A mother, a daughter, a friend, a sex worker.

It’s not something that I ever thought I’d do. Not properly. For three days many years ago I helped a friend out on a sex chat line, you know, those numbers that are advertised at the back of the Daily Sport? I had a cold and apparently my voice was something to be desired. It paid well but eventually the paracetamol and my morals kicked in and I returned to my day job never to talk about it again.

What happened to my morals one Wednesday afternoon a couple of weeks ago? They haven’t changed really, the same things that stopped me from pursuing the great money on the chat lines back in the day are still there. Essentially you’re pretending to be someone that you’re not. You’re selling a fantasy to guys who believe there is a hot girl who wants them more than anything else in this world. You’re selling massive, great big fat lies to lonely men.

I have different priorities now, of course I do. I have someone else to take care of and I need the money, but my morals, they haven’t changed. I want you to know that if you’re reading this.

I did quite alot of research, I read reviews from different companies, from workers, from users. I looked at telephone sex and text messaging (which I decided was easier to do when I was being mum) and I took part in a test to make sure that my spelling was good enough. It’s strange, I wouldn’t have imagined it was a priority. I answered questions and asked them and then I was signed up as a worker. Just like that, I became a sex worker.


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