The Times - UK (2021-11-25)

the times | Thursday November 25 2021 3

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single mum.” By now she had had her

son, who was conceived using a gay

friend’s sperm and a cake-icer. “I had

daddy issues and went for much older

men so I didn’t think anyone wanted

to have a baby with me. I’m glad I got

on with it. It’s the feminist thing to do,

just take charge and get it done.”

As her pregnancy became obvious,

she briefly substituted phone sex for

stripping. “That was hideous, you had

people ringing all day and had to say

the same thing over and over again

and scream until your throat was

sore.” One regular liked to pretend he

was a chicken. Over the phone, she

had to catch him, strangle him, pluck

him, baste him, then put him in the

oven. She’d “eat” him muttering,

“Mmm, mmm!” “I’d drink wine and

steam the vegetables. It went on for

about an hour every day. I had to look

up recipes in the end to make it more

interesting. It didn’t help I’m

vegetarian.”

At 30 she decided that rather than

be derided as an ageing stripper she’d

move into the world of dominatrices.

Clients even fly in (“One’s coming

this afternoon from Dubai”) for a

whacking; penetrative sex, she says,

“only happens in their heads”.

There are some peculiar requests,

with one candidate asking her to park

her car on his hands. “He wanted me

to be in the car singing along to the

radio, laughing at his screams of

agony. But I wasn’t doing that.” How

does she keep a straight face?

“They’re so earnest and shy about

sharing their fantasies, I just focus on

them and get through it.”

Apart from one strippagram

incident where the guests collectively

assaulted her, Todd’s adamant she

has never felt in physical danger. “I

think it’s because I’m so posh, people

just find me hilarious. I’m not

confrontational so people tend not to

assault me. There have been moments

when I think, ‘My luck’s run out,’ but I

have a lot of precautions in place.”

She has never concealed her

profession but now her book is out, it’s

receiving more attention and not

everyone is impressed. She used to

read the news for a Thanet radio

station, but they’ve suspended her.

“People have become more

puritanical,” she laments. “In the 1990s

there was a culture of lads mags and it

was more jolly. Now it’s all ‘porn is

outrageous and can’t be tolerated’.

Feminism was about exploring your

sexuality, now it seems to be more

about women’s flesh being corrupting

and having to be covered. It’s weird.”

I say maybe the difference is that

porn is ubiquitous and far more

violent compared with the 1990s, but

Todd seems unconvinced. She says she

receives lots of messages from women

asking for advice. “If a student asked

me, I’d say, ‘Do it. You’ll have fun,

you’ll earn a lot of money, you’ll be

comfortable with your body.’ I know so

many people that have been through

eating disorders who, as soon as they

start taking their clothes off in public,

feel better about themselves. You’re

worshipped and told you’re glorious all

the time and you start to believe it.”

My Body Is My Business by Melissa

Todd is published by Clink Street

Publishing at £8.99

Durham University has

backed safety training

for students who

support themselves

through sex work

authentic or less worthy of hearing

because of that.”

Todd was brought up by a single

mother who worked in cabaret (her

cab driver father “was married to

someone else”), in what she describes

as “Dickensian poverty”. “If you grow

up like that you never stop looking for

security. I own a lot of property now

but I’m still hustling for every penny, I

can’t get away from that mindset.”

She has tried other jobs — working

as a cleaner and in a call centre — but

every time came back to sex work as

“easy, quick and fun”. At the Windmill

she made about £200 a night, or

£1,200 a week. “In 1994 for a 19-year-

old that was an awful lot. I bought a

house, I learnt to drive, I gave my

mum some money.”

Todd is amused by the Durham

furore. “I think it’s all marvellous,” she

says. “Sex work is a terrific way to

make money and programmes like

Showtrial normalises it. It’s much

better to make money from lying in

bed posing for [subscription-based

platform] Only Fans than working at

McDonald’s, which is destroying the

environment. But sex work comes

with its own ready-made support

network, speedy income and

camaraderie, so I’d say it’s more the

students who aren’t sex workers who

are more likely to need support.”

I’d suggest students considering this

career read Todd’s book. Her

descriptions of “drunken buffoons”

spitting at her and the quiet nights

trying to persuade punters to pay her

£10 for a table dance (down to

underwear, a fully nude “stage dance”

cost £20) would have put me right off.

However, she sees it differently.

“There were ups and downs, but in

general most of it just seems glorious,

halcyon days. I remember it fondly.”

After the second club where she

worked changed management she

moved to strippagram work. Again,

I’m not sold on the idea of driving

round the country to appear at

birthday parties and stag nights (she

prefers the latter because at the former

there are women “making comments

about the size of your arse or

whatever”), but Todd says: “You make

£70 in six minutes, it’s very handy for a

If a

student

asked me,

I’d say, ‘Do

it! You’ll

have fun’

LIZ GREGG FOR THE TIMES; BBC; ALAMY

Céline Buckens in

Showtrial. Left:

Melissa Todd

Are you ready?

For what, Christmas? I haven’t even

started listening to Mariah yet.

No, Scrooge. I’m talking about the

double helping of television’s

guiltiest pleasure coming your way.

I couldn’t possibly take any more

reality TV.

Oh come on, let me tempt you.

What do you get when you cross

property porn with realtors wearing

6in heels and Balenciaga dresses?

Are you on about that mega-

mansions show I got completely

hooked on and spent most of

lockdown doing “Which Netflix

Realtor Are You?” online quizzes?

Selling Sunset, that’s the one. And

you’re Christine Quinn by the way.

Was she the bitchiest realtor who

called herself “gothic Barbie”?

Yes, and gird your loins, because

the brand-spanking new season

of Selling Sunset arrived yesterday

on Netflix.

I’m cancelling my weekend plans.

Don’t bother me. I’ll be tucked up

getting my fill of Hollywood

mansions with golf courses on the

roof, bitchiness and iconic pantsuits.

Wait, not so fast, there’s more.

Netflix has announced a spin-off

series. I give you, Selling Tampa,

ooh ahh.

Be still my beating heart. I think I get

the gist from the title, but what can I

expect?

The series will follow the same

premise, but this time it’s focusing

on an all-black, all-female

brokerage firm called Allure

Realty, based in Florida.

I’m drooling at the thought of those

beach mansions and the glam outfits.

Is there a trailer?

Not quite. But you can get a first

glimpse of the cast in a teaser

where the Oppenheim Group throw

the keys over to the Allure Realty

girls, in matching hot pink dresses.

Ooh, when can I meet my new

favourite girl bosses?

You’ll have to wait until December

15, when the show drops on Netflix.

I’m already obsessed.

Georgina Roberts

The lowdown

Selling Tampa

at uni? I left Oxford to strip