Imposter Sydnrome

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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

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne

Starfish Lovers

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Character Development

 I could tell he thought little of me.     It was the unsolicited advice and desire to pick apart my life that did it really, he was a moderately successful man in his fifties, well groomed, and I imagine in his head he thought himself an ideal client, probably thought I was stoked to be in the company of someone who could shower himself. I’ll give him my Petra best of course, but I don’t think I love this guy as much as I think he loves himself.

It’s standard stuff initially. We’re making out, I’m changing the subject away from him negging me and my tattoos, he’s tanned and recently holidayed, reeking of privilege and little too much Armani Code. He’s got a nice dick, though my pride would prevent me from saying such a thing, and once I’ve warmed him up with my special Petra blowjob show, he climbs on top of me, thankfully no whinging about the condom, and to my astonishment soon puts his hand around my throat to choke me.

I grab his wrist and scald ‘Absolutely not!’, to which he climbs off me embarrassed and surprised. But girls love that! He does it all the time and no-one complains. I explain to him the power imbalance and that many would be too scared in that circumstance to speak up, rather play along - and I feel maddened that he’s naturally assumed his position here as the man, even though smaller, to be dominant.

I explain to him he’s picked the wrong girl to assume as submissive, and I'm trying my best to keep the session chill for both of our benefit, so I say - let me show you why. His dick quickly recovers from the fright of an outspoken woman, a rare beast according to him, I grab it and throw my leg over him and sit on him with a degree of force. I raise my eyebrow to say, ok? and he nods. I grab both his hands and pull them above his head, able to hold them both down with one hand - being strong and statuesque has its advantages. With the other hand I hold his hipbone firmly and then I thrust up and down on his cock, holding him steadfast by the arms and his waist. I don’t lose eye contact, I say ‘you like that hey? Being fucked by a woman? Well there’s few words finding their way to the surface - he stutters a yes and I stop - I can feel he’s about to cum. He pants, exasperated as he misses out on the orgasm. I kiss his forehead, ‘good boy, don’t cum yet’. He nods, I think he’s still lost for words, and I start up again. I free his arms, using that hand instead to slide my fingers into his mouth, slowly fucking his quivering mouth with them, testing his gag reflex. I smile as he agreeably sucks at them ‘that’s it, you like having things in your mouth don’t you?’ And he nods, 'Yes Mistress'. I didn’t even ask him to say that. I can feel him close again, I scald him - don’t cum yet, I’m not finished. He's learning his place.

We go on like this for a while, he’s a sweaty writhing mess, so I finally make myself cum on him, and I let him cum promptly after, not stopping til I'm assured he's lost every last drop - then sit on his face so he can clean up the lube and the remnants of my enjoyment - which he does eagerly.  I'm certain that salted caramel lube and Petra have a very memorable aftertaste. Good boy.

That was a good time for me. There’s a stunned glow across the room, we’re silent and dewy. 

‘I’ve, never been fucked like that’. How is that, I ask - the way you fuck others? He’s embarrassed and apologises. I strongly dislike the notion that all women are inherently submissive and that it’s a mans role to be dominant or rough in bed - traditional industry terms like ‘PSE’ with inherent connotations don’t sit right with me for this reason. This is a reeducation for him.

His head is spinning, and he comes out of the shower looking a little sheepish. I check in with him, he’s happy - he gives me all the money in his wallet as a tip and leaves after I give him a little kiss on the forehead.

That was 3 months ago, and he’s become my new regular. I’m lining up on the credenza various different sexual embellishments, getting ready for today’s session and smiling to myself thinking about how far we’ve come. 3 months ago this man tried to choke me, all I did was remove his control for a hot minute and now he’s in my phone every week paying sizeable deposits to be my little plaything. This is the kind of character development I live for. 

**as is always true, I do not write about specific clients, all stories are a collection of truths or maybe just straight up fiction, who knows? 

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne

The sugar is bitter

 I think there’s a pretty significant portion of escorts who tried their hand first at ‘sugaring’, before coming over to escorting. Dipping our toes in a little hoping not to get tainted with the label of a 'whore'. Bless.

My entry into sex work was a complicated and not very healthy one, and started in an illegal brothel with a man who subsequently went to prison for pimping underage girls. Sex work is decriminalised in NZ, so if you’re jailed for prostitution-related offences, you were probably a really bad person. He was.

That experience tarred my image of sex work, and there was a lot of internalised stigma there for me. But I was still in need of money - I got kicked out before finishing high school and there was a lot of financial stress happening. So, naturally I did what any young person who kinda wants to do sex work but thinks sex work is ‘yucky’ does - I tried getting a sugar daddy. 

Cue eye rolls, I know.

This is a traumatic period of time in my life, so the timeline is a bit confused, but there are some interesting stories in there that I do remember, and have strongly influenced my opinions about sugaring (spoiler: it’s bad).

I’m not sure if the famous sugaring sites were around yet at that point, if they were then I didn’t know about them. At that point I trawled dating websites instead, setting my preferences for an age group much older than I was, and reeling people in that way. Look, I wasn’t very good at it. I have tried my hand at all number of hustle jobs in my poor youth - door-knocking for Greenpeace, telemarketing hotel packages etc, and let me tell you that I’m terrible at hustling people. I have tried. I once got fired from a call centre for calling my partner repeatedly and reading the script, because I couldn’t bear to cold call one more Grandma. But I was definitely pretty desperate in those days, and my $11hr job was barely covering the rent on my overcrowded, mouldy student flat.

I met maybe a dozen men in this time, most of whom I don’t remember, before I eventually threw in the towel and went to a legal brothel.

I remember three of these men well, and most not for good reasons.

I think the most memorable is Anton. Anton had quite a lot of money, but he was also extremely cheap. I think this sums up most sugar daddies I’ve ever met or heard of, but Anton was an especially awful case. Anton lived out of town - and the first time I met him, I took the risk of driving myself and spending my own fuel money to go and meet him, hoping he was real. And he was. Anton was a much older man, whose children were at home when I’d go and meet him. Each time I came to see him, he gave me less and less money, and brought bigger and bigger toys I was expected to use on myself. But if I came, he got very jealous and angry. He kept a picture of me, and showed it to his ex wife, saying I was his new girlfriend. He once took me on a fancy day trip WITH his children, acting like I was his new girlfriend, lots of embarrassing PDA and everything. He promised me a lot of money all the time, constant carrot dangling. That day I wasn’t paid, and I cried for hours. I think why I remember him so negatively was because he played a lot of mind games. I was 18 and desperate, and he dangled his massive house and wealth at me, but would pay me at best a couple hundred for several hours of intense play with his kids in the next room. One time he wrote a cheque for a bond on a new place for me, and he cancelled the cheque because I didn't txt him back fast enough. He made me momentarily homeless because he was insecure. Ugh.

I also remember Todd, Todd was not a wealthy man. But he told me how he had sold his house and had a lot of money in the bank (lies, obviously). The reason I remember Todd so negatively was because he was the guy who promised me the money AFTER we had sex, and naïve me never got paid. I asked for fuel money home, and instead he gave me some petrol from his shed, and whatever it was destroyed my car - the only asset I had. I had to catch the bus and walk everywhere for 2 years after that. Asshole.

It isn’t all bad, I also remember Lee. Lee was a well dressed, polite Asian man in his late twenties who was too nervous to touch me. We would sit awkwardly in silence, he’d give me some money and basically run away. We met three times, and each time was the same. He confused me. Thankfully I have a lot more skills in my toolkit for dealing with nervous people these days!

Finally swallowing my pride, after yet another promise with no follow-through, I tried a legal brothel that I found online which saved me from more of these experiences. I had so many preconceived ideas about brothels from my fairly traumatic introduction and they had kept me away for a few years. I attached a lot of gross stereotypes to ‘prostitutes’ and somehow felt that I was different. But in the end, the women I met in the brothel were inspiring. They had so much more control in these transactions, they were fierce and sexy and weren’t being strung along by promises. Granted, there was the awful problematic brothel manager, there always is, and it was not exactly 'executive' like it's name - we did $60 quickies and the sheets were threadbare, but in spite of myself, I found myself actually liking it. The clients didn’t play games, we all knew the terms, and I made more money. I didn't have to text them all the time to keep them interested - hell they wanted my discretion, not an annoying sidepiece. I found myself wishing I’d tried a brothel again sooner, rather than letting sugardaddies play power games and ruin my car. I absolutely believe most sugar daddies pray on the vulnerable, because they don't want the price tag or boundaries of a more astute professional. It's still sex work though, and I was kidding myself to think differently. 

I enjoy the simplicity of the escorting dynamic. Sure, sometimes people get attached, but they know the terms. All of my eggs aren’t in one or two baskets, which gives me the power to wave goodbye if someone is treating me poorly. The clients know they’re going to get a professional, not a naive young thing making things up as they go along. I barely got paid but I’m also certain I wasn’t being as safe as I should’ve been and I probably was terrible and clumsy at everything too. 

Years on, I'm an astute professional with a variety of lovely clients who respect me, which keeps me content. I get joy from my work, which makes me better at it. I went independent shortly after trying brothel work and getting the hang of it, and have been a completely autonomous happy hooker ever since. There’s no tears, no games, no implications on people’s families or lives. It’s the beauty of it. And anyone who dangles ‘arrangements’ or sugaring at me is doing so to someone who knows the alternative and prefers to keep the power of her independence - more valuable than any one man's wallet and promises.

*no real names, obviously

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne

So you’re a virgin?

I’ve been a sex worker for a long time, and in that time I’ve seen probably hundreds of clients who would call themselves virgins. No inexperienced person presents the same, in fact a lot of people have told me that they were novices AFTER we’ve had sex, which honestly I don’t greatly appreciate.

So you’re a virgin. You’re frustrated it hasn’t happened for you yet, or sex is something you’re entirely nervous about, but still curious. There’s lots of reasons why an inexperienced person might seek out a sex worker, one is simply our availability to you, and another is that we may seem like a safe option.

Let me start out by saying that I personally see virginity as a heteronormative societal construct that’s largely used as misogyny to classify women as either pure or sluts, and I think the concept needs to be dumped entirely. It shames women and paralyses others with pressure and anxiety who seek to ‘lose’ it, to prove either manhood or virility. Virginity is a non existent state of being, and it isn’t ‘queer friendly’ in terms of - have you lost your virginity if there was no penis in vagina sex? And why do we say we lost our virginity, as opposed to given it, it's ours to give is it not? It took me a long time to realise I’d actually given my ‘virginity’ to a girl - because virginity in itself is so penis-centric in invention, when in fact other sex acts are still sex. And some people just don’t wanna fuck - Asexual people are valid and lack of desire to have sex is not something that’s ‘wrong’ with you.

However, there is an inherent need in most of us to seek intimacy. And if you’re a person who hasn’t much personal experience with intimate touch, it can be a lonely experience and I entirely understand people seeking that out. ‘Skin hunger’ is a real thing - we know that people in aged care live longer with regular touch than those who don’t. There’s something quite human about the longing for cuddles and affection - and we’ve been quite starved of that through both the disruption of family and community that has occurred through societal ‘progress’, but also now the pandemic we’re in where in-person contact has been so greatly minimised and demonised. 

Often when I meet clients who profess they’re virgins, they harbour almost a kind of shame around that fact. As if not having had sex makes them ‘lesser’ somehow, that they’re somehow undesirable. And I’d like to assure people that lack of sexual experience is nothing to be ashamed of. Often it simply comes down to the fact that you’ve been respectful of other people’s boundaries, been shy, too focused on your study/career, haven’t found someone you feel safe enough with etc - and that’s all perfectly normal and reasonable, no matter your age. I’m glad you’ve chosen to see a sex worker, it’s a very rational and sensible way to gain experience without your own or a potential partner’s feelings getting hurt. Besides, we have the experience to know how to deal with inexperience - minimal ‘awkwardness’. 

It’s best you let your provider know you’re inexperienced, you won’t necessarily be treated any differently, but I like to take extra care with talking people through what’s happening, educating them a bit about safe sex as we go along and not assuming any sex act is gonna take place at any kind of pace. I can then recommend suitable timeframes for you to book (please, don’t have sex for the first time in a 15 minute quickie with someone you’ve done zero research on) and what the session will or won’t involve. Surprising me after the act with this information feels a bit off - it robs me of the ability to make professional choices and guidance during the booking. Some sex workers do have an attachment to the concept of virginity and don't feel morally right popping someone's 'cherry', and that's their right to choose also. 

I have no personal investment in whether or not we have ‘sex’ during our session - my fee is the same regardless, so this should be an assurance to you that there is no pressure on you to do any more than you’re comfortable with during our time, or to ‘perform’ or impress. My emotional and professional pay off comes from making people happy. If that means simply just introducing you to touch, or to make you laugh and get to know each other a bit, maybe you just see and touch me naked but not much more happens - that’s ok. If you think about it, a booking can be a bit like an accelerated one-night stand, and not everybody is comfortable in that scene. Sometimes it takes a few dates to get to know a person, to trust them with your body and that intimate part of yourself that the world never sees. So for me - making you feel safe is my number one goal and the thing I pride myself in the most - before sex even comes into the picture. I like to think I’m good at that too… but if we can’t get to that part without you being totally happy and comfortable, then that’s cool. That isn’t unusual or weird.

A lot of clients come to see us for no reason other than having an itch they need to scratch on a Tuesday. I’d say that clientele makes up a significant portion of industry clients. But I think an equally large part of our industry is made up of people who do need to be made to feel safe. So many of my clients are inexperienced (or, they were), people who have experienced trauma, queer folk, neurodiverse people, people from very religious or conservative upbringings, disabled people or people who lack confidence. This isn’t just a quick root and boot for them, and to create a safe and accepting space for people is one of the most important parts of my job.

Sex work is a caring profession, and while the power dynamic of sex work is definitely a bit more askew than more societally accepted caring professions, there is a kind of duty of care that comes with being in an intimate space with people who may be a bit more vulnerable. I think by nature, people drawn to sex work are often naturally ‘nurturing’ types, which is why probably half the workers I know who study or move into other careers, end up in nursing, psychology or social work - they really aren’t that far off what we’re doing now, with a lot more paperwork. Which is why I think booking a sex worker for your intimate experiences if you’re a bit of a novice, is probably one of the better self care choices you could make - we’re here to support you and give you a safe space to fumble your way into a little more confidence, without fear of embarrassment.

There are some mistakes I think inexperienced people make, and I’ll aim this advice at my penis-wielding clients. There can be this sense of pressure to ‘perform’, so let me state with a degree of emphasis - sex workers are not here to be ‘impressed’ by sexual acts. We can be impressed by things like personal hygiene, timeliness, politeness and generosity, but we will never be impressed by whatever you think your dick can or can’t do - penetrative sex is abundant for us. So please, do not do yourself a disservice by furiously wanking prior to your session, with the hopes it means you’ll last longer in a booking. Often times, you may be so nervous, even subconsciously, you cannot get an erection at all. And that’s also ok. But this level of pressure you may put on yourself won’t help your perceived performance or your experience. It’s always best to turn up with an open mind, and to try and stay present and in the moment with your date. That’s how you’re going to have the best time - it isn’t by focusing on your dick. Most of us will probably teach you that foreplay is the real key to our enjoyment anyway. People have sex without a penis involved all the time, so do not make it the focus of a booking - it’s an accessory, not the whole point. 

Mostly, I hope you find joy in it. Enjoy yourself, enjoy the person you’re with and relish the experience knowing that if you 'lose your virginity’ to a sex worker it is going to be fun, safe and uncomplicated. But remember - you’re still the same person walking out the door who walked in, because virginity is an invention of the patriarchy. Intimacy is pretty frickin’ nice though.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne

Swinging the brand queer

Currently, approximately half of my clients are women and/or couples. 

It hasn’t always been the case - in fact up until two years ago, it hadn’t even occurred to me to make myself available for that. I had had only a couple of working experiences with couples much earlier in my career and the last one had gone quite badly - the lady clearly didn’t wanna be there and I had to fuck her husband while she glared at me from the corner… I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so small or uncomfortable. So, I just wrote it off. There is enough work that comes from men in this industry that one doesn’t really have to do anyone else to make a living. But something a couple of years ago twigged.

Firstly, my sexuality really cemented and I gained a lot more personal experience with women individually and also threesomes (yeap, my own life is as debaucherous as my work life sometimes)- I was armed now with more experiences in my ‘portfoli-ho’ and self-confidence to bring into my work repertoire if I wanted to. Secondly, I was talking to a friend of mine who saw many couples and seemed really happy doing that. She hadn’t had any of the troubles I had experienced years ago, which bolstered my confidence. Immediately after that conversation happened, I received a request from a couple (even though I wasn’t advertising that service) and to me it just seemed serendipitous. If it went well, then that’s great, and if not I would never have to do it again. I didn’t charge them the customary couples rates (usually a bit higher than for solo encounters) because I didn’t feel experienced enough in a professional capacity to, and just went for it (after speaking directly to the lady and being assured she was keen). And it went well - in fact I’ve been seeing that couple regularly ever since, even through covid and rate rises - they’ve been wonderful to me. 

Soon after that, I had my first solo lady client, who I also still see, and it’s grown from there. I’ve grown more confident in advertising myself directly to women and couples, knowing now that there is amazing, and really fun work to be had away from the traditional notion of sex work being mainly for men. I kinda wish I’d come to this realisation sooner, but it wasn’t so easy or straight forward to end up here.

Firstly, I was scared of alienating my existing client base. While my clients have always been quite lefty and open minded, probably because I’m quite tattooed and outspoken, they’ve still been men, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in both my personal and professional life - it’s that men can be very intimidated by a woman liking something else different from them. I’ve seen men feel threatened by dildos, by other men or partners, and especially women. I suppose because women ‘offer something they can’t’, but, it’s silly really because why would you want to be ‘everything’ to someone whose job is literally to fuck other people? But it was a very real business concern. And maybe I had a reason to be cautious - I’ve definitely lost a large chunk of my middle-aged-white-male clientele, not that it was a dominant demographic for me, but there’s only a few who book now. I guess being a very colourful, tattooed, openly queer and partnered sex worker doesn’t appeal to some people. But as it turns out, that’s ok, I’ve gained women and couples in their place and I’m doing really well.

A girl I was dating at the time asked me some big questions while I was considering swinging my brand into the rainbow spectrum - she asked me how long did I plan on doing this and how was I going to do that sustainably and maintain happiness. Good points. My brand has always been very authentic, like sure I keep a few things to myself but mostly what you see is what you get with me. I can’t do the ‘oh baby, your dick is sooo big hehe’ bullshit, partly because I think my clients are intelligent enough to realise it’s disingenuous but also because I’m a terrible liar. So if I didn’t bring my sexuality into my work, a big part of who I am, it was going to start feeling uncomfortable for me with some of their heteronormative dialogue. And the industry is mostly heteronormative, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t grate me. There are so many (often secretly) queer people in our industry, that the common notion of ‘gay for pay’ that gets bandied about is laughable - it’s much more common for providers to be straight for pay - because traditionally it’s men who have all the money, and we want to make money - it’s sort of the point.

Things are changing though. People and their relationships are changing. Covid really forced people to take stock of their relationships, and they’re wanting to try something new. Maybe it’s a threesome, maybe the woman in a long term hetero relationship is mourning a part of their sexuality they haven’t been able to explore. Professional women are busy and tired and sometimes they want the company of a woman without the effort of dating or emotional commitments. Mothers want pampering away from the demands of everyone else, and I even have a straight lady who books when she is in town because, she says, ‘girls give better head and men are exhausting’. It’s definitely been a wild ride opening up as professionally queer - my clientele aren’t always who you think.

I felt like taking a leap into this new part of the industry for me would be a risk I couldn’t take back, but I’ve always had faith in my own hustle and it’s the best move (other than moving countries) professionally that I’ve ever made. I’m pansexual, and I still love seeing men too - I’ve got some amazing clients that I still have from when I first stepped foot in this country, but the variety, and the new challenges and greater landscape of experiences has definitely helped me fall deeper in love with the field of work. Sometimes men can feel ‘left out’ if they aren’t the centre of conversation, but I’ve also had some of my clients come out to me as bisexual or having questions about their gender now they can see that I’m a safe space for them to talk and express themselves freely. That’s kinda beautiful, and shows that there are benefits here for men too (not just the threesomes). This is never getting boring or old - my worst fear is of the mundane and I’ve opened up a door to magical kinds of people, so in making other people happy, I’m making myself happy and content too.

I’m lucky and privileged to have been able to make the changes I’ve made in this little world of mine. Lucky to make a living doing what I love, lucky to have support to do it, and lucky to have fun, respectful clients who give me the space to grow and come along for the ride. By opening up my arms to a wide range of people, I hope to provide a safe space for people to be who they are and indulge themselves for a while, so I’m lucky also that people choose me for that. It’s an honour really to be that person for so many people on their own journeys, whether for carnal delights or a deeper part of someone’s self discovery. I’m making a living being that safe and sexy person for others, and you can’t ask for much more than that can you?

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Tips/Beem: @petrafoxbne

Navigating Dating as a High Demand Sexy Awesome Person (Sex worker)

 I’m writing this one for my peers. 

I understand this platform was put here so clients can read it, educate themselves, get a better idea of me, entertain them or show I have enough brain cells that I can hold a conversation in a booking. It’s an outlet too I suppose. But this one is for my peers because it’s a topic I’m deeply passionate about and I’ve had this conversation enough times recently that I figured it was worth writing down. And if clients read that, I am trusting everyone here to be adult enough to recognise that sex workers have lives outside of their profession and there are some issues we come up against that perhaps you hadn’t thought about.

I’m quite open about having a personal love life - it’s something I consider to be important to me. As I recently mentioned somewhere on Twitter, having that balance between sleeping with people who have chosen me, and sleeping with people I’ve chosen for myself, helps to keep my headspace regarding sex and intimacy in a healthy place. I’m a romantic, I love love, and I have quite a lot of experience with navigating love, dating and relationships with this field of work.

After my divorce, I moved to Australia where I didn’t know a single person and decided that dating apps might be a fun way to meet people. It was my first experience ‘dating’ and asides from one or two little blips, it has been an enriching experience. I’ve been here for over 5 years now, I’ve fallen in and out of love, reaffirmed and come out as my sexuality as a bi/pan woman, delved into the world of polyamory (more recently) and through heart break and L words, I’ve been simultaneously sex working and dating with the two worlds co-existing nicely in a degree of harmony. It’s been a wonderful ride.

Dating as a sex worker has its challenges though. You don’t know if a person you’ve just met/matched with is a progressive minded person. You probably don’t know yet how sex-positive they are, what their views are on feminism, what type of feminism they might ascribe to, what their upbringing looked like or how possessive they might be in relationships. There’s a lot to feel out about a person that a lot of non sex-working people might not have to. While old school romance complete with jealousy and possessiveness might be admired in some people’s (my opinion outdated) world - that can be dangerous for us. So what I’m often asked by friends in the industry is - ‘so when do I tell them about my job?’.

I’m going to underline everything I say here as opinion, and not everyone is going to agree with me. I’ve definitely got the experience to back up my advice, but that’s really all it is, and everyone makes their own choices according to what works for them. I’ve often heard people give the advice that it’s better to tell someone after they get to know you, so they see that you’re more than just a job title. And I think that logic can make sense - let a person get to know you so they understand there’s a real person behind the job. But to me, the problem lies in how much extra that’s going to really fucking hurt, when and if you get rejected. Down the road, they’re no longer just rejecting the job title, they’re also rejecting you - plus they’re also going to be pretty mad that you lied to them. It’s my opinion that deception isn’t a great way to start any relationship, even if you did it to protect yourself.  I don’t judge the choice to withhold this information by the way, we face a lot of stigma for what we do and opening ourselves up to judgment, particularly to people we might fancy, is terrifying. It can be nice just to be a civilian in someone's eyes for a while. But sooner or later whether you disclose, or they stumble across an advert or whatever - it's coming out and it's not going to be smooth sailing, it's going to be emotive and there's a high chance that you will not be met with immediate understanding.

Outing yourself to anyone as a sex worker is a big deal. People can get pretty mad, vengeful or vindictive when they find out we have sex for a job. Something about it really ticks people off. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I myself am quite careful in some of my circles, as people with conservative upbringings in particular are simply never going to understand me. So outing yourself to someone you’ve just met or started talking to can seem like a really risky move - and it is. But there’s the other side to that - people who are more invested in you - that you’ve already been dating for a while, have more emotions at play when you eventually tell them what you do - and it’s my opinion that that is much more dangerous to you, especially when you throw feelings of deception in the mix.

My ‘strategy’ is to tell people before the first date. Whether that’s dating sites or the occasional person I have flirtations with at places I frequent - I never date a person who doesn’t know. I want to know, before I waste an evening where I could be working or doing literally anything else - if that person is going to be chill about my work before I invest time, energy and feelings into anything. Emphasis on ‘chill’ here, I also don’t want to date a person who fetishises it or is interested in the work beyond a healthy curiosity. Maybe we have a chat for a while about other things, and I usually keep the topic away from occupations for as long as humanly possible to see if I actually like them as a person, but eventually, and always before a date, I casually drop my job into the topic of conversation. I don’t frame it as an apology, I don’t frame it as a disclaimer, I don’t try to minimise it with a ‘but I do other things too’, I just talk about it like anyone who works in an office does - just as a simple fact. I’ll feel out what kind of questions they’re asking, and assess from there whether that first date is happening. If they aren’t chill or they start interrogating me, I just leave it. They aren’t really invested in me at this point and vice versa so there’s no real loss and it’s unlikely anything bad will come of it. They do not actually know who I am at this point anyway even if they wanted to be nasty.

On dating apps, I want to tell all sex workers quite categorically - NEVER SIGN UP UNDER YOUR REAL NAME. Do not link to your personal social media. Not only could a match go poorly, but there are also clients on dating apps. In fact I pretty much recommend not having your real name anywhere on the internet, tbh, wherever possible. This isn’t suspicious - many civilians have fake Facebook names and stuff because being a person, especially female and trans on the internet is actually pretty risky in general. Protect your identity first and NEVER tell potential dates your working name. I made this mistake early on and a couple of months after that date went poorly, they started txting me quoting my work website information and being a real dickhead. Keep them separate! 

Some people might think that mentioning it so early on will encourage judgement, but for me - I’d like to know right away if they’re the kind of person who would judge - I don’t really think I would change their mind by waiting longer to tell them. I’m quite conscious of my own time, I don’t have a whole heap of it spare, so I have no intention of wasting it on someone who isn’t already at a point of social progressiveness and sexual positivity as I am. That’s not labour I really want to have to put into someone, it sounds like a lot of hard work. 

Being single isn’t a bad thing. You’re a wonderful, beautiful and desirable person and that’s why people pay for your company - don’t sell yourself short on anyone who isn’t quite right, live your life with joy and if the right person comes along, great. If not, that’s also great - I think far too many people jump into relationships for the sake of it and have little time to evolve as individuals on their own. I also think though that a lot of us carry internalised stigma and feel we have to make difficult compromises in order to find love and sometimes settle for less than what we deserve. It breaks my heart when I hear peers saying they’re giving up on a personal sex/love life as I do believe deeply that we are all deserving of love and should be able to enjoy intimacy on our own time if we want to (also if you're a person that's quite kinky, having a safe personal space for play is quite important as client-side sex is still ultimately about the client over your own needs). I also find it hard to witness people in unhealthy relationships, fearing to leave in case no-one else will ever ‘accept’ their job.

Our job isn’t something to be tolerated or endured by partners. It isn’t something that should be held over us, that we feel we should live quietly and apologetically for. Dating is scary and for us has different layers of complexity, but each of us deserves cheerleaders and supporters in our lives, and my own philosophy with dating is that if your eyes aren't open for it, it won’t just magically appear for you like it does in the movies. Meet-cutes are literary, not reality. And while people often suggest dating clients, it’s my own anecdotal experience that this is messier than it immediately sounds, and dating people away from our industry gives us space to breathe away from the noise and expands our personal horizons. That’s an individual choice though. The tone we set for ourselves with dating can determine how we are received, and in disclosing our occupation with a degree of pride, it encourages the same in others. I believe if we treat it as a dark secret to people we let into our lives, they’ll hold it over us as one, and leaves us open to hurt and abuse. I want my peers to always tread carefully and protect their heart, but also not to close it off and deny themselves the same joys in life that others in life take for granted - you deserve love, intimacy and great sex on your own terms, with people who see you for the glorious You that you are.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Community: is it though?

 I’ve always been looking for connection in one way or another. 

An only child, reclusive and a bit weird I’d always found it hard to make friends in school, yet I could never shake this feeling of loneliness. I wanted friends, I just couldn’t make friends out of the cliquey school crowd I was cursed with. I was coming of age when chatrooms became a thing, and MSN Messenger. Thankfully I was done with high school before Facebook really got it’s claws in. It was an odd time - this disconnected connectedness. The internet was a bridge to the mainland from my hopeless little island.

Sure, I met people I shouldn’t have from murky parts of the web, did some stupid stuff, got hurt and got in trouble. But these things were all happening to my peers in the schoolyard too, so how much blame we can put on digital platforms for the resulting messes I found myself in, who can say. But importantly, I wasn’t alone like I was in the ‘real world’, and the long nights talking to people I never met got me through some dark times - I can’t imagine the alternative if I didn’t have random music and literary chatrooms back then.

My story isn’t unique for my generation, many of us outcasts grew up online - it’s where everyone who felt different or misunderstood turned to for a moment of comfort or understanding. And it’s ballooned. Online communities aren’t just for the loners and subcultures anymore, in fact if you’re off the grid, you’re the ‘weirdo’ now.

Times have changed, and the roles we play online have shifted. Once I turned to chatrooms and forums to absorb myself into a new community, to feel supported and not so alone. But I’m not a teenager anymore, I’m well and truly adult and I’m no longer lonely, so increasingly I’m the one offering support and companionship to other online users who feel adrift. People turn to me, even if it’s inappropriate to do so. The exchange of energy has shifted to my detriment. I’m hosting exchanges rather than enjoying them, I’m the focus of too much attention and that can be anxiety inducing and strangely isolating. Online communities consist of so many fans demanding attention, games of smoke and mirrors and a phenomenon of simultaneous oversharing and censorship, as well as trolling and ‘cancel culture’.

Recently a friend of mine tragically died, and I wasn’t able to talk about it in spaces where I normally share. Not just because I couldn’t think of the words to say, but because I knew that my online network would largely be emotionally harmful to my situation. People aren’t respectful of sensitive topics anymore - fans will sexualise pretty much anything including grief, people ask inappropriate questions, interrogate, belittle or scorn. I actually felt it would be disrespectful to my friend to even mention it. So it really begs the question, can we even call it community anymore?

I’m away on a digital detox (at time of writing, not publishing)- I’ve deliberately escaped internet and cell reception so I can escape from all the noise. The safe space I need to nurture myself is with birds and baby animals, for now. To grieve I had to consciously create a space to do it. It’s interesting to me how my relationship with the internet has evolved over the years, from one that was a welcome escape, to one that I need to escape from. I can’t turn to the internet anymore, I mean it’s everywhere, it’s harder in fact to turn away from it. It’s likely no coincidence that my real life has blossomed to one less isolating, with meaningful relationships and a lesser sense of loneliness - no doubt that adds to my disillusionment in modern social internet, maybe I just don’t need it. But I have to wonder, with the internet as a massive social engine in the modern age, where it’s not just the misfits writing emo poetry in chatrooms, but an all encompassing validation tool that targets younger and younger people - who does this benefit now? When we no longer turn to our online communities for comfort, connection and kindness, but validation and addictive little dopamine hits - where do the sad, grieving or depressed people go now, if loved ones can’t be found? Social media promises connection and community but increasingly delivers more isolation and self doubt. Arguably it even fractures our sense of identity.

Sometimes it takes a tragedy to make us reassess what’s important. And day after day we invest hours into online spaces, where perhaps that time could be better spent invested in life itself - the people around us, and things that bring us joy. I do think, these relationships and experiences that are real and tangible, are the most important of all, and today especially, I’m sensitive to just how precious that time in our life is.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au

Memory Lane

Memory is a funny thing. 

It forms our identity - largely how we perceive our selves and our lives is based on what memories we've got stored. In the present our brains are constantly interpreting and recording our surroundings and events into pages in our story - our selves built on the past. Yet it can’t be relied upon, we know that testimony can be influenced, and how we recollect memories is often shaped by how we retell them, an internal ‘broken telephone’ if you like. 

It should be of no surprise that I have a shocking memory, none of my job requires recall. And as they say with brain power, if you don’t use it , you lose it. I guess that’s why I try to read regularly, to keep the rest of my brain engaged. This work does require brainpower much the same as running any small business would, and really fine-tunes your interpersonal skills, but other parts of the brain can remain pretty much as dormant as you want them to be. Part of my job is forgetting, it’s easier for me to keep my peer’s real names secret if I just forget them, same with clients. It doesn’t benefit anybody for me to remember my client’s name is John - it probably isn’t.
It’s worrying how quickly memory function fails, though it’s promising for my clients - no-one ever has to worry about their discretion - you can’t tell secrets you can’t remember (but who would I tell?). It isn’t for lack of interest - active listening is one of my best skills which is really useful in this work. But I don’t need to remember that someone walks with a gait or that their hair is blonde, any more than I need to know the sky was blue on Tuesday. It’s past information that doesn’t influence the events of tomorrow. 

But I’ll have little flashes sometimes. Like the one I had before I sat down to my laptop, of flesh meshing into flesh, their hand wrapped under my back supporting my neck as they urgently thrust inside of me. I remember the boar-ish groan as they cum (my audial recollection unlike the rest, is impressive) and how they relaxed onto me, with dewy sweat and a waft of underarm odour. That moment is crystal clear in my memory, etched into my extensive carnal past. But I can’t see their face, remember their name or tell you when I saw them. Just a mystery man from memory lane.

I was standing at the sink the other day peeling my boiled eggs (yes, sex workers also do the mundane), when goosebumps swept across my body as my memory threw up the sensation of small feminine hands draped across my body, as they fucked me with a cold glass toy. It’s vivid, she’s begging me to cum in a high sweet voice, her scent is annoyingly floral and her thrusts are accurate and overwhelmingly effective. Another nice little memory jolt from a scene somewhere on the shelves of the library of my mind. A book falling open on a page during breakfast.

 
It’s a terrible thing to admit to, that sexual memories are loosely scattered in my brain unattached to identities. I guess as my job is so sexually oriented, that those things become the least memorable parts of the work. I can do large parts of my work on autopilot - I’ve given thousands of blowjobs. I love giving blowjobs, and I like to think I’m always present and in the moment, but if I need to, if I’ve got a lot of shit on my personal plate, I can do that entirely automated while solving my personal issues in my head, without a client noticing. That’s the skill of a veteran sex worker - existing in two places at once. 
Yet, I can recall immediately the pained expression of a client who had lost their child. Their face and name is clear. I can recall the sparkle of, and colour of the eyes of the person whose virginity I took recently, and the shockingly chewed state of the nails of a workaholic regular. I seem to have catalogued clients into sections of fleeting moments of meaningfulness, and random facts about their lives they probably deemed unimportant. The sexual moments of our time together, probably what they deemed most important and they themselves probably have memorised by the second,  floating away from my mind like dandelion pappi, leaving only occasional sensorily busy moments planted behind. I cum every day, it’s a self care routine of a bodily function I’d do myself anyway, so doesn’t operate like a bookmark for me in bookings as much as I think people would like to believe it would.

I worry for my mind sometimes, what will become of it with a lifetime built of hedonism and deliberate carnal forgetting, so I busy myself with learning and reading, which adds nothing to my work life but keeps my imagination alive and hopefully keeps my recall off a ventilator. I fight against what trauma has done to a large part of my former life - a big blank spot I can’t seem to reach, nor am I sure I want to. 

They say our mind does what it can to protect itself, but in this case it's an overzealous German shepherd - down boy. I no longer need protection from what I live day to day, I long to remember it all, it would make people in my own life, not just clients feel a lot more special if I could just remember what it is we actually did on our first date, I’m sure it was fun though. I also find writing helps my recall, and where it doesn’t I find it helps me to at least reimagine the parts that are missing in a way that if not entertaining or sexually pleasing, completes a story that otherwise would simply be unfinished chapters. Perhaps if I reread it often enough it’ll become part of my natural recall, a part of my story that’s not quite fiction, not quite truth, with a memory that can’t bear witness either way. 

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

Instagram: @foxandthefeline

Web: petrafox.com.au