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What are your rates?

People used to ask me that question all the time. No I wasn't a taxi driver.

They get asked the question too.

But then again, I almost lived in a taxi.

In the early 1990's I was a hooker working in Sydney's Kings Cross. There are two things that Kings Cross is always full of … hookers and taxis … that is except at 3 AM on a Saturday morning when ten thousand people there want both at once.

Taxi drivers and hookers are like brothers and sisters. We deal with the detritus of society, the high and the lonely, the masses in the middle and the low and the loony. We are prostitutes for business. Our business is making sure that people come when they want. We like our customers to be erect with happiness and then to have a relaxing journey to where they want to come or go.

People sometimes compare taxi drivers and hookers to lawyers, but that's not really a fair thing to do. You see, we make people get what or where they want, lawyers often make them go to where they don't want to … bankruptcy, jail or whatever.

You hire a taxi, you get a ride, you hire a hooker, we give you a ride, you hire a lawyer, they usually take you for a ride.

Taxi drivers are a weird mob. They are the psychoanalysts of society. Everybody tells them their problems. They are a poor-man's shrink. We hookers also tell them of our secrets. We don't share them with anyone else.

For example I remember telling a driver about this freak who used to run around the brothels in Sydney looking for sex. He was a freak because his penis was about 18 inches long. He'd walk into the parlors and drop his dacks and ask the girls who'd take him. We'd all shake our heads and he'd wander off to the next place. I got the impression he was more into showing off than actually having sex.

Or the case of the smelly ethnic bloke who wanted sex. None of the girls in our place liked him – he was fat, ugly and was putrid, so we lined him up with someone else. We heard he had a good time. The someone else he had sex with was a man … I don't think the bloke even realized!

We all liked the Asians. We liked them because of their small dicks … the cabbies liked them because they paid their bills. Likewise for the oldies. Most of time they'd just sit and talk with us … they didn't even want sex, while cabbies liked the elderly because they knew they'd never jump and run without paying the fare.

We all liked the tippers – it didn't matter what age or nationality they were.

And like Raymond was in his taxi, I was big on multiple-hiring…

Unlike Raymond, I didn't have to comply with the Transport Vehicles Act when I multiple hired!

Taxi drivers talk of the free sex they get with their jobs. We talk about the free rides we get with ours. We all talk about our clients from heaven, and never forget the ones from hell…

We both get those that can't find their way. Cabbies have the customers who can't find their way home, while we get the men who can't even find our hole!

Most of us have other trade secrets – cabbies usually have bald tyres because as the saying goes 'busy tyres never have tread'. Hookers often have shaved fannies, because grass never grows on a busy path!

I recall telling a cabbie about my night of surfing the waves at Darlinghurst. He asked 'but since when have there been waves in Darlinghurst?' I told him, 'When you spend four hours trying to make love to a 30 stone man!'

Then there was the cabbie who told of how he tried to make love to a fat woman from Rose Bay who offered to pay him $500 for the privilege. He said he dipped out in more ways than one, when he realized his penis couldn't make it to the hole. The pair settled for a $200 flagfall.

You see you have to sit on top and literally ride the waves of fat. There was the story doing the rounds of a courageous young girl who was actually crushed and killed by the weight of an oversized man she let on top of her.

One of the other girls used to say 'Fat people – don't root them – shoot them!'.

In the early 1990's I worked for a heroin dealer called "Fat George" who was a major player in the Wood royal Commission. He used me not so much to be a hooker, but rather to sit on his bed where he stored his drugs. You see I wasn't a user and I was the only girl he could trust not to shoot up his profits. This was another secret you'd only share with a taxi driver.

The drug traffickers used to use cabs and cab drivers to do their drug drops, because they'd never speak with police, and even if they did, they'd never remember where they went … or at least when Police asked the questions.

Then there's another thing hookers and cabbies have in common … we both hated the cops. We dealt with them daily and knew that many of them were the filth that others only suspected they are. The cops used to extort free sex from the hookers and free rides from the cabbies. If we didn't go along with their demands we'd be arrested and charged.

But then again there's another major difference between a cop car and a hooker's stockings. That is you can only fit one arse-hole in a pair of stockings.

And for both cabbies and hookers, you've got to be insane to do the job.

Now what authority does a hooker have to write a foreword for a book on taxis? Well we almost live in them. On some nights I'd do ten or more jobs – that's at least twenty taxi trips a night. I'd hand out a business card saying my address is a taxi and my mobile number is … After all, I spent more time in cabs than anywhere else! The other hookers were the same. Without us, there'd probably be a lot more bankrupt cabbies out there and plates would be worth $20,000 rather than $250,000.

Some of the hookers knew the cabbies more intimately then their wives. And while the regulatory authorities and government officials put out report after report on the taxi industry and the drivers, I can promise you that many of us hookers got far closer to the real action than they'd ever been.

Raymond Hoser is probably best known as Australia's leading corruption author. If you've read his books Smuggled, Victoria Police Corruption, etc, you'd know why. He deserves that title. His books are unique in Australia in that they say things as they are – you know they are true. His statement that he has to tone down some of the more outlandish events to make them plausible to people with more sheltered backgrounds is certainly true. Truth really is stranger than fiction and with someone like Raymond being exposed to so much of the truth he really does have a problem on his hands.

However Raymond is also insane. I know this. Anyone who can drive a taxi full time in Sydney, Melbourne and elsewhere for years on end, has to be mad. Anybody who seeks to document all this madness is even more insane!

Most cabbies are lucky to stick out the job for six months – people abusing them, attacking them, spewing on them, not paying their bills and that's just the start! (We have all this as well – plus the drunk men who can't get it up and then blame us for their imperfections).

If you met Raymond, you'd probably agree with me – he's not normal. His energy is at a level unlike most normal people. That's the only reason people like him can drive a taxi for years and retain their sanity (but don't ask the corrupt government officials he writes about whether he's sane – they'll tell you he's dangerous and should be locked up – before he writes even more books about them).

I'm now retired from the sex industry and living in a relatively quiet backwater called Melbourne, Victoria. However there are many more sordid details to be told of sex, taxis and everything else that the taxi drivers are on about.

(PS Crotty - love you – always!)

To find out more, read on.

XXX Name Deleted XXX (AKA KX8)

For the media release re the NSW Police trying to ban the Taxi book go to:
For details of the book Victoria Police Corruption go to:
For the threatening letter from the PIC go to:
XXX Name Deleted XXX betrayed by NSW Police Royal Commision - From the book - Victoria Police Corruption (1) - go to:
For the Hoser letter to a NSW Parliamentarian re the PIC's threats go to:

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