Setting down the book, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
Why do psychologists describe so much sex as ‘deviant’? I thought.
I was studying for my undergrad in psychology, and while I loved it, I was getting frustrated with its attitude towards sexuality.
As a fan of swingers’ parties, ‘deviant’ or ‘abnormal’ seemed like very judgemental words to me.
One day, I was researching an essay when I came across an article which really grabbed my attention – Psychologist in a Whorehouse: They Call Me Pimp, But I Protect Women.
I lived in a country in Europe where sex work was legal.
The article was written by a manager at a brothel who had a background in psychology.
He emphasised the importance of respecting and protecting sex workers.
The girls were independent contractors, who rented space from the brothel in exchange for a flat rate.
That sounds like my dream job! I thought.
So, I found an email address online and got in touch asking if they had any vacancies.
And to my excitement I was called in for an interview!

Beforehand, I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.
Not only did I not have any experience in the adult industry, 
I also had no managerial experience.
I had no idea what to expect of the office.
Will it be all leather, velvet and fake fur inside? I wondered.
But while the outside of the building was all done up with red lights, the interior was surprisingly normal.
‘Come on, I’ll show you the HR and IT departments,’ the manager said.
He was the author of the article I’d read, and the two of us had a fascinating chat.
‘Women are often at an advantage in brothel management because they don’t try to take control of the workers as much,’ he told me.
The following week, I received the news I’d been hoping for – I’d been hired!
I’d be working nighttime shifts, from 7pm to 6am, but I quickly learnt that the brothel wasn’t just busy in the evenings.
Surprisingly, the earliest ‘rush hour’ at the brothel was 12 noon to 1pm, when men popped in on their lunch breaks from work.
The next was between 3pm and 5pm, giving them time to get home without raising suspicion. But our busiest times were always 8pm onwards.
My main responsibilities involved answering emails, overseeing bartenders, IT and marketing, and of course, recruiting and onboarding the girls themselves.
In media, sex workers were often represented as desperate or addicted, but this wasn’t my experience.
Some of the girls were earning up to £40,000 a month, and many planned on working for just a few years to set themselves up for the rest of their lives.
Yet, plenty of them were from overseas, and needed local advice or help reading over rental contracts.
I also worked to protect their safety. We had panic buttons in all the rooms and made sure clients knew the workers had the right to say no to any request.
While some of the girls did BDSM work, others exclusively worked with lesbians – it was entirely up to them to decide.
Mostly, the clients were well behaved.
Sometimes we’d have to call security to turf them out at 5am when they didn’t want to make the journey home.

Plenty of men weren’t looking for sex. Instead, they were there for companionship.
One guy paid one of the girls £4500 just to drive to a graveyard with him and share 
a cigarette.
I’d been in the role for a few months before I decided it was time to tell my family.
Dad was a nuclear physicist, and his response was typically calm, understanding and 
matter of fact.
But Mum was horrified.
‘So, you’re a pimp now?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were going into neuropsychology!’
‘I’m not exploiting the girls,’ 
I promised her. ‘I’m looking after them!’
And the more I explained, the more she came to accept it.
Dad even came into the office with me one day to see the set-up!
From then on, I never lied when someone asked me what I did for a living.
Mostly, people were interested, especially by our ethical, worker-first approach.
Meanwhile, I was casually dating.
However, I noticed quite a few men seemed to be bothered by my job.
‘This is fascinating, but I’d never let my girlfriend do it in a million years,’ said one guy.
Not my problem, I thought.

Besides, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, telling my friends all the crazy things I would see at work.
One man turned up in a head-to-toe polar bear suit for a role play session.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told him, stifling my giggles. ‘You’ll have to take the head off in the reception area for security reasons. You can put it back on afterwards!’
Another man turned up dressed as a plumber and spent the whole booking fixing one of the blocked loos!
One of our girls came in to work every Monday, while her husband visited as a client every Friday – neither of them knew about the other!
And it wasn’t my place to tell them.
On another occasion I recognised a familiar face in the corridor – my dentist.
I’ve been trying to get an appointment for ages, I thought. So this is what you’ve been doing instead!
Fortunately, he didn’t recognise me. His office was filled with family portraits of him with his wife and kids, and I thought he might have been a bit embarrassed!
Seeing angry wives and girlfriends at the brothel wasn’t uncommon either.
Plenty would buy a ticket and storm through looking for their boyfriend or husband.
When arguments did break out, we’d gently encourage them to take
it outside or at least to a private room.
My job definitely changed my view of marriage and monogamy.
I met plenty of men who would tell me they loved their wives, they just weren’t having sex any more.
‘Coming here has saved my marriage,’ one guy told me.
Fascinated by everything I was learning, I started posting about my experiences online.

There was such stigma around the topic and I wanted to encourage a conversation and debunk stereotypes of the industry.
People loved my videos and I soon amassed 400,000 followers on Instagram and TikTok.
I even started an OnlyFans account where I could tell my wildest stories.
But of course, there was also an online backlash, mostly from a radical feminist perspective.
My inbox and comment sections were filled with death and rape threats against me, my family, and my potential future children.
It was shocking and I had to be careful with my mental health.
Yet, in general, I was pleasantly surprised by the conversations I had.
When I first started the job at 22, the night shifts didn’t really bother me. But by the time I hit 30, the 3am to 6am stretch started getting much harder. Especially as I was studying for a PHD in organisational psychology at the same time!
I’ve been working in this role for nine years, and now I’m starting to think about my next steps. I definitely want to stay in the industry, but perhaps move across to a luxury swingers club or something similar.
Ultimately, my work in a brothel has taught me one important lesson.
Sex work is only dangerous when it’s illegal.
Legalising it keeps women safe.