Call Girl in Dubai Shares Insights on Life, Work, and Survival in the City

Most people in Dubai never think about the women who work in the city’s hidden economy. They see luxury hotels, golden skylines, and five-star restaurants-but not the quiet apartments where women navigate one of the most complex, dangerous, and misunderstood jobs on earth. One woman, who asked to be called Layla, sat down with me over coffee in a quiet corner of Al Barsha. She didn’t want fame. She didn’t want pity. She just wanted someone to hear the truth.

How It Starts

Layla moved to Dubai from Ukraine in 2021. She had a degree in marketing, worked in a call center back home, and was tired of earning $300 a month. A friend told her about the money here. "They say you can make what you’d earn in five years in one month," she told me. She didn’t know then that "money" meant risking jail, deportation, or worse.

She wasn’t trafficked. She wasn’t forced. But she was desperate. And in Dubai, desperation is a currency. She signed a contract with an agency that promised "companion services." No mention of sex. No mention of the police raids. No mention of the fact that under UAE law, any sexual exchange for money is illegal-even if both parties consent.

The Rules No One Talks About

Dubai doesn’t have brothels. There are no red-light districts. But there are apartments. And hotels. And private villas rented by the hour. Layla says the real game isn’t about attracting clients-it’s about avoiding detection.

• You can’t use your real name on any app or booking platform.
• You can’t accept cash from strangers-only bank transfers through intermediaries.
• You can’t work in the same building two nights in a row.
• You can’t have a phone number tied to your passport.
• You can’t talk to other workers. Ever.

She showed me a screenshot of a message from a client: "I’ll pay double if you don’t use your real name again. Last time, the police came to the building because someone reported a "suspicious woman."" That woman was never seen again.

Who Are the Clients?

Layla says most of her clients aren’t rich sheikhs or oil tycoons. They’re regular guys. Engineers from India. Sales reps from Germany. Accountants from the UK. Men who come to Dubai for work, feel lonely, and think they can buy comfort.

"They’re not monsters," she said. "They’re just lonely. Some cry. Some apologize. One brought me a book he wrote. Another asked if I’d like to go to the beach with him-just as friends. I said no. But I didn’t turn him away. He paid me $400 and left a $100 tip. I cried after he left. Not because of the money. Because I realized he didn’t see me as a service. He saw me as a person. And that’s rarer than you think."

The Cost of Silence

Every woman in this world lives under the same unspoken rule: don’t speak up. If you do, you lose everything. Your visa. Your freedom. Your chance to ever come back.

Layla has seen three women arrested in the last year. One was deported. Another disappeared. The third? She got lucky. Her agency paid a bribe. She was released after three days. No charges. No record. Just a warning: "Don’t do this again."

"They don’t care if you’re scared," Layla said. "They only care if you’re caught."

How They Make It Through

Survival isn’t about money. It’s about structure. Layla has a routine:

1. She checks her phone at 9 a.m. for new bookings. Only from verified numbers.
2. She meets clients in pre-approved apartments-always in buildings with security cameras and no direct elevator access.
3. She carries a fake ID, a burner phone, and a small bottle of pepper spray in her purse.
4. She has one friend she trusts. They text a code word every night: "Tea?" means safe. "Coffee?" means help.
5. She saves 80% of her earnings. She doesn’t spend it on clothes or trips. She saves it to leave.

She’s planning to move to Portugal next year. She’s learning Portuguese. She wants to open a small café. "I want to serve people coffee without them asking what I did last night."

The Myth of the "Luxury Escort"

Instagram feeds show women in designer dresses, holding champagne, posing next to Lamborghinis. That’s not Layla. That’s not most of them.

Real life is a 300-square-foot apartment with flickering lights. It’s eating instant noodles because you can’t afford to cook. It’s wearing the same black dress three times because you can’t risk being seen buying new clothes. It’s lying to your family: "I work in event planning."

"They think we’re glamorous," she said. "We’re not. We’re just trying to survive a system that doesn’t care if we live or die."

What People Get Wrong

Most outsiders think this is about sex. It’s not. It’s about control. Control over your body. Control over your time. Control over your future.

There’s no law in Dubai that protects women like Layla. No labor rights. No healthcare. No safety net. If you get hurt, you’re on your own. If you get sick, you pay out of pocket. If you’re arrested, your government won’t help you.

"We’re not criminals," she said. "We’re just women who took a risk. And now we’re paying for it in silence."

What Could Change

Layla doesn’t want to be a hero. She doesn’t want to be a victim. She just wants the world to stop pretending this doesn’t exist.

Some countries have decriminalized sex work. They give workers legal rights. Access to healthcare. Protection from violence. Dubai won’t do that. Not now. Not soon. But maybe, one day, someone will listen.

Until then, women like Layla keep working. Keep saving. Keep surviving.

She doesn’t know if she’ll make it out. But she’s trying. And that’s more than most people ever do.