My newest article: Hank the bellybutton freak!

I’m happy to report that the latest issue of $pread Magazine is out. Buy their magazine, it’s amazing.

They published a little story I wrote about a strange request I once had from a client.

Here’s a teaser:

Hank was a regular at Midnight, the brothel where I worked in Sydney, Australia. The first time a receptionist walked into the girls’ room and announced that Hank the cop had arrived, I freaked out and grabbed a bathrobe to cover my skimpily-dressed self. A cop!! Then I remembered: police were just ordinary clients here, since sex work is decriminalized in the state of New South Wales. Hank was off-duty and came in twice a week. He would always take his time deciding, hanging around and talking to the receptionist for hours. All the girls knew him but me. Once he chose a girl, she would bustle around looking for full brief panties (affectionately known in Australia as “nana knickers”) and the pointiest heels she could find. Everyone would laugh, since everyone (except me) knew what Hank wanted. All I knew was that Hank was a bellybutton man…

Edited: July 17th, 2010

Mourning a client and a dear friend Aaron

Dear friends of the sweet and sexy Aaron,

I wish I could be there with all of you today to celebrate the life and wildness of the best client a hooker could ever have: Aaron S, and of course, his constant companion, little Aaron. Together, they were VERY badly behaved – just the way I liked it!

My name is Lusty Day and for the past two years I had the great privilege of sharing intimacy, friendship, and hot sex with Aaron. I was really nervous when we first met about learning about how to communicate with and please Aaron, but he was the most gentle, patient, appreciative and dirty-minded lover and client I could ask for. I first started working for him when I was still quite new to being a sex worker. At the time, I was really struggling with telling my friends, my family and my community about the work I was doing. Aaron taught me that there was nothing shameful or wrong about buying and selling sexual services. Plus, that guy was so persuasive he was paying me half the rate I charge other clients and we were having twice the fun! We had some great times together rocking his wheel chair around the living room. He taught me so very much about the power of eye contact and a great laugh – both instrumental to having great sex.

More than client and sex worker, Aaron and I also became great friends and allies. He always offered me a place to sleep if I was feeling down, and even though I suspected that he had an ulterior motive in asking me to sleep over, Aaron likewise cared deeply about me and all his friends and was always looking out for us. He was a fierce fighter for people’s freedom. Despite numerous difficulties that the ableist world threw at him, Aaron was always out attending and leading community events and rallies. His legacy will live on in the struggle for rights and respect for people with disabilities, for queer people, and for sex workers, to name but a few.

In honour of Aaron today, I’m wearing the purple lovely g-string panties he once gave me and telling everyone his most important advice: have sex! It meant so much to him and little Aaron that people felt pleasure and happiness. I am sad to miss the gathering but I’m sure that all the love and light you raise will shine for Aaron all the way over to Indonesia where I am sitting here loving him still.

Big love and whorelicious hugs to all of you,

Lusty Day

Edited: April 8th, 2010

Whore Lover Part I

This is a longer piece that appeared in the first issue of my zine Whorelicious. I wrote it for the upcoming book Whore Lover, which is still seeking submissions. I will post the call for submissions in a few days. The story is quite long so I’ve decided to serialize it…hope you like it!

xxx
LustyDay

Whore Lover

Juliet and I are walking down Illawarra Road in Sydney, Australia. I am lagging slightly behind her. She is wearing her red striped dress and white flats. She is going out on a date after she drops me off at the brothel. I see a red thread trailing from the hem of her dress. I don’t stoop to grab it and fix it for her. The whole hem could unravel. And I don’t think she would really care about the thread anyways. Her clothes are always well-chosen, but not necessarily well-made.

We are walking towards Amore after the sun has set, it’s 9pm and I’m about to start my career as a brothel whore. She knows the way because she has already worked there. She is taking me there because she wants me to know the way, too.

“So one more time, what should I say to the clients in the intro?” I ask her. I am nervous. I have hooked before, but never in a brothel. Competing with other women, especially straight women, is terrifyingly about to become reality. I don’t think of myself as competitive. Or straight.

“Just remind yourself that the only thing you want to do in the world is fuck them,” she repeats. “Touch them at any moment you can – on the leg, on the shoulder, whatever. Call them handsome.”

Juliet has already lent me her knockout pink baby doll negligee from the Sally Ann. She thought it would go well with my sky-high red patent leather heels. I wouldn’t really know. I don’t know much about femme fashion other than fresh-faced admiration. My style is more clean-faced boyish gurl-nerd with sensible walking shoes. We have gone over the intro scenario before, the moment when I emerge from the girls’ room and lay my charm on the client for 30 seconds to convince him to book me. But I need reassurance, I need a wise whore to tell me I will be successful. (I haven’t learned yet that for every kind of ho, there is a client who will readily see her sex appeal.) I have barely arrived in Australia. But Juliet has already been working for nine months in brothels all over Sydney. She has encouraged me to come from Canada to have an adventure and pay off my school debts. After three grinding years in graduate school, I am ready for it. (more…)

Edited: November 10th, 2009