The life of a Berlin escort has proven itself to be a thrilling, fun and surprisingly rewarding job. I’ve been flown across Europe by a 90s music producer with good chat. I’ve frequented sex parties, Michelin-starred restaurants, theatre shows, five-star spas and countless hotel rooms. My regular clients range from supermarket workers to CEOs of global companies. I welcome one-off bookings with people visiting Berlin for business or pleasure. I’ve held hands with a sexagenarian amateur actor as we chuckled at a leftie comedy show. I’ve banged in student halls and blown a client in the BER toilets. The variety of ages, backgrounds, races, cultures and tastes spans wide. From mommy role play to foot fetishes, sex work has exposed me to endless intrigue.
I got into this line of work after a string of crushing career and personal setbacks. At first, I considered joining an agency, but I like working for myself, so I put my services up on a popular freelance website, and the work started trickling in. The transition from ‘regular work’ took some time, including lots of self reflection, discussions with friends and the registration to get my Hurenpass (whore pass). I’m not being pithy – it is called that. Valid for two years at a time, I obtained it by attending a mandatory health counselling before registering at the Ordnungsamt. Of course, being freelance has its downsides, especially here in Berlin, where the red tape and bureaucracy has created a system set up for us to fail. Without the safety net of another job, I won’t have a pension, I have to pay my own health insurance and taxes are steep. There are many aspects of this vocation that are far from ideal. But for me, the job satisfaction is exceptionally high, and I can’t say that about working in retail, hospitality or corporate. After years of being miserable, how I move through the world and feel on a day-to-day basis is a priority. I can build my schedule to look exactly how I want it to, and that’s priceless.
You may have already heard the rumour that sex work is mostly talking. Well, it’s true.
There are many types of sex workers, but I specialise in Girlfriend Experience (GFE). I make clients feel like they’re my boyfriend – romantic gestures and deep conversations – and simulate whatever kind of date they choose. A typical GFE tends to take place in the evening. It could be as long as two hours, or a sleepover or a vacation of multiple nights. A later booking means I get the day to myself. That means a chill solo morning with coffee, tunes and a book in bed – a non-negotiable. That being said, I do get the occasional morning or day request. In fact, my very first booking was with a twenty-something, shy Dubai businessman who requested the Berlin Party Experience. On a gloomy Sunday morning, I met him in the shadows of Warschauer Straße S-Bahn at 6am, making idle chit-chat as we headed to Berghain. Any observer would have seen an average clubbing couple dressed in black, dancing to pounding techno, kissing shrouded in smoke, then holding hands as we walked to brunch. I was back at my apartment, my handbag stuffed with enough money to pay that month’s rent, before lunchtime.
A couple of days a week, I work out at my local gym. I’ve always been into fitness, but now I view my body as a marketable product, a tool for income, so I have no choice but to take care of it. It also helps me stay grounded and present. When I’m mid hip-thrust, I often glance at the men peppered around me and I wonder what they do for a living, or if they would ever use a sex worker. But that’s the beauty of the gym: it’s an environment where what you do in the outside world doesn’t matter. There’s a comfort, too, that I feel in these hyper-masculine spaces. Here, I’m not a trussed-up male fantasy. I’m just another make-up-free girl in baggy, old Nike shorts, sweating profusely.
Getting ready for a date used to take hours. I still pay attention to personal grooming and partake in my usual ‘everything shower’ (the girlies will know what I mean). But after much trial and error, my outfit is now pre-planned. I have a uniform on rotation that strikes a balance of sexy and classy. Sometimes clients request specific clothing, and I’m happy to accommodate – whatever helps me step into that idealised version of what they want me to be. One recent client, seemingly unsatisfied with my style, bought me a new casual outfit to wear, á la Prenzlauer Berg mom – that I changed into upon meeting him. My streamlined pre-date approach not only eradicates time wasting, but also helps me get into character. In the security of these little rituals, I can protect my persona.
There are countless reasons for getting into sex work. Aside from the obvious ones – money, freedom, excitement – I’m fascinated by the nuances of emotional and sexual honesty that I get to witness up close. Each interaction feels like an anthropological study of male behaviour. My clients, who are mostly men, are able to show sides of themselves that others don’t get to access – not their friends, their colleagues, not even their partners. Time and again, I’m struck by the co-existing notions of masculinity and vulnerability behind closed doors. I’ve held a grieving widower in my arms as he cried. I’ve laughed with a homesick student who just wanted to feel coupled up. I’ve consoled an MMA fighter who changed his mind halfway through because he was struck with a sudden feeling of guilt (this is a rare experience. If men have a guilty conscience, they do an incredible job of hiding it). Then there was a young man with a stutter who had such a phobia of women, he could barely make eye contact with me.
Sometimes, clients will want to have a drink. Moreso, they’ll want to have a drink with me. My relationship to alcohol and sex has changed a lot since becoming a sex worker, but not in the way you might think. Coming from the UK, I used to use alcohol as a crutch. I couldn’t fathom a sober date. Through escorting, I quickly saw my work as not proper dates. They’re simulated. My clients are choosing their fighter. If they want to show me their favourite wine or try an obnoxious cocktail, I’ll partake, sure, but I’ll never have more than three drinks. Many clients don’t drink at all, which is fine by me – nobody wants to feel hungover after their work. As a result, sober sex is the norm. Everyone knows alcohol lowers your inhibitions, and I want to stay in control. Because of this, I’ve gained a huge amount of sexual confidence, with or without a drink in me.
No matter who I’ve been with, my day usually ends with a bath, a glass of red and a face mask, while I recentre, reflect and wind down.
Clients vary. So do my booking requests. But I have a handful of regulars with whom I tend to do the same things each time. I often see a recently divorced dad, where the focus is on meandering conversations (I suspect he’s using me as a willing stepping stone between his wife and his first match on Hinge). Then there’s the much younger Uber Eats driver who I pull all-nighters with drinking Red Bull and watching travel documentaries. There’s the queer software engineer who likes me to spend most of the appointment on my knees, while he sits at his desk. On any given night, I could be eating Haribo watching Germany’s answer to The Voice in bed with a married man or getting eaten out by a Florida millionaire at KitKat. I used to visit a spa every single week with one client, where he would moan about his stressful life with his wife and three kids. The younger men sometimes mistake our chemistry for something real, whereas the older ones tend to know the score. Regulars often buy me presents, which I love. I’ve been gifted everything from expensive lingerie sets to teabags, a potted plant, limited-edition sneakers, an iridescent figurine of the tallest building in China, Zalando vouchers and more.
I used to find talking to clients a little tricky, as long conversations have the potential to leave me exposed. But I found that people love talking about themselves. One of my favourite things is to learn something new, be it how to make the perfect cup of coffee from an Arabic entrepreneur or what stocks to invest in from the millionaire who lives in a high-end hotel. You may have already heard the rumour that sex work is mostly talking. Well, it’s true. I’m a therapist and a listening ear, as much as I am a sex pot. I talk about movies I’ve seen or books I’ve read. I keep things light. They don’t need to hear about my struggle with a WG or my period cramps.
No matter who I’ve been with, my day usually ends with a bath, a glass of red and a face mask, while I recenter, reflect and wind down. No two clients are the same, which keeps life interesting. I’m an empathetic person who thrives on connection, but I leave my clients at the door and tend not to hold much space for them in my head or heart. If there’s one thing for sure, it’s that my typical day will be full of surprises. That’s what I love about my job.
Follow Bambi on IG @bambijamesbop and check out her Substack.
