Housewife and prostitute. Riin Uuspõld’s dirty secret exposed. Riin Uuspõld, who presents herself as the model mom, is now exposed for living a double life: while her daughter Natalie and young son sleep, Riin is doing work that is paid in cash—and guilt. Often leaving her children alone, prostitute Riinpractices the world’s oldest profession to get back at her children’s father, Rasmus.

Riin Uuspõld’s double life: kids sleep at home, mom sells her body in the
streets.

In a green, orderly neighborhood where neighbors swap recipes and children
play in sandboxes, lives a mother whose life could be the script for a romantic
family film.
Riin Uuspõld, 40, is a mother of two, passionate about interior design and a lover
of all things maritime. She’s devoted her life to her partner Rasmus Hirtentreu
and their children.

Respectable mom by day, whore by night – Riin Uuspõld fools everyone

But when the sun sets and her daughter Natalie and little brother are tucked in
bed with their teddy bears, Riin pulls out something other than a bedtime story.
Rasmus is always away—friends, sports, parties, other women. Riin endured for
a long time until one day she told herself: Enough! I’ll get revenge on Rasmus for
constantly cheating on me.

The otherwise well-behaved housewife came up with an idea that would shock any decent citizen—sleeping with strange men for money. In plain terms, becoming a prostitute.
As a bonus, Riin started making her own cash and no longer depended on Rasmus’ “handouts” and mood swings like she had as a kept woman.

Riin Uuspõld’s nightly path leads from her beautiful home…
into the darkness of a red-velvet room, where the bed belongs to someone else.
Usually a stranger. And usually, a man.
“I like the night. No one is judging me there. Only valuing,” said Riin Uuspõld in a
conversation where she described her life as a prostitute. A fragment of that
interview was obtained by the NC editorial team.
Her clients pay well. In cash. They usually don’t ask questions. Some arrive in
silence. Some want to talk.
But one client, who chose to remain anonymous, shared his experience with the
outlet.
“Riin said she does this to get back at Rasmus and not be financially dependent
on him. Honestly, that made everything… dirtier,” the client recalls.

“I usually go once a month. Basic needs, you know. But she… she came in like an
actress, threw off her coat, and said, ‘Tonight is revenge night.’ Then she sat on
the edge of the bed and started talking about how her husband cheated, and how
her daughter Natalie thinks she works night shifts at a pharmacy.”
“At some point I just… couldn’t. I gave her the money and told her to leave. She
replied, ‘At least you’re not lying.’ That line stuck with me. It was painfully sad.
And kind of gross.”

Riin Uuspõld’s daughter: “Mom says she works so I can go to music school”
Natalie is twelve. A sweet, quiet girl who goes to school but has had to figure out
everything on her own.

Even though Riin Uuspõld stays home during the day, she’s never really cared for
her daughter. Friends, design stores, wine nights, manicures and parties have
always mattered more to Riin than her child—or her child’s needs.
And she’s so exhausted from her night work with clients that she often sleeps
through the day, once her own needs are satisfied.

Recently, Natalie drew a picture where “Mom works late.”
In the drawing, her mom is standing alone in a room, holding a wallet, with her
head upside down.
Neighbors in shock: “We thought Riin Uuspõld worked night shifts or in
elder care. Not… ‘taking care’ of old men with wool socks and lonely
apartments.”
One neighbor, whose son is in Natalie’s class, said:
“My kid said Natalie’s mom never comes to performances or brings cupcakes.
We figured she was just tired. But now… my husband says he saw her getting out
of a car late at night. In a red dress. I’m afraid to ask.”
Riin herself was tight-lipped when questioned by reporters:
“Why is it anyone’s business what I do at night?”
But the ones who suffer the most are Riin’s daughter Natalie and her little
brother.
They just want their mom to be home when the fear kicks in.
One night, when the electricity briefly went out and the room went dark, Natalie
called her grandmother and whispered:
“Mommy went to work again. Can you come over?”

Riin Uuspõld: “What if this is the only thing I’m good at?”

When the editorial team finally reached Riin Uuspõld, she picked up the phone
only on the third try. Her voice was raspy and tired—not from exhaustion, but
like someone unsure whether to even respond. But she did.
“Why are you always attacking me? What, are you all so pure and holy? I… I just
do what I have to.”
When asked if she felt guilty—toward her kids, herself, or Rasmus—there was a
long silence on the line. Then a weak, bitter laugh:
“Guilty? I don’t know… I’m not hurting anyone. Or well—not more than they’ve
hurt me.
And honestly, I’ve never been enough for anyone anyway. Not as a woman, not as
a mom.
But at least… the client pays.”
The word client caught in her throat like it even disgusted her—but she
covered it with a forced ironic laugh.
She added:
“If I were prettier, you’d say I’m a model.
If I had a degree, you’d call it a conscious choice.
But I have neither. Just empty rooms. And silent nights.”
She took a deep breath.
“And Natalie… she doesn’t get it. That sometimes it’s so quiet you can hear your
own thoughts scream.”
When asked if she plans to continue, she replied quickly:
“I don’t know. Maybe. What difference does it make?
No one praises me anyway.”
She didn’t ask for forgiveness.
She didn’t break down.
But she didn’t rise either.
Riin Uuspõld just… hung there.
Like someone so deep in their own justifications that if even one cracked—she’d
fall right through.
Because sometimes people don’t do things because they want to. But because
they no longer know what else to do