There is an art to taking sexy photos in an airplane toilet cubicle. It’s not easy navigating such cramped quarters, but practise has made perfect. I’m changing in and out of three different pairs of lacey thongs for clients who get a kick out of that mile high club fantasy. One has requested I pleasure myself while 35,000 feet up in the sky. I’d usually take the photo, then do the deed at my layover hotel, but today I’m feeling generous. It’s a long-haul overnight flight so I have time, and frankly it’ll help me unwind after a jarring few hours with a screaming baby on board.
That was in the early days, when selling my knickers was a side hustle. I was 21 when I became an air hostess, following in my mum’s footstep, but after two years of horrendous hours and living out a suitcase, I was bored and restless. At this time, OnlyFans was reaching its pinnacle and was a total obsession among my friendship group, so one evening we made accounts for a bit of fun. We figured there was no harm in posting the same kind of lingerie shots we were already putting out for free on our Snapchat.
My friends’ interest waned over the coming weeks, but creating content kept me entertained on long work trips. I’d take dirty selfies in the toilet on my breaks, sometimes in the main cabin area if I was the last to lock up; the uniform was a hit. My airline appeal began racking up an ever-growing following and the extra income was welcome.
However, it wasn’t long till the exposure on OnlyFans began to overwhelm me. I showed my face in photos, because that’s when the real money comes in, and I became hyper aware of being recognised.
To my knowledge, my airline never spotted me, but I began receiving sleazy messages from male friends of friends. That kind of proximity to my everyday life made me feel uncomfortable and, for the first time, seedy. I could deal with thought of random men I’d never meet seeing my near-nudes, it felt separate and without consequence. But I started to become paranoid that everyone I interacted with, from my post man to the greengrocers, was looking at me differently.
A friend suggested I look into selling my underwear, after hearing somewhere there was a huge market for it, and that was when I came across the app I use now, Sofia Gray. Instead of anyone having access to my content at any time, I was able to connect privately with clients and charge for content on an individual basis. I sold photos, used underwear, even shoes, and started earning more money than I ever had on OnlyFans. I balanced my new side hustle with airline work for a few months, but soon had enough regular clients to quit entirely.
Now I make around £2,000 a month, more than I ever did as an air hostess, for a lot less effort. I’m my own boss, I set my own schedule and can work from anywhere in the world; it’s flexible working at its finest. A pair of my dirty knickers can go for £200. Granted, that’s if I masturbate in them, but I have no issue with doing something I do everyday anyway. If anything, it’s saving me on the Cleanex. I draw the line at faeces requests. Mostly, I get contacted late in the evening to send worn underwear and bras, along with photos. My clients are mostly international, so I have no fears of my job getting back to family and friends.
Because there’s the thing. My family and extended friendship circle have no idea how I pay my bills. But it hasn’t been hard to cover up. I’m an only child and I’m not close to my parents, so it’s easy to lie to them. We live at other ends of the country, and I see them twice a year at most. When they ask about my airline job, they’re satisfied with a simple one liner, and are so out of touch with technology that they don’t even use mobile banking. I’m not worried they’ll try to add me on Find My Friends anytime soon. I’m not on Instagram either, so there’s no keeping tabs on me there.
As for friends, my closest ones are in the know, and I tell the others I’m in sales - there’s usually no follow up to that and it’s not really a lie. Dating is the only area I suspect would be more difficult, but I’ve been with the same boyfriend since I was 18 and he’s used to it. He’s been by my side as my career has evolved and knows my job isn’t about being physical with anyone. At the end of the day, it’s him I come home to. A younger man’s ego might be more easily bruised, but my partner is mature – and 25 years my senior.
Disapproval over our age gap is the main reason I’ve distanced myself from my parents. I don’t feel bad about lying to them because they already don’t accept me. Of course, I imagine they would never speak to me again if they knew my secret.
I’ll stop one day, when I have kids. But only because I plan to be a stay-at-home mum, not because I worry about what they’d think. I’m not ashamed of what I do. Women have always, and will always, be objectified and sexualised, I’m just working it to my advantage. If I don’t do it, there are thousands of other women who will. I’m more financially stable than I’ve ever been and have the perfect work-life balance. Be honest with yourself, don’t pretend like you’ve never considered it.
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