about the girl he likes(and wanting more than just a fling)...I think it's frankly unfair to make some assumption due to the prostitute story. Apologies if I misinterpreted that, of course.

 

That they have nice bodies that they're willing to offer as service in exchange for money in a safe, legal environment. Yeah, that's what I think about prostitutes.

 

Have you ever actually met a prostitute? Or are you judging this based on all of the horror stories of human trafficking and the stereotype of seedy men searching for underage, drugged up girls down back alleys?

 

Additionally, not all prostitutes are women.

 

I say that to my gf all the time! She just tells me she loves me quite a lot so I get bored of saying it back

 

Back to the prostitute story (amazing by the way), I remember a group convo on the topic a while back and getting scrutinised by practically everybody by suggesting it was a profession women actively choose in some countries, which it totally is! If I was a lady with a rocking hot body, enjoyed meaningless sex and lived in a country where it was legal, safe and protected I would totally consider it. The money they can make is ridiculous. I guess how professional and safe it truly is is the question, but yeh, man and woman will probably never agree on the subject.

 

That's precisely the point. People look at prostitution over here and see the evils. But those aren't evils of prostitution, only of human trafficking.

 

If you look at any study in countries where it is legal and regulated, the women are happy, not exploited, well paid professionals.

 

Personally I think it should be legalised here. Reduce human trafficking an cut a source of revenue for criminal gangs. Stop women being exploited, allow them to have a proper job where they're safe, clean, pay taxes and become a functioning member of society, rather than taken from their country, and forced drugs to keep them controlled.

 

I'm willing to move this to a separate thread if people wish to discuss it further.

 

If people want to discuss this further, lets do it here.

 

So, do people think prostitution is always exploitation? Does sleeping with a prostitute reflect a person's view on prostitution?

[Daft]

I don't see the problem with it, in isolation. There is a massive issue of objectification and hyper-sexualisation in society, though. The grey area is where these two overlap, and they overlap to varying degrees from person to person.

[bob]

I noticed after re-reading your tale that you managed to lose a friend somewhere along the way. What was Dan doing throughout all of this?

[Zechs Merquise]

Prostitution should be 'cleaned up'. As it actually isn't illegal in the UK, soliciting and kerb crawling are though, it could easily be regulated in the following way to ensure both the workers, customers and communities are not treated with respect and their safety is ensured.

 

My suggestion is:

 

Brothels are fully regulated by local government and are situated on purpose built industrial estates out of town. These brothels would then require the girls to rent a room in the brothel. The girl would have to be health checked on a monthly basis and would display her health certificate on her door.

 

The brothels would be free of drugs, pimps and other vices which have destroyed lives and basically been used to virtually enslave the women who work in the industry. Bouncers would be paid to police the building, they would require full checks by local authority just as they would to work on any door. The bouncers fees would be taken out of the rents paid for the rooms by the girls.

 

The girls would set their own rates and offer the services they were comfortable with in a safe, clean, drug and pimp free environment.

 

This would essentially allow the girls to truly be their own masters, it would remove the criminal element from prostitution and finally it would remove the sex trade from street corners and public view - thus separating it from communities.

 

I can't really see how anyone would lose out in that scenario as crime would fall, safety of the worker and consumer would be increased and finally only those who wanted to indulge would ever have to see the brothels or the sex workers as they would be situated away from communities.

[Agent Gibbs]

I noticed after re-reading your tale that you managed to lose a friend somewhere along the way. What was Dan doing throughout all of this?

 

Just how long did Dan pay for? does he have one on retainer?

 

Joking aside....

 

Personally i couldn't do it, and i had the option in Ibiza

When i was 19 my friends and i went on Holiday to Ibiza there was 6 of us who went, and at the time myself and one ofther mate were still virgins.

Strangely up the road was a police station and about 1/4mile from this was a brothel, obviously not an issue for the Police.

 

My friends decided that me and Lee (the other virgin) needed to get laid and practically frog marched him there, i was quite adamant i didn't want to because at the time i'd just started seeing a girl and had a good idea she wouldn't take it too well. So we went down with him and took him to the door, where he was met with some burly bouncer bloke who invited us in, to find a room with red velvet carpet/walls/ceiling and wall seats with rows of beautiful women sat there in next to nothing.

He only had €50 and asked what he could get, and was presented with a rather old looking woman with visible moustache, at this point we were in a group outside smoking and saw what he'd been offered and found it hilarious and left him there, along with his cousin and one of my mates who were willing to pay more.

They all turned up about 40 min later claiming they all chickend out

Its a funny story we recount of how Lee's real first time was with an old woman like wayne rooney or something.

 

 

Now as far as i'm aware its not legal in Spain, and at the time none of us considered the ramifications of the place, but its was probably filled with women with no other choice or being forced into the life, and worse still located near an obviously corrupt police station that was in on it.

I find that abhorent and think it needs addressing..............though a system like Ambsterdam/Texas, where the industry is regulated, people are given health care and treated right.

 

I could take the moral high ground and say its an industry that needs wiping out, but it will only force it more underground, which can only be worse for the women involved.

 

Like others have said there are women who choose the sex industry because of the money they make! when i worked for GECapital i worked with a gorgeous girl who worked on a night at the Purple Door strip club in Leeds, she did this because she was safe, didn't mind exposing herself as it was "just flesh" and knew people paid big bucks for it! she earned around the same as me in the region of £800 a month at GE, which she said was mainly for Tax purposes and a fall back career, as she could earn that in a week or sometimes in a night......If i was her i'd consider the same.

I can only assume its the same for prostitues in a regulated industry. the illegal one will have people who chose the life but its less common no doubt, more likely high class escorts.

 

People may have a moral objection to the industry, but we shouldn't make things illegal just because someone takes offense, otherwise everything good would be banned, what we should do is deal with the injustices, the dangers, and since it would be impossible to irradicate the answer is to control and regulate the industry then police can tackle the few remaining illegal ones that could occur

Edited October 24, 2013 by Agent Gibbs

[Zechs Merquise]

I have no moral objection what-so-ever to prostitution, ultimately if a woman chooses to do it I can't see anything wrong with that. Obviously if a woman is forced into it, it's a different story altogether!

 

I don't follow the logic that a woman who wishes to sell sex is being exploited, if anything she is exploiting those who wish to purchase sex!

 

I do however believe it needs to be out of sight and not in the faces of communities. I certainly wouldn't want to see a brothel situated in the middle of a council estate or next to a school!

 

What one must always remember with prostitution is that you're never going to stop it, it is after all an industry based on one of the most natural of all urges. I feel it is just about regulating it correctly and ensuring it is always done in a way where safety is taken into account and criminal activity is minimised.

[Goron_3]

Are some women misused and treated unfairly in the sex industry? Definitely, in fact many women are and there is a great documentary on the issue on netflix (Whores Glory) which is a great insight into the industry in developing countries where young women are basically forced into it from a young age.

 

Does that mean prostitution is wrong to the point that men that use prostitutes look at women in a derogatory way? No, not in my book. They are selling a service, get paid (quite well depending on how 'high up' they are...heck, a quick google tells me that I can get a top quality hooker in Nottingham for the small fee of £250 for an HOUR) and are simply taking advantage of men who can't keep it in their pants.

 

If I was an attractive women and could make a killing selling myself to a bunch of middle aged men who couldn't keep it in their pants, I'd consider it.

[bryanee]

It should be made safer for women here. I pretty much agree with what Zechs said.

 

Great story Moogle.

[Charlie]

If I was an attractive women and could make a killing selling myself to a bunch of middle aged men who couldn't keep it in their pants, I'd consider it.

 

I came into this thread to say exactly the same thing, but then on the otherhand, as we're not woman it's actually impossible for us to say if we would or not.

 

Everything thinks they will be the calm one in an emergency but until you've been in the situation you don't know if you will or not.

[Esequiel]

Partner was curious about sleeping with another woman, bit the bullet one night. £300 for 1 hour, got it out of her system and was fun to watch.

[MoogleViper]

Partner was curious about sleeping with another woman, bit the bullet one night. £300 for 1 hour, got it out of her system and was fun to watch.

 

Did you see the length of my story? You can't drop an anecdote like that in 1 line. Details, man; we need details!

[arab_freak]

Like drugs, I think legalizing prostitution will fix a lot of the problems currently appropriated to the profession. But I think the problem with saying "prostitution should be allowed if the women involved aren't doing it out of coercion or desperation" is that you can't always tell whether or not the women who actively engage in the profession under their own free will are doing so whilst fully comprehending what that kind of job can do to their lives; or what the consequences might be like to the people they care about. They could argue that they've taken it up because they feel it doesn't degrade them in any way, or that they like the money, but I fear that a lot of the time they could have just been brought up to think that way without considering a more fulfilling job.

 

Prostitution as it stands IS a source of modern day slavery and degradation. However, this is largely a result of its illegality and our cultural and societal hatred and fear of both sex and women. If we viewed women as capable of controlling and directing their own sexuality, without paternal guidance, we'd understand that trading sex for money is her right as a person.

 

[Esequiel]

Did you see the length of my story? You can't drop an anecdote like that in 1 line. Details, man; we need details!

 

May post a longer story when im not at work!

[Emma]

Interesting (and emotional) reading.

 

 

Actually, the first twenty minutes we were together, Emma mostly interviewed me, asking all sorts of questions about my job. I told her I related to her. Living in Hollywood, I too have to smile at many men I actually have disdain for. The only difference is, the cock in my ass is metaphorical.

 

"And you like you job!" she pointed out.

 

Yeah, that too.

 

Honest to God, Emma was delightful. She was funny and sweet and if you met her at a party the last thing you’d expect her to be would be a prostitute. She speaks four fucking languages, reminding me again what morons my American brethren and I are. If I met her at a party, I’d think of setting her up with my brother Sean – my only hesitation being that Sean is somewhat of a rogue, and I’d be unsure about unleashing him on such a nice girl.

 

Emma worked for herself. She doesn’t have a pimp, she says, but about half of the women do. She paid 80 euros a day for the room. The girl that would come in at night would pay 110 euros. Emma would have to pay the landlord whether or not she made the money, but she almost always made the cash. She’d have a few clients almost every day, most of whom were paying fifty for the "fuck and suck". She made a little under 100,000 euros a year. She never went to college, so it was a damn good living.

 

Emma had been a prostitute for two years. She was a rarity in the district, she told me. She was Dutch. Most of the girls in the District come from other places, many from Eastern Europe in search of a better life. But Emma was born and bred in Amsterdam. I asked her if anyone she knew ever saw her in the window.

 

"That’s why I work in the daytime now," she said. "I used to work nights, but no more. It’s too crowded."

 

Emma has a younger sister who was walking through the Red Light District on her way home from work, when she saw Emma in the window. Her sister began bawling, and Emma began bawling, and Emma ran out and hugged her and promised she would never do it again.

 

But here she was, back in the window. Her sister didn’t know she came back.

 

Emma loved her sister more than anything in the world. She showed me pictures of her family. She had a very cute niece and nephew, and a handsome live-in boyfriend. Her boyfriend drives a limo and doesn’t care about her job.

 

"How can he not care?" I asked her.

 

"We’re weird." She laughed.

 

"He doesn’t care at all that you have sex with other men?"

 

"We’re both just really weird," she said. "We’re nice, but weird!"

 

 

 

Despite her pleasant demeanor, Emma hated her job. When she has sex with men, she completely shuts down mentally and emotionally. She’s gone. It’s an ability she had before she ever took the job. She doesn’t know where it came from.

 

I told her how I sometimes take our cat, Andy, to the vet. He’ll fight and scratch Jenna and me when we try to put him in the Sherpa bag. But, once he’s in there, he just disappears mentally. When we’re at the vet, the vet can take him in and out of the bag and he just hangs like a lump because he’s somewhere else emotionally.

 

Emma laughed. "Yes, like that!"

 

After a while Emma got comfortable and took off her cowboy boots. I was surprised to see she was wearing white tube socks, which didn’t exactly match her black bra and black super-mini. I told her the socks made it a very sexy ensemble. She laughed and told me she never takes off her shoes with a client, which might tell you something about the level of intimacy she has with the men.

 

"I don’t have regulars," she told me.

 

Regulars expect more and more from you, physically and emotionally, and Emma gives all that she’s willing to give the first time around.

 

I asked her if our half hour was up. She pointed at the clock on the wall and said, "The clock doesn’t move." I thought this was a Dutch way of saying "time stands still." I thought she was paying me a compliment – that I was so wonderful and engaging that she had lost track of time. I was truly flattered. I smiled brightly.

 

When I looked back at the clock a few minutes later, I saw that it was still on the same time. It wasn’t a Dutch phrase at all, but she actually meant the clock doesn’t move. It was broken. I asked her how she knew when a half hour was up. She said that she could do it in her head. I told her that was impossible, and she laughed and admitted that the half-hour would essentially be up whenever the guy had an orgasm.

 

I told her I was sure that it was over a half-hour, but she asked me to stay. She said it was a slow day.

 

 

B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Bananas. This is where the girls will fuck bananas.

 

Emma wouldn’t take everyone as a client. She learned over time how to read people, if they looked "dark" or not. And, she admittedly did a little bit of racial profiling.

 

First of all, she wouldn’t take Moroccans. Moroccan men, she said, were often violent and abusive, and many of the women wouldn’t take them. In fact, she wouldn’t take any Africans.

 

She also wouldn’t take Turks, because "they treat the women like nothing, like they are a piece of meat." (She would, however, take other Arabs, who were fine.)

 

Indian men are also a no go. They are "weird".

 

She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed, "I know, it’s so racist!" (It’s important to remember, Emma is half-black).

 

She also wouldn’t take Dutch men, who she said were meaner than most. She guessed this might be because they were men who frequented prostitutes instead of tourists looking for a novel thrill. Many of the men she saw had never been with a prostitute.

 

The nicest nationality? Italians. Followed by Americans, followed by the Irish.

 

"English men are okay, but they are always wild and drunk," she said. "The Irish men are always drunk too, but much nicer."

 

Every once in a while a man would beat her up. The cops are good about this, and always believe the woman, but sometimes it takes them a half-hour to get there. And, by then, the guy is usually gone.

 

Sometimes men will decide they didn’t like the experience, and will try to take the money back from her. But Emma will fight them for it, or yell for the cops, and usually they leave.

 

Once a Taiwanese man went into a rage screaming at her. He threw a beer bottle at her head and she ducked just in time. Emma showed me the chip in the tile on the wall where the bottle hit. Emma chased him out of the bar, screaming at him. Some Hell’s Angels in a bar nearby grabbed the man and held him while Emma kicked him in the balls.

 

"Most of the men are nice, though," she said.

 

 

 

Emma said she’s going to quit working in the Red Light District in two months. She’s been saving her money, and once she’s had enough, she’s not going to come back.

 

"You’re definitely going to leave?" I asked her. "Won’t the money bring you back?" I told her I’ve had a few friends who were strippers. They were always saying they were going to quit. But the money was like an addiction. They’d quit for a few months and then be back.

 

No, she said, she was definitely going to leave. She doesn’t spend her money on drugs or clothes. She saves it. She’s not addicted to it.

 

She got quiet for a moment, thinking.

 

"Sometimes I’m afraid of leaving," she said, quietly. "Because if I keep thinking about what I did in here, if the memories… If the memories keep coming back… What’s the English word?"

 

"Haunt?" I said.

 

"Yes," she said. "If the memories haunt me." She smiled, but she didn’t look happy in the least. She went on to explain that once she’s out of this room she may be forced into thinking about what she’s done, the reality of it catching up to her, and she doesn’t want to experience that. As long as she’s here, inside of it, she doesn’t have to truly know it. Even the slightest objectivity seemed to be scary.

 

I can’t fully express how normal Emma appeared to be in her speech, style, and sense of humor. I asked her about her family background. Her father, she said, was abusive to her mother but not to her. He left the family when she was young.

 

So what made her come to this job in the first place?

 

She said it was just an idea she had one day, to try it and see how it was.

 

I thought of how simple choices can have such an enormous effect on people’s lives. The choice to stick a needle in your arm. The choice to pull the trigger. The choice to jump off the ledge. The choice to sell your body.

 

We like to think there’s a great divide between "us" and "them", that there’s something innately different about us. But the only thing that separates us is that one choice, that simple action. And ALL of us, if put in the right situation on the right day when we’re in the right mood can make an unusual choice. As I spoke with Emma, "There but for the Grace of God go I" had resonance.

 

I thought of all the tourists outside, the fifty-year-old moms and pops from Indiana pointing and snickering at the girls in the windows. It’s comforting for them to think these girls are so different, so "other". I wondered how they would feel if these girls went in and pointed and snickered at them while they were trying to sell shoes at Macy’s, or balance their accounting budget, or whatever the fuck they did.

 

I suddenly felt incredibly sad.

 

I asked Emma if there wasn’t any damage to her body. I mean, how could a woman have that many men enter her without discomfort?

 

And here comes the best part – Emma, a bit shyly, admitted to me that she doesn’t really fuck the men.

 

Huh?

 

Emma said the first day she worked here she had actual sex with eight men. She came back the next day, very sore, all torn up inside. She told one of the other girls how much pain she was in, and the girl said to Emma, "Oh, baby, you don’t actually do it."

 

That girl taught her how to "fake-fuck."

 

Emma showed me with a dildo. She sits on the man, reverse cowgirl position (her ass toward his face). She takes his penis between her vagina and her hands, forming a sort of fake vagina. And she yells, "Oh, baby, you feel so good!" while she rides him, until he comes.

 

I laughed hard at this. This was a fucked-up job for these women to have, and this gave them at least some little bit of power over the men. Emma seemed to enjoy that I enjoyed her deception.

 

She told me that sometimes she fake blows them as well, where her hair hangs over the proceedings and she uses her hand. "But that is a little more difficult."

 

"What if the guy has a penis that’s bigger than your hand?" I asked. "Won’t he know? Like me, for instance. I have a very, very, very large penis. It’s sad, actually. It’s almost freakish."

 

She said she’ll look sheepishly at the man and tells him, "I’m sorry, it is too big. I am very small and it will not fit." The men are almost always proud of themselves and their large members, and they never put up an argument.

 

In Emma’s two years of fake-fucking, she says she has never once been caught. Frankly, that leads me to believe that most of the guys who have sex in the RLD don’t have much experience with women. Shocker.

 

God help me, I feel guilty as hell betraying her secret here. Honestly, Jenna tried to talk me out of it. But I’m thinking few enough people read my blog that it will actually make any substantial difference for the girls of the RLD. May they fake-fuck on…

 

I looked at my watch and saw that I had to leave to catch my train to Brussels. I had been hanging out with Emma for over two hours.

 

Emma called her boyfriend to have him pick me up in his car to drive me to the train station, no charge (even in the Red Light District, the celebrity perks are everywhere).

 

I said goodbye to Emma. I told her I was happy to now have one friend in Amsterdam.

 

I told her if I’m ever in the RLD again, I’ll definitely look for her, to stop by and say hi and hang out.

 

What I didn’t say, is that I’ll hope with all my heart that she’s no longer there.

 

[Grazza]

I'm strongly in favour of legalised brothels - not just on retail estates, but in town centres too. If a girl wants to sell sex and a man wants to buy it, what's the problem? I probably wouldn't use them myself because of the health risks, but in my opinion it should be as easy as dropping in to get your hair cut.

[Kav]

Oh man, you would not believe the stories I have! I've done Thailand... by which I mean I've "done" Thailand.

 

I'm in work so can't exactly type up the stories but yeah, that story is very "cute". I've got some jaw-dropping belters!

[Charlie]

Oh man, you would not believe the stories I have! I've done Thailand... by which I mean I've "done" Thailand.

 

I'm in work so can't exactly type up the stories but yeah, that story is very "cute". I've got some jaw-dropping belters!

 

A prostitute in Bali (who I was not with, I should add) told me that I'm very white.

 

Not sure if it was a compliment or not.

[ReZourceman]

Oh man, you would not believe the stories I have! I've done Thailand... by which I mean I've "done" Thailand.

 

I'm in work so can't exactly type up the stories but yeah, that story is very "cute". I've got some jaw-dropping belters!

 

And I look forward to reading them.

[Sheikah]

Partner was curious about sleeping with another woman, bit the bullet one night. £300 for 1 hour, got it out of her system and was fun to watch.

 

Um, yeah. Gonna need more details on that one. You can trust me, I'm a scientist.

[MoogleViper]

Interesting (and emotional) reading.

 

 

Actually, the first twenty minutes we were together, Emma mostly interviewed me, asking all sorts of questions about my job. I told her I related to her. Living in Hollywood, I too have to smile at many men I actually have disdain for. The only difference is, the cock in my ass is metaphorical.

 

"And you like you job!" she pointed out.

 

Yeah, that too.

 

Honest to God, Emma was delightful. She was funny and sweet and if you met her at a party the last thing you’d expect her to be would be a prostitute. She speaks four fucking languages, reminding me again what morons my American brethren and I are. If I met her at a party, I’d think of setting her up with my brother Sean – my only hesitation being that Sean is somewhat of a rogue, and I’d be unsure about unleashing him on such a nice girl.

 

Emma worked for herself. She doesn’t have a pimp, she says, but about half of the women do. She paid 80 euros a day for the room. The girl that would come in at night would pay 110 euros. Emma would have to pay the landlord whether or not she made the money, but she almost always made the cash. She’d have a few clients almost every day, most of whom were paying fifty for the "fuck and suck". She made a little under 100,000 euros a year. She never went to college, so it was a damn good living.

 

Emma had been a prostitute for two years. She was a rarity in the district, she told me. She was Dutch. Most of the girls in the District come from other places, many from Eastern Europe in search of a better life. But Emma was born and bred in Amsterdam. I asked her if anyone she knew ever saw her in the window.

 

"That’s why I work in the daytime now," she said. "I used to work nights, but no more. It’s too crowded."

 

Emma has a younger sister who was walking through the Red Light District on her way home from work, when she saw Emma in the window. Her sister began bawling, and Emma began bawling, and Emma ran out and hugged her and promised she would never do it again.

 

But here she was, back in the window. Her sister didn’t know she came back.

 

Emma loved her sister more than anything in the world. She showed me pictures of her family. She had a very cute niece and nephew, and a handsome live-in boyfriend. Her boyfriend drives a limo and doesn’t care about her job.

 

"How can he not care?" I asked her.

 

"We’re weird." She laughed.

 

"He doesn’t care at all that you have sex with other men?"

 

"We’re both just really weird," she said. "We’re nice, but weird!"

 

 

 

Despite her pleasant demeanor, Emma hated her job. When she has sex with men, she completely shuts down mentally and emotionally. She’s gone. It’s an ability she had before she ever took the job. She doesn’t know where it came from.

 

I told her how I sometimes take our cat, Andy, to the vet. He’ll fight and scratch Jenna and me when we try to put him in the Sherpa bag. But, once he’s in there, he just disappears mentally. When we’re at the vet, the vet can take him in and out of the bag and he just hangs like a lump because he’s somewhere else emotionally.

 

Emma laughed. "Yes, like that!"

 

After a while Emma got comfortable and took off her cowboy boots. I was surprised to see she was wearing white tube socks, which didn’t exactly match her black bra and black super-mini. I told her the socks made it a very sexy ensemble. She laughed and told me she never takes off her shoes with a client, which might tell you something about the level of intimacy she has with the men.

 

"I don’t have regulars," she told me.

 

Regulars expect more and more from you, physically and emotionally, and Emma gives all that she’s willing to give the first time around.

 

I asked her if our half hour was up. She pointed at the clock on the wall and said, "The clock doesn’t move." I thought this was a Dutch way of saying "time stands still." I thought she was paying me a compliment – that I was so wonderful and engaging that she had lost track of time. I was truly flattered. I smiled brightly.

 

When I looked back at the clock a few minutes later, I saw that it was still on the same time. It wasn’t a Dutch phrase at all, but she actually meant the clock doesn’t move. It was broken. I asked her how she knew when a half hour was up. She said that she could do it in her head. I told her that was impossible, and she laughed and admitted that the half-hour would essentially be up whenever the guy had an orgasm.

 

I told her I was sure that it was over a half-hour, but she asked me to stay. She said it was a slow day.

 

 

B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Bananas. This is where the girls will fuck bananas.

 

Emma wouldn’t take everyone as a client. She learned over time how to read people, if they looked "dark" or not. And, she admittedly did a little bit of racial profiling.

 

First of all, she wouldn’t take Moroccans. Moroccan men, she said, were often violent and abusive, and many of the women wouldn’t take them. In fact, she wouldn’t take any Africans.

 

She also wouldn’t take Turks, because "they treat the women like nothing, like they are a piece of meat." (She would, however, take other Arabs, who were fine.)

 

Indian men are also a no go. They are "weird".

 

She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed, "I know, it’s so racist!" (It’s important to remember, Emma is half-black).

 

She also wouldn’t take Dutch men, who she said were meaner than most. She guessed this might be because they were men who frequented prostitutes instead of tourists looking for a novel thrill. Many of the men she saw had never been with a prostitute.

 

The nicest nationality? Italians. Followed by Americans, followed by the Irish.

 

"English men are okay, but they are always wild and drunk," she said. "The Irish men are always drunk too, but much nicer."

 

Every once in a while a man would beat her up. The cops are good about this, and always believe the woman, but sometimes it takes them a half-hour to get there. And, by then, the guy is usually gone.

 

Sometimes men will decide they didn’t like the experience, and will try to take the money back from her. But Emma will fight them for it, or yell for the cops, and usually they leave.

 

Once a Taiwanese man went into a rage screaming at her. He threw a beer bottle at her head and she ducked just in time. Emma showed me the chip in the tile on the wall where the bottle hit. Emma chased him out of the bar, screaming at him. Some Hell’s Angels in a bar nearby grabbed the man and held him while Emma kicked him in the balls.

 

"Most of the men are nice, though," she said.

 

 

 

Emma said she’s going to quit working in the Red Light District in two months. She’s been saving her money, and once she’s had enough, she’s not going to come back.

 

"You’re definitely going to leave?" I asked her. "Won’t the money bring you back?" I told her I’ve had a few friends who were strippers. They were always saying they were going to quit. But the money was like an addiction. They’d quit for a few months and then be back.

 

No, she said, she was definitely going to leave. She doesn’t spend her money on drugs or clothes. She saves it. She’s not addicted to it.

 

She got quiet for a moment, thinking.

 

"Sometimes I’m afraid of leaving," she said, quietly. "Because if I keep thinking about what I did in here, if the memories… If the memories keep coming back… What’s the English word?"

 

"Haunt?" I said.

 

"Yes," she said. "If the memories haunt me." She smiled, but she didn’t look happy in the least. She went on to explain that once she’s out of this room she may be forced into thinking about what she’s done, the reality of it catching up to her, and she doesn’t want to experience that. As long as she’s here, inside of it, she doesn’t have to truly know it. Even the slightest objectivity seemed to be scary.

 

I can’t fully express how normal Emma appeared to be in her speech, style, and sense of humor. I asked her about her family background. Her father, she said, was abusive to her mother but not to her. He left the family when she was young.

 

So what made her come to this job in the first place?

 

She said it was just an idea she had one day, to try it and see how it was.

 

I thought of how simple choices can have such an enormous effect on people’s lives. The choice to stick a needle in your arm. The choice to pull the trigger. The choice to jump off the ledge. The choice to sell your body.

 

We like to think there’s a great divide between "us" and "them", that there’s something innately different about us. But the only thing that separates us is that one choice, that simple action. And ALL of us, if put in the right situation on the right day when we’re in the right mood can make an unusual choice. As I spoke with Emma, "There but for the Grace of God go I" had resonance.

 

I thought of all the tourists outside, the fifty-year-old moms and pops from Indiana pointing and snickering at the girls in the windows. It’s comforting for them to think these girls are so different, so "other". I wondered how they would feel if these girls went in and pointed and snickered at them while they were trying to sell shoes at Macy’s, or balance their accounting budget, or whatever the fuck they did.

 

I suddenly felt incredibly sad.

 

I asked Emma if there wasn’t any damage to her body. I mean, how could a woman have that many men enter her without discomfort?

 

And here comes the best part – Emma, a bit shyly, admitted to me that she doesn’t really fuck the men.

 

Huh?

 

Emma said the first day she worked here she had actual sex with eight men. She came back the next day, very sore, all torn up inside. She told one of the other girls how much pain she was in, and the girl said to Emma, "Oh, baby, you don’t actually do it."

 

That girl taught her how to "fake-fuck."

 

Emma showed me with a dildo. She sits on the man, reverse cowgirl position (her ass toward his face). She takes his penis between her vagina and her hands, forming a sort of fake vagina. And she yells, "Oh, baby, you feel so good!" while she rides him, until he comes.

 

I laughed hard at this. This was a fucked-up job for these women to have, and this gave them at least some little bit of power over the men. Emma seemed to enjoy that I enjoyed her deception.

 

She told me that sometimes she fake blows them as well, where her hair hangs over the proceedings and she uses her hand. "But that is a little more difficult."

 

"What if the guy has a penis that’s bigger than your hand?" I asked. "Won’t he know? Like me, for instance. I have a very, very, very large penis. It’s sad, actually. It’s almost freakish."

 

She said she’ll look sheepishly at the man and tells him, "I’m sorry, it is too big. I am very small and it will not fit." The men are almost always proud of themselves and their large members, and they never put up an argument.

 

In Emma’s two years of fake-fucking, she says she has never once been caught. Frankly, that leads me to believe that most of the guys who have sex in the RLD don’t have much experience with women. Shocker.

 

God help me, I feel guilty as hell betraying her secret here. Honestly, Jenna tried to talk me out of it. But I’m thinking few enough people read my blog that it will actually make any substantial difference for the girls of the RLD. May they fake-fuck on…

 

I looked at my watch and saw that I had to leave to catch my train to Brussels. I had been hanging out with Emma for over two hours.

 

Emma called her boyfriend to have him pick me up in his car to drive me to the train station, no charge (even in the Red Light District, the celebrity perks are everywhere).

 

I said goodbye to Emma. I told her I was happy to now have one friend in Amsterdam.

 

I told her if I’m ever in the RLD again, I’ll definitely look for her, to stop by and say hi and hang out.

 

What I didn’t say, is that I’ll hope with all my heart that she’s no longer there.

 

I still don't see what point you're trying to make. She's not being exploited, she's not being forced or coereced. She choseto do that profession. She chose to earn lots of money by being a prostitute, and she can get out any time they want. The drugged up women on street corners in English cities didn't choose it, they can't get out, and they don't make much money from it.

 

I honestly can't see what point you're trying to make. How is this any different from a one night stand? Two consensual acts engaging in sex. Different reasons, but it's the same act, the same outcome.

 

I think you have a very narrow view of it. And I think you're just perpetuating this "other" image that the article mentions. Perhaps it's easier for you to look down on it. View it as something seedy that you'd never do because you're better than that. But, as much as you like to think you're sympathising with them, and only judging the male punters, all you're doing is viewing yourself as better than them. They're the dirty prostitutes, whereas you're an honest member of society. You might like to tell yourself you feel bad for them, but I think you just want to feel better about yourself.

[Ashley]

I don't think Emma was trying to make a point other than "this is an interesting read" with that post...

[gaggle64]

I personally would not partake, both because of my personal social concerns as well as being uncomfortable with the possibility of using a woman being held against her will without my knowledge. As a social liberal my instinct is to push for legalisation and general liberty & social protection for those in the trade. However I have been disheartened to read recent results from Sweden's legalisation drive which has reportedly done little, or possibly even exacerbated, to impact the levels of trafficking & slavery of vulnerable women.

 

I do think at the very least we need to do what they do in places like Amsterdam and provide specific social services and protection services, in-hand with decriminalisation of personally selling sex. It bothers me that we aren't even having the debate of how to deal with a common but difficult problem and that the debate so often veers immediately into sexual morality rather than on providing the best possible protections of all individuals in the sex trade.

[Emma]

@gaggle64 You've put into words my exact feelings on the matter.

[Jon]

So @Emma and @gaggle64, you would be more accepting of the industry if it were done more widely like it is in Amsterdam? Which is what I think Moogle is trying to get across as being ok, ie well regulated and women/men doing it because they want too.

[Agent Gibbs]

It bothers me that we aren't even having the debate of how to deal with a common but difficult problem and that the debate so often veers immediately into sexual morality rather than on providing the best possible protections of all individuals in the sex trade.

 

Too right! its a very common thing were people get on to the morality of the issue and neglect to think of the effect they are having

 

In Leeds one of the Councillors practically forced he way on to the licensing committee, once in power she set about a campaign to restrict lap dancing clubs in Leeds city center -

now there are currently six, and honestly i struggled to think of 3, most must be well out of the way, but two are on the fringes of main roads and you can't tell what they are, its a name outside a bar with blacked out windows, the other is randomly in the middle of the law courts/solicitors area (purple door i mentioned in my earlier post)

This councilor set up"consultation" with the public to ascertain our views on them,as she personally believed they exploited women and had no place in modern society. From accounts in the press and statements made, this consultation was heavily truncated, held over a sample group and for all intense purposes biased like you wouldn't believe, and so new local legislation was passed so only 4 could retain licences (which they had to re-appply for).

These are legal above board business, paying tax and employing hundreds of staff, yet her personal moral objection has done people out of a job and the city out of money (as i can bet the two that don't make it will be in locations that won't get filled and/or end up with something paying less tax and employing less people)

 

i tried to google for previous stories but only found THIS one, which it now seems a feminist group is determined to stop all of them, the comments are hilarious and littered with common sense