You’re probably thinking, no shit. Course it’s not Billie. Are you stupid? NO! I’m not… but I have done some stupid things. And treating a brothel as a hotel was one of those things.
Of course, I wouldn’t mind a client treating a brothel as a hotel… You want a 12-hour booking?… sweet. You want to buy copious champagne and sit in a hot tub?… course mate! You want to sleep for the rest of the booking? Shut your eyes, you tired little rich man, while I watch Netflix with the sound down laying next to you.
That’s all well and good. But that’s not really how I treated a brothel as a hotel. What happened is I was working as a hooker in a sex selling bar (the new cover of Don’t You Want Me.. sing with me) in Wellington New Zealand, when the brothel owner asked if anyone wanted to go and work in the Auckland club for a week. I’d never been to Aukland and also, I’d never been on a business trip. I jumped at the chance. It was after I said yes, I realized the multi-millionaire (well, at least that’s what he told everyone) brothel owner, was not willing to pay my $120 return flight to Auckland. After the surprise of that, I brushed myself off and said fuck it, I want them city slicker dollars anyway.
To be honest, I have no idea how I ended up deciding to stay at the brothel and why I did, but that was my hotel for a week. And my god was it creepy. If I ever write a horror film it will be an out-of-hours brothel — the first hit daytime horror film.
I guess all brothels are different, I’ve worked in 3 but they were owned by the same two men. All of the rooms had a hot tub or shower, a pleather double bed (9/10 times the pleather was cracked and would pinch your bum/knee depending on the position), a box of tissues, and a TV playing softcore porn on repeat. So that was my bedroom for the week. My bedding… cum crusted blankets, though I opted for the less crusted towels. Oh also, for some reason there was no data and I never got the wifi password. Honestly, after a week of that porn is like white noise to me.
As someone who gets creeped out easily, being more or less locked in a brothel from like 6 AM — 5 PM was not the most relaxing experience of all time. The plus side was, I could barely sleep so I got a lot of time in for sightseeing around Auckland. And guess what… I prefer Wellington.