Saturday, July 30, 2022

Whore on Tour

The plane lands, wonderful, I always insist on the window seat and I'm too polite to ask people next to me to move so I can pee. I really need to pee.


I’ve learned my lesson now, half the time we never get to disembark from the rear so I'm strategically right behind business class so I can swiftly get the hell off this germ-riddled hell-tube with the bland muffins and offensive cups of tea. They said we can turn our phones on now, everyone is in a rush to do so, they wanna tell their loved ones they arrived safe, send some little emojis and start on with their journey. My own phone is on, but everyone knows I'm fine, I always am, this isn’t anything unusual anymore - me being off on one of my adventures. But my work phone I leave it for a bit. Let me get off this damn thing and into a bathroom stall first, somewhat urgently.


My feet are on solid ground, I’ve relieved myself and after a painful battle trying to get my luggage (always pack heavy, they’ll unload it first) and drag my two suitcases to a taxi (I’m growing too tired of unreliable Ubers), and now I’m in the backseat with a cabbie who thinks masks make excellent neck-beards, and I turn on my work phone. Welcome on tour.


Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping. 


Ugh, deep breath.

  • Hey Petra. It’s Jake, just checking we are still ok for Wednesday?
  • Hey bb
  • You available baby?
  • Hi, sorry for the late notice but I just saw you’re touring here. My name is Michael, 38, and I’m after 2hours at any time you have left available. Thanks
  • Hi it’s Lachlan - about that booking we’ve got, would it be ok if we don’t use a condom? 
  • Hey saw you’re in town, wanna play later?
  • Hey Petra it’s John, just checking you landed safe
  • Hi Petra,  I have to cancel our 4pm, can you transfer the deposit? When are you here next?
  • Hey nice pics!
  • Hey u trade for ice?
  • Nice Tatts, can I see more pics?
  • Got an onlyfans? 
  • Hey Petra, I’m all set for tonight at 7pm, just checking if you’d enjoy a bottle of Pinot? Peter
  • Hi Petra, I wanted to book you but I have covid so I can't (cool sorry bro?)
  • Hey it’s Bobby, are you available in Brisbane tonight? (No Bobby, Im away)


My ads have all clicked over to the city I’m now in - I'm fresh meat for the local timewasters.

I’m prioritising now. I’ll address my short notice cancellation first, that’s annoying, replacing that at this late hour will be next to impossible.  No transfer for you Sir.

Yes Peter, a glass of Pinot would go down swimmingly, I’ll send the address details once I’m checked in. He seems nice, good.

Lachlan, I am no longer comfortable seeing you, you scummy brat. Hmmm, debate in my head about returning deposit or not. Annoying.

Ok Michael, you seem nice, let me offer you this 4pm that’s probably too soon, or maybe this time I have left on Wednesday. Fingers crossed.

Jake, yes I’m here, relax and I’ll contact you Wednesday as arranged

I scroll through the others and look at my schedule that’s looking pleasantly plump, I’m going to need every bit of emotional bandwidth to make it through this trip, I ignore the rest. Needy regulars ought not to be texting me without an enquiry, John.


Oh my personal phone. Better send some cute gifs so everyone knows I’m safely here.  A little tweet too. I’m a bit neglectful when I’m away, I sometimes wish there were two of me to keep all these balls up in the air (but that would be illegal wouldn't it, QLD *side eye*).


I check in, hurriedly unpack and shower and put my best face on. I pick up a short last minute booking for 4pm, so I sort of replaced the cancellation but took a little hit to the pocket. I didn’t have time to assess that properly but he paid the deposit. I take a few deep breaths in through the nose, slow exhale, let my nervous system settle in. Push aside intrusive thoughts of wishing I'd had time to buy snacks and soda water. 

This is my terrain, I plant a smile on my face like I’m not exhausted from the chaos of the airports and a full day in masks and sensory plane hell, and open the door.

Hey! How are you? The slow dance before fucking begins. 


Days on tour flow into each other. It’s a battle to stay present and have the same conversations about Covid and how much the climate here is different to Brisbane, but I ask people questions and their differences keep me there in the room with them. I have a lot of new clients this time which means a lot of teaching people what I like, which can be draining, but I learn new likes and kinks from them and I quite enjoy that. I do one of the best golden showers of my life - weird job satisfaction moment. I met a man from a country I had to Google while he was in the shower so I didn’t seem ignorant, and I guess that’s another little work perk - everyone's story is unique. Hell, even the middle aged white guys all have their own oddities, habits and signature cum faces. I leave every morning to make sure I get sunlight and a delicious meal, but I spend too much time inside and spend the quiet hour or so before bed scrolling AirBnB looking at huge houses in the bush and daydreaming of wide open spaces and sunlit picnics. Soon.


At the end of the tour, I’m very ready for home. The rush wears off after those few days, I feel the after affects of nightly wines, rich food, poor sleep and orgasms so frequent I fear the next one will split me right up the middle, leaving me a chasm of dust. 


I’m lucky this tour, only a couple of cancellations. I couldn’t replace a big one which annoyed me, but I still made a healthy packet and I got a lot of lovely thank you texts from happy clients, so I’m a satisfied sort of exhausted. I did a good job and I swell a little with pride. I can now afford a little time to catch my breath when I’m home and if I get sick, I'll at least now have sick pay. 


The trip home is always less stressful with no schedule to work to, I can just let the madness of airports push and pull me like the tide - I’m not desperately trying to swim against it. Even the mask comforts me a little, no-one will talk to me, for a moment there’s no obligation of entertaining or engaging anyone, I’m all alone in here, sans makeup and fucks to give.


My lover picks me up from the airport, they’re full of questions about how the trip was, how was my flight, was everyone nice? I’m all talked out. I feel guilt that my brain is scrambled eggs from coaxing shy people from their shells for hours every day, and all I can offer is a gentle hand hold between gear shifts and a glassy-eyed ‘can we have lots of veges and no alcohol for dinner?’ And we drive in an understanding intimate silence, which frankly, is bliss. I gaze out the window at the sunny green of Brisbane and my heart is beaming with the welcoming hug of home, yet I’m already thinking, where to next?


PETRA FOX


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