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Blog account of working in a brothel
The back room's no glamorous harem full of lusciously reclining trollops, either. In the winter, everyone's draped in sweaters and dressing-gowns over their chic little dresses. In the summer, everyone kicks off their shoes to relieve their swollen, sweating feet. Bra-straps get pushed off shoulders to relieve the pinching of tight straps. Eye-drops get used to relieve the burning of the bright lights round the makeup mirrors. Cellular phones come out, and calls get placed to boyfriends, babysitters, dentists, grocery stores, and hair salons. Sweatpants get put on to keep bare thighs from clinging to leather seats. Noses get blown, makeup gets retouched, reading glasses go on. Wild, ravishing hair gets put up in rakish banana-clips. Food gets ordered. Chicken grease gets sucked out from under fingernails. Milk moustaches get wiped off. The occasional ill-mannered cow talks with her mouth full and grosses everyone out. Nobody sits around masturbating or having hot lesbian sex with the other girls. (No, really. Trust me.) Link snagged from twinkle twinkle blah blah blah, where some interesting discussion ensued in the comments. Ratty then followed up the twinkle twinkle link in her own blog.
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Blogger Ratty of Ratty's Ghost occasionally writes about her past job in a brothel. Last summer, she decided to answer some frequently asked reader questions once and for all.