I Got Invited To A Villa With 12 OnlyFans Models
It was nothing special.
I’ve been too in my head lately. I guess it’s valid. This month I got diagnosed with depression, got my heart broken, business’s numbers didn’t do so well, had like six uncomfortable conversations with different people — but here we are.
June is ending, and things are getting better. I got my boxing music machine this morning and raged to Will Smith’s Miami. I’m making progress on the weightlifting journey (my arms have never looked prettier), and I tried a little ramp on my roller skates — no harm was done. But man, I’m tired of writing about emotions and being vulnerable. I’ve had a few adventures, and if I've learned something recently, is that trying to learn about how to be happier is not the way; just do what makes you happy. Since we are on the chapter of my life that I like to call girl bossing responsibly, there’s not much space for adventure, so cheers to reminiscing.
This story happened a little before my other little adventure: We Are Not Supposed To Have Money For Another 10 Years
It is month number one in my new life in the Mexican Caribbean. I am cold-messaging every day, visiting hotels to leave my info, putting up flyers everywhere, joining WhatsApp groups, all so that I can become the next best wedding photographer in the Riviera Maya (it was never my intention. I just always like to delusionally think big. I just wanted to pay rent).
Nothing. A sad week went by, and then I got a text:
Hey! I’m looking for a photographer for a shoot in Tulum this weekend. Let me know if you are available.
I was exhilarated. Finally. A Job. It was a UK number, no photo, no information about it, and after I asked for the date and time, he sent me a voice message providing some details. British accent, very friendly, very nice, said he loved my work and that he and his girlfriend needed some pictures to promote their business. Ooh it was definitely not a wedding.
After I heard the voice message, I sat quietly at the kitchen table. The job was definitely out of my comfort zone. When I moved to Playa Del Carmen, I had this rule that if I was scared to do something that would probably not kill me, after I counted to three, I would say yes. The job was not going to pay much, it was risqué, and it was a 45-minute drive. I had an empty agenda, looked at my car with a tank full of gas out the window, I counted to three, and booked the shoot.
The next day, I arrived at the location. They had rented a beautiful villa in the center of Tulum and that was basically going to be our set. I entered through the main door, and a group of people were hanging out in the kitchen. By my equipment, they knew who I was and instantly greeted me with excitement. If you haven’t figured out what the job exactly was, here it is:
The couple that hired me was about to launch their business: A summer camp for girls who want to learn how to have a successful career in the sex work industry — inclined to aspiring OnlyFans models. I would take individual photos of each girl with their particular style, group photos, and candid shots around the villa. I was there to take photos, but from what I understood about this camp, it was basically a month-long experience at a villa where girls would be taught about the basics of becoming an OF personality. I don’t remember much of what those basics were, but I do remember they talked a lot about confidence.
I would lie if I said “I learned a lot that day” — I mean, even though they were a group of girls that shared a very different lifestyle from mine, we were just a bunch of girls taking pictures, it wasn’t much different from what I’ve done with my girlfriends — except this time I didn’t get my picture taken and the other girls had sexy lingerie, or were almost nude. We conversed, had snacks, had drinks, and at one moment it did hit me, I could never do what these girls do, and yet again, here we are sharing life stories and yapping.
Did I have a drastic change of view on sex work that day? I honestly never had an opinion to begin with. Did I become a felon by taking nude photos of women that would be sold later on? To be honest, I’m not well informed, so let me know if I should be waiting for a call from the police. Was I surprised that I had a fun day with women who sell their bodies? Yes.
After the shoot, we said our goodbyes, never saw them again, delivered my work, and continued searching for wedding gigs. It’s funny — before that day, I was curious to know how it would feel to be liked and given attention from a lot of men. I was tagged on an Instagram story from one of the girls who had a large following. I remember I got home and had like forty-plus likes from random men on my pictures. It was nothing special.