Gaaah.

"I couldn't have my happiness made out of a wrong - a wrong to someone else"
Edith Wharton,The Age of Innocence

***

I'm not entirely sure how this works, but...

Lover tells me that he has always felt guilty about cheating on his wife. Fair enough.

He has decided that if he can be faithful to Cute Girl, it will somehow expiate that sin. Second chances and all that.

So...cheating on wife with Mandy, Mandy = tarnished garbage that contaminates him.

Cheating on Mandy with Cute Girl, Cute girl = virgin who will redeem him.

Um, yeah...that's a totally fresh start!

Meanwhile, Cute Girl (who knows about me, we talked) is disturbed that Lover felt what to her looked like no shame for cheating on said wife. Hello, pot?

My last conversation with her indicated that we would stay friends. I'm a little bemused - friends don't usually take up with each other's ex-lovers immediately (in fact, I can't imagine Power Girl or Beautiful Girl ever even dating an ex-lover of mine, let alone one with a relationship this deep and serious, nor would I with their past boyfriends), so I'm curious what her standard of friendship is.

So, Gentle Readers. How much do I owe her civility and kindness on the grounds that when she first fell for Lover she didn't know? They decided to continue their relationship a week after I told Lover we were through, and less than 48 hours after I told her what had been going on from my perspective. Is this merely fortunes of war, may the best woman, etc?

Is this OK behavior from a friend?

Flashes

So I get these…flashes. Call it too many years of paying attention. As a 15-16-17-year-old I told fortunes on the street, it was my self-created summer job, between selling shoes and the accessories store. And yeah, half of that, 70 percent of that, 90 percent of that is crap. It doesn’t take a genius to look at another teenage girl and say, “Your parents don’t understand you.” “Ohmigod! Becki! She’s so right!”

But every now and then, something happens.

Last year, prior to his departure, I told a friend about getting ripped off on his travels, that he would have it happen twice, once small, once large. Two months later I spent ten days strongly suggesting he put his cash into travelers’ checks, and when his hostel roommate got his PDA, phone, porn, new jeans, and 1500 euros on Day Eleven, I did not say “I told you so.” The guy was pretty slick – even took the respective chargers, leaving behind the cord for the phone that was being carried by my friend.

I’ve come bolt awake, shaking, before dawn three mornings in a row. No light coming in the windows, not hungry (still), don’t have to pee. Just – present. I see Lover’s next trip. I see his thing with Cute Girl. I see dead people, yeah, whatever.

Are they earthshaking? Maybe not. One thought would be nice to know for his trip, maybe save some frustration, but it wouldn’t kill him. But the other – I could be way off base, or it could be a huge thing forestalled by some simple precautions. Or maybe my subconscious is just trying to make trouble.

So the question becomes, where is my moral obligation? Is this – I hesitate to call it sight, it comes in words, in the form of a question phrased in the affirmative, answered, why, yes - truly something vital? Or merely my brain’s frantic, jealous attempt to connect? If I say nothing, and something happens, have I hurt someone through non-action?

- - -


In older times, and sometimes still, mad people were sedated in a “wet pack.” Nurses and orderlies used strips of linen to bind the struggling, thrashing patient to a board, then mummify them in wet sheets, stop the jerking, the running, the flailing. If you got a little better, sometimes they would let you have your arms free.

Maybe that would stop the shaking.

Breadcrumbs...

Into the city, towers, lights, trailers for a movie production, the pit that used to be the World Trade Center, and the convergence of the universe continues when the really nice guy who saw me struggling to park paid for the garage.

I leave these clues in case I do not return...yeah, melodrama. But as I head inward, it comes to me, how much should it be work and how much should be magic? Lover has been very, very good to me. Dinners and adoration. Shows and support. And now, we're both finding that it's effort to want the other. My bitchiness overwhelms my prettiness. His quirkiness threatens to subsume his power over me.

I've lost a pet - stay with me on this - and it's the only pure grief I've known. I've been lucky that no-one close to me has (knock wood) been taken away (yet). The decision to end my cat's life rather than watch him suffer was wrenching. Last week, Powergirl came home, put her suitcases in my living room, walked across the street, broke up, and returned fifteen minutes later. Quick, like a bandaid. In that way, she's tougher than I am, not knowing whether to fight and work and struggle, or to say, this is a side relationship. This is not meant to be fought for, it's meant to happen beautifully like the blooming of a flower, and then when it's done, it's done. We broke up once before, in the morning, on an island, and circumstances led us to be in each other's company for the entire day afterwards. It was that same wrenching grief.

This morning, before I left my other life, I recut all the stems of the roses in the dining room vase. So little effort for a few more days of pleasant loveliness.

10 Things About a Woman (Whether or Not She’s a Whore)

1) If she offers you a shower, it’s not a suggestion or a request. Many service providers have this on their website as a gently-worded section of the “What will our time be like?” page. Maybe you already are squeaky-clean…but she hates your cologne.

2) If your hands are empty, hers should not be full. This goes for when she’s got packages and is passing through doors as well as when her hands are full of cock. Put your fingers in her hair, your palm on her back, do something with them in return. Unless you’re acting out The Sultan and the Nubian Slave, in which case you’re paying extra not to carry her packages, so to speak.

3) If you’re not wearing a condom, she’s ovulating and HIV+. Don’t put your naked penis in a woman unless and until you like each other enough to hold hands in the waiting room.

4) Listening is not waiting for your turn to talk. If you have no clue what she’s babbling on about now, repeat her last sentence in a questioning tone. She’ll explain further. If you’re paying, you can say, “let’s not talk.” If you’re not paying – in cash or with commitment – try not to date her again if you can’t stand listening to her.

5) As discussed in my treatise on the one client who understood this, don’t ask her during sex, “What do you like?” The answer is either complicated or embarrassing – we want to pretend you automatically know, and if you’re paying us, we may not want what we normally like – we want what gets you off. Do something and ask “Do you like that?” If it’s personal, go for the play-by-play afterwards in the orgasm haze...

6) Don’t ask her where she keeps her money. Don’t ask what she spends it on. She may be saving up to be independent of you. Be a gentleman and wish her well.

7) No matter how tough she is, some days she needs to lean on you.

8) Apologize when you are not wrong. It costs you nothing and she may apologize back. At the very least, it defuses the situation.

9) Stroking her ego is part of foreplay. Telling her she’s hot makes her feel hot. Be as specific as you can.

10) Gentle Reader, your suggestion for number 10...?



(Note bedsheet marks.)

Miscellany (real post later tonight)

- Yes, I, too, totally freak out when seeing my real name on the Amazon Honor Box on someone else's blog. Do Not Panic - only you, when you are actually viewing the page, see the real name. For more info, click the bit that says "How do you know my name?" at the bottom of the box. Now start breathing again. Holler if you need CPR...

- Should I put an email link on this blog? On one hand, I've had a few people contact me and ask to email a comment that they want to share but not post publicly, and I've enjoyed some great conversations that way. On the other hand, will I be deluged with spam and hate mail?

- On another note, I joined the Top Five Group Writing Project for a lark, but now I'm genuinely enjoying looking at (gasp) blogs that don't talk about sex! At all! Not even a little bit! Like Gillette said, it's a window on a whole 'nother world.

- The world is especially beautiful today. My tulips are blooming, the sun is shining but not too hot, and Secret Scientist just called me to talk for a long time for no reason at all...

- I'm having a fun time with the labels function on here. Sometimes they are significant...

Bits and Pieces

…Not to be snarky, but has anyone else felt that Belle de Jour, mother of us all, has lately become both annoyingly, pretentiously cryptic and just the wee-est bit, well, boring? As a fellow sex blogger, I worry about continuing to generate good stories...

…Folk Rocker has gotten back in touch, announcing that he’s golfing in Retiree State with 12 other guys, he’d rather be home with a good book, and isn’t it my turn to send dirty pictures? We’ve exchanged already, the first time he’d ever taken a naked picture of himself, let alone sent one to anyone, and it’s both charming and frustrating to see him half-pictured in a mirror, his hand coyly on his uncut cock. I’m ok with sending him more, but I want something in return – perhaps his fantasies, written out. I’m enlisting Power Girl to click the shutter and will share some of the results with you, Gentle Readers…

…Here’s why I’m a female chauvinist pig: I meet yet more musicians and my first thought is, “fresh meat.” (My second is, “Hope they don’t suck or I’ll have to stop liking them.”) Here’s why I’m a racist: I immediately rank them as “too much receding hairline,” “hot but too young and probably taken,” “guy I can’t really remember,” and “hot black guy, bingo, you’re mine.”…


("Titus Three" poster courtesy of Toxic Dreams)

Perhaps it's the Black Death?

So I’ve contracted some kind of creeping throat rot that just won’t quit. I left town for two weeks straight, got sick (as chronicled here), came home, and even though my sore throat is better, I keep coughing and hacking. And I’m just so tired…all I want to do is sit in bed in my jammies, I’ve slept until noon five days in a row (until 4PM one day) and have been taking two-hour afternoon naps. And I’m even going to bed at a decent hour!

I did actually Google it, and no, I don’t have mono. Thank God for small favors.

Meanwhile, I’ve been clearing out my personal message box on the whoreboard, telling clients and potential clients, sorry, I’m sick, I’m not in a good place to be a companion, I’m not doing any bookings for April. I may make an exception for Teddy Bear, but honestly, I’m just so sick of the bulletin board culture it doesn’t make me want to participate in the hobby.

The posts are incredibly repetitive:

- Reviews – generally either written with way too much wink-wink-nudge-nudge: “We had a great time, I won’t go into detail!” or far too much tawdry Penthouse letters crap: “She x’d my long, throbbing y until I could take it no more…” Or else they just make me laugh describing how they made an SP come repeatedly. Um, yeah. Whatever.

- “Why don’t you” posts – recently someone posted that a German brothel chain is offering half-off specials to retirees in the daytime. 25 Euros for what I’m guessing is a no kissing, not completely undressing half hour. Fine. Fly your aging ass to Germany.

- Coy little wankfests where the men ask the women about their sexual practices: “Who is a daily masturbator?” or the women ask the men questions designed to promote their own business “Do you like it when a girl lets you…” “Why do guys like [girls built like me]?”

- In the private Ladies’ section, two girls are sniping at each other for plagiarizing ad text, two more are whining about who told a client what about the other one and everyone else is taking sides.

It’s like junior high. I don’t want to be part of this crowd – and since exchanging “time and companionship” for money is the defining characteristic of the crowd, it makes me not want to do that, either. Business is picking up, judging by my inbox, and I don’t want it.

Here’s what I want. I want to fly to other cities as a “luxury travel companion”. I want to charge the earth for cocktails, dinner and a night in a lovely hotel – and hey, if I have to wake up alone because the wife expects him home, I don’t have a problem with that, either. I want a separate apartment that I maintain purely to meet clients in a lovely atmosphere where I own the place and feel secure and don't have to give yet another explanation to the clerk about why I'm checking out at 6PM.

The problem is, that kind of business requires way more time and energy to develop than I really want to put in. I’d probably have to build a website.

Sooooo.

Do I want to continue whoring at a low level to make my mad money? Cut it out entirely? Or seek the Third Way?

Regardless of the choice that gets made, I’ll reassure the lovely Gentle Readers who have expressed concern – I’m not quitting blogging anytime soon. I’ll just have to start sleeping around more in my personal life to have something to write about, right? I can certainly think of worse fates…

Oh, No - It's a Zonk!

It’s time to play…Let’s! Make! A Deal! (with a whore…)

Behind Door Number One: It’s a Working Vacation!

A guy from Another Big City, with whom I emailed and then phoned for nearly an hour late at night, who had missed the bit about “I’m a professional” in my ad and couldn’t bring himself to see a whore, has emailed me again. He was a sweet, naive guy – divorced, hasn’t been with a woman in three years. I was happy to talk to him at the time, I couldn’t sleep and he was curious about what I do. He’s a craftsman, a subcontractor, which is always something that fascinates me – I find the ability to make things with one’s hands pretty impressive. Now he’s emailed me:

Hi,
Just letting you know that I still think about what might have been... Any plans to be in My City soon?? You are a beautiful classy lady...and even doing lunch would be fun...
let me know...
Thanks, [Craftsman]

I don’t know, Monty – the idea of traveling to another city to have lunch with a hard-up guy whose money I can’t charm out of him is pretty tempting…but I’m going to have to trade it for Door Number Two!

Which is…

Another Guy from Another Big City! The one who answered my ad, spelled and punctuated reasonably correctly, but I was waiting for confirmation on another appointment and didn’t call him back in time! He’s messaged me on my voicemail asking when I’ll be in town again…and he already knows what I cost! Hmmm…well, Monty, I’ve learned a lesson about back-up bookings, but I don’t really have time or energy to set up enough appointments in his city to make it worthwhile, nor is that the way I want to do business. I’ll trade him for Door Number Three!

It’s a Brand…New…Client!

Three, actually – one I’ve met, Teddy Bear, who wants a long appointment, likes me, and whom I don’t find horribly objectionable. He also asked what my favorite flowers are, which is a good sign. The second one I haven’t met yet, it’s Urban Designer, who sounds young and describes himself as reasonably fit. The third I also haven’t met – an older man who writes well and knows the score. I haven’t yet responded to his detailed emails with more than a quick “I’m really busy, I’ll get back to you,” but he's kept on keepin' on.

Monty, can I trade for the Big Deal?

Behind the door is a curtain.

Behind the curtain is a junked-out car. Oh, no! But...

...inside the trunk of the car is a text message, sent to my personal phone, with my whore name, in the middle of a workday. I call, demand to know who this is before revealing my name – thank God he didn’t call and get my message with my real name and company, the message I didn’t have on there when I first started whoring, then put back when I got a second phone. Turns out it’s J, my first real client. I never thought I’d hear from him again after our quick experience. He wants to hear from me when I get back into town. The next week, he texts me again, wants to see me tomorrow. No deal, I’m still away.

So is it an stop sign or a portent to keep going?

When is a Whore Not a Whore?

A new “client” (you’ll get the quotes in a minute) wants to see me. Wants, in fact, to phone me, email me, get to know me, fly me to his city, wine me and dine me (or rather, participate in my equivalent of museums, gardens, and interesting used book shops), presumably nail me, and, most importantly to him, be my friend. And have me be his.

The price is right, it’s a city I like, and he’s a nice fellow. But, he’s been very specific – he doesn’t want it to be an escort-client relationship. Not just that he doesn’t want it to *feel* that way – he doesn’t want it to *be* that way. Ay, there’s the rub.

To whore or not to whore, that is the question?
Whether tis nobler in the heart to suffer
The truth and actions of a real relationship
Or to take cash against a sea of trouble
And by accepting, play him
False.

See, that’s it – it would be…tacky…to accept that level of hospitality and not put out. Our Victorian ancestors had their reasons for dictating that ladies not accept gifts other than flowers, books and chocolates from their admirers. Even a pair of gloves was a daring attempt to compromise her virtue and pretend an intimacy that should not exist. But if he wants to know me for real, well, the real me doesn’t usually fuck on the first date. Anymore.

There’s potential for a muse-type relationship. He’s working on an artistic project and I’ve given the wee-est bit of feedback. There’s potential for friendship – I find him reasonably engaging, we have common interests. And clearly, he’s willing to step up to the plate to fund my trip to see him, as I would expect from most men who want to fuck me.

But no matter what he actually wants, the wall between us is that having taken his cash, I will feel accountable for sex. I think – I know - he would genuinely welcome my usual smart-ass, non-suck-up self. But I don’t know if that girl’s going to be into him enough to do some actual sucking upward. And if that’s the case, I’ll feel guilty as hell.

Ostensibly, the money one gives a “service provider” is not for sex. It’s for time. Sometimes “time and companionship.” And we all accept the fiction, knowing that at two or three hundred dollars an hour, the companionship’s likely to be pretty…companionable. But this time around, that’s most of what he’s actually paying for.

Is my friendship buyable?

Is it appropriate, should a true friendship develop in the time between now and when I see him, to accept a cash gift that large from a new friend?

How the heck did those French mistresses with the paid-for apartments, fur coats, diamond necklaces and monthly allowances do it? I suspect it would be a lot easier if I could figure out what the modern equivalent of my milliner’s bill is and just send him that…

Busy, Busy

So two appointments tomorrow.

Normally, I wouldn’t – I’m worried about being tired, burned out, and/or sore – in fact, I turned down (by not calling back) a friend who was passing through town, but whom I recall being large and hard. Have to keep fit for the big race! But my best friend is flying in from a foreign country, to another state, and I really, really want to make it down to see her. Which, being as it's last minute, means coughing up for a plane ticket, hence my double-whoring-dip. Flavors: Rum Raisin/Pistachio (only old people eat it) and Bubblegum/Peppermint Candy (sounds like a good idea at the time, but so overwhelming you're sorry you got it halfway through).

Appointment One – Estimated Age: Mummy, whom I met at the Meet&Greet a few weeks ago. When he first called me over, my skin crawled, but he was so nice to talk to, I decided it was worth a shot. He was – surprise – genuinely interested in what I had to say as well as being genuinely interesting himself, polite, well-spoken, and since then has been nice as pie on the phone and in email. He asked what I’d like him to bring to nibble on, told me to get whatever hotel I was comfortable with, “after all, there’s not much good in your area under $100 a night, right?” and wants me to bring lotion so he can rub me all over. Which, given my level of winter dry skin, may end up being the best part of the whole bargain. I’m curious about what being with EA:M will actually be like, but hey, he’s old, right? How long can he last? And he’s planning on snacking and back-rubbing in our 90 minutes, so I’m hoping it will be pleasant and sweet, not too much wear and tear on the merch.

And speaking of the merch...

Appointment Two – Shortish Guy and Hot Bi Chick. I’m taking his word for the relative hotness of his early-20’s girl, but I hope I like her, because mostly, that’s what he wants to see. Now I like girls – I think they’re soft and curvy and smell real pretty. But I’ve never “been with” a girl. I’ve been in a few situations where another girl was present, and I’ve made out a very little bit with my friend Beautiful Girl as well as sharing a cuddly bed with her a few times. No matter how much of a dog Hot Bi Chick turns out to be – and let’s face it, she’s with Shortish Guy – I’m all about her face, her mouth, her breasts, her thighs. But when it’s time to be faced with the dumb starling, the sweet fat sheep, the rabbit without an ear, I’m not real sure what to DO.

Right now, I’m developing a strategic plan of Avoiding Thinking About It. With some added Mental Incredulity at having signed up for this one. And a brief foray into How To Get Her To Shower If She’s Nasty.

Gentle Readers, I seek your aid, as fervently as the president seeks democracy in Iraq, but with far more credible hope of achievement. When faced with the furry little friend, what do you do?

A Question, Gentle Readers - and a Prize For You

I've been doing my best to do a post every single day - as a writer, it's good discipline, plus I feel like I'm stockpiling content so that if I really need a few days off, you'll have archives to browse until I post again.

But for general reference - how often do you actually visit? And do you read only what's posted that day, or do you scroll back to the last place you read?

Thank you, and I will send the other 3/4 of this charming picture (of me) to anyone who responds to this post with information on their...ahem...reading habits. Because hey, you get what you pay for, right?

Well. The deal is...

I've been getting the question a lot - "what's the deal?" with Husband and Lover and Big City Lover and other lovers and whoring and Me. And I was waiting to write something poetic and cool, but it's late and I didn't post yesterday and I feel guilty because Tom Paine wrote me something really nice and I have something in mind to write for him and C., and I haven't had a chance. Bitch, whine, moan. So here's The Deal.

Twelve years ago, I *thought* that what was happening was that I was getting married before I was ready. In fact, what was happening was that I was buying into the idea - widespread in America - that once I, a normal healthy girl, met the right normal healthy guy, I would stop liking more than one guy and stop wanting to have flirty fun sex and dirty raw sex with lots and lots of people.

Wrong-O, Mary-Lou.

At first I thought there must be something wrong with me. Everyone else manages to be monogamous, right? (Wrong)

After 12 years of lying and cheating - I am now at the age where I used to think I would get married, except I've been married the whole time - and 5 years of advocating for an open relationship, and a lot of therapy and going to the SAA meetings where I was the only girl but my therapist said that was fine because I tend to look at relationships like men do, anyway - I finally said this. Apropos of nothing. We were in the car. I wasn't currently in therapy. We weren't even having a relationship discussion.

Husband: Is everything all right?

Mandy: Yes.

Husband: Oh, good.

Mandy: I love you with all my heart and I don't ever want to leave you and you are my soul mate. But I am not monogamous and I don't think I ever can be. I will give you anything that is in my power to give you, and monogamy is not a gift I have in me to give. It's not something I'm capable of, and I don't want to be. I understand if you can't be with me any more because of that, but that's what I am and I can't lie to the person I love best in the world about who I am.

Husband: Have you been sleeping with other people this whole time?

Mandy: Yes.

Husband: Are you now?

Mandy: Yes.

Husband: I just don't want you to leave me.

Mandy: I'm not going to leave you. Ironically enough, I feel like if I was going to leave you, I've already gone through the "wow, this is a great new guy, what if?" stage and learned that it's not permanent and I don't want to leave.

Husband: Oh.

Mandy: I don't sleep with anyone you know and I don't do anything in our town. And it's important to me that you still come first all the time, like always taking your calls.

Husband: Well, that's good.

(Interlude with hugging, crying, and reaffirming that we want to stay together)

Mandy: So do you want to know details or anything like that?

Husband: I'll ask if I want to know.

("And...Scene!")

So it's just like when I was lying and cheating, except I'm allowed to be. He doesn't ask, I don't tell. I don't shame him or rub his nose in it or make it obvious - I mostly see people when I am already out of town. Though I do make some special trips for Lover.

However...I am still technically lying and cheating, because Husband has expressed his preference for me to have one-night stands, rather than an ongoing relationship with someone who he feels might threaten our partnership, and what I in fact have is occasional sex with friends and an ongoing, serious secondary partnership with someone I say "I love you" to and who owns part of me that no-one else ever touches.

Oh, and Husband has specifically and by name forbidden me to have sex with Lover...

Ah, sluttiness. How I dishonor you.

Bits and Pieces

...for me, the money buys my instant availability rather than overcoming a lack of desire, though I am walking that line a bit...

...If your spouse sucks at cleaning, hire a maid. If your spouse works too much to care for the children, hire a nanny. If your spouse hates cooking, hire a cook or order in. But God forbid the spouse can't/won't have sex - they're an injured innocent and you're a lousy partner if you try to fulfill *that* need without leaving them...We spend our whole lives being brought up to believe that we must only have sex with people we are in love with, and that it's wrong and bad to enjoy being with more than one person in that way, that we are wrong and bad if we keep expressing a basic need, and we just have to 'deal with it' if the person we love best cannot provide for us. We'd never say that about food...

...Lying with Client, talking about Amsterdam, I say that I would like to visit a live sex show, and Amsterdam would be the place to do it since it will probably be a good one there. Thus far, I say, I have not been to Amsterdam with someone who would go to a live sex show with me, and I don't want to go alone because I'm worried I'll be mistaken for a prostitute. Oh, wait...


...My latest dilemma. Perhaps the idea that will come to be the overriding theme of this blog. If a client is doing things that do not turn me on, or feel actively bad, do I stop them, redirect them, teach them, or let them keep going and fake/enhance my enjoyment so that they think everything is just fine? On one hand, I am not there for my pleasure (we could argue), I'm there for theirs. That's why they're paying. The product is Girl Who Thinks You're a Fabulous Lover, and my job is to make them feel like the world's greatest athlete. On the other hand, the kind of personal experience I am starting to be interested in having is the outreach aspect - getting compensated like a therapist for much the same job, minus some of the professional detachment. With my circus client, I was honest about what oral was like for me, and I asked him his reasoning for a certain position for oral for him, just as I would with a personal lover. Sooo...can I make money and not offend clients if I treat them like a lover I care about being with again, and like I want to be genuinely having a good time? Or will they just feel instructed and put off by an overbearing bitch instead of the compliant little slut they paid for?

So the question, Gentle Readers - better for you if the lady, for all you can tell, is having a lovely time with no instructions to you, or if she says wait, do it like this? The client cannot (so far) tell the difference between my real and faked good time...