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How much, love? The night I nearly became a hooker.

Kings Cross, the seedy underbelly of Sydney.

The famous coke sign.

Well, at least, it used to be and to some extent I think it still is. Even though gentrification of the area has begun. There aren’t as many brothels as there were 10 years ago. The yuppies have moved in and started to call parts of it Paddington, Elizabeth Bay, Woolloomooloo in the hopes of raising their property value. Yet, this isn’t my Cross. Oh no.

My cross is a place for the weirdos, the queers, the hookers, the sexual deviants… It’s a place where you can find all kinds of things and people and no one bats an eyelid when I walk down the street in a latex dress with a fish tail. My partner holding my leash as we walk and instead of getting people gawking you get people smiling and nodding as you pass. It’s the secret handshake.

To the point that a big black man once picked me up and started walking down the street with me in a great big bear hug until my friends chased him down yelling at him to put me down. I was so drunk that I thought he was just taking me for a walk and might have gone “wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” all the way down the street. The joys of being a small person.

Back to case on point, Hellfire used to be just up and around the corner from that sign and Mistress Ultra, a very good friend of mine, lived not too far from this sign as well.

I was walking down the street one day, dressed in a skirt and a cute little shirt that showed off my belly with frilly bits all over and my knee-high boots. I wasn’t dressed up in fetish wear, which I would have been if I’d just left Hellfire.

So there I was minding my business and walking towards Crown Street when I notice that a car has slowed and is crawling along beside me. This is about, 2am, maybe? So I stop and look at the car. There’s a guy driving and a woman in the passenger seat. I’m sure I looked all kinds of confused. I thought maybe they were lost. So I ask, “Are you guys ok?” She says yes, we are and then said something like, don’t you remember us from the other night? Being that I’d been performing at Hellfire as a sub with both Master Tom & Mistress Ultra I figured these were people who had obviously seen me on stage. The joy of doing these shows was that everyone “knew” me, but I didn’t know any of them.

Also I was taught manners from an early age I went along with their “we know you route” because I honestly thought that they were patrons of the club and somehow I’d forgotten them and I didn’t want to be rude. They ask if I need a lift anywhere, I say that would be awesomely lovely of you as I was walking to go get a night ride bus home since the trains stop running at about midnight.

I jump in the back and tell them where about I need to go. I tell them the next block over as I didn’t want them to know exactly where to find me. And off we drive.

They make small talk about this and that. What they do for work, what I do for work. What I was doing out and about and my queries about Hellfire from them entice new conversations about BDSM and general kinky shit.

Eventually I notice that we’re going past a lot of trees and it doesn’t look anything like the way home and I ask where we’re going. They say that we are dropping by their house for a cuppa, if that’s ok as it’s on the way anyway. I start to get dubious, but being that this is the time before mobile phones were readily available I say ok since I didn’t get any red flag until now about these people. I figure I’m being overly sensitive and I’ll be ok.

We get to their house, it’s a 1 story house, big front garden… neighbours. We get inside and we sit in the living room. I ask for a glass of water that I don’t drink and I’m perched on the edge of a single-seater sofa. We talk, albeit awkwardly as I obviously just wanted to get home by this stage so wasn’t as chatty as I was before.

Talking about what next weekend will hold and the play party that will be on, they suddenly switch channels on me and ask if I would be interested in having a threesome with them. She takes control of the conversation and says that it’s mainly for her as she’s bi-curious and he would want to interact a bit too. But she would love to fuck me.

I admit that my mouth was possibly hanging open at this point and I might have looked around wildly for an escape route.

I’m starting to feel a wee bit like this… with clothes on

Then the piece de resistance….

She says “Look, I realise that this is a bit sudden. We’re happy to pay you whatever your rate is.”

W.T.F.

I might have had that same look on my face.

Uh, I say. You might have me confused with a prostitute. I, I assure you, am definitely not one. Plus, I say, having a threesome isn’t just meeting someone in one night and deciding you would do them both. There’s a whole load of intricacies and details that often are involved in being a 3rd in an already established relationship and that I’m not comfortable with this.

Nevermind that the threesome’s I’ve had with couples were mainly people I’d met the same night, or people my friends knew and introduced me to because they thought we’d have a good time together. There’s a way to do threesomes and they way they approached it was not the right way.

They get all flabbergasted and apologise profusely saying that they didn’t mean to say I was but just incase I wanted some incentive… I sit there like a stunned mullet wondering what just happened and how the fuck they could have confused me with a street-walker when street walking is in fact illegal!!! And as I sat there and looked at what I was wearing I wondered if it was my lace up knee-high boots that made them think I was for sale? If anything they couldn’t fucking afford me.

Then I wonder how the fuck I am going to get home considering I’m in a neighbourhood where I don’t even know the name of the suburb. I can’t really walk next door and knock on their front door and ask to call a cab at 3am in the morning because your neighbours mistakenly brought me home thinking I was a prostitute.

Before I can say I need you to call me a cab, they keep apologising and say that they will drive me to the train station to wait for the night ride bus home. I offer my thanks and figure this is a fantastic way to get the hell away from these creepy people as soon as possible.

Once at the train station I breathe a sigh of relief. Being alone in the middle of nowhere had never felt so safe to me before.

Note to anyone: Do not do this at home kids. Do not get into cars with people you don’t know who say that they know you and hope for the best. This could have turned out horribly badly. However at the tender age of 23 I thought I was invincible and would be ok.

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