44 stories from 16 writers across Ireland
I've been thinking a lot about how my clients construct their self-image through our interactions. Not just sexually, but economically. Every businessman who books me is performing a kind of social ch
There's a particular quiet that descends after a client leaves. Not silence exactly, but a kind of humming stillness where the room feels both emptier and more charged. I'll make tea, usually. Sit wit
Weird thing about Dundalk is youre basically straddling two countries. Two legal systems. Two different ways of looking at what I do. Sometimes feels like Im playing a game where the rules change depe
The funniest thing about my work isn't the sex. It's watching middle-class men perform what they think masculinity looks like. They come to me with these carefully constructed personas, all hard edges
Some days I look at my bank account and can't help but smile. Not because I'm rolling in cash, but because every euro in there represents something I earned entirely on my own terms. Since separating
The light changes first. Always the light. By September in Kerry, everything softens. The harsh summer brightness goes mellow, golden, and the bookings start to shift with it. Summer was constant. Tou
When I first started working in Dublin, I quickly learned that being a Black woman in this industry means something different. Not just different—fundamentally altered. My clients, mostly white Irish
I've been reading escort blogs for ages and honestly? None of them sound like me. Not the posh London ones, not the American sites. So here I am. Writing about what it's actually like working in Clare
People always assume they know what male escorts do. They imagine some fantasy scenario or project their own desires onto the work. But the reality is far more complicated.In the Midlands, where every
Getting work outside my local patch isn't as complicated as people think, but it takes planning. Rural Ireland isn't like Dublin where clients are everywhere. I've got routes I know well now - Galway
People always assume sex work is about sex. It's not. Not really. After eight years, I can tell you it's about something far more complicated: emotional labor and performance.Take last week. I had a c
People always want some dramatic story about how I got into sex work. They're disappointed when I say it's basically the same calculation I made working hotel housekeeping. Same shit, different room.I
There's something about the early morning that feels like stolen time. I wake before the kiln starts its low hum, when the light is still grey and soft over Kilkenny. These hours belong only to me.My
Last week my sister gave me that look. You know the one. The judgy side-eye that says everything without saying a word. We were having tea in her kitchen and I could feel her sizing up my new handbag,
There's a strange negotiation that happens every time I step into a hotel lobby or upscale Dublin bar. Not just the usual work dynamics, but something deeper about skin and perception. I'm Nigerian-Ir
Getting around when you're an independent worker in Sligo isn't like Dublin or Cork. Public transport here is basically a joke and taxis cost a bloody fortune. I've had to get seriously strategic abou
Sometimes the best parts of this work happen when nothing remarkable is happening. This morning I woke early, before the ceramic pieces in my studio had caught the pale winter light, and thought about
I've been trying to explain Switzerland to my mother for seven years and haven't managed it yet. She thinks I live in a ski resort. She's not entirely wrong about the aesthetic but she's...