Hard Money: The Naked Truth Behind the Red Light

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The light from the lamp in the corner of the room makes the sweat on his face glow like small, red beads. It’s an undisputed cliché, but the mood created as a result of the prostitute’s red light bulb is well suited to the room’s activities.

Colin would never admit to any person outside this, or another similar, room exactly what sort of depravity he indulges in. His public estimation of what constitutes a ‘real man’ clashes wildly with this pastime.

‘Oh, fuck, yeah. Shove that cock right up my arse, and fuck me hard, baby!’ Poor Anna is thrusting the black vein–covered, strap-on dildo as hard as she can, but this bastard wants more. Shit, I should start charging extra for all this effort – I’d take double the usual from this prick, she thinks to herself.

Anna is looking forward to telling the other girls about the hard job at hand, and to helping herself to a portion of the casserole that one of the girls has whipped up in the girls’ room. For the moment, though, she pumps her strong hips as if they’re pistons.

When Colin reaches his shuddering climax, he shakes the massage table violently and his hot cum spurts over the towel underneath...

It’s just another working day at Madam Lulu’s massage parlour, at which antisocial behaviour is the norm.

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Hard Money is a collection of short stories, facts and anecdotes about the daily activities inside an inner-Sydney massage parlour. I’ve documented and examined the exploits of a cast of characters by weaving fact and fiction together and changed all the names in order to protect the not so innocent.

The pivotal character is the ‘madam’, who takes an unusual approach to running a type of business that’s notorious for its heavy-handed tactics. Madam Lulu is a kind and caring employer who puts her employees’ happiness and harmony before profit making. The girls respond to her generosity of spirit by respectfully calling her ‘Miss Lulu’ rather than ‘Madam Lulu’.

The stories include graphic detail and have humorous undertones, and in the commentary, I give an insight into the motives of both the workers and their clients. The stories range from the titillating to the weird and comical.

One of my childhood friends inherited a suburban massage parlour from her former husband during the 1980s, and decided to retain ownership and operate the business herself. After many years of hearing the wild and bizarre tales from my friend, I decided to chronicle the conversations themselves. These observations were originally my inspiration for Hard Money, and when my friend retired from the business, I realised I needed to update my research for the book.

My friend advised me and arranged for me to meet with Madam Lulu, who supported and encouraged me unwaveringly. Her persuasive powers are well known, and in this instance, she used them on clients and workers alike in order to cajole them into opening up and sharing their experiences with ‘your writer’. Hard Money is the result of the project.

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Introduction

Life at Madam Lulu’s

The Girls’ Room

Doubling Up With Lulu

The Tongue Master

Tia’s Windy Tale

The Number-One Favourite Client

Foot Fetish Tommy

Angela and Georgina

Patsy’s Indiscretion

The Poo Man

The Coke Guy

Fifty Dollar Phillip

Gay Martin

The Cross Dresser

The Edger

The Talking Vagina

Doctor Wu’s Karate Chop

Unloading the Gun

Weird and Freaky Small Bites

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Sex is one of humankind’s greatest equalisers. Modern humans are driven by carnal instincts as compulsively as were primal humans. Despite the efforts of generations of moralising authorities to enforce civilising rules and regulations, humans remain an animal first and foremost.

Madam Lulu came to the realisation that sex sells soon after she arrived in Australia from China, and decided it was an almost guaranteed way to earn a good living. After experiencing the uncertainty of a Communist upbringing, she viewed alternative avenues of income earning as being insignificant.

She started off alone in a converted warehouse and worked from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. seven days a week, providing sexual services for a nominal fee. Not an overtly sexual woman, she instead relied on her theatrical abilities and personality in order to achieve optimum results.

If the average person were to witness the services overseen by this enterprising Madam, he or she would think they were a highly staged comedy that belied belief. For the men on the receiving end, a visit to Madam Lulu’s was heavenly. She soon forged a reliable reputation, and her business grew to the degree that she required assistance. It was at this point that ‘the nicest little whorehouse in the east’ was born.

THE QUESTION ANSWERED

What is it men, in women do require?

The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

What is it women, do in men require?

The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

- William Blake

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This book isn’t a story, as such. It’s a collection of short stories, facts and anecdotes. I include many happy endings, not just the expected one, about prostitution, which is arguably the world’s most misunderstood profession and has its beginnings shrouded in the mists of time.

My narrative includes a cast of characters whose exploits and experiences I have faithfully documented and described. All the situations detailed took place in an inner-Sydney brothel. In legal terms, it’s known as a massage parlour, to indicate the possibility of salubrious activities – as opposed to the more cut and dried activities that occur in the more blatantly termed ‘brothel’. The difference in meaning is discernable only on paper, however, along with the fact that massage tables, not beds, are the surfaces on which the couplings are forged.

The establishment detailed in the following pages is nestled unobtrusively among taxi-cab bases and warehouses in one of Sydney’s inner industrial areas. Due to the constantly heavy traffic in the street outside the premises, the place has a frenetic ambience – which of course is good for business. Furthermore, with an extra large street number and minus a business name on the front of the building, the ‘parlour’ is both easy to find and has a measure of anonymity, for which most of its clients are very grateful.

The host building is a typical warehouse in which the interior, topped by a false ceiling, has been divided into simple rooms. Only half the rooms have a bathroom attached. To get to the shower, the occupants of the rooms sans an en suite must run the gauntlet, half wrapped in a towel, along a narrow corridor. Consequently, some very amusing situations arise that are the source of embarrassment for shy clients and great enjoyment for brazen ones.

In my recounting, the pivotal character is the Chinese madam, or brothel owner, known as Miss Lulu. It’s difficult to estimate her age; Miss Lulu is maturing very gracefully. Judging by her descriptions of her life experiences, I’d say she’s somewhere in her fifties. Despite her probable maturity, however, she has an air of youthfulness. Like many Asian women, she’s diminutive in stature – no more than five feet tall. Also typically, she has milky-white skin and jet-black hair, which she usually wears up high in a tight ponytail. She has the body of a prepubescent girl, a fact she credits to her stint in the Chinese Army during which she was mainly occupied as an acrobat.

At that time, the Communist Army was ensuring that its soldiers were proficient in a wide range of skills that weren’t usually viewed as being part of military training. The subjects that recruits studied included photography, performance and general fitness training, all of which were designed to instil in the recruit a strict sense of discipline. In Miss Lulu’s civilian life, these many and varied accomplishments continue to stand her in good stead, on a daily basis. Although she has a devious and cunning mind, her personality also has a naive component to it, possibly due to some cultural influences and lack of education.

According to Miss Lulu, her father had been a bigwig in China’s music industry. In exactly what way she’s never made clear, not being very forthcoming with the details of anything in her past. The reason is perhaps that she has a latent and inherent fear of the Chinese Government – a common emotion among people born in a Communist country. By her own account, her father had been a cold and somewhat cruel ‘bastard’. She once claimed he’d constantly put her down by insulting her about both her abilities and her appearance. She believes he was angered by no more than the fact she was a girl.

Miss Lulu’s father not only actively discouraged her in her budding aspirations to become an opera singer, he’d ultimately forbidden her from singing opera altogether. To this day, when she’s happy and all’s well at her place of employment, she sings Chinese operatic tunes, in a hauntingly beautiful alto soprano. As a result of the deep and abiding disappointment and resentment she felt during her younger years, she has transformed herself from an unhappy young girl into a strong and shrewd businesswoman with healthy disregard for the male of the species. This combination of traits has proven to be the perfect mix for a madam who also provides her own services. But more about that aspect later.

Madam Lulu’s has nine working rooms. In keeping with Chinese tradition, no room bears the number four which is considered to be unlucky. The reason is that the Chinese word for ‘four’ sounds similar to the word for ‘death’. Naturally, this assonance wouldn’t be fortuitous for a house of pleasure.

Each room is furnished with cupboards full of clean towels and drawers full of tax-deductible items such as tissues and condoms. Located on the small occasional tables in each massage room is a product, as vital to the sex industry, as the saw is to the profession of carpentry. Known as ‘lube’ by the workers, lubrication gel is a water-based substance resembling the natural fluids produced by a sexually aroused human. Madam Lulu orders the slimy chemical in bulk and decanters into inexpensive, plain-plastic pump bottles.

Also provided in each room are other deductibles such as dental dams - used for safe cunnilingus - and latex gloves used for prostate massage (a finger, or fingers - and even a hand, depending on the size of the cavity, they apparently vary greatly - up the bum!). There is also a massage table, a chair and on the previously mentioned corner table, a can of men’s deodorant placed there by Miss Lulu. Unfortunately, this subtle hint often goes unheeded.

The lighting in each room is kept flatteringly low, much to the relief of both the plain and the mature on both sides of the massage table! On the other hand, though, the dimness can cause consternation among elderly clients and those with bad eyesight; they often request extra lighting before choosing a companion.

When a customer arrives, Miss Lulu ushers him into one of the vacant rooms where he can view the girls and make his choice. To initiate the procession, Miss Lulu yells, ‘Customer to meet in Room 2! Everybody say hello!’ She announces the imperative – ‘Everybody say hello!’ – in order to differentiate between this strategy and the one in which she attempts to control the outcome. She uses the latter strategy to introduce any new or favoured girls before she introduces the rest of the staff.

Miss Lulu is a woman of many sayings and has a bon mot for every occasion. The philosophy she touts most often isn’t necessarily the one most often adhered to, especially by its spruiker. When in a magnanimous mood, she addresses all the girls with, ‘This Communist group. All equal here, all make same money.’ Whereby she’s referring to the system of ‘taking turns’ when no favoured or new girl is in attendance. The workers then line up along the corridor to await their turn to introduce themselves.

Some girls use various ploys because they want to gain the advantage. The tactics range from rushing to be the first in line to dawdling to be the last, and include extremes such as exposing themselves to a customer and/or molesting him. However, that type of behaviour isn’t often seen at Miss Lulu’s and is usually displayed by a new worker who’s unaccustomed to working in a friendly atmosphere. A worker will also use the reverse strategy when her aim is to repel a customer she loathes. To achieve this end, all she has to do is to speak in a monotone and effect a bored expression – except when the customer is the type who’s looking to be treated coldly. In which case the tactic has the opposite effect.

Miss Lulu’s establishment