Black & White & Sex Page #3

I'm a Scorpio

with an Ares rising.

I was born in Singleton,

and now I live in Sydney.

I'm a sex worker.

And I work in a parlor.

Single, never married.

I like music,

especially hip-hop.

Um, I collect spiders

and old playboy magazines.

I have a science degree.

You have a science degree?

Organic chemistry.

What,

a hooker can't be educated?

You don't sound like someone

with a science degree.

Well, you don't sound

like a movie director.

What, I'm supposed to

be some kind of...

Junkie with 10 kids

and no way to support them?

- It happens.

- Yeah, it does, but it's not me.

But you're part of it.

- What... what about sex slavery?

- What about it?

Well, do you condone that?

- Do you?

- Of course not.

Then why would I?

Jesus f***ing...

Forced prostitution, pimps,

and trafficking are wrong, okay?

They're illegal and they're wrong...

You know?

But it's...

it's not the whole story, you know.

It's like...

it's like in the movies.

How many hookers

have a happy ending?

They always get killed off in some...

dark alley or cheap motel.

It's what they deserve,

you know?

That's the f***ing PR.

The... it...

we've gotten a really bad rap,

but some of us actually plan to

grow old and have grandchildren.

- Okay.

- Yeah.

Okay.

So,

how did you first get into it?

My legs wide open.

It was a serious question.

Ooh,

I like it when you get serious.

- Come on, Angie.

- Oh, I know.

Look, I was at uni.

I needed a job.

I rang up a parlor

and got an interview.

- Why not some other job?

- The money.

Someone said I was

sitting on a gold mine...

May as well use it.

- And that's it?

- Yep.

It's not that simple, though, is it?

I mean, It's not like

working in the shop.

Why, 'cause I get to lie around all day?

No warranties, no guarantees.

No returns.

Other than that,

it's pretty much the same.

- Except I'm the merchandise.

- Exactly.

Exactly, what?

- Well, you're selling yourself.

- So?

Well, that's a part of yourself

you're giving away.

No, no.

Not giving away, selling.

What about your emotional self?

Oh, my emotional self!

I'm not selling

my emotional self.

I'm selling a commodity.

Yeah, but that commodity is you.

Yes, and your point being?

It's intimately you.

And if you're an accountant,

you're selling your brain.

Sh*t, how intimate is that?

It's simple. It's a job.

J-o-b. Job.

And the sooner everyone

figures that out,

the sooner we'll get proper

occupational health and safety.

You know,

everything else we should have.

Family courts

still take our children away!

We're not aliens, you know,

if you prick us we do bleed.

So you dismiss sex as being

no different than anything else?

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