SWOA 
The Annual Art Exhibition
curated by my Dear Friend, Jordan Quinn

The following are chronological contributions by Amanda Jameson

Comfort Zone

Performed in Wellington 2019

...and Auckland 2020

 

So, here are my thoughts

About us awesome escorts

I gave it some time

To try and make it rhyme

 

If it sounds like I am a rockstar

That is because I am good at role-play

If it doesn’t?

That is because my hairbrush is AWOL. 

Again.

 

I am well reviewed

For very good reason

I am all about thank you

Though I like to do the pleasin'

 

So how can we meet?

No longer on the street.

To market to market

I chose The Dominion

Now thank God for the net.

In my humble opinion

 

Ok that sucks.

Not a euphemism

Let’s try that again.

Brace yourself, ahem

 

A day in the life of a lady of the night ...

(dramatically inserts a sigh for effect)

 

Upon waking and checking emails,

Replying and confirming the details

I grab my keys, my bag, my phone

It’s off to work I go hey ho...

 

Trying to avoid traffic

Like the plague

I may stop on the way

And do something vague

"Fuck driving through this every day!"

I always sigh,

Time waits for no man

and neither do I.

 

Once at my apartment

I kick off my boots

Scan where to prep first

I glance with my eyes,

do a quick brain teaser of

'how long do I have'

Then I prioritise

 

Often it will be the kitchen bench

(well hello there, kitchen bench)

I may smile as I remember

fucking over it the night before,

but then it's straight to the bathroom

to sanitise surfaces and floor

 

I may look in the mirror, mirror, on the wall

Have a laugh to myself

"is that what I am working with today?!"

and do an overhaul

They say it’s what’s inside that counts

Just as well this is paramount

 

I spy with my little eye

the lying stitch in the wardrobe

I pick out a frock to fuck in

Which will wind up on the floor

Some of you might call it a 'floordrobe'

 

I ensure I have a dress

my client has address

If he is regular, I may say aloud

"Ooh yay! It's him!"

'Tis a comfort zone

Seeing our repeat custom

 

I agree to appease your ego

Easy come

easy rider

easy we go

I have to hide who I am

For your fantasy below

 

I’m back in a kilt

But left school young

Now a nurse,

sharp witted sharp tongued

 

A role-play today

My expert-tease

Prep and props

I deliver with ease

Let me sink into your kink

But I will not submit

I’m on the brink I think

Of your sub mission

 

Perhaps it’s a massage

You just need to be felt

My voice soothes your mind

My hands make you... melt

 

I have a shoulder you lean on

I’ve heard it all before

You love your wife dearly

But need... something more

Intimacy is lacking

Or she sent you packing,

You feel; strife...

 

Perhaps you are a virgin

And need to explore

You want top shelf

The name is Jameson

I am ready to pour

 

Maybe you travel

And don’t have time

To get involved with strings attached

And that’s fine

 

I show so much

Through the power of touch

I adapt to you

But I remain a secret

My beliefs

My theories

My depth

They remain kept.

In a vault under lock and key

Just for me

 

It’s not an act

Who you see,

Just a fact

Just adaptable me

 

I show you a dance move

Not the entire dance

I read you a page

But never the entire library

I sing you a verse

But not the entire song

It would take too long

you would never understand the lyrics

And you are just here for the hour.

 

Let’s play a game

Not the walk of shame

Play Wheel of Fortune

Naked Twister

If the Price is Right.

 

Yes, I hide who I am

And you do too

So, I don’t ask

In our field of two.

 

I can’t tell you my name

As I dance upon the stage

I can’t quite be honest 

about my age

Is it really you in the photos?

My tattoos and piercings

are not there for you

Sure, I can be a scenic route

If you like the view.

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

I believe you just did

You want to know if I am married

Or if I have a kid

You ask if I am here for long

Maybe work is just a phase.

Baby I will be a MILF one day

As long as I am getting paid.

 

This is my life

It is who I am

Escorting is my passion

Not 'wham bam ... thank you mam'

It’s the details,

the admin

the stuff behind the scenes

Before you see me perfectly flawed

The sex symbol of your dreams

 

Allow me to pay homage

To the people involved

My beloved industry

And how it’s evolved

It’s my peers and my colleagues

Past and present

Hookers before bookers

The age of consent

 

Acutely aware of the paving they gave

So, we could be at ease

It’s the people who fought long and hard

One now a Dame,

*(salutes Dame Catherine Healey)*

We can let down our guard

 

It’s the client’s compliance

Who let us be free,

Not as in cost

But in quite simply,

Use of their manners

Not putting spanners

In our sex works

Allowing us to get on with a job we enjoy

Being self employed

Living on our terms

And not in a void

 

When am I free?

Never but I could avail

Can I take you to tea?

Never but I can refer you

 

You often ask me if I am single

Can we do it natural?

Do you think I am too small???

 

So, to Tom, Dick and Harry

Even though we know your name is John,

It is a pleasure doing business with you

Even long after you’re gone

 

And there is one thing

You ought to know

I disagree with you in silence

To appease your ego

Down the Rabbit Hole

Performed in Christchurch 2021

 

Y’all think you know me

She’s been around for a while

We know her style

She has several reviews

She’s paid her dues

She has a name synonymous 

with being nearly famous 

we mistook her 

for being

“Just a hooker”

when that’s merely just her job

 

Should I agree 

To see thee

It’s an invitation 

to my reputation 

Not a welcome mat to my life

Or for you to wipe your feet on

 

Hip hip hooray!

I'm working today

Clients will only see the happy me 

the one who never has an off day 

If I do

I take the day off

You may scoff 

How privileged I am

An acute observation

But I designed my situation 

It hasn’t always gone to plan

 

My peers know 

I never say

a bad word 

about anyone, 

Perhaps I bad mouth myself, 

sometimes in jest, 

sometimes when stressed, 

sometimes when second guessed 

my own ability to keep calm and carry on

 

But I’m a confident confidante 

A serial thriller 

An expert at my game 

I push my own tiller

Wild by nature  

I won’t be tame

But on the game

There are bits and pieces you don’t get to see

 

And my awareness of this 

Is the secret to my success 

 

I roll my eyes to the skies 

About those wise guys

Who may make think I am a bimbo

It’s like my personality is in limbo

You want the truth 

but "you can’t handle the truth...!"

there are a Few Good Men

Who don’t depend

On your personality matching 

every part of them

 

Sometimes I think my caring manner 

makes people think I am weak 

or a push over

I’ve been saying “be kind” 

since before it was trendy, 

I don’t wish to offend thee,

But if someone needs reminding 

of a boundary,

Then they may recognise a blinding 

glint in my eye 

they can’t deny, 

there may very well be

more to me.

 

You see,

I get it,

don’t forget it, 

I know what it is like 

to be treated not too flash, 

my memories are not metaphors 

to serve as reminders when making cash.

 

I am a 3D me,

while looking at my face 

you can’t see the strength in my back, 

while looking at my back 

you can’t see the determined smile on my lips. 

You will never see all of who I am. 

At the same time. 

Where I have been,

or where I am headed. 

What I have seen,

or who I have bedded.

 

They don’t see the scars 

The mud, sweat and fears

They aren’t there when I hit my alarm clock 

and bounce out of bed

Don’t see me wondering 

“Is my child going to be ok?”

“Is my loved one going to have another 

major heart attack while I am away?” 

Don’t see me swallow my emotion, 

When listening to tales 

of your ails,

because you need me to hear, 

to care and to share, 

a shoulder, an ear, a touch on the arm 

“I’m there”

 

It’s not always a slippery nipple 

and a cocktail of touch, 

being glamorous and fabulous 

and replying to “how much?”

 

Every day it’s a circus 

It’s intense

The clowns 

the ringmaster 

The balancing act

The house of mirrors 

The acrobat 

 

I go home some days after sex, why, zed 

I glance in the mirror, as get ready for bed, 

splash water on my face, 

where did my youth go, 

without a trace?

 

Then deeper into my soul 

I spy with my little eye

the kind hearted wild child that lives on inside me 

and never wants anyone to feel anything 

but happy 

and that is what got me 

where I am today 

I display this so readily – 

the inner child who wants the world to be a better place - 

put a smile on your face, 

even if it’s a temporary distraction, 

an extraction from your reality. 

I’m there. It’s real.

 

Other escorts impression of me 

may be unbiased, 

or their regard may be the highest 

but -

They don’t walk in my heels

(Unless they were gifted them from myself 

to help embellish their own wardrobe)

I don’t walk in theirs either,

None of us come last,

We each prance our own path

 

I’ve been told I’m lucky so often,

I’m blessed I can attest

But it’s not luck, 

I mean fuck, 

I worked my arse off 

when the rest of the world sleeps, 

perhaps giving me shit 

for being an early bird 

how absurd 

to get up when others are sleeping, 

but I have goals

that won’t kick their own arse,

so I work when I can -

I’m good at goal keeping. 

 

For Joe Bloggs

Here’s some advice

To kindly think twice

If you book a hooker

It’s naive to conceive 

this notion set in motion 

of silly stereotypes 

their sillier fragile ego 

hypes it up 

to mean something else ;

Society a priority but

is it so hard,

To look in your own backyard?

 

“We can’t accept your application

Because of your vocation 

Are you sure you are clean,

If you know what I mean -

You can’t stay here

Or over there

No you need a REAL job”

 

You mean one where I get paid?

Or don’t get laid?

Will we ever persuade 

the record to be broken?

The judge and jury has spoken

Too bad they aren’t jokin’ 

 

But non jokin aside

We all need to survive

The many roles we play

Just being alive

 

I’m a worn out mother 

A worn in lover 

An avid, delighted and resilient fighter 

I choose not to have quarrels 

I don’t rest on my laurels – 

I’m not even sure I know what a laurel is but I bet I don’t rest there - there is no rest for the wicked

 

I am drawn to those who are not perfect. 

Who speak their true dialect.

Who wear their heart on their sleeve. 

And look you in the eye

Their ego dwarfed by the authenticity of their life. 

Their inner strength though tired shines through.

 

Your own knobbly knees show their scars too, and me? 

I’m just your friend, 

the one who has been bruised black and blue. 

But choose to show you  

the pink in everything 

and dance across the

stage of life 

with the effervescence 

of pink champagne.

 

...as all good stories start with once upon, 

behind the scenes 

the dreams 

the teams

The show in all its glory, it must go on.

 

So take off your prejudice

And throw on a grin 

I’ve got the green light 

in a red light district

The sweet wages of, sweet sin

BOBBING (for Apples)

Performed Wellington 2022

 

An innocent question

Can make us squirm

It’s asked of us all

But we need to discern

 

“What do you do?”

They ask right on cue

If only they knew

We see people like you?

 

A quick analysis of their personality

Can I trust this person’s duality

And my comfortability

Will they hold it against me 

if I say what’s true

Will it backfire

If I’m not a liar

If I tell them the truth

 

You take the risk

and share the truth

instantly their reaction

Wants to make an excuse

To leave, to doubt, to pout

Their face cannot lie

You can’t deny

the reasons why

Some just don’t get it

You smile and wonder

was I wrong to trust?

They may look at you

to assure you “that’s fine”

Your assurance of me

is an insurance policy

I do not need

You know it’s fine

You feel it is

Or you wouldn’t share the info

With the likes of him

 

So, let’s break it down

The day to day to adventures

Of someone asking

“So, what do you do?”

Sit back

Pull up a pew

And if you are trusted

I’ll tell you the truth

 

First, I’ll tell you

what people assume

Their stigmatic reaction

Automatic faction

The truth while raw

Does loom

I may converse

Just for a laugh

And be perverse

Must be tough

When I see them reverse

 

They have their own take

On whom we are

Conditioned by religion

Movies and more…

We are money hungry whores

The unfortunate ones

Society forgot

 

Except

We are not

 

Things we hear day to day

Told who, how and why we are

To our tiring dismay

 

“I could never do that!”

You recoil back in disgust

Taken aback by what was discussed

Then don’t, you are an adult

Freedom of choice

It is not a must, we are not a cult

 

Secretly you want to know,

what it would be like,

within 5 minutes of meeting

to have front row seating;

You ask questions

With our answers so unique

But you don’t really hear US speak.

 

You are perplexed

At our ability complex

To go down on a perfect stranger

Assuming we are all in danger

You judge us fast

But we come last

And you empathise with the client

 

“You must see some weirdos?”

“What’s the worst thing that happened?”

“The strangest request you’ve had?”

But you don’t really want to know.

You see.

You want it all to be bad.

 

Society is scared

Of the people in the bed

They think it’s desperate of us

Then dare to separate us

For not following their yellow brick road

 

It takes courage, heart and brain

To listen to anyone mansplain

About how and why we are

 

We must be neglected

or mentally weak,

no life skills reflected,

evidently meek.

We must all be single -

Who’d put up with that?

We must all be a disappointment

to our families expected plan

Drug addled abusers

or maybe abused

No goals, no focus

This isn’t a life we would choose

Uneducated, immoral

The dregs of the earth

You mock our mothering abilities

“You can’t use YOUR body for birth?!”

 

Banks reject us,

the butt of your joke,

the dead ones in movies,

the ones all on coke.

The scandal of the headlines,

our CV looks bleak?

The irony is,

You make money when we speak

 

You want us out the way

What would the neighbours think?

Won’t someone think of the children?!

We are the weakest link.

Assumed we are man eaters

and never to be trusted,

I assure you we always throw ‘em back,

when they are ‘done and dusted’

 

I remember being spun this line

more than one time,

“The industry will make you hard”

Can’t help but laugh

if you knew me when I started

you’d know it’s only made me

Even more warm hearted

 

My theory is this:

If you detest my life?

It’s easy.

Don’t live it.

If you request of my strife,

but get queasy

I won’t give it

 

I can’t help but sigh at

the closed and locked minded

their ideals one sided,

their spiels misguided

who think I’m undecided,

on what to do;

naive to my life

as I’ve designed it

For me – and not for you.

 

Sex work is work.

But not for us all.

Neither is all work

going to be suitable.

I’m not an accountant or bulldozer driver

it’s not in my proximity.

But hey I’m a survivor,

an excellent escort

who cannot be bought

I make no apologies

just to help your sensitivities

 

The men we tend to

tend to have their own worries.

They may often be lost,

or bear their own sorrows and sorries.

I’m a sponge for their pains,

their shackles and their chains.

They’ve implored for

my shoulders to be broad.

My pay is not ill-gotten gains.

 

You want to know about a day in the life?

You want to hear the negative parts 

which would then make you right?

If you need to succeed 

in your assault on my choices, 

you would be surprised to hear 

my colleagues swift rebuttal 

with all our unique voices.

 

But since you are here

Lend me your ear, the list is extensive

… and sometimes expensive (wink wink)

 

“A day in the life is lounging about;

Laid back on chaise lounge

eating grapes and waiting for clients

To ask, “how about now?”

 

It’s being dressed to the nines

and a little bit slutty…

It’s counting cash like Monopoly money 

and moulding you like putty.

 

It’s leaning into cars,

(Stock standard stock photo)

Red lips and short skirts,

Are we in Kansas still Toto?”

 

Excuse the sarcastic reply

I’ve implied

Truth be told

We are not sold.

We provide a service

to those in the fold

 

It’s plenty of admin

and running a business

It’s certainly sad when

our integrity is dismissed as:

‘Just getting nude

When clients are in the mood’

‘Just waiting around

To be a merry-go-round’

 

Social media

Twit twit twoo

Photos and updates

Just for you

Marketing and

Personal upkeep

Prepping and cleaning

And oh! (Orgasmic sigh)

The cleaning gets deep…

 

Turning phone on silent

forgetting to turn it back up

ignoring blocked numbers

Saving shown ones as

A maybe, no way or yup!

 

Sussing out parking

for visits to hotel

checking in with safety person

to assure all is well

Hydrating, gyrating

rolling our neck,

gotta stay limber,

keep our health in check.

Massaging tired limbs

fluffing cushions

(among other things)

Refilling oils

Opening a new box of tissues 

Tying up rubbish bags

And any other issues

 

Putting the sheet on the wrong way,

Muttering “every bloody time!”

Listening, nodding

Bobbing (for apples)

Twirling around, strutting our stuff,

making sure we look good in the buff

 

Taking notes from the nice man

who suggested

“Oh you should holiday here!

My wife and I loved it!”

He’s so invested.

 

Making the bed

Again, and again

Listening to clients tales

About the ‘rain in Spain’

Wondering if we will see him again

He didn’t look too well

I hope he’s not in pain.

 

Sorting through emails, phone calls and texts

Checking our schedule to see who is next

 

Rescheduling what’s his name

His father finally passed

Wondering how to word my condolences

Without wanting to sound half arsed

 

Oh my client is here,

I’ll text him later on

Smooth my skirt,

spritz of perfume on

And I’m ready, set, pop, bang go!

 

Into pole position

Sure there is often sex

But often it’s vanilla

And not what you expect

Not the sex Olympics

(To which I get gold… nice flex?) 🤭

 

Ding,

Oh excuse me ! I just heard a text

Never mind it’s just a dick pic

Right let’s go, who’s next?

 

Mr So and So - excellent haven’t seen him for a while, 

he hasn’t been to new apartment yet

Giving the newbie address with uniformed detail

Hoping if he is a touch late, he‘s not a time-wasting snail

 

The phone goes again

back to my diary, to book in enquiry

Making sure his requests are met with precision,

Check the mirror is what he envisioned

Ha, the mirror has a smear,

Get the cleaning stuff out quickly

Time is very near

Sussing out in 5 seconds

Do I feel safe?

Simultaneously

Welcoming him in the door

Assuring him HE is okay!

 

But enough about that…

 

Clients say

On any given day,

 

You look better in person

a line they are oft’ well versed in

an intent at a compliment

not something they all come first in

Often told, the photos don’t do us justice

Trust us -

We are much more than a perfectly framed shot

 

When a regular can recognise

There’s far more behind the guise

There is indeed a depth and soul

A driven woman

no matter how old

no matter her appearance

no matter her shape

the intellect behind the smile

cannot help but escape

He’s the one we think about

When we say we love our job.

Our favourites are the ones we smile about

When they share with us good news..

So, tell me quickly

I’m dying to know

What’s wrong with the life I choose?

 

I’ll wrap this up now, 

well done for still reading

To my peers and my friends, 

Keep on believing:

No matter the role you fall into

in the industry

you know too well

the stigma marches on

to its broken record

The never-ending song

It’s got us bored

Yet it’s easier for them, you see?

 

Stripper, model, content creator,

porn star, agency, phone operator,

indy, street worker, agency,

madam, receptionist, directory,

 

Why shouldn’t we be allowed to be proud?

 

My body, my choice

One voice, and we are loud.