How I shot girls in a brothel

In order to engage in creativity and provide her hobby, the reader of Samizdat grabbed onto the different work: she stood on the Maidan in 50 hryvnias per hour, shot drunken fights at weddings and even got a job as a photographer in the brothel. The cops under the door, customers on the "address" and the annual supply of "Nyuds" - we publish the very story of rapid career growth.

As a child, I lived on the street, next to which there was a point of street prostitutes. I often followed them from the window, instead of making lessons, and invented their stories in my head. Here is this curly - probably escaping the daughter of a millionaire, but this dark with glasses - works in the afternoon a teacher at school. I really liked their outfits, and sometimes I also imagined myself in their place, not quite understanding what exactly they were doing. Sooner or later, I was simply obliged to get to the brothel.

My name is Olya, I am 23 years old, and no, I am not a sex worker-I take them photograph. This is not my first strange job. Even a teenager, year in 2012, I worked part-time on the Maidan-for 50 hryvnias stood in paid rallies for some candidates. Well, how she stood: she took a banner and went down to the subway to draw homeless people and drink tea from the stall in the transition, and then returned, signed and received cash to spend them on brushes and paints.

My family did not really approve of my hobbies. Dad, a serious and respectable judge, believed that I should receive a normal education and become a lawyer. I had to get out, hide drafts and look for money to provide my hobby. I handed out leaflets, went into night shifts by a waitress in the Obryanka bar and, painted under an adult, invited people to open a spit beer. I thought that it had grown not at all scrupulous to work, and then I was brought into the world of wedding photography.

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Having become a little older, I mastered Photoshop, got a technique and started my public in VKontakte. A little dumping in the market, profitable offers at minimal prices - and now I, already with a full portfolio of joyful newlyweds, are shaking in the subway with a heavy bag of equipment in order to remove, as the next union concludes the next Sergey and Katerina.

Khrushchevka, the bridegroom with a hairstyle with a hairstyle, a bride in a dress from the Kharkov market, a bunch of relatives and disgusting pigeons glued to the hood of "Lada". Two or three weddings per week, one and a half or two thousands of photographs from each “banquet hall”, work for 20 hours, drunken relatives, a groom who can pester you right after the registry office. At the next wedding, a relative from the side of the “young” got drunk and broke my lens. I tried in vain to shak compensation, but nothing good came out of this. I changed equipment with my money and began to look for a new job. So I entered the deiting.

Divorce with registration and SMS

For the first time in my life I worked in the office. A high -rise building with windows for Khreshchatyk, a bandwidth system, a spacious open -off and dozens of thirty -year -old men at computers - this is what our “dating agency” looked. It worked with foreign clients, providing “Ukrainian beauties” to the market, which foreign men dreamed of. Each manager received a base of photographs of real Ukrainian girls who are ready to meet with a foreign prince if necessary. The girls were photographed and retouched so that they could not be recognized. Further, the agency’s employees created their pages and corresponded on their behalf.

I say "employees" not by chance. Most often on the messages: “Hello, pussy, oh, I would so want to meet and enter you as soon as possible,” said thirty -year -old men who, according to the logic of the leadership, knew better that the man wanted to hear on the other side. The main task of the manager is to dilute the client for money. Each sticker in correspondence, each photograph in the chat and every visit of the guest in Kyiv was paid separately, and if our model moved to the client for permanent residence, the manager who arranged this received a large bonus.

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After a few days of work, one European grandfather was transferred to me. His wife died, and he had been corresponding with Christina for a year, on behalf of which during this time they managed to correspond, probably a dozen managers. So that we do not get confused, in the column on the right, colleagues left important details: "He loves children, two grandchildren, bought a motorcycle in June." I flipped through the whole year of correspondence. For the past few months, grandfather was preparing for Kristina's arrival and repaired a room for her daughter, each time for his money, sending photos to coordinate the color of paint, wallpaper and furniture.

I was struck: it is one thing to breed drocers and quite another - to play with a living person. Having worked out the shift, I went home and did not return anymore. Honestly, they did not arrange money. It is strange to perform morally unscrupulous work and receive for it those pennies that they promised to us. The boss understood me - in this business there is a big turnover. And I was left without work again.

"You are now Amelie"

Plinating with a dozen instagram girls who offered to take their ass for three rubles, I completely dissolved, but suddenly found an announcement about the search for a photographer in a deit for a tolerable amount. I liked taking pictures much more than communicating with men - why not try? The woman on the other end of the wire was alert. Entering her semi -legal position, I replied that the region was familiar to me. We agreed on the first shift in a week, for some reason I was not asked for a portfolio.

At the appointed time, I came to the indicated address and realized that they gave me the address of the apartment, not the office. I was wary and threw my geolocation to my friend. I was not told what to take with me and what and how it would be necessary to shoot, so I took a regular set: a camera, a couple of batteries, several memory cards and a cheap lens (they smash - it is not a pity). The rest of the equipment was promised to give out on the spot.

I climbed the desired floor and called the apartment. As soon as the door opened, the woman pulled me into the opening and looked around the landing behind me. After making sure that there was no one there, she put a finger to her lips, quickly closed the door, grabbed my hand and dragged me along the corridor. Huge apartment; Judging by the stairs, there is a second floor, many rooms. While we were walking, out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge hall, two men from one side and 10-15 young girls in lingerie opposite. At that moment, I barely suppressed the desire to turn around and go home, but the woman led me to the far room and closed the door.

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Her name was Katherine, and, of course, it was a pseudonym. Nobody was presented with real names in this industry except drivers. And there were no men in this industry either, except for drivers who drove girls to addresses. I was told that now my name is Amelie, and asked to say quieter, because “on the address” customers. I started to digest the information.

We sat on the couch, Katherine dedicated me more and more to the details, and I could not understand what was happening and whom I was shooting. At some point, I just sinned at a moment: this is not the same deiting. When I told her in correspondence that I had work experience, she decided that I had already photographed prostitutes and I don’t need to explain anything. Well, but I have a couple of years of wedding photography behind me.

I signed a piece of paper that I could not disclose the information received during work, and received two boxes with studio light. Wishing a good day, Katherine left on business, leaving me on the "address" with another manager.

So, where did I get. There are several chains of brothels in the city, each person holds a certain person, less often a company. Basically, everything is next to government institutions so that the “portfolios” can relax at lunchtime. There are more expensive ones, there are less - more often in one network there are different “addresses” at which girls are sorted - from cheap to expensive. One of the most “budget” points is next to the bank.

“Address” is an apartment where girls are based. The “manager” was called a woman who was sitting at every address and spoke on the phone. Prostitutes in the field were called "girls", other terms were condemned.

Being in a light shock, I went out into the hall and introduced myself as "Amelie, your new photographer." I was asked what I did with the old. “Gouched,” I replied. The girls laughed, the degree of general tension was asleep, and my first working day began.

Weekdays in the brothel

While one of the girls prepared me coffee with cookies, the manager quietly said that the old photographer was fired, because he, under some pretext, made one of the girls from the address and tried to rape her. As I found out, only women began to hire from that moment on photographers. I strained a little and decided to be careful so that no one would know about my orientation. Then I myself met with a girl and did not really want to lose work due to the fact that the authorities will decide that I could also rape one of the girls.

When collecting equipment, I managed to study the interior. Later it turned out that the addresses with girls of the low and middle price category looked the same. The room has a bed, a trash, two or three dies, as in hotels in the 90s, two nightstands with condoms, massage baby oil and napkins, and the same, black in heart, bedspreads.

If the room is large, in it they could leave a floor hanger and a couple of seats. Everything is in echoing colors and as cheap as possible. At all addresses of one network, everything is always the same. Sometimes I see such bedspreads in a heart in the market - and my eye pulls.

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When I collected the light, I finished the cup of coffee and set up the camera, it was impossible to put it on - I had to call the first models. They rented right in the rooms where they usually worked. Two identical girls came in: black extended hair, pouted lips, huge eyelashes. They were friends, and one very much supported the second. I internally rolled my eyes to their terribly cheap and vulgar appearance, but when they spoke, I realized that I hastened with conclusions. Both girls quite clearly formulated their thoughts, as it turned out, had an education, and I was even confused from the dissonance between the appearance and what was hiding behind her. But when the first girl fell on the bed, I switched to the operating mode, began to build a frame, manage the shooting and tried not to think about anything anymore.

While we were shooting, the second girl said that she is now writing a master's and wants to open her own business. I shot 150 frames, of which the leadership took three pictures on the model. Somewhere in the middle of my first shooting, I realized that in a panic terribly unprofessional I forgot that I had to take off on the working flash drives, and took off on my own. This was forbidden: an hour before the session, at a short briefing, they explained to me that it was necessary to shoot strictly on the working flash drives. I had to relieve shots. Having finished with my friends and photographing other models, I handed over the USB flash drive, folded the light and went to relieve tension into the bar.

The next morning, two new addresses were waiting for me, I threw the batteries into my pocket from a hangover, somehow stuffed the camera into the case and stomped working. The feeling of novelty and confusion gradually let go, I felt more confident, but there was one problem. Girls Manali photographer and shooting. All these photographs, according to the leadership, were needed in order to “fuck more expensive”. Photos were thrown by customers, so professionals with good equipment were hired, but the girls did not care. They worked like trees, not expressing any emotions. After three years in weddings, I thought that nothing could get me so much, but I was mistaken.

It was difficult to work with them, because it was necessary not only to put each in the pose “manually”, but also to make her feel relaxed, beautiful, sexy, to find contact, and all this - breaking through “I won’t get out” and “do whatever you want”. They could not directly be rude to me, fearing fines, but they won the frames well.

There are certain “castes” in the industry. The lower is the working staff, that is, girls. Behind them are service staff: cleaners put addresses in order, makeup artists paint girls. And all this company is subordinate to managers responsible for organizing the process. And only then - the authorities that no one sees.

The photographers went separately, because they did not obey the girls or managers, but they could not give direct orders either. Unless they pretended that they transfer the orders of the authorities (which I used). In the industry, in general, everyone is very fond of orders and a demonstration of power.

Over time, I developed a framework base and printed Manual girls so that they simply pose a template. It was necessary to shoot classic personnel, which everyone saw on the sites of prostitutes, in advertising striptiz bars and God knows where else.

There were those who liked to liberate: filming for them were high. It’s cool to work with such, and after a few weeks I began to gradually find the approach and to the rest, trying to talk them to the session, so that later it was more difficult for them to refuse.

Do you take anal?

I went to work at 11 in the morning, regardless of weather and mood. They threw me an address at which I was already waiting for the equipment and memory cards, and after shooting I left everything to the managers. With many of them, in a couple of months, we became friends. They recognized me, treated me to food, and sometimes I was responsible for them on the phone. This is not so difficult: you take three “menu” leaves with the names of girls, their parameters and price lists to different services and talk with customers on their behalf:

- Hello, Anfisa? - the client’s puffing voice in the tube.
-Yes, dear.
- And what are your hair?
- Red, do you love reddish? I have two more hours at home, come. Then the girlfriends will return.
- Can you be together? What size has she? Anal takes?

In communicating with clients, girls and managers have always played out individuals, creating for customers a cozy feeling that they simply go to the girl to visit.

It was impossible to drink alcohol at the addresses, there is something with a sharp smell and smoke outside the balcony. We could chat for hours, stretching the working day and at the same time simulating the enthusiastic work (there were cameras on the addresses, but they shot only a picture without sound and not all the corners overlapped). With the girls, we played catch -up and crocodile, told stories from life. I basically just smoked and listened, so by the fifth month of work I already knew hundreds of stories.

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"We invite you to Kotokafa"

Each came to the profession in its own way; The main thing that united them was almost no one suffered from the chosen work. There were local girls who just like that they had a cleaning lady, nails, styling, expensive clothes, beautiful life. Quite few - for the sake of providing their family, relatives, children, sick relatives. Some hated men, some hated everyone.

Almost half had children, but there was no husband. Their mothers most often were in the know and sat with their grandchildren while the daughter worked. Most girls worked from a year. It was pointless to go for a shorter term: not to earn much at once. Therefore, either they decided immediately and for a long time, or did not dare at all.

Several times I saw how the brand new ones “debut”. Leaving the first in the client’s life, they always had somewhat detached look and sat for a long time in the shower, mourning their lives, and then silently dressed and went to work on.

An important condition for this work: you always have the opportunity to leave. Basically, the girls got into the business themselves-through telegram channels, for example, where you can find announcements about vacancies in the deit. As a rule, everyone knew where and why they were going, but for some, the story was different.

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Once I shot a thirty-year-old Anfisa. She had an ugly purple linen, which was completely lost in the indoor interior, but she had nothing to change. Then I told her to undress and wrap myself with a naked curtain. We talked, and it turned out that Anfisu called Olya.

She recently arrived from the village somewhere in the west, where she had a husband and two children, eight and twelve years old. Olya did not love her husband, she got married not for love and gave birth to children, because "it should be so." Flying telegrams, Olya saw a vacancy in catcuffs in Kotokafe in the capital. The money was offered good, so Olya collected things and went to work. Already on the spot I found out that a cafe is a brothel, Olya is not obliged to go to work and can leave at any time and forget the address. But if it remains, it will receive housing and work in the center of the capital, as well as a salary that is enough for good nails, expensive clothes and a salad of avocado.

Недолго думая Оля написала мужу, что котокафе тут хорошее, она сняла комнату в общаге, остаётся работать и пришлёт домой денег с зарплаты. А потом сняла кольцо с пальца — и ни к нелюбимому мужу, ни к нежеланным детям так и не вернулась.

Я снимала студенток и девочек с дипломами, мам и бездетных, верующих, распущенных и стесняющихся, интересных и скучных, девочек с мужьями.

Однажды я работала с двумя лесбиянками. Николь и Элис звали Марина и Юля. Они встречались друг с другом вот уже пять лет и хотели накопить денег чтобы уехать «в какую-то нормальную страну и жениться». Они работали три года. Говорили, что им повезло: гетеродевочкам может быть мерзко, а им плевать, ведь они всё равно мужчин не любят и для них это как спать с резиновой куклой — никаких эмоций.

Как-то раз, когда я вновь пришла на тот же адрес, их уже не было. Коллеги сказали, что они уволились в один день. Стало быть, получилось.

Сестринство

Большинство проституток терпеть не могут секс. Точнее, не любят тот секс, который имеют на работе. Мужчины используют их как спермоприёмник, не подозревая ни о существовании клитора, ни о том, что вагинальное проникновение нравится далеко не всем женщинам. По рассказам девочек, некоторым клиентам порой вдруг важно, чтобы девочке тоже было хорошо. И когда девочка объясняла, что от того, что в неё просто суют член, она ничего не чувствует, они очень удивлялись. В свои 30–40 лет они не знали, что нужно делать что-то ещё.

Иногда в бордель, чтобы лишиться девственности, приходили совсем юные восемнадцатилетние парни, которым не везло по жизни. Иногда в поисках девушки приезжали другие девушки, но это было редкостью. Секс женщины с женщиной стоил в среднем в пять раз дороже.

Некоторые клиенты пытались нарушать правила, например начинали душить, не спросив согласия, или снимали презерватив в процессе. К сожалению, максимальные санкции за такое поведение — штраф и чёрный список. Жертве после такого давали выходной и какие-то деньги сверху.

How I celebrated the New Year in the Red Light quarter Theodore Glagolev , Elena Bulay the story of the reader, who decided to celebrate the New Year in the company of a sex worker and went through the way of excitement, disappointment and acceptance Оля увидела вакансию по уходу за котами в котокафе в столице. Уже на месте узнала, что кафе — это бордель

Девочкам отводили персональную полку с сумочкой, антисептиком, презервативами и салфетками. У каждой — свой прайс (причём на одном адресе во избежание ссор девочки могут не знать прайсы друг друга) и список услуг, которые она оказывает или не оказывает. В этой индустрии высокая конкуренция. Тем не менее по человеческому отношению и взаимопомощи это была лучшая работа в моей жизни.

Однажды меня очень выручила одна из моих моделей. На пятый месяц моей работы, прямо во время съёмки, меня бросила девушка. Я открыла телефон посмотреть время, увидела сообщение от неё, ушла в ванную и расплакалась. Девочка, которую я в это время снимала, постучала, с моего разрешения открыла дверь, всучила мне сигарету и вывела меня покурить на балкон, где рассказала о своём разводе, детях и выслушала меня. Во избежание недопонимания я сказала, что меня бросил молодой человек. После разговора мне стало лучше, я вернулась к работе и досняла ещё четверых. Каждая, видя моё состояние, предлагала мне чай, сигарету или бутерброд.

Менты под дверью

Однажды, когда мы с менеджеркой и несколькими девушками сидели на кухне, в дверь громко постучали. Процесс организован так, что клиенты всегда обязательно звонят заранее, но менеджерка выглядела удивлённой и, кажется, никого не ждала.

— Эй, девочки, цыц. Телефоны вырубили, оделись, — бросила она девчонкам на диване. Те немного приглушили музыку, но не особенно напряглись.

Стук продолжался и стал тяжелее, настойчивее. Менеджерка посмотрела в глазок: на пороге стояли менты в разгрузке и продолжали барабанить. Девочки вокруг сохраняли спокойствие, как будто ничего не происходило.

Я же начала потихоньку собирать вещи и пятиться к балкону. Было нервно: совсем не страшно угодить ментам — страшно увидеть заголовки завтрашних газет, где появятся заметки о том, что я, дочь такого важного бати, была задержана в борделе. Кто тут будет разбираться — фотограф я, уборщица или всё-таки проститутка.

«Ты делаешь такие фото, чтобы их хотели взять замуж, а нужно, чтобы их просто хотели ебать»

В дверь барабанили не переставая, в комнате до сих пор играла музыка, а я смотрела вниз, вспоминала годы в детском лагере и планировала, как буду спускаться и прыгать на козырёк подъезда. Я спрятала карты памяти, чтобы было не опознать автора снимков, и была уже почти готова прыгать, если дверь начнут ломать, но тут всё прекратилось. Менты просто ушли и больше не возвращались.

Я проработала в компании полтора года. Все эти месяцы «сверху» меня пытались научить, как мне снимать: «Ты делаешь такие фото, чтобы их хотели взять замуж, а нужно, чтобы их просто хотели ебать». От меня часто требовали невозможного, просили разнообразить интерьер и поменять детали в вертикальных комнатках три на семь метров, куда невозможно было нормально вместить весь необходимый свет. Да и платили мне совсем не так, как дорогим девочкам. В какой-то момент мне всё это окончательно надоело — и я уволилась. Работая в борделе, я не забрасывала своё любимое хобби, продолжала рисовать и развиваться и теперь живу фрилансом. Многих девочек я и сегодня вижу на улицах. Кого-то встречаю в кафе с мужчинами. По негласному правилу, мы делаем вид, что не знаем друг друга.

Не следуй за мной: каким бывает сталкинг Виктория Аракелян , Елена Чеснокова , Ксения Рыкова У журналистки Виктории Аракелян украли пароли от соцсетей. Она попыталась выяснить, кому это было нужно, и попутно разобралась, как устроен сталкинг