A Fistful Of Dollars - Sex Stories

A Fistful Of Dollars

My life took on a new challenge after graduating from Newborough High School with honours, at the end of 1980. All my life, I had lived in the small country mining town of Yallourn. The town was dug up for the brown coal beneath it in 1980, which meant moving with my parents and brother to its sister town of Yallourn North, some three miles away. A country girl by heart, I left the country and my family, to study Journalism at the University of Melbourne; some ninety miles away. My parents were relatively poor and could not afford to pay my university fees, my accommodation rent, or my everyday expenses living in Melbourne. For two years, I worked every Friday night and Saturday night, working part-time as a waitress in a trendy South Yarra restaurant. The wages were poor but the tips from affluent patrons enabled me to survive. Melbourne at that time was notorious for gangland extortions and reprisals. The restaurant where I worked was destroyed by a bomb blast early one morning, in late November of 1982. After just successfully completing my second year at university, I needed to find another job to fund my final year in 1983. Throughout the summer break, I searched in vain for another job. Gayla, one of two other women that I shared a house with in South Yarra, offered me a job if I was desperate. The job on offer was as a prostitute at The Gentle Touch massage parlour. The parlour fronted as Melbourne’s biggest brothel and I was asked to prostitute myself in order to ...

... survive. Having no other option, I swallowed my pride and I sold myself to the Devil. I worked two nights a week there on weekends, when the brothel was at its busiest. The business was profitable and covered all my expenses. Before long, I proved to be a very popular commodity for The Gentle Touch, with clients queued up to avail my services. Towards the middle of the year, I had progressed to also work regularly as a call girl. My second semester exams had just been completed and I was now enjoying the mid-year semester break. I was sitting on the couch with Gayla one cold wintry day in June, watching some old VHS movies that we hired from a local video shop. They were both Clint Eastwood classics; namely: A Fist Full of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More . Half way through A Fist Full of Dollars , the telephone rang, so Gayla answered the phone. “It’s for you Tracey. It’s the manageress from The Gentle Touch ,” Gayla called out from across the room. On answering the phone, I was offered a call job to service a guy staying at The Rialto Hotel , a prestigious Hotel in Collins St in inner Melbourne. After accepting her request, I was briefed with the following instructions. One of the drivers/minders from The Gentle Touch would pick me up from home at 5:45pm. I was to wear an evening gown or similar standard, due to the class of the hotel I was going to. On arrival, I was to go to reception and ask them to page a Mr Jon Ramsey. My final instruction was that the booking was for a ...