Prostitution is never the first choice for most young ladies when contemplating their future careers in high school. It generally comes about from a lack of viable alternatives. Often there is a sense of worthlessness that builds over years leading to this decision. In my case I was homeless by aged 14. No ID, no birth certificate and not old enough to get a job to shelter and feed me I took to stripping, which didn’t ask for crazy things like tax file numbers or ID. Only problem here was I had no car to get to the various parties, so taxi’s often overtook the money I actually earned. At 15 I applied for a job at a brothel with absolutely no reservations or regrets. By the first drunken client I knew this was the career for me! If men want me they can fucking pay from now on. Now I have a value! Only thing that put a stop to this unending stream of revenue was the Fitzgerald Inquiry. All sex-worker moved to Sydney, to avoid arrest or being forced to give sex in return for not being arrested. So to Sydney I went. Kings Cross to be exact. I got a job as a door girl, where I sold illegal alcohol, paid the police bribes nightly, and threw away the dead junkies who were all my age or younger, some were even 11. It was scary work, it took a gun to my head to get me out of there once and for all. I was now 16 but still had no formal ID, so where was I going to get a job? I was sick of small money, so I got one of the taxi drivers to drive me to the most expensive parlours in town. Here I became the highest money earner in their fold (we actually got certificates for that). After a year, a house full of furniture and considerable savings safely tucked away I felt it was time to hang-up the garter and go home. I found a nice house, a nice job and a nice boyfriend. By aged 18 I was pregnant and the nice boyfriend had left the country, my mum had borrowed all my money never to be seen again and my furniture had been destroyed by my family’s temper, so I dusted off my garter and got back to work. Most of the time I worked privately from home, I had a very polished clientele that included one of the leader of the opposition. But with my family breathing down my neck and forever in my pocket I decided to ply my trade in Singapore, the land of milk and money. Within a week we were being sent all over the world escorting the rich and famous at $4000 per day. I came back to Australia with a wad of cash, and would have to tell my family that I won the Melbourne cup, otherwise they would be very suspect. They eventually did catch on but what did I care. With the money I was earning my daughter was the most pampered 3 year old in the neighbourhood with a French nanny to bout. So I grabbed my garter and left my family behind once again. It really is hard to stop this profession. At 21 you are earning $2000 a day 5 days a week. With no education, Coles were offering $30,000 per anum. In Singapore I was getting that in a minimum of 3 weeks. How do you stop? You tell yourself… soon as I have a house deposit, then, soon as I’ve finished the renovations, then as soon as it’s furnished, then and then and then. Private school fees for my little princess lasted 12 years, where would it end? Each time there is a new goal on the horizon to be met. Education and love finally put a stop to my procrastination. For years I thought I knew men, but I only knew one sort of man. The cheating husband man, or the freaky kinky twisted man. But they are not all like that. I finally found a good one. Now with his support I am an educated women having reached the pinicle of an academic career. Who knew I had brains? My garter is long gone, so is my cynicism of men. I am at peace with my past, and so very proud of the person I was, and I am.