What really goes on inside the STI testing clinic for sex workers

Before I’m allowed onto a porn set, I need paperwork. Lots of it.

Alongside ID checks proving my age and forms confirming I’m working by choice, studios now require recent sexual health certificates — usually from tests taken within the last two to four weeks.

So, when needed, I wander down to the Dean Street Express Clinic in Soho, which I’ve been frequenting for several years, to get tested. The last time was earlier this year, ahead of a shoot.

For people working in adult film, regular testing isn’t unusual. It’s expected. Which makes it even more odd that sex workers are still routinely described online as ‘dirty’.

Scroll through comments under any article about porn and you’ll see it. Under one recent post about a female performer, a commenter sneered: ‘Imagine how many STDs she’s carrying.‘

It’s a familiar refrain. Wildly out of step with reality. In practice, performers are among the most frequently tested people you’ll meet.

Dean Street offers free walk-in testing for those working in the industry. The clinic feels more like a tattoo studio than a doctor’s surgery: calm, modern, efficient.

The receptionist is beautiful, charming, and terribly softly spoken; I feel an incompetent, dithering old lady as she asks if I need ‘two or three swabs’ today.

This is her delicate way of enquiring whether I do anal. I don’t actually, it’s never been my thing, although I err on the side of caution regardless.

There’s a swab for your throat, vagina, and, if necessary, rectum, all to be tested for HIV, syphilis, gonorrhoea, chlamydia. She stuffs three small test tubes into a large plastic canister, the sort supermarkets used to stuff with cash and send up a shoot, before pointing me towards a cubicle.

In a well-kept toilet cubicle I swab myself in record time. I’m an old hand at this now.

I drop my samples off at reception and go downstairs to the waiting area. A big pink neon sign points to it, giving the next phase a nightclub toilet vibe.

I’m sent a text: ‘Make yourself comfortable and wait to be seen.’ Also: ‘You’ll be getting your results by text in the next twelve hours, so be careful who sees your phone.’ How thoughtful.

The waiting room is busy. There are two women, much younger than me, giggling in a corner, but the rest are men, perhaps thirty of them. Young and old, every nationality, generally rather handsome. We determinedly avoid each other’s gaze.

Most people have books. The chap next to me has one of those old school Nokia phones, and sits stabbing buttons furiously. Maybe it’s his job to send the bad news.

Many of them are clearly there for routine checks. Regular testing isn’t a sign of promiscuity or irresponsibility — it’s basic healthcare.

When I’m called in, the nurse runs through standard questions: when I last had sex, how many partners I’ve had recently, whether I feel safe at work and at home. That last one matters. It’s asked every time. There’s no judgement, just care.

She asks if I’d like my Hep C vaccine today, and I really don’t, because it hurts and makes you feel funny, but you can get Hep C if you share toys, so I resolve to be brave.

A few hours later, as I’m spanking a client (nothing that could affect my STI status), my results arrive: all clear. The following day, my HIV result confirms the same. I download the certificate I’ll need to work.

It’s a relief given syphilis and gonorrhoea are now at their highest levels in years, driven largely by people who don’t test regularly or don’t realise they should. Not to mention, many infections are asymptomatic — meaning people can pass them on without ever knowing.

In professional adult film, a positive test doesn’t get ignored. Shoots are paused, treatment begins and everyone involved re-tests. It’s inconvenient and time-consuming, but it works. Transmission is caught early. Damage is limited.

The stereotype of the ‘unclean’ sex worker doesn’t survive contact with reality. In my experience, it’s often those outside the industry who test least, talk least, and assume the most.

Clinics like Dean Street provide fast, non-judgemental care that benefits everyone, not just performers. If we’re serious about improving sexual health in this country, it might be time to stop shaming the people who are actually doing it properly.

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