Diary of an Aussie Call Girl

A few years ago, when Belle Du Jour's book and then the Billie Piper's TV show "True Confessions of a London Call Girl" came out, People Mag asked me to write my own version of a diary... So I chose one of the weekends that I am often the busiest and documented it...

Thursday 9am.

Wake up with loud buzzing in my ears. Don’t know what it is, but it’s bloody annoying! Pillow over my head works, but now I can’t breath properly.

Fuck it. May as well get up.

Open the window and the whining hum infiltrates my kitchen.

It hits me. I must have been living in a bubble this past month to forget what the date was.

That one time of year when the city becomes the ultimate bloke’s Mecca, and I get to spend the whole time in swanky, high-class hotels…

Grand Prix.

Call the agency. Am pretty much booked solid for the entire weekend, starting at 7pm tomorrow.

Friday 5pm

First client wants me to wear stockings and boots and bring toys.

Easy

Mirror check. Dressed and made up. Smooth and smelling gorgeous. I look fun and sexy, but definitely not trampy.

Perfect.

Lights off, Lock up, double check I have all I need, and I’m out.

7pm

Get to hotel, it’s one of my favourites, I don’t have to go to reception first.

Arrive at room and meet Roger. Business stuff out of the way I turn to him and smile.

“So, you like toys huh?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I love watching chick’s play with themselves.”

Awesome. I love these jobs.

I pull out my little black bag-o-tricks. “Would you like to choose one?”

He chooses the dolphin. They usually do.

A light purple vibrator with a thick shaft full of pearly beads that spin and twist inside it, and a small rubbery attachment shaped like a dolphin that buzzes and pulsates.

It’s a good choice.

Sitting on the bed facing him skirt pulled up, my stockings and boots still on, I start to play.

He’s watching intently. His hand wrapped around his own cock.

That turns me on a little more and I press at the buttons, making the beads spin faster and the little dolphin buzz. It feels fantastic and I push it deeper into me.

He’s pumping his cock nice and hard now, watching the slick vibe move in and out of me.

My body tenses up, and the delicious tingly orgasm waves over me.

I see him come too, moaning and shuddering in his armchair across the room.

Share a smoke and have a shower. Accept his thanks and a nice little tip.

Say goodbye. Sign out. Make way to lobby and car and to next job.

9pm

He’s an octopus. Hands all over me as I walk through the door.

“Just let me make this call,” I say through gritted teeth, swatting his hands away with what he thinks is a playful slap.

Sign in. Hardly hung up and he’s pulling me into the bedroom.

Okay fine. He wants it quick?

Clothes off, quick suck, straddle him, ride hard…

He comes.

He looks ready for sleep

Good.

Shower, dressed, sign out, say goodbye.

Oh, and look at the time! Still only 9:30pm, I’ve got time for a coffee.

10:30pm

A Bi-fantasy booking in a flash hotel, he musta been inspired by the Grid Girls at the GP.

Meet Veronica in the lobby and go up together.

Guy seems shy. Doesn’t know where to look. Poor thing.

Veronica calms him with a back massage.

He wants to watch us kiss, so we do.

I like working with Veronica, she seems to enjoy it as much as I do.

Her hands travel down my sides and the client moves over to watch us play.

Her breasts are small and firm and her nipples are hard in my mouth.

Her fingers are cool as she slides them into the warm wetness between my legs.

The client wants to fuck now, so Veronica obliges on all fours. Kissing me while he thrusts into her from behind.

They both come hard. I’m little envious.

Shower. Sign out. Say goodbye.

Veronica and I leave the lobby in opposite directions.

Midnight

On route to next booking the agency calls.

The client has cancelled but there’s another job waiting.

12:30am

Get to the hotel and go to reception. Hate that.

Client’s a normal looking guy in his 40s. He smells like car fumes, stale whiskey and cigarettes. 

He pours himself another drink, makes me a cup of tea and we sit on the sofa.

Grand Prix highlights on the telly. He’s really into it, telling me all about the race and his day at the track.

I relax back on the couch, my feet on his lap as he rubs them nicely.

Have been sitting on couch for almost 40 minutes. Explain to him our time is nearly over.

“Just call and extend,” he says. So I do.

Another whiskey, another cup of tea.

I offer a massage, he declines.

I offer to move into the bedroom, he declines.

“It’s not you,” he says. “I just want to hang out. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” I tell him, and settle back to watch Letterman.

3am

Why is it that the only thing to eat at this time of the morning is Maccas?

Finish my cheeseburger (leaving the pickles on the paper wrapping) and head off to next job.

3:30am

I think the guy is on coke or a pill or something. His eyes have that “I’ve been awake for three days look” and he can’t shut up about the damn Grand Prix.

The sex is awkward and jittery and he can’t really keep it up.

He doesn’t seem to notice though.

He finally comes through a hand job and, when I get back from the shower he’s fast asleep. I let myself out.

5am

Last job of the night, please, please let it be a good one.

Bill has just got back from a night out and is slightly wobbly on his feet.

In the bedroom he is having a hard time getting hard.

‘Can I go down on you?” He asks

His tongue is soft and warm and he laps at me eagerly. I lie back and enjoy it, letting the sensations wash over me.

I come nicely and he gives me a moment to recover while he gets himself a drink.

“Can I do it again?” He asks on his return.

I reply with a smile and lie back against the pillows.

What a perfect way to end the night.

7am

Finally home.

In my Jammies.

In my bed.

And of course, those bloody cars have just started up again.