In the last series, there was an episode in which TV-Belle had a disabled client. Unfortunately, it was also the episode in which her boyfriend inadvertently learned what her occupation was, which was a pity. I thought the issue should have had the freedom to stand on its own rather than be overshadowed by the relationship storyline.

At any rate, I had similar experiences. In fact many sex workers have. Not all, but there is a significant compassionate component to what the job entails. I don't simply means this in massaging a banker's back so he forgets what the FTSE is doing sort of way, though that is important, but being able to compartmentalise (an essential trait for any successful sex worker) also means being able to put aside your own initial reaction to someone and trying to see the encounter through their eyes.

As I've said before, it's a customer service position, not a personal fulfillment odyssey.

Which brings me to one client in particular. Because he was seated on the bed when I arrived at the hotel, I noticed nothing unusual about him. He did seem slight, but one gets used to all types of body sizes and shapes in this job.

'The money is on the desk,' he said, and I slipped the envelope in my bag. Never count the money in front of the client.

He asked me to undress to the level of underwear (requested: bra, stockings with suspenders, knickers over the suspenders - so the stockings could stay on during sex). I did this.

Then, he asked if I would undress him.

And that was when I noticed. The odd angle of his uneven shoulders, his narrow chest, the gouge-like scars. I didn't ask, he offered nothing, and I ran my hands over his body with no hesitation. He asked me to swing his legs onto the bed, and when I did, I saw the walking sticks next to it for the first time.

That client did not reach orgasm but enjoyed the sex. We talked afterwards, he about his upbringing in Africa. His hair was thick and dark and when he said his age I could not believe it. He was much older than he looked, far older than my father! I could see in the moustache and cheekbones a man who, had his health outcome been different, might have been a dashing RAF pilot in some other world. I continued to stroke the unusual topography of his body, lightly over the lumps and odd moles, harder when I reached his (still semi-erect) penis. He, correctly, identified where I was from based on the pronunciation of a single word that came up in conversation. I can't remember if this encounter is in any the books... on the blog, he was mentioned only in passing, and not because of disability. We talked about holidays, about sunshine and the sea.

This is what comes to mind when I read people like Harriet Harman describing selling sex as "truly medieval" and "just so wrong". For her, presumably, her sex drive is constrained neither by opportunity nor the form of her body. She can and, I assume, does have sex as and when (and if) she wants it.

Other people are not in the same position. And surely denying them access the human touch is short-sighted and "truly medieval". I do not believe for a single moment, however, that these campaigners against sex work have a single ounce of compassion for the trafficked women they claim to want to help, so perhaps asking them to have compassion for people who, simply by fate, happen not to have the freedom or opportunity for a fulfilling sex life so many of us take for granted is far too large a request.