My name is Zelda, like the princess from the videogame and I have been working at Funhouse for three months.
Before I began my life as a (*dramatic pause*) whore, I had only ever met one sex worker; The rest of my ‘knowledge’ came from spooky television portrayals of working girls as alcoholic, drug-addicted, humans with fags hanging out of their mouths and a sense of despair deep in their eyes.
As for me; I rarely drink, I am almost absurdly happy and panadol is about as radical as my drug use gets.
I come from a family of doctors and scholars; I have an honours degree, a stable home life and own my own tea-pot. I like to paint, read, cross-stitch and fuck.
God I like to fuck.
I discovered Funhouse during one night of frustration-induced googling, after my sex budy selfishly moved to Auckland and would no longer provide me with the orgasms and pizza that I so needed.
I was sure that I wouldn’t get the job; with my pouchy little belly, long, awkward limbs and face so pointy that it may well be testament to Pythagoris’s copulation with an actual triangle; I did not think I could accurately occupy the role of ‘male fantasy’.
I met Mary at a restaurant a few days later.
I was so excited and babbly that I literally dribbled on myself.
I was not sexy.
I was my goofy, awkward, self.
And I got the job.
Entering the premises, I felt like Annie encountering Daddy Warbuck’s mansion for the first time;
Everything was beautiful and Mary answered even the most foolish and embarrassing question with patience and humour.
The next day I had my first client.
I remember waiting at the door; I was worried that I would trip in my heels or say something weird or suddenly need a wee.
But I met him and we talked and everything occurred quite naturally.
After all the preconceptions I had about sex work, it was nice to realize that we were just two blobs fucking; two bodies touching and being touched and feeling good.
I felt a huge surge of relief and calm as I realized that I was going to love this job.
Since working at Funhouse I have become more assertive and self-assured and I genuinely feel attractive for the first time ever; not like a woman in an advertisement, but in a deep-in-myself-poetic-as-fuck kinda way.
I no longer wear my body like an ill-fitting jacket; I feel like a woman. I feel sexy and mature and comfortable touching and being touched.
And although you get the odd suck-‘n-fuck-mcdonald-porn-style-happy-meal-sex, most of the encounters you have are engaging and interesting and fun.
Mostly you feel like you are on a first date; You get to learn what someone likes and dislikes, what they find sexy, what you find sexy about them and what your body and their body responds to.
Not to mention the orgasms.
Yes, sometimes you will fake it; Other times your body will inexplicably tremble and writhe and you will reach heights of pleasure that you never knew existed and that you didn’t think possible upon meeting your partner.
How you do sex work is up to you; you can be anyone. You can be different people to different clients. You can be dorky and playful and wrestle and tickle people. You can cuddle and talk and have lazy, sloppy sex. You can fuck hard and fast. You can be virginal, or dominant or submissive or just silly. You have the power.
I have had a lot of goofy, fun sex with clients, where we tease one another and try to make the other cum first (I always, always lose at 69) and most days I leave work feeling a lot happier than I went in.
I assumed, when I began, that I would be haunted by memories of old man balls and creeping hands, but I am not.
I love my job.
And on the rare encounter that you get a sleez, Mary handles it like the glorious sex wizard she is and is supportive and strong and backs you the fuck up.
Most of my close friends are aware of what I do; I come home and rave to my flatmates about orgasms and customers who I am crushing on and how I got to play dress-up. They have been supportive and accepting and there for me when I need to talk.
And I am madly in-love with all of the girls at Funhouse.
They are not jealous or competitive or petty or mean.
They help you feel included and beautiful and give you tips when you start.
When you are feeling crap about gaining weight or having a spot, they tell you that you are sexy as fuck.
And they remind you always that sexy isn’t a size. It isn’t a symmetrical face or HUGE BOOBS or a flat stomach; it is intelligence and wit and personality and empathy and so many other rich and vibrant qualities.
And Mary is the loyal, caring, patient and absurdly witty sex yoda that guides us all.
She is a tiny bit marvelous.
As is Funhouse.
May the force be with you.