The below story is not for the faint hearted. In it I attempt to understand what makes a lady turn to prostitution. The factors leading to such a decision are, no doubt many and varied, however Isabel’s (entirely fictional story) is, I believe not untypical.
Isabel pressed the familiar bell and waited with her hands behind her back. The door opened “Hi, Issey” Peter smiled delightedly “come in”. Isabel entered and closing the door behind her kissed Peter softly on the lips. “This is for you” she said suddenly revealing a gold box done up with pink ribbon which she’d gbeen concealing behind her back. “What is it?” “Why not open it and see” Issey said a smile playing around her eyes.
“Come through into the kitchen. I need to find some scissors. I can’t wait to see what’s inside”.
Hand in hand they walked into the kitchen. Taking a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer Peter neatly cut the ribbon and opened the box. “Oh Issey it’s lovely, I wasn’t expecting a birthday cake and it’s my favourite, chocolate cake! Wow it even has 30 candles on it” he said. “Well you are 30 so what did you expect” Issey said laughing. “Thanks so much” Peter said taking Issey in his arms and gently kissing her neck. “I have a nice bottle of wine in the fridge, lets sit down and have a glass with that delicious cake! Oh before I forget here is the money” he said handing over an envelope. “Don’t you want to count it?” “No darling you are my favourite regular, I trust you, lets have that wine”. Isabel meant what she said. As an escort she saw some real tossers but Peter had always treated her like a lady and over the 12 months or so they’d known one another she had grown rather fond of him. Seeing Peter was business but it wasn’t a living nightmare unlike some other clients she could think of.
Peter poured them both another glass of wine. “so Issey what made you become an escort” he asked the words slurring as he attempted to articulate them. “So I could sleep with sexy hunks like you” Issey said placing her hand on his right knee. “Please, you never give me a serious answer to that question”. “I want you Peter, I’m so horney” Issabel said starting to unzip his trousers”. Peter wanted this gorgeous girl so much. He felt himself stiffen as Issey’s hand found it’s way into his pants, however that nagging question simply refused to go away. “Issey why …”. Issey took Peter’s face in her hands her tungue expertly exploring his mouth putting an end to any further questioning.
It was the same dream over and over again. The room was silent. The young teenager lay in her bed praying “god please don’t let him come tonight. Please god don’t let him come tonight. The door opened and a figure moved on stocking feet to the bed. “It’s your favourite uncle, Issey loves her favourite uncle.” Afterwards she lay feeling nothing or, more accurately afraid to feel less she drown in her own sense of shame and disgust. In her hand lay the crumpled £20 unwanted but she couldn’t throw it away.
“Are you OK Issey?” Peter asked concern showing in his eyes. “Yes I’m OK, I was having a nightmare, sorry if I woke you”. It was half true. She had been having a nightmare but her whole life was she thought a nightmare of sorts.