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.

Disconnect – 27 December 2000 – 3.55AM

Soul Destruction - Diary of a London Call Girl

I can’t sleep. Mickey’s snoring, lying next to me in my bed. The noise he’s making isn’t what’s keeping me awake. Although we’ve been shooting smack this evening, the images are still in my head. I felt guilty after I tried to overdose the other day, but right now, I’m back in that place again. I can’t get any peace. I can’t escape the past. I’ve flown to the other side of the world and nothing’s changed. What an idiot I am thinking that would make a difference. I feel compelled to bang my head against the wall. I haven’t done that for years, not since I was a teenager.

I’m crying silently. It’s something I learned to stop the babysitters coming back upstairs after they’d abused me. At first when I used to cry, one or more would come back up. They’d sit on my bed, put me on their lap and hold my body against theirs. I hated it. I hated their hands on me. I thought there was something wrong with me back then, that this is what happens to all the children in the world. They all liked it, but there was something wrong with me because I didn’t. That’s what they told me. That’s why I learned to cry silently.

Who am I fooling here? Me or Mickey? I’m not going to be able to do this. No matter how kind and patient he is, and I’ve already seen that he is, it’s never going to work. Sex is something I do to men I don’t know, men I don’t like, and bar a handful of exceptions, men I don’t find attractive. I do like Mickey and I do find him attractive. I can’t do it to him. That’s not how it works. And even if I could, what happens after he finds out I’m a hooker. He probably won’t be interested then. I can’t take the rejection, not from him and especially after that.

I take a sip from the glass of water on the bedside table. I can’t stay in this bed awake any longer. I can’t fucking do it. I pick up my cigarette packet and my lighter and sneak into the bathroom. I close the door and turn on the light. Standing with my back to the wall, I start rocking. Gently, I’m banging the back of my head against the tiles. As I increase the force, the pain in my head takes over from the pictures.

Then I think of Milly. The bad example I set her. If I hadn’t done it, she wouldn’t be in the state she is now. What that bastard did, it would never have happened, not to her. It’s all my fault. I failed her. I fucking failed her. It should have been me. I throw my head back. I’m losing control. I want to smash it. I want everything to end.

“No, Nicole, don’t.” Mickey grabs my shoulders. “Come here.” He pulls me away from the wall.

“I want to be dead. I don’t deserve to be here.” My crying isn’t silent now. It’s echoing in the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around me. His body is pressing against mine. He holds me tight. I can’t bear being touched. I want to feel close to him. I can trust him. But his hands are on me. His chest is against mine. His hips are against mine. I feel the protrusion at his crotch. His boxer shorts and my nightdress aren’t… This is too close. I shuffle backwards. There’s space between our legs but it’s not enough.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Placing my hands on his chest, I push him away.

“Come in the bedroom and sit down. We can talk. Whatever it is, it’s best to get it out.”

“I can’t.” My body is stiff. I’m stuck to the spot.

“I’ll just hold you then.”

That’s what I want, but when he gets that close, an internal siren blasts the loudest warning.

He takes my hand. “Come in the bedroom. My feet are getting cold.” He smiles.

I realise my feet are cold too. The sensation makes me slightly more present in my body, more like my adult self and less like the child who took me over. The air conditioning must be on too high. I let go of his hand and walk into the suite. I twist the air conditioning control, turning it down.

Mickey sits on the edge of the bed. “Come here. We should talk.” He pats the space next to him.

“I’m too tired,” I say, getting into the other side of the bed. I pull the duvet over me. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep, but I lie down and close my eyes. I’ll have to pretend.