People presume I’m a stay-at-home mum but I earn £1.5k a week in a ‘massage parlour’… your hubby’s getting sex from me

LOOKING around the room, it could be a scene from any girls’ night out that ends up with a brew back at someone’s house. 

I’m amongst the seven women having a laugh and gossiping whilst drinking tea and swapping stories about our kids. 

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She explained how she sees up to ten men during a shift and they’re all different ages[/caption]

But there’s something very obviously different – we’re half naked and in the waiting room of a massage parlour. 

Any minute now one of us will be chosen by a punter to go upstairs with them. 

And it won’t be for a massage – it will be for sex because I’ve never known a man come here for anything else. 

The married ones are the horniest and if yours regularly vanishes on Thursdays, he’s probably having sex with me. That’s the day the husbands seem to prefer. 

I’ve got my own room in the three-storey building on a street in the seaside town Blackpool, Lancs, notorious for its ‘red light district’. I work when the kids are at school or with their dad every other weekend. 

The room is clean, with a mattress, a plastic sheet, a shower that I encourage the men to use and the bed is stripped after every encounter. I’ve even got some fairy lights draped round the room and scented candles burning. 

Before I worked in a massage parlour I always imagined the women were thin, young and beautiful, and possibly using their income to fund their drug addictions.

I couldn’t have been more wrong because we’re all shapes and sizes, from overly curvaceous to stick-thin skinny. I’m 5ft 5ins, a petite size 12 – a mum of three.

The eldest woman I work with is in her late 50s, she’s done the ‘job’ for well over 20 years, whilst the youngest of the lot is in her early 20s. 

We’re ordinary women, most of us are mums and we’re just trying to make ends meet. 

I’m not ashamed of the work I do and if it wasn’t for my kids, whose ages range between 11 and 17, I’d tell everyone I’m a sex worker but there’s still such a stigma attached to it that I keep it a secret from everyone except my very closest friends.

Ironically, the mums at the school gates think I’m a stay-at-home mum. It’s surreal that usually when I’m at those gates, I’ll have come off a shift of having sex with a bunch of total strangers. 

You wouldn’t get me speaking so seductively to anyone in real life – and I never kiss a punter.

Karen44

It’s work I got into through desperation – like many of the girls who work here. I’m on Universal Credit which doesn’t cover my outgoings and my kids’ dad gives a pitifully small amount of money in child maintenance. 

Although there are jobs in the summer in hospitality where I live, the competition is fierce. At the parlour I have my regulars, all year round.

I started out on reception, recommended by a friend, but when I saw how much the girls could earn – sometimes £1500 in a week – I decided to give it a go. 

That was after a month and six years in, I’m still here. 

Of course, it isn’t my dream job but I wouldn’t earn anything like the same money elsewhere. I’ve tried all sorts, from pub work to cleaning and the stint I did at a caravan site was vile. 

We don’t compete to get chosen, there’s enough work for all of us. Sometimes there are 15 women working all of us busy and I can get through up to ten men in one shift. 

Karen44

People there were filthy, leaving dirty nappies in the bed and once even in the oven. 

Besides, here I can choose my hours, it’s a perk of the job.

The first time I had sex with a man I was drunk, and I felt dirty afterwards but it’s surprisingly easy to get used to it and by the end of the week it felt easy. 

How do I cope with it? I divorce my ‘normal’ life from my work life and that’s helped by the fact I use a different name, wear different clothes and act differently. 

One asked me to be his ‘girlfriend’ and go out on the town in Blackpool with him once a week and not even have sex, for £500 a month. 

I turned him down, the boundaries would have been blurred. When I leave I’m me again, showered and dressed in joggers and Primark undies, not frilly lace pants. For that reason I can have normal relationships too, though I’m currently single. 

The sort of men I see are split into two distinct groups. During the day from Monday to Thursday we tend to get older men and regulars through the doors –  I know for a fact that over half of them are married. 

From Thursday night to Sunday we see a much younger clientele – blokes on a night out or stag dos, egging each other on. We don’t let in a whole gang of people at the same time but if they come in a few minutes apart they’re welcomed. 

Anyone would think I actually like being with these men.

There are baby wipes on my bedside table along with condoms – I always have safe sex there are no exceptions. I know some of the parlours are far grottier, with just a mattress on the floor. 

We don’t compete to get chosen, there’s enough work for all of us. Sometimes there are 15 women working all of us busy and I can get through up to ten men in one shift. 

The money is good, I charge £60 for full sex and less for manual or oral and I have to pay £200 a week to the owner for my room. 

There are some men that give off a creepy vibe that I’ll refuse to see, but most of them are just ordinary blokes, some are even quite attractive. 

One of them only sees his regular woman once a week, but often pops in for a chat and a cup of tea because he’s lonely. 

It’s easy to grow fond of your regulars… I feel sorry for them.

KarenMum-of-two

Admittedly, it’s easy to grow fond of your regulars, they even give me Christmas cards and I feel sorry for them. The story is always the same, the wife has lost interest in both sex and in him as a man. 

I believe them – there’s no need to lie to me, though they could be lying to themselves. 

Contrary to the act I put on, I’ve never once enjoyed the sex. I’ve learnt tricks – such as humming when giving oral sex – to get it over and done with as quickly as possible and my fake orgasm is legendary. They’re all out within half an hour. All of the girls l know are the same. It’s a job that pays well and that’s it. 

When we’ve showered and are back at home with our families, we put it out of our head. 

The good thing about working in a massage parlour is you’re safe – there’s always someone in ear shot that could come to your aid.

It makes me angry that what I do is illegal, we’ve been raided by the police a few times.

We get shut down for a few days each time but when the furore quietens down, we reopen.

I’ve turned down some more outlandish requests, such as urinating on men – even in my job there’s a line and I simply can’t cross it. 

There are two key things that keep me doing what I do – the money and the other girls. We’re good mates, we look out for each other, go shopping together and gossip about our clients. 

I don’t feel ashamed – if anyone should it’s the married men, lying to their wives. Not us. 

*Name has been changed