Breakfasts and Threesomes are the Remedy

I’m not paying rent at the moment. I’m living in the bordello in which I work; a situation which works well for everyone involved. The bordello is actually a rather nice house in a rather nice neighbourhood. My living there makes it seem like a normal house with semi-normal activities, so as not to arouse the neighbours’ suspicions. And, of course, it works well for me because I get to live rent-free in a rather nice house in a rather nice nieghbourhood. Anyway, as I’m not paying rent, breakfast is currently probably my biggest expense.

I am addicted to going out for breakfast. There is something so deeply satisfying about a proper latté and a delicious cooked breakfast in the morning. This morning I went to one of my favourite cafes. I have about 5 favourite cafes at which I’m a regular, to the extent that the staff know how I like my coffee. At most of them I vary what I eat, but at the cafe I went to this morning I only ever get the one dish. Mushrooms on toast. But not just any mushrooms on toast, oh no! These are the best, by a hefty margin, mushrooms on toast I’ve ever eaten anywhere. They’re great big field mushrooms, which often I find overwhelmingly rich by themselves, but these are cooked in a balsamic vinegar reduction which cuts through the richness beautifully. They’re served on toasted home-made bread with home-made pesto and home-made aoli, and they’re as near to a perfect breakfast as I can imagine. They’re my comfort food.

So I definitely needed them this morning, because yesterday we came as near to a hooker’s worst nightmare as I hope to ever get. Poppy had an elderly gentleman client yesterday afternoon. You can probably guess where this is heading. He reached his climax, and then began gasping and clutching his chest in a most disturbing manner. Now, Poppy runs this bordello, but her crisis management skills are… Well, she didn’t totally freak out. She quite calmly came out into the lounge and asked me to call an ambulance. Then she quite calmly announced she was going outside to “wait for the ambulance” (read: “chain smoke”). It was left to me to sit with the client, alternating between comforting him and explaining to the ambulance operator what was happening. The client was not in a good state. He was vomiting blood and he lost control of his bowels.

The third woman who works at the bordello, Delores, meanwhile made herself useful by cleaning away the used and unused condoms, the lube and the massage oil, and by throwing a duvet (my duvet!) onto the bed to make it look less like a bordello and more like a normal bedroom when the ambulance arrived. They were probably just a teensy bit suspicious, anyway, since the man was wearing no pants! And by the fact that Poppy claimed he was her great-uncle who came over for a cup of tea, yet knew absolutely nothing about him. But, of course, they were focussed on tending to the man, but I could see them almost consciously choosing to ignore a few details.

He was taken away, and one of the ambos told Delores to get his family to the hospital as quickly as possible because his outlook was not good. Lucky Delores had the most charming job of calling the man’s wife (he handed her his cellphone and wheezed out her name before being trundled into the ambulance), telling a discrete lie about him collapsing on the street outside, to get her to the hospital.

It was all quite nerve-racking, so we all sat around ignoring our phones and drinking red-wine for a bit. Poppy kept exclaiming, “oh my god, I killed him,” while Delores kept insisting if he did die, he went the way most men dream of going. After a while, Delores and Poppy called it a day and I’d’ve been inclined to do the same except that I had an outcall which had been booked earlier in the week. And still I’d’ve been inclined to cancel it, except for the fact that it was a very nice couple who’d hired a hotel room (away from the kids) for the express purpose of fulfilling this fantasy. I had such a long soak in the bath, then spent ages prissing around with body moisturisers and experimenting with make-up to get myself in the mood.

I was so glad I went in the end. With couples, it can so easily get a bit messy. Either the woman gets jealous of another woman touching her partner, or she really gets into it and the man feels left out (cos ya know given the option I’m going to prefer playing with a woman). But this couple were so open and willing to discuss the boundaries (I always ask in that situation what things both parties are comfortable with me doing, but so often I get a blank look and a “well, it’s a threesome”) that everyone was really comfortable. They’d specifically booked me for an additional half an hour in which we could talk and get to know each other before getting down to business. It was relaxing and fun, and the perfect antidote to the rest of my day.