Sex in the Suburbs: Close to McDonald's, stinking of drugs and smoke
It is an ordinary block of flats on an ordinary street, a stone's throw from a discount supermarket and a McDonald's.
These are people's homes. But it is in this red-bricked flat where a prostitute is plying her trade to customers who have inquired about her services online.
There was no flier in a phone box, no whispered tip from a seedy middle man in a dodgy pub, just a menu of women presented like something out of an Argos catalogue.
The girl had advertised on her profile that she was down the road from Cannock Fire Station. She claims she was a 19-year-old university student and a 'sexy lady who likes to dress nice for the men'.
The girl, who goes by the name 'Charlie', offers prices from £40 to as much as £1,000 for overnight.
Her clients could even rate her 'work' in a feedback section that bears similarities to Trip Advisor.
It took just two emails to get a mobile phone number and arrange a meeting. Once booked, a text message arrived with a postcode to find the flat on a sat nav.
The corridor of the block of flags is dark, damp and dingy and signs say it is monitored by CCTV. Graffiti covered doors are lit by a handful of unbroken lights. The rest are smashed.
A fresh faced, black-haired girl with blue eyes and wearing a black nightie opens the door to the flat.
The apartment reeks of stale cigarette smoke and marijuana.
Charlie goes straight into her bedroom and sits on the small bed, which is covered in a blue and white, tatty, bobbled duvet on a rickety mattress.
It is a poky room with a radio and a poster on the wall saying Keep Calm and Carry On.
Despite claiming to be a 'university student' there are no text books.
Charlie explains to this first-time visitor what is going to happen: "Well, you get undressed and get comfortable and we'll go from there really."
She is a quiet girl. Her speech is slow and at times slurred. She shrugs her shoulders when asked how long the flat has been used like this and says: "I don't know, I'm from Birmingham."
Admissions of nervousness are met with re-assurances from Charlie who says: "It's like a one night stand."
She checks the time and hints at payment.
Then she goes through a door after instructing her client to get undressed and 'get comfortable'.
I make my excuses and leave.
Charlie asks a few times if I am sure before saying 'nice to meet you' and ushering me out.
The door closes. Locks are turned. The flat becomes just an anonymous front door once more.
