Divine duplicity and why I love keeping filthy secrets
There’s a set of common questions I receive as a companion.
Aside from the pointed and unwelcome “do you have a boyfriend?” people are often curious to discover my parents’ and friends’ feelings about my career choices.
“But does your mother know?”
“How do you tell people about your job when you meet them?”
“But how will you date?!”
Some people ask this with an air of curiosity, with the same tone they’d use to enquire about my coffee order. They’re interested in the logistics of secret keeping, wondering how I navigate having a second life with loved ones.
Others interrogate for answers with an air of entitlement, as if they deserve to know the minute details of my daily life.
Unfortunately, some all too often approach this line of enquiry with an air of misogyny.
BUT DOESN’T YOUR MOTHER KNOW?
WHAT WOULD SHE SAY?
I couldn’t let my wife do this…etc, etc.
So here it is: the truth.
I don’t tell people what I do, because I don’t feel like I ought to. Aside from the obvious reasons for keeping a lid on my sex work escapades (stigma, privacy, freedom to travel), I actually like keeping my sordid little secret. In my day-to-day life I manage to slip under the radar, seemingly normal with nothing to indicate what I do behind closed doors.
When I’m sitting at home in my overalls or running errands, I like the assumption that I’m an innocent, wholesome girl. I call my landlord to fix the garage door. I buy cat food. I call my mother. I order an almond latte in my gym gear and look like any other person on the street.
Perhaps she’s a student, most think. Or a dancer. She doesn’t have a 9-5, but there’s nothing about her to suggest anything clandestine.
She’s polite, educated, and friendly…but there’s something about her I can’t quite put my finger on…
Little do they know that come nightfall I’m able to transform into a purveyor of pleasure, dressed in designer lingerie and stilettos, sauntering under the moonlight and through Melbourne’s best restaurants. I am Venus arrived at shore, but hotel beds and spa baths are my own birthing clamshells.
Perhaps that’s why I like the Cinderella analogy so much. Night time allows for a magical transformation, and a chance to explore my own daydreams and fantasies as well as that of my trusting and valued lovers.
It’s a secret life that I manage to maintain, and I intend on keeping it that way.
Who knows, perhaps one day I’ll reveal my magic act to the world.
Until then, you can find me before midnight.