The Secret Life of an Escort in Dubai: A Personal Story

• by Tiberius Knightley
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Most people see Dubai as glittering towers, luxury yachts, and five-star hotels. But behind the glass and gold, there’s another side-quiet, hidden, and rarely spoken about. I was one of those women. Not because I wanted to be famous, or because I needed the money. I did it because I could. And because, for a while, it gave me control over a life that had otherwise slipped through my fingers.

How I Got Started

I moved to Dubai in 2022 after my divorce. I had no family here, no savings, and a degree in psychology that meant nothing without local accreditation. I took a job as a receptionist at a boutique hotel. It paid $1,200 a month. Rent for my studio apartment was $1,100. I was living on $100 a month. That’s not a lifestyle. That’s survival.

One night, a guest asked if I knew anyone who could accompany him to a private dinner. He offered $500 for the evening. I said yes. I wore a dress I’d bought on sale. I didn’t drink. I didn’t touch him. We talked about books. He left me a $200 tip. I cried in the shower that night-not because I was ashamed, but because for the first time in months, I felt like I had options.

That was the beginning. Not because I wanted to be an escort. Because I didn’t want to be broke.

What It Actually Looks Like

There’s no glamorous limo pickup. No paparazzi. No Instagram posts. Most clients are men who travel for business-Saudi businessmen, Russian investors, European executives. They don’t want drama. They want calm. Discretion. Someone who listens.

I never had sex with a client. Not once. I set that boundary early. My service was companionship: dinner, drinks, walks along the Dubai Marina, attending art gallery openings, even sitting quietly while they worked on their laptops in a hotel lounge. I learned to read body language. I learned how to tell when someone needed silence versus conversation. I learned how to make someone feel seen without saying a word.

My rates started at $300 an hour. By 2024, they were $800. I worked three days a week. Sometimes two. Sometimes none. I didn’t need to work every night. I had a system: I booked clients through a vetted agency that handled payments, scheduling, and security. No street work. No random meetups. No risky situations.

I kept a notebook. Not of names or dates. Of preferences. One man hated mint tea. Another couldn’t stand loud music. One asked me to wear his wife’s perfume because it reminded him of home. I never judged. I just remembered.

The Rules I Lived By

Dubai doesn’t have laws that say ‘escort services are illegal.’ But it also doesn’t say they’re legal. It’s a gray zone. And in gray zones, you create your own rules.

• No alcohol in my apartment. Even if a client brought it, I turned it away. Too risky.
• No photos. Not of me. Not of them. Not of the room. Ever.
• No social media. I deleted every account that linked to my real name. Used burner phones. Paid in cash when possible.
• No emotional attachment. I reminded myself every morning: I’m a professional. Not a girlfriend. Not a therapist. Not a friend.
• No clients from the same company twice. I didn’t want to risk being linked to a corporate scandal.

I had a code word: ‘Riyadh.’ If a client said, ‘Can we meet in Riyadh?’ it meant he was drunk, aggressive, or trying to push boundaries. I’d say, ‘I’m sorry, I’m booked.’ And I’d leave.

The People I Met

Not all clients were lonely businessmen. Some were lonely wives. I had three female clients. One was a Russian diplomat’s wife who missed her daughter. Another was a French CEO who’d just gone through a divorce. They didn’t want sex. They wanted to be treated like a person again.

One man, a German engineer, came every month for six months. He never spoke. Just sat in the hotel lounge with me while he read. One day, he handed me a book-The Alchemist. ‘You remind me of the girl in this story,’ he said. I didn’t know what to say. So I smiled. He never came back.

There were others. A man who cried during dinner because his son had just died. A billionaire who asked me to call him ‘Dad’ for one night. I did. He paid me $5,000.

I didn’t save any of that money for myself. I sent it all home-to my sister, to pay for my niece’s surgery. That was my purpose. Not the money. Not the luxury. The chance to help someone I loved.

The Fear That Never Left

There was always fear. Not of arrest. Of exposure. Of being recognized. I once saw a client in a grocery store. He didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at him. We both walked away. That’s how it worked.

I changed my phone number three times. Moved apartments twice. Used different taxis every time. I never told anyone-not my family, not my friends, not even my therapist. I told them I worked in event planning. That was easier than explaining the truth.

The biggest fear wasn’t getting caught. It was becoming someone I didn’t recognize. I used to be the girl who read poetry on the subway. Who cried at dog rescue videos. Who believed in love. I didn’t know if I still was.

How I Got Out

I saved $120,000 in 20 months. Not because I was greedy. Because I knew I couldn’t do this forever. I started taking online courses in digital marketing. I built a small freelance business helping expat women with branding. I kept it quiet. No one knew I was doing both.

In early 2025, I left Dubai. I moved to Portugal. I still work remotely. I still help women who feel trapped. I don’t call myself an escort anymore. I don’t talk about it. But sometimes, when I’m walking along the coast in Lisbon, I think about the quiet men who paid me to sit with them. I think about the loneliness they carried. And I wonder if they ever found peace.

What No One Tells You

People think escorts in Dubai are either victims or villains. The truth is, most are just people trying to survive. Some are students. Some are single moms. Some are artists who took a detour. No one wakes up wanting to be an escort. But some wake up with no other choice.

Dubai doesn’t offer safety nets. If you’re not rich, you’re invisible. And if you’re a woman without family here? You’re even more invisible.

I didn’t become rich. I didn’t become famous. But I became free. And that’s more than most people ever get.