I met Jane* seven years ago when I was 19 and working as a waiter at a private party at Riverside View (exclusive serviced apartments on Robertson Quay). She was 35. I wouldn’t say she’s hot, but she’s always tanned and has a good body.

male prostituteAnd, having someone twice your age come on to you is damn sexy. It was a pretty boring party, but Jane did her best to get wasted. Each time I’d give her a drink she’d ask for another, then make some flirty remark.

The party was on the waterfront with a balcony that looked straight over the water. There were only about 50 people there – and they were obviously cashed up.

Our small talk went on for hours; just crap about what I did, why she hated these parties and lots of “accidental” rubs against the body.

Then she asked if I wanted to have a cigarette with her outside, and I was in there in a flash. We smoked our fags and then started hooking in. She invited me back to her house.

I’ve never been in a house like it. She’s got an entertainment room, a pool that looks onto the ocean, and a tennis court. We had a wild night. The next morning she asked me what I did – not much; if I was with anyone – no; and what my plans were – have maximum fun with minimum work. Hey, I was 19!

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That’s when her offer came. Jane is single, a trust-fund baby (meaning she has a regular source of income from her parents) and now runs a pretty successful import/export business. She said she was after male company from time to time: someone with no complications, someone who could drop what they were doing and make it to a party, a hotel or another city.

And someone who was good in bed. She must have known I loved the idea, but added anyway, “And of course I’ll pay you for your time.” I told her it was a deal, and it still is. That was 1998 and in the last seven years Jane has flown me to New York about half-a-dozen times, as well as to Beijing and India. Our relationship is straightforward – when she wants a bonk she calls and nine times out of 10 I’m available. I kind of have to be. If I’d planned to watch footy with my boys, bad luck.

Sometimes I’ll spend half-a-dozen nights with her in a month, and other times she won’t call for three months. Initially I got $2000 a month, but now it’s $3000. It stopped for about a year during 2000-2001 when she got a boyfriend, so I had to get a job. However, they only lasted 12 months and a few months after they finished she was back on the phone.

I also get whatever Jane chooses to buy in her generous moments. She bought me a Volkswagon convertible for Christmas in 2002. The only catch is that there must be no catch. She made it totally clear to me from the beginning that it was sex she was after… and maybe a bit of young company. She kept going on about how she would cut off all ties if I started to get too attached, and if I ever thought she was my girlfriend, the deal was off.

Two years ago Jane introduced me to one of her friends, an older Chinese-Singaporean woman called Wendy (now 49). She is married to a guy from New Zealand. Wendy sat down, told me that Jane had told her a bit about our set-up, and that she would like to organise something similar, although less full-time. The deal was that she would fly me to NZ about three times a year when her husband was abroad, and that she would pay me $3000 each time. She doesn’t care – it’s his cash.

When Wendy left I told Jane I wasn’t keen on the idea. Although Jane is older too, she made me horny. This chick didn’t. Jane gave me the hard sell, and told me it would be doing her a favour, to drink each time I went and to ask for more money.

Wendy pays me $4000 for a two-day visit. I can’t leave the house, I can’t even hang out on her deck for fear of a spying neighbour. But it’s only a few times a year, the money is good and Wendy is kinky as hell, and a real screamer. She gets me to bring some downloaded full-on XXX videos and we watch those while we get it on.

I’m a fitness trainer, although I don’t do it for the money, because the cash I get from Jane and Wendy makes life very cushy – it’s all tax-free. The only complaint about the set-up is that it has pretty well screwed my chances of getting a real girlfriend. I’ve tried with two girls – one I didn’t tell, but she eventually thought I was having an affair.

The other I told before we got serious. I explained how calculating it all is, that all I am attached to is their money. She said it was cool, and certainly enjoyed spending my cash, but when I had to fly to New York to be with Jane for 10 days, she flipped. She gave me an ultimatum – “her or me”. I liked her, but I was hardly going to throw my employment away. That was 13 months ago and I haven’t bothered since. I’m only 26, so I’m happy sticking with one-night stands when they come around.

Everything went a bit weird late last year. I’d become pretty good mates with one of the women I train. Melanie is 39, recently divorced and a babe. She invited me to her birthday party and we ended up getting pissed together. The only people that know about my set-up are a few male friends – I’ve learnt that telling other women is a bad idea, but for some reason I told Melanie.

The next time I trained her she told me she would be keen for a similar deal. I nearly fell over – I felt like I needed a bloody manager!

Our deal is that we have sex pretty much after every training session – twice a week – and I try and go out with her on either Friday or Saturday night. In the past few months I’ve spent entire weekends with her. She pays me a flat $500 at the end of the week – irrespective of how many nights we spend together. I’m almost starting to feel a bit guilty about the money because I really like her.

It has the potential to get messy very soon. I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to sex – I can go a month without a root, but I do love being on call for sex. And, of course, the money is even sexier.



* Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Photo: Christian Stahle
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