by Geena Leigh
I had wrestled with leaving the industry for years, but fear kept drawing me back. Fear of not having enough money, fear of not fitting into the real world, fear of the unknown. I was mentally imprisoned. Nineteen years. Nineteen years on my back, nineteen years on my hands and knees, on top or in some other position, and mostly hating every moment. My father was dead; he couldn’t hurt me anymore. I didn’t tell my family about the abuse until two years after his death. I didn’t see the point. What was done was done. There was no need for me to hurt myself either. I’d never felt such clarity. This was my chance.
I rose from the soft velvet armchair and, with a deep sense of knowing-beyond-knowing, I walked into the change room. I pulled bobby pins out of my wig and dropped them on the floor, leaving a trail behind me. I dug my fingers into the edge of my wig, peeled it back and tossed it in the bin. I stepped out of my hooker heels and systematically took off all my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the stained carpet. I pulled on my jeans, hoodie and sneakers and instantly relaxed. I gazed intently into my blue eyes as I wiped off the thick layer of foundation, eye-shadow and ultra-glossy scarlet-red lips. I applied a light, fresh-faced amount of make-up and put my hair in a soft ponytail. I took the money from my work handbag and stuffed it into my pocket, leaving the handbag on the dressing table.
I didn’t leave via the back entrance. I had no reason to hide. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I walked purposefully across the floor for the last time and advised the receptionist, ‘I know I’ve said this about seven times before, but this time I’m serious. I don’t work here anymore.’
‘Okay, Sasha. All the best,’ she said.
I’d worked there for sixteen years. I felt like I’d grown up there. This time I walked out and never went back. I was free.
23
I did it! I did it! age 37
‘Chlamydia negative,’ the doctor told me as she flicked over each page of a test result. ‘Gonorrhoea negative, syphilis negative and HIV negative.’
Yes! I felt incredibly lucky to come out of all the drugs and prostitution with perfect health.
Some of the girls from work, and some of my drug friends from the days of driving Tim around in my teens, weren’t so lucky. Five died from overdoses, two committed suicide and one suffered a drug-induced psychosis and was admitted to a mental-health ward.
The settlement money from my apartment had bought me the time to find some straight work. I sent out my new résumé—updated to include my strata experience—to another twenty strata companies across Sydney. I just knew that someone would give me a chance.
I was confused when a woman rang, asking me to come in for an interview for a strata manager position.
‘I’m looking for a strata assistant role,’ I said.
‘Well, don’t you want to be a strata manager some day?’ she asked.
‘Yes!’
‘Well, then be here at 10 a.m. tomorrow.’
I got the job! I had my own office, a little more money and a title in management. The money from the settlement enabled me to supplement the entry-level low wage. I was there to learn. My portfolio consisted of managing eighty buildings located all across Sydney. I worked my arse off for almost a year, meeting with owners in buildings three or four nights a week. I appreciated the opportunity, although my boss’s frequent temper tantrums—including throwing staplers, ring binders and other miscellaneous equipment around the office—eventually became intolerable.
I knew it was time to leave. I’d paid my dues. I met with a recrutier the next day. He put me forward for a strata manager position with a large firm in the city. Again, I got the job. It was more money, I was given a car space in the city and an assistant. The rest of the settlement money could now stay in the bank as savings. I called Mum. She was thrilled for the start of my new career. We’d moved so many times in our lives that working in real estate seemed fitting.
I began work in the office with more than forty other staff. I kept hearing people talk about the ‘Monday Blues’ and ‘Thank God It’s Friday’, and I had no idea what they were talking about. A work colleague said to me as she walked past, ‘It’s hump day!’ Why was she telling me that she was going to have sex with her boyfriend today? I hardly knew her. Wow, they have a really structured sex life. I didn’t know why she was telling me this. Maybe she was just trying to be friendly? ‘Nice one!’ I called out to her and gave her the thumbs up.
Everyone seemed to hate their job so much that they couldn’t wait for the weekend.
I agreed about the work—it wasn’t much fun. It was mostly listening to people complain all day about a 2-millimetre crack in their wall or the fact that the cleaners hadn’t returned the wheelie bins to the bin bay. Nevertheless, I was grateful for having a straight job and being a part of the real world. I felt proud wearing a suit to work and coming home in the evening as lots of other people did, instead of stumbling out of a taxi in the wee hours of the morning.
A year later I got a new job as a strata manager in a different company for more money, with a boss and work colleagues who seemed kind and relaxed. I wondered if my ability to overcome challenges in life could help someone else, so I began to write a self-help book before, after (and sometimes during) work. I easily lost interest in strata management and found myself compelled to write. I’ve heard that time dissolves when you find something you are passionate about, and that’s how it feels when I am writing. I went to a writer’s seminar on ‘Pitching Your Project’ and pitched my self-help book idea to a panel of publishers. I didn’t win the pitching session, but the panel gave me an honourable mention and unanimously advised me to write a memoir instead. So, I did. I’ve also started work on my next book—a novel set in the world of prostitution that I once knew so well.
24
Gene and Geena, age 40
At age forty I realised that the reason I couldn’t find the right man for me was that I didn’t actually want one. I found myself back in lesbian bars, having one drink (of water) and then leaving. Gradually, I found myself spending all night in the girl bars and being the last to leave. I made lots of new, wonderful friends and felt that I could just be myself. Isn’t that what we are all truly seeking—to feel that we belong and to enjoy the freedom to just be ourselves?
I bumped into the same woman, Gene, three times in the same week. She just appeared next to me and asked me out. Our first date lasted for ten hours. We kept extending it from coffee to the movies to drinks—neither of us wanted it to end. We were in a bar and I looked around the room and saw two pretty women with long flowing hair smiling widely as they danced, and then I looked at Gene and saw fireworks sparking, emanating from her body. She was the obvious choice. I’d never felt comfortable with anyone I’d ever dated until her; it just felt right. ‘You’re my destination,’ she told me. ‘I’m home.’ I’d never felt truly loved or wanted or needed until that moment.
Our bodies mould effortlessly into each other. We are one. I feel wrapped in love and understanding. Our natures are similar, our dreams and aspirations align. We are building our beautiful life together. I feel so privileged to have her love. I understand now that one of the greatest gifts in life is to love and be loved. She is sacred to me. Her needs are my needs. And we have been inseparable ever since we met.
•
I’m forty years old and sitting in the driver’s seat of my Toyota Yaris next to Gene. My little brother Aiden is in the back. We’re parked outside his apartment block in Surry Hills on our way out for brunch. Aiden’s girlfriend forgot her sunnies and she’s raced back upstairs. Flo Rida is playing on the radio. The sun is streaming in the window and I take off my aqua blue cardigan to let it warm my skin. My little brother is playing Fruit Ninja on his phone—ta ta ta ta as the fruit is thrown in the air and keweeeelsh keweeeelsh as he slices it with his ninja sword.
It’s been three years since my father died and three years since I stopped having sex for money. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I l
ean my head against the car window, feeling so proud that a sweet young woman learned the resilience of a prize fighter as she travelled through hell, and just kept going.
I can feel Gene’s warm smile on me as she lifts my hand and kisses it gently. She is my reward. She is the love of my life.
Acknowledgements
I appreciate everyone who cheered me on to write this book.
Thank you so much to Patti Miller for her invaluable Writing Your Life book and memoir class.
I am enormously appreciative of Irina Dunn, who edited my first draft of the manuscript and recommended it to Richard Walsh. I sincerely appreciate Richard, who saw value in the work and then endorsed it to the team at Allen & Unwin. Irina also introduced me to my wonderful literary agent, Selwa Anthony, who championed the book into fruition.
I’d also like to acknowledge my exceptional, beautiful and super-smart girlfriend, Gene. I didn’t have certainty that I’d ever meet anyone who would want to be with a woman like me, with my history. Her loving nature and acceptance, and the fun we have together make my life better than I ever could have imagined possible.
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Geena is now a full-time writer, with her second book already in the pipeline. She remains drug and alcohol free and is an advocate for empowering young women to make better life decisions. She lives in Sydney with her girlfriend, Gene, and their two puppies.