Mattress Actress (25 page)

‘Would you like me to iron those clothes hanging in the closet, they are very crushed? It will be no trouble, I have finished all my cleaning.’

‘OK, Lilly, that would be nice, thank you.’ When all my clothes were pressed she came up to me with her hand out for $20. That ended up being the only time she got me.

Another way she had invented to create a bit of extra gambling money was to offer to go shopping for us. She would casually say, ‘I must go shop now, you want anything?’

Without fail there was always something we needed but were too lazy to dress and get it ourselves. So we would hand Lilly $20 or $50 with a list of what we needed. Hours later a very drunk Lilly would return with a bag of groceries. Lilly never forgot one single item on the list but rarely remembered what denomination note each girl had given her.

‘Lilly, I gave you a fifty for bread, tomatoes, and cheese, why are you only giving me thirteen dollars change?’ Asking the question was a waste of breath.

‘Oh no! You only gave me twenty-dollar note, see I write it down.’

It was pointless arguing, it was easier to call it a delivery charge. Who could begrudge Lilly a few extra dollars after all? She knew what we made. And more to the point we knew what she made and couldn’t help feeling a little bad for her—how could we begrudge her a measly ten or twenty dollars occasionally?

On the lower level of the apartment there were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a lounge room and two verandas. The two lower level rooms housed four of the girls, two per room. Coco and Gina (Hungary) shared the master bedroom, Louise (Australia) and Veronique (the Philippines) shared the smaller room. Upstairs was one large room with a bathroom and we were packed in like sardines. Wall-to-wall cupboards, two make-up tables and six lockers. My bed was right under the air conditioner while Sabrina and Cindy (Bosnia) shared a double bed. Lola (the Philippines) had the bed nearest to me. On the far wall was Rene (Hungary).

There was no doubt that Sabrina dominated the room. She had a third of the closet space. She even made Lola keep her clothes in her suitcase under the guise that there simply would not be room for her stuff and if she did manage to squeeze it in her clothes might get crushed. Lola just did as she was told. Four of us shared a make-up table while Sabrina monopolised the only table with a light and power point. This meant we all had to get ready for work before the sun set so we could see what we were doing.

We all got very close—bar you-know-who. At the end of every shift we would all end up back at the apartment for a nice drink and supper. Everyone would bring something home: alcohol, chips, a salad or fruit. It all ended up on the table while we sat around talking and laughing. If one of us had had a bad client everyone would listen and commiserate. Mainly we talked about the boyfriends back home we missed, or our dreams of what we planned on doing with all our money. I would call this time of the evening the beer and undies hour.

I had never really done escorting before, because in Australia I point-blank refused to do it. Primarily it was a safety issue, you never really know who is hiding in a closet or who is going to turn up unexpectedly. Secondly, it’s one thing to invite a client to your home for a quick one on one, then send him on his way, no one is any the wiser. But when you do escorting in your home town, chances are you are going to run into a friend and have to explain why you are in a restaurant being fondled by this man twice your age. So escorting fell into the same category as sex with couples: you just couldn’t pay me enough to do it.

But here in Singapore, it was unlikely that I would run into any close friends and it was equally unlikely that I would make any money if I didn’t do escort services. The calibre of clients you saw in Singapore were a far cry from the gents you met in Australia. That is not to say they were all perfect. The beer and undies hours were very informative sessions as to who were good clients and who were not. One lass from Russia had spent five days in India with a client who had paid her half upfront in US dollars with the promise of the balance to be paid on her final day. He was true to his word: on the final day he presented her with a veritable treasure trove of fine jewels and gold by way of payment. She chose a select piece for her own use and took the remaining items to a fine Indian jeweller to sell in Singapore. She was beside herself when she learnt that all of the items were glass and the gold was not real either. The broker offered her US$100 for the lot. Then there was the story of the girl who had also been paid in jewellery by a client only to be arrested at the airport departure lounge for attempting to leave the country with stolen property.

Mr Peters refused to send any girls abroad with Saudi clients, no one ever knew why.

My first escapade abroad was to Bali. I was very disappointed; being Australian, Bali is like our seventh state, so hardly an exotic destination. The other thing that irritated me was that there were to be five girls chosen to travel together from our photos online and Sabrina was one of them. We were told that our client was an international singing group that required us for three days. We were all aglow with visions of the hottest stars of the day and already arguing about who was going to snag the lead singer. In Sabrina’s mind, it went without saying that she would have first choice.

Upon arrival we were taken to a resort that had been entirely booked out by the band. We were all familiar with them but they were not an English language band. The manager greeted us at the reception. He was very nice looking and I was soon to learn that I had been his choice. He held a clipboard like an extra appendage, it never seemed to leave his hand. We were each given our envelopes containing US$5000 and he led us down to a private beach where the band members and their entourage were taking in some sun and cocktails. We were introduced and allocated: the lead singer had chosen the Hungarian girl and we all thought this was an odd choice, as she was very girl next door and definitely no super model. Best of all, Sabrina was allocated to the lead singer’s elderly uncle, who had come along for some fun and sun by invitation from his nephew. He would have been in his late seventies, and walked about day and night in his Speedos, holding his dick. He had obviously been a very heavy set man who had lost a lot of weight because his skin now resembled an illustration from the old children’s book
The Saggy Baggy Elephant
. He spoke absolutely no English, but laughed at everything. He was having the time of his life. Sabrina couldn’t hide her repulsion, and we couldn’t hide our amusement.

Each girl went to their partner, ordered a drink and stripped down for a swim. All except Sabrina, who was whisked away for an immediate romp with a very horny old man. We barely saw Sabrina for the next twenty-four hours thanks to Viagra. The rest of us, on the other hand, were taken shopping, did tours, swam and sunbaked to our hearts’ content.

By day two, Sabrina came down with a dreadful migraine and had to immediately return to Singapore, to be replaced by someone who wasn’t so selective and actually understood her job. I’m just sorry I missed the moment she was forced to return her money and cop a massive lecture from Mr Peters.

Most of the escort work that Mr Peters sent us to was just as leisurely, days filled with dining out, sitting by pools or exotic beaches and topped off with an occasional bit of nookie. I visited Holland, Paris, America, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, India, Bangkok and a few countries in between, but the easiest job I ever had was in Dubai.

Three of us were chosen.

Mr Peters asked: ‘Do any of you have your periods due in the next week? If you do, you need to tell me now because I can’t send you.’

We all looked at each other with a wry grin, slightly amused by the question. We shook our heads.

‘OK then, you all need to go to get a full Brazilian bikini wax before the end of the day, this is the address of the lady who does them. No wax, no ticket!’

With everything waxed and packed we took the first plane out the following morning. Upon arrival at our destination—a palace!—we were each given US$6000, shown to our rooms, then instructed to make ourselves at home. From my room I could see the pool, which seemed already overcrowded with contestants for the Miss Universe pageant. One of the girls went down to the pool, and I chose to take advantage of the library, which was complete with a gentlemen to assist me in locating any book my heart desired. Every fifteen minutes or so, a very well-spoken man would approach me to ask if I needed anything. By about the third interruption of
Anna Karenina
, I wondered how far I could push him, maybe ask for a lamington or two slices of toast with Vegemite? Instead I did the courteous thing by claiming I was satisfied with my water. He still approached me at regular intervals with fresh ice and a top up.

I overheard two girls talking. I couldn’t understand every word they said because they were speaking in Afrikaans. Apparently the language is so close to Dutch that I could comprehend the important bits. I was pleased that some good had come from my grandparents after all. They were talking about royalty and royal family, they mentioned drugs, and then they talked about stealing clothes and jewellery from girls’ rooms.

They noticed me listening to them, ‘Where are you from?’ one of the girls asked acidly.

I wanted to say I was just a dumb, one-language-speaking Skippy, but opted for ‘Australia, are you girls German?’

They didn’t even answer my question, they just walked away.

Some of the other girls had noted that some of the staff used words like ‘your highness’, and other such formalities. I was very intrigued.

By five pm we were all instructed to prepare for dinner, which was to be served promptly at seven. All the ladies gathered in the dining room where we found our seats by the photographs that sat among the place settings on tables that seated six people. Each table had one man and five ladies, and I counted twenty-five girls from every corner of the globe. I didn’t know anyone at the table and the language exchange was very challenging as only one other girl spoke English, a model from America. The man at our table was named Ali, but we were not told how he was related to the prince or his role within the palace. It was a very awkward dining experience, because I didn’t know what topics were appropriate. I stuck to commenting on the beauty of the palace, and getting to know the other girls in a very superficial way. I had no idea what I was eating, but decided not to insult the host by not finishing everything.

After dinner we were taken to another room where drinks were served. I didn’t ask for alcohol because I knew that Dubai was a dry country, but everyone seemed to be walking around with champagne flutes or wine glasses. I ordered an ice tea and mingled. By about eleven, girls were being approached by servants and escorted out. I was not selected and was hiding yawns behind my iced tea at regular intervals, but was not sure I was allowed to leave for the comfort of my bed. At midnight, a bell rang and we were shown to yet another room, for tea and coffee and a light supper. I politely took a green tea and chatted to a girl from France with very good English.

‘My god, when will this night ever end?’ I asked.

‘We have not been selected, so after your tea we will be allowed to return to bed.’

I was thrilled, I was getting paid and I didn’t even have to shag anyone. It was common knowledge that cameras were everywhere and most conversations were being listened to. So what went on between the sheets was not discussed.

The following day after a breakfast of fruit—nothing else was presented—I went down to the pool for what I hoped would be a full day of reading and sunbaking. I noticed one of the girls who had been selected the previous evening walk past. She was now wearing a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet, which she displayed like she was being filmed for a jewellery commercial. My brain was full of questions: How much could I sell that for? Do we still get given cash? How would I explain a gift like that coming through Australian customs?

After lunch, I returned to the library. This time I chose my favourite book,
Pride and Prejudice
, requested a black coffee and settled in for the afternoon. Within half an hour, a man was at my side.

‘You do enjoy the classics, don’t you?’ He spoke with a distinctly British accent, so I knew this was not a waiter wanting to top up my coffee. He also seemed to be making rather extensive notes on my reading material. I quickly sat up and straightened my posture.

‘I do, sir, and what do you enjoy?’ Hoping he would catch on to my double entendre.

‘I don’t mind the odd old-fashioned romance myself every now and then.’

‘Well then, we should get on just fine,’ I said.

‘It was a pleasure meeting you, Annika, I shall leave you in peace to enjoy your book.’

A pleasure meeting me? He knew my name but I had no clue who he was.

Come seven pm, I found him seated at my table. Everybody introduced themselves, and when his turn came around he said, ‘You may call me Mr Darcy.’ I giggled at his little joke.

We discussed literature and music, and he was very proud to boast that he adored Michael Jackson and had had the privilege of meeting him personally. I asked him to show us the moonwalk, but he just blushed and changed the topic, choosing to chat with the other girls at the table.

During the drinks portion of the evening, I lost sight of him, so decided to let my hair down for my last evening and strut my moves on the dance floor. There were about five other girls taking advantage of the music and disco-style floor. Not wanting to get too much of a sweat up, I limited my floor show to two songs, then retired to a virgin pina colada and a round of applause. Some minutes later a man asked me to follow him to a room in another wing of the house.

‘Good evening again, Mr Darcy.’

‘You are a woman with many charms, Erica, you read, you dance and you are exquisitely beautiful.’

‘Thank you, kind sir,’ I said even though I wanted him to just shut up and bring on the cash and jewels.