In this extract from her new book, New Zealand writer Megan Dunn describes her time answering the phone at Belle de Jour

I got a job at Belle de Jour in 1998. I was 24 years old and had just graduated from art school. What did I need next? Life experience.

The neon sign hung in the window of the ranch slider. The massage parlour logo was of a vintage femme fatale: a raven-haired Betty Page-ish beauty with bright red lips who wore a cheetah V-neck and elbow-length black gloves and toked a cigarette in a cigarette holder. Like Lauren Bacall. One of those classic screen sirens, a quip at the ready. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Slim? You just put your lips together and…

Continue reading…
Source: The Guardian