Update on Voices of Prostitution Survivors Page & Call for New Contributions

Nicole O'Connell - Story of a London Call Girl 88

Do I Have Prostitute Written on My Forehead?” is the latest entry on the Voices of Prostitution Survivors page. There are now eleven stories up there, but I am keen to have as many voices as possible to dispel the ‘happy hooker’ myth and show the reality of working in prostitution at all levels.

If anyone would like to submit a piece to me, I would be very grateful. My email address is ruth@soul-destruction.com or you can use the contact form on here. It could be a few sentences or a few paragraphs. You can use your own name, a pen name, or just ‘anonymous’. If you would like your blog/website and twitter account linked to your piece I can do that for you as well. I also don’t mind if you use a piece you have already published somewhere else, such as your blog or website.

My website has had over 15,000 hits since I launched it just a few months ago. I want not only my fictional work to show the reality of prostitution, but for that to be backed up by firsthand accounts. I have gone some way to doing this with my charity publication, “In Her Own Words… Interview with a London Call Girl”, from which all royalties are being donated to a charity called Beyond the Streets, which help women exit prostitution.

With all my work, I want to show the reality of working in prostitution, not the glossy image the media has been feeding society. I want to reach all sections of society so women in prostitution are not judged and seen as fallen women, but are treated with compassion and understanding as they are some of the most vulnerable women in society with 75% having suffered childhood sexual and physical abuse, 70% having been raped multiple times, and 67% meeting the criteria for posttraumatic stress disorder. It is correct that 95% of women in prostitution have drug addiction issues but it is often the case that addiction to drugs comes after entering prostitution in order to continue to work in prostitution. Research also shows that 9 out of 10 women would like to exit if they could.

If you can be part of what I am trying to accomplish, changing the stigma society has against women who work in prostitution, dispelling the ‘happy hooker’ myth, deterring young, vulnerable girls and women who are the most likely to enter prostitution from making that decision by showing them the reality then I would be very grateful if you could take part in this endeavour. I also hope it will touch women working in prostitution and give them the strength to seek help from specialist charities to exit when they are ready to do so. I also want my work to reach johns, who will think twice before using the services of a woman in prostitution, knowing that she most likely has been abused as a child, been raped multiple times, has posttraumatic stress disorder, and needs to use drugs in order to have sex with him.

I know I want to accomplish a great deal with my work, and I feel the way forward is to use all mediums possible: my fictional series of Soul Destruction novels, my charity publication, and the Voices of Prostitution Survivors page. In the future, perhaps this can be used as a documentary or my novel turned into a film. In the meantime, I need to work with what I can, and I am asking for your assistance with the Voices of Prostitution Survivors page of my website please.  If you can’t submit a piece, please could I ask that you share this page as widely as possible. Many thanks, Ruth – ruth@soul-destruction.com.

Seeking contributors for “Voices of Prostitution Survivors” new page

Nicole O'Connell - Story of a London Call Girl 88

I have created a new page on my blog called Voices of Prostitution Survivors.  So far, there are nine stories up there.

For anyone who has worked in prostitution and would like to contribute a short piece, anything from a few sentences to a few paragraphs, please email me with your piece to ruth@soul-destruction.com or use the contact form on the website.

If you have a blog and/or Twitter account and would like them linked to your piece, please let me know those details. Alternatively, if you would prefer to use a pen name or be kept anonymous, please let me know that too.

To be clear, I am interested to hear from anyone who has worked in prostitution. There is no judgement on how long you worked in prostitution for, whether it be for one day or decades. Nor does it matter what type of prostitution you were involved in, whether that be streetwalking, working in a brothel, or in a massage parlour, or operating as a call girl/escort. I am just looking for real honesty, the power to speak from your heart, and if you can, disclose how you really feel.

For anyone who doesn’t know me well already, I am an author whose writing dispels the “happy hooker” myth and exposes the dark world and the harsh reality of life as a call girl. With my series of novels, Soul Destruction, as well as my charity publication, In Her Own Words… Interview with a London Call Girl, I hope to achieve this, and also change the stigma much of society has against women who work in prostitution. I believe this is mainly through lack of knowledge and understanding. I am hoping this new page, Voices of Prostitution Survivors, will go some way to help people who are not involved in prostitution understand women who have worked/are working in prostitution and, with that understanding, be less likely to judge. I am also hoping this page will help women who have exited prostitution, as well as women who are still in prostitution, gain identification with each other. The comments section can be used as a discussion board for all who read the page.

The Good Night (Part 2 of 3) – 21 December 2000 – 4.35AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

Waking up, I snatch my watch from the bedside table. It’s just after half four in the morning. I take a sip from the glass of water Lorna used to make up the hit. I turn to the other side. She’s in the bed next to me. We have our clothes on. At least nothing’s likely to have happened that I should have remembered.

“Are you awake?” I ask.

“Hmmm,” she grumbles.

“Do you mind if I make myself another hit?” I hope she doesn’t because I need one now. When I close my eyes, I can see my youngest sister, Milly, bleeding. When I open them, the sight in front of me is the same. There’s no escape from that image. Only a fix can fix it.

“Go for your life,” she whispers.

I prepare another hit. This is how it’s going to be. I know the cycle. I know it well. Once I’m back on it, it takes me over. I am a robot controlled by a powder. How did this happen to me? I knew the damage heroin wreaks, especially knowing Shelley. But after what happened last year, there was nothing else to take that pain away. The crack and the coke made it worse. With the amount of heroin I’d been using, I was expecting to be dead within weeks. But this doesn’t seem to be a fast death. Maybe I need to do something different. If I honestly want to die, there are other ways. Am I a coward?

Selecting a vein at my wrist, I wrap my tan belt tightly around my lower arm. I insert the needle then pull back on the plunger. Staring at the barrel, I watch the blood meet the liquid. It twists like skinny, red ribbons. I push the plunger hard. I want the hit quickly. I want to feel the rush pulsate through every cell in my body. I want it to take me to oblivion.

I feel a hand rubbing my right breast. I open my eyes. Lorna’s face is next to mine. Slowly, she moves forward. Our lips are touching. I open my mouth slightly. She slips in her tongue. It’s like jelly. I don’t like how she’s kissing. This isn’t good. I take her shoulders and turn her to lie on her back. I pull her white long-sleeve t-shirt over her head. I kiss her neck then her breasts. On her tiny frame, her breasts seem huge. I like them.

Sucking a nipple, I pull down her jeans. I kiss her ribcage and her stomach as I make my way lower. I lift my head up as I tug her knickers. She’s shaven. There’s agony in my stomach. Electric shocks power through my legs. My body’s screaming from the inside silently; I can feel it. Not again. I have to stop.

“Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, pushing myself up from the bed.

In the bathroom, I light a cigarette. This never used to be an issue. Psychotherapy is what made it one. Okay, that’s not completely true. It’s what made me realise why a woman who’s bald there sparks a flashback. I’m used to having flashbacks near enough every time I’m with a man. But with a woman, it only tends to happen when they’re shaven. And somehow, a flashback feels worse when I’m with a woman. With men, it’s usually a psychological flashback I have – in my mind. But with women, when I do have one, it’s more often a physical flashback – a body memory. Perhaps that’s because women are the gender I feel safe with. I can’t stand this re-feeling of my past abuse.

I slide my hand between my legs and feel my wetness. The body responds even when the mind doesn’t. That’s been discussed countless times in therapy too. I hate that. I drop the butt of my cigarette in the toilet then return to Lorna in the suite.