I must add
this before writing more. Since writing the first Chronicle, I have had many
young girls e-mail me wanting details on how to become a hooker.
Now I must
warn everyone. I don’t wish to glamorize, prostitution. The sex industry is
fraught with danger and dire consequences. You should read the experiences of
other girls and women who have worked in the industry, before you decide. Yes
you can earn lots of money, sometimes it comes easy, and sometimes it’s hard
work, and long hours. I was fortunate to live in a country and an area, which
was relatively safe to work in the industry, but even so we have had some
girls, raped and murdered. Not many in comparison to the number of workers I
agree. But it does happen and a girl has to consider this, especially if she is
going to work the streets, walking the streets is especially dangerous. I guess
none of us thinks it will ever happen to them. If I’d stopped and thought about
it, every time I got into a johns car, or went down a dark back alley, to carry
out business, many, and I included, would never have done it. The majority of
girls don’t make it, for one reason or another. Some girls have no choice in
becoming a prostitute they are forced into it. I had a desire to leave, before
I was nineteen, but my pimp had other ideas, and I was not allowed to leave
him. Finally striking a deal with him saw me free from street walking. However,
prostitution had not finished with me, and I continued in the business, but in
a more friendly and safer environment. I trust this will keep some girls from
entering what is a dangerous profession.
Lisa
Peacock
The Lisa
Peacock Chronicles. The Teenage Years
Most of the
chronicles are from my memory of the time and from my diaries and photo’s, even
some left over flyers from my escort days and pictures of ships that we visited
that I have kept. They bring back a lot of memories..
Linda had
made this appointment with Peter Chang, I’d been very reluctant to do so, but
as usual Linda got her way.
So here was
a young most willing, charged up female teen-ager ready, raring to go, who is
introduced to Peter Chang, who just happens to be looking for young girls who
are most willing, charged up and ready to go…what a potent recipe.
It was
August 1991…my sixteenth birthday was just three months away.
**************
August 1991
I sat on
the luxurious couch in the luxurious apartment of one Peter Chang…. Pimp.
Mind with
the money he made from prostitution and other nefarious involvements he could
afford it. That and the brand new Mercedes he always drove. At the time I was
too young and too naïve to know all that at the time. I was developing very
nicely and I knew it. I liked the idea that I could use and manipulate men with
the swing of my hips and the size of my breasts. My best friend Linda and I
would deliberately dress in the shortest of skirts and briefest of tops, walk
around the malls and sidewalks knowing that the men, young and old hand their
eyes firmly fixed on our ass’s.
Some of our
more sensible friends told us that we were looking for trouble and heading for
a downfall…but what did they know, they after all were jealous of our assets
and at that age I knew it all and could take care of my self. (So I thought)
I was just
the sort of girl that Peter Chang was looking for, raw material that he could
mold and manipulate and could use in his business…the prostitution business. He
was a gifted, soft-spoken, well-educated and very persuasive man. He made the
business sound so easy and exciting, even discussing the moral issues of
prostitution slowly convincing me it was the right thing to do and being young
and impressionable I fell right in.
Now I was
here in Peter Chang’s apartment along with my friend Linda, both of them trying
to convince and persuade me to put those assets to good use. Linda had been a
prostitute in Peter’s employ for just on a year now. You might say she was
following in her sister’s footsteps, who had been a hooker for at least five
years. As had her sister. Both had worked independently from home, with some
little help from me, now they worked for Peter Chang
I was both
excited and scared at the same time…they made it sound so simple, so easy. Did
I like having sex? Yes I did…very much so. Was having money to spend on
clothing and other personal luxurious items important to me? Well yes it was,
although I did receive most generous amounts of pocket money from my parents.
You could
be completely independent from them Lisa…your own money.
“And anyway
Lisa it’s only for a week whilst Jennifer is away sick…I can’t offer you her
spot any longer, as soon as she returns you’ll have to go…but if I can find you
some alternative area I’ll do my best for you” Peter was using the old reverse
psychology. When you can’t have something, that’s when you want it more. Again
I was too young and too naïve to realize this is what he was doing to me right
now, as I grew older I became much wiser to the tricks of the trade…especially
pimps.
What Peter
was offering was a piece of pavement in the red light district where I could
ply for trade. All I had to do was stand there, strut, pose provocatively and
wait to be approached by the guy or guys plural. They would either troll past
in their car (Kerb crawling) or walk up to me on foot. I would ask if they were
looking for a good time and see what the answer was. From then on it was just a
matter of seeing where it lead. If they said yes and asked how much? I would
tell them and I was not to negotiate any of the prices. I think it went
something like $10 a hand job, $20 a blowjob and $50 a fuck. This is what they
were trying to persuade me to do. Oh It wouldn’t be the first time I’d done it
for money or gifts, I’d done it quite a few times with Linda, mostly older men,
but this would be my first full time attempt and in full view of the public.
The stigma of prostitute didn’t worry me. At the time I saw this as a big game,
just a bit of fun. I really wasn’t seeing the bigger picture and the
consequences. Linda assured me that it would be ok, after all she’d been doing
it for just on a year and had very few problems to date and look at Sally, her
sister, she’d been on the game for over five years. I did so want to say yes,
but nerves were making me hesitant. We’ve all had those moments. Do I?’ Should
I? Oh I so much want to but.
Linda
squeezed my hand to reassure me it would be ok “Oh come on Lisa…remember the
fun times at school when we used to give the guys a blowjob at $5 a time”
Yes I
remembered those days very well…it was Linda who had talked me into that as
well…it’ll be fun she had said…we were a team Linda and I.
“What do
you say…I’ll be right there beside you to look after you”
I wanted to
say yes…but was still somewhat apprehensive about doing it…I needed one more
nudge.
“Look I
need an answer from you Lisa…it was only on Linda’s recommendation that I gave
you first refusal…if you can’t do it, that’s fine, I know it’s not easy for a
girl to walk the street…but I do have other choices”
Linda said
nothing, just squeezed my had, reassuring me. Peter was now silent; it was time
to give my answer. I gritted my teeth and said, yes, I would do it, providing
Linda was close at hand. Linda flung her arms around me squealing her delight
and then Peter said “You’ve made the right decision Lisa…I guarantee you won’t
regret it…with me behind you, you’ll go far in this profession…I know I can
help you”
Peter Chang
was very good at this, this was how he recruited his girls, and if they showed
the slightest interest he played them and played them well. As it happened I
had shown interest, most other girls would have just got up and walked away,
but the fact that I had sat and listened to him, told him there may be a chance
he could do something with this girl. He knew all he had to do was tell me what
I wanted to hear, flatter me, say how good I was, that he only wanted to help
me, stroke to my ego and it worked. I like the naïve young fool that I was,
took it all in. Oh yes he knew, just as all good fishermen know that once the
fish takes the bait, not many escape and Peter Chang now had me, from now on he
would be my mentor…my whole future was now in his hands.
My best
friend was a hooker, had been for almost a year, her sister was also a hooker.
All they ever told me was how great it was, how much money they earned and how
easy it was. They never ever dwelled on the down sides, that it was fraught
with dangers that went with the profession; they had my young mind convinced it
was a profession I could take to. I was now convinced more than ever that I
wanted to give being a hooker a go, and that Peter Chang was the man that could
help me achieve my desires.
It was to
be a far cry from turning tricks with guys, at Linda’s house
Peter had
his arm around my waist as he escorted us to the door. “You’ll do fine Lisa,
honestly you will…I mean look at you…the punters are going to be begging for
you, just keep relaxed and if you need any advice Linda will be right at
hand…won’t you Linda?”
“Yes boss,
I’ll take good care of her…after all she’s my best friend”
“I’ll pick
you both up tonight from Sheryl’s place…eight sharp… be ready for work, I like
my girls to be on time…no slacking do you hear”
“Yes boss”
I replied taking a leaf from Linda’s book. I really didn’t want to get on his
wrong side.
When Peter
had closed the apartment door on us, Linda flung her arms around me, hugging
and laughing. “Oh god this is so cool Lisa…I can’t believe it…it’s just like
being back at school, giving all the jocks blowjobs”
“Yeah and
more” I reminded her.
“Oh god
yes, we did didn’t we”
Linda and I
were on the top ten list…we were as the old adage goes “The Town Bikes”
“Birthday Cake” Getting a boy to escort you home after some late night function
was never difficult, being assured of a fuck at the end of it was incentive
enough
It pee’d me
off somewhat that I never made the number one spot, always number two and I
wondered what Sara Bidlake did that I didn’t to continually make the number one
best fuck.
“You know
what we do is pretty much the same thing as we did at school…and at home, if
the john has a car we get to do it in the back seat, if he’s on foot we get
banged against a wall…sound familiar Lisa?”
I had to
laugh it sounded exactly the same.
“That’s all
we have to do Lisa, but the bonus is we get paid for doing it”
How much we
received for doing it had not occurred to me and I’d never thought to ask.
“Just how
many guys are we expected to go with?”
“As many as
we can fit in, depends on the night, sometimes there are quite a few, other
times we just stand around, at least we have the best area”
“So how
many Linda?” I asked again
“Oh maybe
ten, fifteen or twenty”
I said
nothing, it was obviously a numbers game and I was trying to comprehend what it
would be like having twenty guys fuck me in one night.. My mind was doing
mental arithmetic. Twenty would probably take eight or nine hours at twenty
minutes each. If that were the case in would be early hours of the morning when
we finished. I never did have to do twenty the most was about thirteen.
“So how
much do we get?” I asked
“About thirty
five percent”
Again some
mental arithmetic, 35% of $50 was $17.50, so for every ten johns I received
$175, which I thought wasn’t too bad for a nights work, better than working at
Burger King. The thing is if you looked at Peter’s cut and all the girls he had
working for him, neither wonder he could afford a flash apartment and car.
Getting
away from home for the next few days was not going to be difficult. Dad was
away at sea, Sara my sister was at college, leaving mum and I alone at home.
Telling her I was going to stop over at Linda’s for a few nights would be great
news for mum. It would leave her alone in the house and that meant she could
have one of her boyfriends over to keep her warm in bed. (I’d observed her on
several occasions, naked and in bed with a guy.) Being an actress she had plenty of leading men to choose from….I
took after mum, Sara was the sensible one and took after dad…studying law at
university.
So I had
taken care of my absence away from home, now all I had to do was meet up with
Linda… which I did.
I have to
admit I was still very nervous about tonight in spite of Linda’s reassurances
that it would be ok.
I needed to
pack a bag with some clothing, clothing that was suitable for the next few
days. Mini skirts, low cut tops and knickers were no problem. What I didn’t
have was a pair of red hi-heals and some black fish net stockings. These would
come courtesy of Denise, one of the other girls and it was her flat I was to
meet up with Linda.
I said my
goodbyes to mother, she kissed me on both cheeks and told me to be careful,
which she always said. I didn’t know if she knew what I was up to or thought I
was up to. I felt like telling her to be careful. That is not to get caught
with one of her fellow actors.
I caught a
bus which was a fifteen-minute ride and then a short walk to Denise’s flat.
I was glad
to see Linda already there and waiting. I showered using plenty of smelly soap,
dried off and followed up with a good deodorant and splashed on some sweet
smelling scent. Then we spent the rest of the time applying make up, eye lash,
mascara, lip gloss etc…looking back I must have really looked and smelt the
part…a real tart.
The clothes
completed the package, short red leather mini shirt and I mean short, I could
just see my white knickers, a bra that gave plenty of cleavage and a low cut
top that did nothing to hide that cleavage … the black fish net stockings and
red hi-heal shoes were the final pieces, there was a gap between the top of the
fishnets and hem of skirt thus showing my thighs…by the time I was finished
there was no doubting I was a whore, at the time I thought I looked real cool.
I was a pimps dream. I looked exactly how a hooker should look…let the punters
know I was for sale.
Peter was
there before eight just to check me over. Now it was not his habit to pick up
his girls and drop them off at their patch, but tonight he’d made an exception.
From now on we would have to make our own way.
When he saw
me he was pleased, in fact he was very pleased, said I’d be drawing them in, I
think he was already counting his money.
On the way
there Linda and I chatted and giggled…as young girls do. I think it was to hide
my nerves more than anything. Once we hit the red light district I could see
that some of the other girls already plying their trade. Cars had started to
kerb crawl. Like Linda and I they were dressed to let the johns know they were
available, showing plenty of ass, tit and thigh…it’s what the pimps like to see
as did the punters…they could see most of what they were going to get for their
money…good for business.
Peter
brought the car to a halt right beside our patch, and then proceeded to go
through the procedure once more.
“Right you
have your shoulder purse, good supply of condoms? Always make sure you use one”
he warned “When the client pays, you put the money in this compartment” he
showed me a pocket where I had to put it. “I see you have you’re make up as
well…good, might need refreshing” He rummaged around the bottom “Ah and a mace
spray…if you have any difficulties use it and shout blue murder…but I’m sure
you won’t have to” he said reassuring me. “Good you’re all ready…now go to
work” then he put his hand on my shoulder and said “You’ll be fine…you’ll see.”
Again reassuring me. “I’ll be back later to cash up” he added.
Once out of
the car and on to the footpath I did feel nervous. As I watched Peter’s car
pull away I felt abandoned, vulnerable and I was more aware than ever of how I
was dressed and how I must look. I was now on display.
I felt the comfort
of Linda’s warm hand holding mine, she understood how I must have been feeling
right now, and no doubt she had felt the same the first time she had done this.
“You’ll be
fine Lisa…you’ll see” more reassurance.
“Yeah I
know I will” I replied, smiling and trying to look confident.
I was now
aware of cars slowly cruising past, eyeing the goods that were for sale. Cars
on the opposite side of the road were trying to find a way to do a U turn and
join the cruisers. Other males were walking slowly past taking sideway glances,
trying to make their minds up or pick up the courage to come and talk to us.
As we
pranced the pavement a late model car was heading slowly in our direction. It
was a luxury model, don’t ask me what kind, it could have been a Jaguar or
Mercedes. I do remember it was silver. The other girls were approaching it and
trying to get the attention of the driver, walking along side it as it passed.
“Oh it’s
George, Lisa…he’d be a good one for you…he’s an ex cop but good”
Telling me
he was an ex cop didn’t help me. “Oh god no…not a cop”
“No…no
don’t worry about George, he’s a real good guy, retired now, but a great
client, get close to the curb, let him see you”
I sauntered
to the curbside and watched the car as it drew closer. It stopped right along
side me and suddenly my heart was racing and I felt sick.
The
passenger’s window glided down, I leaned inside and addressed the guy behind
the wheel.
I nervously
said the words Linda had told me to say. “Hi honey, you looking for a good time”
It’s funny how some smells or sounds stick with you over time. I can still
recall the smell of the leather upholstery in the car. The guy himself was
probably in his sixties. I mean at the age I was at the time anyone over
twenty-one was considered old. He was of stocky build, not fat. Hair close
clopped, receding and gray. He was wearing jeans with large buckle belt, blue
dress shirt open neck, and cuffs turned down casually, one single gold ring on
his finger. He looked every inch a cop.
He chuckled
at my bumbling nervous efforts. “Do you think you can show me a good time
sweetheart” he asked smiling.
“Oh
yes…yes” I replied enthusiastically.
His eyes
were on my breasts; still smiling he replied, “Yeah I bet you can…hop in”
Oh god this was it, my first john.
As I opened
the door I looked toward Linda, she smiled, gave me the thumbs up and then
turned her attention to a guy approaching her.
The leather
seat felt cold on my bum as I sat on it. I closed the door; it had a
distinctive clunk, the sound of quality. The shortness of my skirt rode up
revealing my thighs, trying to pull it down would be a waist of time. Placing
his hand on my leg he gave it a squeeze. “Hmmm…nice, very nice” he said with a
smile. Then he indicated and pulled out into the traffic, it was so quiet
inside, the engine just purred. I felt nervous and said nothing, my eyes
looking ahead and at the walnut surrounds of the car. I could instinctively
tell he was looking me over from time to time. I wondered if the sight of my
bare thighs was getting him worked up. I wanted to look at his crotch and see
if he had a bulge in his jeans…but didn’t, just looking straight ahead.
“What’s
your name honey?” he asked.
“Lisa…Lisa
Peacock” I replied
“Is that
your real name?”
“Yes”
“A word of advice
never tell the client your real name…make one up Lisa…my name is George…and
that’s my real name…and I’m an ex cop…but don’t worry, I’m not going to bust
anyone…I’ve always tried to look after you girls”
We drove
for a while then he said
“I’m heading
for the old industrial estate…there’s some spare ground to park on…we can do it
there…if that’s ok with you?”
“Yes…yes…that’s
fine with me” I replied. It really didn’t matter where we did it as far as I
was concerned.
“You’re new
to this aren’t you?”
“Yes my
first night”
“How many
guys have you had so far?”
“You’re my
first” I replied. Not telling him about the guys like Andy, and others, who had
fucked me at Linda’s place on Friday nights
“Hmm so you
should be nice and tight eh?” he said with a chuckle.
“Yes I
guess so” I replied trying to smile, but still nervous.
“Don’t
worry I’m sure you’ll do just fine”
We reached
the spare ground he had talked about. A six-foot high mesh fence ran across the
front. Two gates that would have kept out would be intruders were open, hanging
limp. A faded sign said Marchants Timber Merchant. Even at a time like this I
thought it rather humorous. The name Marchants and Merchants. They had been
long gone.
He swung
the car though the gates did a wide circle and parked near the back of the
section, now facing the road and turned off the engine.
We’ll do it
in the back seat” he said.
I started
to rummage through my shoulder bag.
“What you
doing sweetheart?” he asked
“I’m
looking for a condom” My reply
He just smiled
and said “No not this time…you sure no one else has fucked you tonight?”
I lied, and
assured him that they hadn’t.
“In that
case you should feel nice and tight and I want to have the pleasure and joy of
cuming inside you” then added “Mind I won’t be riding you bare back this time
next year…not after all those guys have been through you…too dangerous not to
wear a condom, plus I doubt if you’ll be quite as tight” he replied laughing.
“Come on lass in the back seat”
I wasn’t
too sure about this, but didn’t want to insist he wear a condom after all he
must know best, he used to be a cop and he was an adult, he wouldn’t risk it
otherwise.
Again the
seat felt cold on my bum against the cold leather. The back seat of a car was
nothing new to me; I’d been fucked in the back seat many a time. I leaned
against the door and twisted my body and legs toward him.
“Take your
knickers off love”
I twisted
and shrugged pulling my knickers down and off, letting them drop on the floor.
There was no hiding my pussy, and excitement shone in his eyes at the sight of
it.
“Here, put
this leg over the back of the front seat” he said. Then taking my leg he helped
my put it over the seat.
“Now this
one up against the back seat” Again placing my leg where he wanted it. Now my
legs were wide apart, like a wide V, with him hunched over between them. Cars
no matter how big are a confined space. His eyes never wavering from my cunt
Kneeling
and a little hunched between my legs he proceeded to unbuckle his jeans,
unzipped his fly and pushed jeans and shorts down around his thighs. Now it was
my turn to see his hardware. There was no doubting he was pretty well endowed
and still not yet fully hard.
“Here let’s
get you worked up a little lass” he said, licking his fingers and pushing them
inside. I gave a little gasp as they went in. He started to finger fuck, this
being the only form of foreplay and I started to receive a small amount of
pleasure from it, I was getting wetter. When dealing with clients it was not
their custom to have foreplay, to get you in the mood as to say…no all they
were interested in was a few minutes of joyous euphoric pleasure…then that
wonderful feeling that came with ejaculation, it was five or ten minutes of
fucking then it was all over. “Wham bam…thank you mam” cock back in trousers
and zipping up. Ten or twenty minutes later it was the same thing all over
again.
“There
that’s better don’t you think lass?”
“Oh
yes…yes” I gasped
“You do feel nice and tight”
“Ok we’re
ready to fuck now” he announced. Then taking his cock in his hand he jerked the
shaft back and forth, pumping it until it was nice and hard.
“Right here
we go” he said shuffling a little nearer.
I watched
him place the head into my pussy lips and then gently press his cock inside me.
I felt its fullness swelling my pussy as he entered.
“Oh god…oh
my god” I murmured as I watched it vanish
.
He smiled
and just stayed in that position for a moment or two.
“Oh it
feels good in there” he remarked. Then pulled me further down the seat, allowing
me to stretch out a little. He moved his body on top of mine and immediately
began to fuck, his ass humping up and down at a nice easy steady pace.
Fuck…fuck…fuck. His face was close to mine, traces of a faint smile. We were so
close all he needed to do was close the last inch or so and kiss my lips. I
could feel and smell his hot breath, along with traces of his aftershave. For a
moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but it would have felt like I was
kissing my grandfather. For ten minutes we fucked, occasionally he would stop
and I thought he’d cum, but off he would go again, fuck…fuck…fuck. He did this
a few times; eventually he declared he was starting to get that feeling. Yes
I’m gona cum he said, the pace getting faster and faster. Anyone watching from
the outside would see the car rocking back and forth…no effort of imagination
would be required to know what was going on inside.
“I’m
cuming…oh god I’m cuming” the veins on his neck stood out his face turned red,
his mouth formed an O and he let out a deep groan and grunt of pleasure
“Ohhhhhh” I felt three squirts of warm fluid going inside me, he didn’t have to
tell me he was cuming. He stayed there for a moment or two longer, then gave
one final deep hard thrust and a final grunt “Uh!” then slowly pulled away.
I could see
his cock was still relatively hard, but it would soon become soft. My pussy had
done its job and taken the sting out of it. For the time being at least he
would be feeling satisfied, but other men with similar feelings would be
trolling the area, men looking for fulfillment just as George had…it was time
to get back.
“Here” he
said passing me a hand towel; “Clean yourself up and put your knickers back on”
I took the
towel, wiping the excess mixture of our body fluids from my pussy. As I did so
he pulled his jeans and shorts back up, buckled his belt, tucked his cock back
inside and did up his zip.
“Thanks” I
said handing him back the towel. I decided to find my knickers and put them
back on outside the car, it was easier than struggling in the back seat. As I
was stepping into them and pulling them up I noticed he was using the towel to
wipe the leather upholstery down…obviously not wanting any stains to remain
there.
Sitting in
the front again he reached over to the glove box, took out his wallet and gave
me the fifty dollars he owed for the fuck. Then he took another twenty dollars
and stuffed it down my bra
“Here this
is for you…not your pimp…understand?”
“Oh, Yes
thanks…you don’t have to”
“Yes I do…I
know pimps…take the lions share of the money whilst you girls do all the work
for them”
“Well
thanks” I said again.
“Look…let
me give you some fatherly advice young girl…I know you won’t take a blind bit
of notice…none of you ever do…but get out of this business…you seem a nice well
educated lass…find a decent job…if you continue working this profession it’ll
get in your blood, become part of you and you’ll not want to do anything
else…that’s how it is. I know all the crims, the murders, the pedophiles and
the girls in your profession…very few get away from it…you have to try and try
hard…me once I became a cop it got into my blood, I never wanted to do anything
else…take my advice young lass get out of it” then added “But I already know
you won’t”
“Now the
lecture is over…better get you back to work”
We said
very little as he drove me back; he did a U turn and dropped me off right where
he had picked me up.
“If you’re
determined to continue…just be careful and good luck to you” he said before I
got from the car.
“Yeah thanks
George…you’re a nice guy” I reached over and kissed him on the cheek. It
obviously embarrassed him, I’m sure he blushed. I closed the car door and
watched him drive away.
Linda
wasn’t there and the two patches either side were empty, obviously there were
punters around. I didn’t feel quite as nervous now; having been with George
gave me a little more confidence. Linda was right it was just like the times in
the back of the jocks cars…only I was getting paid now. I started to strut my
stuff as they say. Hips swaying provocatively. I waved to the cars on the other
side, drawing attention to myself. On my side there was a guy hovering getting
ready to approach me. I smiled at him trying to encourage him to come over. I
heard the sound of a motor behind me. I turned to see a white van with sliding
doors and two guys in side. When I turned back to see what the single guy was
doing he’s was scurrying away, frightened off by the two men in the van.
******(Please
read attached footnote)
“Hey
gorgeous, you available…come here” said the one in the passenger seat.
I sauntered
over to him, but the more I saw of them and their van the less I liked.
“Here…right
here” he said patting the side door.
I walked up
and lent against the door. He put two fingers down the front of my bra, holding
me alongside the door. I couldn’t push away.
He smiled a
wicked smile. “Oh nice tits…very nice tits” he said as one of his fingers
worked its way around one of my nipples. “She’s got nice tits Vic” he said
addressing his friend the driver. “I just love a nice tit…I’m a tit man at
heart” he replied laughing.
“How much
do you charge love?” he asked
I ran
through the charge rate.
“You could
handle a blow job Vic couldn’t you…and then a fuck eh?”
“Yeah no
problem…sounds good…she’s got nice lips and mouth…I bet her cunt is just as
nice”
They both
laughed. “So a blowjob and a fuck that’s seventy dollars eh?” the guy in the
passenger seat asked.
“That’s
each” I replied.
“Of
course…of course…we have the money” he said and produced a bundle of dollar
bills. “See we’re genuine customers”
I
hesitated. I didn’t like their approach or scruffy appearance.
“What’s
wrong hot lips we not good enough for you, is that it?”
“No…no not
at all” I replied not wanting to antagonize them. I took a quick look around to
see if any of the other girls had returned…I was alone.
Then the
guy in the passenger seat said. “Here…here take a look at this” and proceeded
to take his cock out, it was big and hard as he began to stroke it.
“See two of
these…can you handle two of these love?”
“Of course
I can” I replied indignantly
“A hundred
a forty dollars for half an hours work that’s not bad eh…your pimp will be well
pleased when you hand him his money”
“Um…I don’t
know” I replied hesitantly.
“Oh come on
honey we’re not as bad as we seem…really get in” he said, then reaching behind,
unlocked and pushed the sliding door open for me.
On the
floor there was a mattress and some old piles of clothing.
“See even a
mattress for you”
Against my
better judgment and intuition I started to climb into the van.
It all
happened in a flash, the passenger guy had opened his door, raced to the side
door and had pushed me in. I sprawled forward on to the mattress face down. He
slammed the door shut behind him and threw himself on top of me, pinning me
down he was shouting, “Go…go…Go” I heard the engine rev and the clashing of
gears. The van shot forward a few feet then stopped, held up by the traffic.
Before I could stop him he’d pulled my knickers down. Chaos prevailed, the
second guy was screaming for the driver to get them out of here; the driver was
revving the engine and shouting at the passing traffic to let them out. The
second guy was pulling his zip down and still shouting, I felt the harness of
his cock as he tried to force it between my legs and screaming “Open your legs
bitch…open your fuck’n legs”. I was holding them tightly closed trying to plead
with him. Using his knees, he forced my legs apart, and I felt his shaft inside
me, and he began to fuck, humping at a furious pace.
Then the
sliding door was being opened again, and two of the girls were inside pounding
the guy who was fucking me, the attack was so intense he gave up and scurried
to the back of the van for refuge, then they were helping me out the van and I
was pulling my knickers back up. There was a verbal shouting war.
“Fuck off
you fucking rat bags…you’re not wanted here” one of the girls was shouting
The guys
were shouting back, the air was thick with foul language. In the end the two
guys decided they were drawing too much attention… which they were, everyone in
the street was standing watching the affray. They found a gap in the traffic
and were gone.
“You all
right honey?” asked one of the girls.
“Yes…yes…I
think so”
“Good job
we spotted them when we did…you would have got no money from them…they would
have driven you out to the whap whap’s and raped you until they had, had their
fill and I mean rape…then dropped you off miles away to let you walk back
home…probably naked…they are a real piece of shit…never thought we’d see them
back here…must have seen you were new to the strip”
“God thanks
girls…it was stupid of me…I felt all along there was something wrong with them”
“Yeah
always trust your instincts lass…you have to in this game”
By now
Linda had returned, shocked and apologetic for what had happened.
“I should
have warned you about them…but I never thought they would dare show their faces
back here”
She then
proceeded to tell me what had happened to three of the girls, had been duped
into going with them, had been raped and left abandoned half naked or naked. No
one was going to press charges…no one wanted the hassle or draw unwanted
attention…the girls took care of it themselves.
They say
that when you fall of your bike or horse you get straight back on and that’s
precisely what I did. My next client was a walk along, which was a bit of a
disaster. Took him down the back alley so that he could fuck me against the
wall. He was stood there with his dick out, hard as hell, raring to go. I
couldn’t get to wrapper off the condom…fiddled with it, dropped it in the dark
and couldn’t find it. The client was getting stroppy at having to wait and
despite my protests he went inside me bareback…two guys and two lots of cum…I
hoped and prayed they were both clean…which they must have been because I’m
still here and with a clean bill of health.
When Peter
came to collect his money he asked how it had gone. I told him it had gone
well. I neglected to tell him about the van episode, although he would probably
already know. He never asked any further on the subject so I didn’t push it. I
just put it down to experience.
“I told you
it was easy didn’t I” he said
“Yes…yes
you did”
“Think
you’ll like being in the profession Lisa”
I thought
back to what George had told me, that I should get out of it. “It’ll get into
you’re blood” he’d said, I think it already had, then replied
“Yeah…yeah
I think I will”
“That’s
good…but I’ve got to say if you are going to work for me you’ll need to work a
little harder…the other girls took quite a bit more than you…to be crude and
blunt about it…you’ll have to get your knickers up and down a big faster…do you
think you can do that for me Lisa?”
It felt
like I was back in school receiving a reprimand from the head master. I was
disappointed myself and I wanted to prove to him I was as good as any of the
others.
“Yes…yes I
can boss” I replied, knowing it was the van incident that had slowed me down. I
just had to sharpen up and that would come with experience.
As the week
progressed, I became more and more confident. My dress, walk and stance oozed
sex for sale. My experience with the
van put me on my guard…if I didn’t feel comfortable with the guy I was talking
to, I would not get in with him. Walking traffic was not such a big problem as
you were never too far away from the other girls. The biggest risk was getting
into cars, once in; the guy could take you anywhere. If it was a car I had them
drive to the builders site. I always thought of it, as a safe place the reality
was that it wasn’t any safer than anywhere else. You were always only as safe
as the guy you were with…if he happened to turn out to be a head case…well?
My week was
soon up and I was going to miss it all. Now folks might be saying how could you
possibly miss doing a job like that. Well that’s how I saw it, just a job and
I’d had fun doing it. Like all jobs there were good times and not so good
times. I couldn’t imagine working in a super market on the cash out or in a
shop, attending to rude customers, sometimes waiting for long boring periods
for the next customer to come in.
Certainly
these other jobs were less risky and did not pose a health risk (The
possibility of catching AIDS and other affiliated diseases) but the use of
condoms was one way of reducing the risk and in general, being clean and
careful. I was also going to miss the camaraderie of the girls, they were a
great bunch to mix with and I will never forget them for the way they came to
my rescue that night with the van and when Peter handed me an envelope
containing $1500, it hadn’t been a bad week, tax free, three times the money I
would have earned at say Burger King for the same hours…yes call it danger
money.
When Peter
said “I don’t have a spot for you here Lisa…Jennifer’s back next week. I can
offer you a spot down by the docks. I was bitterly disappointed and the area
didn’t appeal to me. He said he’d put me on stand by and would I have any
objections to working in a massage parlour.
I told him
I had no objections at all and for a while I worked part time for him doing
fill-ins. Times when other girls were having their periods or reporting sick.
Then the
call came to my house, I’d told Peter he could phone anytime just ask for me.
Sister Sara was away most of the time and mother would not ask too many if any
questions.
“Got a
request from one of the ships Lisa…they are having a party and want me to
organize a few party girls…willing party girls…you know what I mean…I thought
if you were interested and willing I’d include you in…$500 for the night…they
will provide the drink”
It sounded
like a fun night. I’d observed “Crew Parties” on dad’s ship before and knew
what to expect. They could get…. well… rather boisterous and I wanted to please Peter at the same
time.
“Yes…yes
count me in” I replied there was a pause.
“It’s a
Korean ship…you got any objections?”
“No…no that
will be fine” I replied. After all Peter was of Asian origin, how could I
object?
Peter had
secured a contract, perhaps contract is the wrong word, a strong agreement for
“Party Girls” and being a “Party Girl” for seamen and visiting ships was to
become a regular position for me. I preferred it to street walking for a
living. With Peter having connections Asian wise, most ships I visited were
from Asian ports…Korean, Taiwanese Japan etc
With my own
nautical background and connections it suited me just fine. I knew all about
ships. I was about to become a “Groupie”, a “Shippie” or whatever phraseology
that was used.
………………………
To be continued
Now some
are going to ask. “What about your parents, did they not know what was going
on” The answer is yes, and they found out, in the worst possible way, a night I
will never forget.
The police
did a sweep of the area, hauled all our asses down to the station. This was
something I had never considered. We were all booked for prostitution, some
already had records, I didn’t. I and another two girls were drawn to one side,
photos and fingerprints taken. Given a file, and file number. I now had a
record. We were then taken to the cells along with the other girls. Our lawyers
turned up, courtesy of our pimps. Told “You know the score girls…plead guilty,
get the fine, then your released, you’ll all be back on the streets tomorrow
night”
I was
stunned and mortified. “Oh god…I knew my mother would find out…then all hell
would turn loose” It dawned on me now; I would have a record for the rest of my
life. “Lisa Peacock…. Prostitute”
Sure
enough, it happened. The desk sergeant came to the cells, saying “Lisa Peacock,
your mothers here” which brought a big “Ohhh…Lisa, you’re in trouble now” and
laughter from the girls, which was right, I was in big trouble. How I ever
thought I’d get away with it, was beyond me.
When I got
to the desk, sure enough there was mother. Her mouth dropped open and she
gasped, seeing the way I was dressed. The look I got from her, said it all. My
sister and I had, had that look from her before, but never like this.
“Where do I
sign?” she asked the sergeant. After signing my release form, we drove home in
silence, but I could feel the tension that was building inside her.
Once home,
off came her coat, discarded to one of the chairs, straight for her cigarettes,
lighting one, inhaling and blowing out the smoke, she turned her attention to
me, one arm across her mid section, the other holding the smoldering cigarette.
“Now young
lady…and I use the word loosely, what the hell do you think, your playing at,
do you realize the shame you’ve brought upon this family, GOD…I don’t know what
you’re father is going to say, when he finds out. A tart…a whore…that’s what
you are…a whore, god I can’t believe this is happening” One thing mother was
good at, was drama, she was right into the part.
I just
stood there, my gaze transfixed to the carpet, listening to mother give me my
pedigree.
More
smoking, more reading me the riot act, then she paid her attention at me. She
was eying up my attire.
“God, just
look at the way you dress, even that tells everyone you’re a whore. I mean that
skirt, well it’s not really a skirt is it, I can see your bare bum, god you’ve
got no knickers on, don’t you wear knickers?”
“I have got
knickers on?” I replied, lifting up my skirt and showing her.
“Knockers….
knickers… you call them knickers?” another drag on her cigarette, foot tapping the
floor.
“Still I
suppose in your profession, you wear them around your ankles most of the
time…more down than up…is that right?”
“I suppose”
I replied, eyes still looking at the carpet.
“You
suppose…you suppose…you know damn well you do” another puff on her cigarette.
“And how
many men have you been with eh…tell me that?”
“Quite a
few…I guess”
“Quite a
few you guess…oh god when I think about it…all those disgusting
men…doing…doing” she broke off.
“I hope you
wear protection”
“Yes…yes I
do” I replied, well most of the time, I thought to myself.
“How long
have you been doing it…tell me that?”
.“For a
while” my reply
“And how
long is a while”
Oh god here
comes the final explosion; she’s going to go ballistic now, I thought
“Since I
was fourteen”
There was
silence, as she took it in.
“Fourteen….
since you were fourteen…god all mighty” another cigarette.
“You’ve
been a whore since you were fourteen…oh my god” more dramatic posturing.
“Why…why
did you do it?”
“We thought
it might be a bit of fun…but it got out of hand”
We…we…you
mean Linda Roscoe and you…is that it?”
“Yes”
“I might
have known…god her mothers a prostitute, her eldest sister’s a prostitute…and
now she’s a prostitute…the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it
I was
getting mad myself, standing there, taking it, I saw her as a hypocrite,
calling me, after all the things she gets up to when dads away.
“You’re
right, what about you mother…eh…what about you?” I spat back. “Am I you’re
apple?”
“I don’t
know what you’re talking about” her reply.
“Oh no,
what about the men you bring home after the show’s, eh what about them?”
“There just
friends…that’s all”
“Oh
yeh…friends you take to bed with you…don’t think I don’t know…I’ve seen you
getting screwed at night, when you thought I was sound asleep…some real good
friends eh?”
That had
brought things to a stop, another puff of her cigarette.
“That’s
different…we…we don’t do it for money…I think you’d better go to your room, and
take all those ridiculous clothes off, and take a shower, we’ll sought this all
out tomorrow” a now much more subdued mother.
*** ***
***
The
following day it was business as usual. I turned up at court, along with the
other girls, pleaded guilty to the charge of solicitation, the pimps paid the
fines, and by night we were all back on the street. I now had a record with the
police. I pleaded guilty to three more charges during my time on the streets.
I stood and
watched the parade of cars, as they kerb crawled past us, a car stopped, the
window wound down.
“Hi
gorgeous, how much to get you to take a ride in my car?”
I told him
the prices.
“Ok…get in”
I slumped
down in the passengers seat, leaned over, and started to run my hand up his
thigh.
“Mmmm that
feels real good honey”
When I felt
the large bulge, I took his hard dick out before we got to the site. Sometimes
the john would reciprocate, by running his hand up my thigh, searching for my
pussy, on arrival I then took his money, got in the back seat, shuffled out of
my panties, made myself comfortable, and spread my legs apart. My john, would
kneel between them, unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly and pull his jeans down to
his thighs. I’d roll the condom down the hard shaft. I grimaced a little as he
entered. (First one for the evening) and my john did his thing, when he’d
filled the condom, he’d drive me back to my stand, and I started all over
again.
It’s
amazing how quickly you become absorbed into the persona of prostitution. I was
entirely different to the nervous young girl who took a ride with my first
john. I really had no idea what to do, now I could almost read the men I went
with, touching, fondling them from the word go. I was now no different to any
other girl on the strip.
Meeting up,
and going with men this way, was fraught with danger, but I never felt
threatened, by any of them, but then maybe my naivety, and being so young,
blinded my eyes to the dangers…anyhow I survived to live, and tell the tale.
*** ***
***
I moved out
of home, and took up residence with Linda and family. My family didn’t contact
me again for a couple of years…I was no longer their daughter.
*** ***
***
**** (I was
a little reluctant to write this part, but thought perhaps I should include it.
Any girl contemplating on a “Career” in prostitution should be very aware that
it is fraught with many different dangers and there is a very intense stigma
that goes with it, also this experience of mine is just one example,
fortunately it was the worst encounter I have ever had, there were others but
not as bad. I was with Peter Chang for three years and have to say he was a
pretty good pimp, and instrumental in shaping my career, having heard the
stories and experiences of other girls and their pimps. At nineteen I left the
area and found employment in the hotel industry…but still continued as a hooker
in the evenings, eventually becoming a full time Escort working for an agency
and eventually an independent Escort. I retired from the industry five years
ago when I met Dave. I’m not the silly naïve girl of yesteryear. The three
years with Peter Chang was perhaps my introduction, my apprenticeship you might
say. It was a time for learning, as always maturity comes with time. My skirts
are a little longer. When I left the area, I took employment in the hotel industry,
working from a massage parlour at night, whenever I paid a visit to a client I
was more business like in my dress. I’ve revisited the area I used to frequent
and see nothing has changed, young girls, short, short skirts, showing plenty
of tit, bum and thigh, I shudder to think that used to be me…and I thought I
was so cool.
I must add that probably 90% of girls don’t
make it as I did, and some of their stories are tragic…so please think before
you embark upon such a career…but as I didn’t listen to George, I doubt many
will listen to me. Linda and I have remained good friends even though she and I
are in different parts of the globe. She has made a good career for herself,
and like me went on to Escort Agencies, she now owns and runs her own. Linda’s
sister is somewhere in Canada and I believe still in the business)***
I would
also like to thank the Salvation Army for the support it gives to the girls of
our profession, never once did they castigate us, or condemn us. They were ever
supportive when any were in need…their support is ever appreciated.
Thanks
Lisa
Here is a
story taken from The Sunday Times.
From
March 20, 2005
Nobody I know would even believe me if I came straight out and said
it, but last year I started working as a prostitute. I never intended to. I’m a
student and what you would probably refer to as a “nice girl”. I’d just wanted
a job for the summer, but somehow things got out of hand.
There’s nothing remarkable about how it
happened. My parents couldn’t afford to pay for me to go to university and soon
I owed about £14,000 in student loans plus another £5,000 in overdrafts. It was
the old familiar story — you’re in debt, can’t afford to pay it off, the banks
charge you, you get even further into debt — and I couldn’t see a way out.
When I looked at the small ads for a job, it
was office work I was after, not prostitution. Yet I was lured in by the
pleasantly vague ad suggesting “attractive girls needed for escort work”.
Thinking back, it was naive, but I convinced myself that escort work simply
meant going on dates. I called the number and was invited for an interview.
I went to a four-bedroom detached house set
back from the road in a quiet family street. It looked just like an average
family home from the outside — a friend of mine even lived farther down the
road. The woman proprietor had rented the property, so it had to look like a
family home on the inside as well. There were no mirrored ceilings.
However, my illusions were immediately
shattered. “You do know what’s involved here? It’s sex,” she said. I was
invited for a trial shift that evening (with the instruction, “Bring nice
underwear”) but still went along not believing in my heart that I would go
through with it.
All the girls charged £60 for a session
lasting 30 minutes — basically massage and sex. Then you could charge “extras”.
The men were not allowed to touch you with their hands or kiss your body so you
could charge extra for that, usually between £20 and £50, depending on how much
money you thought they had.
That first evening I had sex with six men.
There wasn’t time to think. There was a client waiting as I arrived and I knew
another girl had recently started. She had survived. Why shouldn’t I? It was
awkward and painful, and exhausting having to stay up so late (you worked
7pm-3am on weekdays and until 5am on weekends). I cried at the end of the night
and stood in a scalding shower until my skin hurt, feeling dirty and shameful
at what I had done.
I promised myself that it had just been a
horrible mistake that I would never make again — until I found myself the next
day paying off my entire credit card bill with my earnings. I couldn’t believe
the money I had made. So the next evening I worked again.
And it got easier.
I set myself an initial plan of working for
10 nights, which would pay off most of my debts, but of course it didn’t stop
there. Although I tried not to let myself get used to the money, it was
addictive. I used to have a pile of cash at home that never got under £3,000. I
felt fabulous! It just so happened that I had started working at a particularly
good time. I was on the south coast and there were lots of visitors with
holiday money around.
The pay was fantastic, the clients were for
the most part friendly and the girls all got on. I stood out as “the posh one”,
as the rest of the girls (this is a cliché but it’s the truth) were mostly
working class, but they were lovely. We would trade stories over what and who
we had endured. Some of the men were famous in their own right — “The shouter
is here”, “Mr Sweaty is in room one”, “That coke-head is back to see you ” —
and so on.
We all had regulars who would come specially
to see us. They would phone ahead to see when I was working or even book an
appointment. Regulars were good as you could build up a rapport and they would
treat you well. I still wonder about a few of my regulars and what they’re up
to now.
Within those four walls I could be whoever I
liked. I was flirty, sexy and in control. If a client upset me I would make it
clear that I was unhappy and would leave the room if he continued. If I saw a look
of desire in their eyes when they first saw me I would immediately up my
prices, knowing they would still pay.
There were different types of men there for
different reasons — men cheating on their girlfriends, men there with their
mates, businessmen, lonely men, ugly men, attractive men, virgins — the brothel
was truly indiscriminate. And although they would touch me with their grubby
hands and kiss me, I felt untouchable. “I am better than you,” I would think,
“because you are paying to be in this room with me and I am being paid.”
What continued to surprise me was how many of
the men wanted me to be their girlfriend. “How can you ask me that?” I would
say. “I’m a whore, for goodness sake!” Physically I never really got anything
from it. Usually I would fake a loud, dramatic climax and it amused me that the
men would believe it. It would boost their ego to the point where they would
hand you a big tip and leave with a big smile and a promise to come back soon.
I also learnt how to have truly casual sex.
Although before the job I had had a few one-night stands I had never found them
easy to deal with emotionally. Since leaving I have had one one-night stand. He
was very attractive — I’ve also become much more picky as I hate the idea of
“giving it away” — but I found it possible to emotionally detach and enjoy it
for what it was.
To explain working every evening, I told my
friends that I was doing a hotel bar job. The one thing I worried about was
whether the bank would be suspicious about the money. So I told my mum I was
being paid cash in hand and she suggested putting it all in the bank in one
lump sum and saying it was a gift from her. Of course she thought I was talking
about a couple of hundred pounds from a bar job, not thousands.
You might wonder why I ever left, and it is a
question I am re-addressing now. I had a break for a while when the summer
ended and returned two months later, but something had changed. There were
fewer clients and they were rude and tight fisted. I grew tired of arguing over
my rates. They seemed to forget that I was a real person, who cooks Sunday
lunch for her friends, sings along to the theme tune of Neighbours, hates
parsley and talks to her car.
And with fewer clients the money wasn’t so
good. For every £60 I earned I had to give the owner half and then tip the
maid. When I was earning £700, as I did one Saturday night, that didn’t bother
me, but when I had a night with only two clients it did not seem worth it.
So I told them I was back at uni for a few
months. Now I’m broke again and I don’t want to go back. I’m terrified of
catching something despite always using protection, and I’m increasingly
paranoid at being caught out. Hence the nom de plume — it would ruin my life if
the truth was discovered.
But part of me remembers last summer, when
the money was so good and the clients were tourists looking for a bit of fun.
It’s difficult knowing I could go back and earn more in half an hour than I do
in a whole day in my current bar job. But then I would have finished uni, and
what impetus would I have to stop? I look at the bright side, though, and as
far as I’m concerned what’s done is done. Even if I never go back I paid off a
huge chunk of debt. And I saw and did so many things which it just kills me
that I can’t tell my friends about.
You would think it would have put me off, but
I still enjoy sex. A couple of months ago I started seeing someone new. When we
slept together for the first time I pulled out all the stops. A week later he
mentioned in passing to a mutual friend that he thought I was amazing, and
especially amazing in bed. As you can imagine, it was lovely to hear.
But, oh, if only he knew.