Today I Am...

1) Crushing hard on a Kiwi who plays the ukelele.

2) Bitter that I'm not better at my job.

3) In another time zone.

4) Out of love.

5) Totally thwarted in #1.

6) Wearing a totally ridiculous outfit...

7) ...that I am paid to wear.

8) (Not like that)

9) Alternately loving and hating my hair.

10) On the edge of tears.

11) Behind on a big project.

12) Transported by said Kiwi playing "Sweet Child Of Mine" on said ukelele

13) (Including the guitar riff)

14) to another girl.

15) (Context is important)

16) Contemplating starting a Facebook.

17) Definitely out of love

18) and calling on Beautiful Girl

19) to help me stick to #17.

20) Because if he puts his hand on the back of my neck, it's all over.

21) Craving Thai salad rolls

22) which will be made for me by a tiny Laotian woman

23) whom I think understands how much I love them.

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.)

Thank You, George Bernard

Lack of money is the root of all evil. - Shaw

So I’m participating in Problogger’s Top Five Group Writing Project contest , which is really more of a lottery (hurray, no hurt feelings if I lose!) and mostly a way to connect with other blogs and bloggers and boost traffic for all. Thanks, Always Aroused Girl for posting Orgy Invitation: Top 5 Ways to Get One, which is how I found out.

In honor of my brand-new Amazon Honor Box (look right) and my surprise first donation ($25! The first day! Cool! Thank you!), I present…

The Top Five Reasons to Give Me Money

Adventure. You can claim the experience of hiring a whore without risking robbery, AIDS, herpes or a boring and/or icky time. Plus, you don’t have to guess which cologne I will find least objectionable. (Trick Question! The answer is None!)

Philanthropy. You may consider yourself a patron of the arts, without having to pretend to see deep meaning in plain blue panels, elephant dung, chainlink fencing, re-creations of the artist’s bedroom, spatter painting or anything by Jasper Johns. You need not wear black, Imitation of Christ or Vivienne Tam, and on days when the creative juices aren’t flowing for you, you may consider it an offering to the muse. (Hsnar, hsnar)

Gratification. Give $50 or more* and I will custom write a post featuring your favorite sexual acts (as performed in my head, or possibly in life, I’ve been around). Or a topic of special interest, if you’re feeling extra classy. There will be an associated picture…which you may choose to share with the Gentle Readers or keep to your greedy little self. Remember, though – even work to order must serve the dictates of this Muse.

Superiority. After contributing, you may look down on other, Less-Gentle Readers, secure in the knowledge that you have done your bit and may relax while they enjoy your sloppy seconds.

Seriously. It takes 1-2 hours to write a solid post, plus thinking time. As Be-My-Real-Friend aptly summarized, “I’m actually not paying you for sex, though it’s nice that it’s a sure thing – I’m paying for the time you would otherwise spend making a living, focused on your personal life, or having fun of your choice.” This is not a threat – I don’t plan to stop writing anytime soon (see here, here, and here). But I write better and more often if it’s putting cock in my mouth food on the table and cashmere sweaters on my back.

A little crass? Perhaps. But then again – you already know what I am. Now we’re just haggling over the price.

(thank you, Power Girl for the idea and Tom Paine for help with the box)

*if you wish to follow this plan, comment or drop a line and I will tell you how to donate anonymously and yet so I will know it’s you.

I Got Tagged

Thus proving that I am now one of the popular kids. Thanks, Tom :)

A - Available or Single? Wow, a hard one right off the bat. Not single. Not monogamous. Not currently available.

B - Best Friends? Husband, Lover, Power Girl, Beautiful Girl, and my Best Friend who lives across the ocean are the people who love me no matter what I do.

C - Cake or Pie? Crème brulee.

D - Drink of Choice? Shirley Temple

E - Essential Item? Notebook and pen. I’m weaning off my cellphone.

F - Favorite Color? Black to wear and yellow to look at.

G - Gummi Bears or Worms? Sour Worms, but only about three. And I'll never touch peach rings again because I associate them with losing my wallet in Arkansas, then having to fly on two planes with no ID (pre-9/11).

H - Hometown? An Arts Wasteland in the south. Oddly though, one of my best places to generate writing ideas is driving through the rural south.

I - Indulgence? Mystery novels and potato chips with homemade dill/onion dip. Half yogurt, half sour cream makes me feel less like Jabba the Hutt on completion.

J - January or February? January – it’s the month of good intentions.

K - Kids and Names? Three cats. Eventually I'll have a girl. If it's a boy, we're sending it back. I'm not kidding.

L - Life is incomplete without? Curiosity. When I stop caring enough to ask questions, I’m done.

M - Marriage Date? I always forget my anniversary, but it’s been more than ten years.

N - Number of Siblings? One and a half brothers, one sister, one deceased.

O - Oranges or Apples? Honeycrisp apples with sharp cheddar or Nutella.

P - Phobias/Fears? Needles (can’t watch it on TV, either); heights (just standing around on a balcony is bad, but if I’m doing something up high I’m ok – I’ve heard that the fear of heights is the fear of not trusting yourself not to jump); dogs; that my father will die.


Q - Favorite Quote? Just read it today:
But when you’re writing a song
Without a partner
That’s a completely different matter.
No one tells you
That’s not funny.
No one says, “Let’s cut that bar.”
No one makes you better than you are.(Kander and Ebb, Curtains)

R - Reasons to smile? Husband next to me in bed, Lover coming around a corner to meet me in a new city, going in to work, writing something solid.

S - Season? The week of autumn leaves and the week the tulips come up. Less predictably, the weeks between Christmas and New Year when I have a glorious turkey-and-pajamas centered holiday.

T - Tag 3 People? Aussie Jack (start writing again, eh?), Power Girl and Beautiful Girl (you can do it on your Myspace/Livejournal/Facebook, just don't link it back here or we'll all be outed!)

U - Unknown Fact About Me? You know how in every high school, there is one person who is the object of focused, organized ridicule and bullying? That was me. Until a new kid moved to town in 11th grade and he was a hunchback.

V - Vegetable You Hate? Beets. Even as an adult. Unless pickled.

W - Worst Habit? Agonizing over the decisions of others that are out of my control.

X - X-rays You've Had? Chest, wrist, hand, all job-related

Y - Your Favorite Foods? Casino buffet, especially the Aladdin; rare roast beef with horseradish; yogurt made with whole milk and/or cream - take your lowfat crap and stuff it!

Z - Zodiac? Capricorn/Rat – we make good pawnbrokers.

Crawling Out of the Hole

Every inch of my body, every fiber of my being is trying to hibernate. I'm so tired of being cold, windblown and slightly damp. I'm having great difficulty getting motivated, too - it's taken over a week to buy another phone card for the whore phone, I still haven't loaded up the minutes, and my personal phone is...somewhere. Maybe the kitchen? I can't find my checkbooks, they've been lost for three weeks and my only hope is that when the bank statement comes in I'll find the last check I wrote and it will have a clue to where the books might be. Without them, I feel completely out of control of my life.

Here's what I need to do:

1) Take advantage of having an hour to and an hour from the gym in the car with PowerGirl tomorrow. She knows what's going on, and I can load up the phone, dial up some clients, and get things moving.

2) Answer the 30 or so personal messages on the bulletin board, all potential clients whom I've ignored other than a quick note telling them I'm not ignoring them.

3) Use the empty days I have next week, since I was a Bad Friend and didn't go see my best friend, to book clients and to get my other life in gear. Wednesday's booked for Sexual Athlete in another city, and I'd like to try for another two-client day. Maybe I can get Ramen Guy to finally commit.

4) Catch up with nine million emails - well, actually, just over 400 - in my three inboxes. Maybe even go ahead and delete any that are more than a year old.

5) Lie on the sofa and masturbate repeatedly. No, wait, how did that one get in there?

OK, starting with #5 it is...

“So, you’re ready to hire a whore!”

The Holiday of Love has once again arrived, and though your heart yearns to spend a cuddlesome evening by the fire, where the sweet nothings exchanged are only a prelude to the hot, lubricated passion on the bearskin rug; in which you and your beloved will out-bonobo Casanova and his Top Five in the space of the mere hour betwixt the children’s bedtime and the moment you drop from the exhaustion of yet another thankless work day in which your dignity (not to mention your libido) has been crushed beneath the knock-off-of-a-knock-off-Prada snow boot of your whiny, undeserving boss and the meaningless chatter of your fellow drones; you are in fact more likely to spend it wishing you had bought – or been given – a nicer/more expensive/more appropriate present, then dropping off after a half-hearted mounting attempt during which you actually pictured Pamela Anderson, Yasmin Bleeth, and for some of us, Eddie Izzard, in a vain attempt to get off a medium-sized one instead of one just good enough to stop.

Gentle Readers, for those hunting for an alternative way to spend this, most over-marketed of holy days, I present:

A Primer on Negotiable Affection, in Honour of St. Valentine’s Day

Option A
You cruise the streets in the seediest area of town and pick up a hitchhiker who offers to suck you off for $50. You bargain her down to 40, then when she passes out you bareback her and leave her at the next gas station. Later, you develop an oozing sore on the side of your scrotum that just won’t go away.

Option B
You approach a likely lady in a hotel bar – short skirt, lots of makeup, stiletto heels. Her boyfriend, Vito, appears from the men’s room just as you think you’re about to close the deal. Cost of setting broken nose – about $475.

Option C
You browse websites or social sites dedicated to ‘the hobby’ and pick out a lady you like. Maybe her pictures are great, maybe she’s gotten great reviews. That’s right, reviews. Other gentlemen she has seen have posted information about their time with her, how much they paid, whether she tried to upsell you for additional services, looked like her pictures, showed up on time, seemed clean and sober, was a C&D (Cash-and-Dash), right down to how much makeup and perfume she wore and whether she had stubble. Not only do you know more about what you’re getting, you know that other fellows have seen her and she didn’t arrest them, impound their car and add their mug shot to an embarrassing website that will cause your co-workers to abruptly stop talking each time you approach the break room.

Her website says call her with your references (What is this, a job interview?). You give her the names and contact information of other ladies you’ve seen (usually three). Now it’s her turn to research. She calls or emails the ladies with your information – usually a physical description, your phone number, email and internet handle, plus the info you gave her about when and where you saw the lady she’s calling.

“Great time at the Comfort Inn! She’ll remember my enormous Manhood! It was the biggest she’d ever seen!”

The ladies try to remember you: “Let’s see, balding, paunchy, middle-aged, Comfort Inn near the airport, I told him he had a big one...can you be more specific?”

They note whether you smelled nice, paid in full, had bad stubble (works both ways, buddy, ask me about my beard burn) wanted more than one shot, and were easy to get off. Most importantly, they’ll tell whether you were a NC/NS (No-Call-No-Show), a tipper, or an asshole.

You and the lady confirm by phone an hour or two before your appointment. You arrive, check out the room to make sure there’s no friends hiding in the closet and lock the door – or she does if it’s at your room. She wants her money up front, on the table, and without talking to her about it. If she’s smart or doesn’t trust you, she discreetly counts it and hides it. You chat. You ‘get comfortable’. You both watch the clock while trying not to get caught watching the clock, and you leave with a hug when the time is up. She emails you to say she had a nice time and she hopes to see you again. You spend the next week and a half pestering her with text messages, emails and voice mails, until you realize time is money and she wants you to book before she talks to you again.

Behind the scenes...the very smartest girls also search your name on the hobbyist boards, checking to see if you post mean reviews or racist comments. They’ll check the lists of “Good Boys” and “Bad Boys” posted in the deny-it-exists Ladies-Only area (I suspect the men have similar lists in their private area). They’ll find out if you have a rep for seeing streetwalkers, if you’ve bragged about barebacking, if you shorted the fee, and if you were dumb enough to mention any of these things on other boards.

It’s not all that safe – but hey, Ebay taught us we can trust a million strangers based on their feedback from other strangers. So why not in this venue, too?

Gentle Readers in “the hobby,” I welcome your thoughts on anything I’ve left out.

As for me, I'm spending Valentine's with Husband (when he gets home from work), pizza and cupcakes. Meanwhile I'm wading through pm's and e-cards from clients, and sending out a few myself (go, marketing!). Lover is far away, and he knows better than to try to celebrate this particular holiday with me.

Wish he didn't.

Whatever Shall I Wear?

I may be meeting a last-minute client tonight for dinner and dancing (or something). It is 20 degrees and slushy out.

Sexy clothes:
Short skirts (I go with knee length, shooting for class here), thin stockings with garter belt, high heels (my favorite are the Kenneth Coles in the picture, they are fabric, not leather), clingy tops of thin material, bare necks, bare arms, bare wrists, bare ears, fluffy hair, perfect makeup.

Warm/dry clothes:
Thick tights or long underwear under brown corduroys, tank top layered under long-sleeve shirt layered under heavy sweater, coat, hat, gloves, thick socks, winter hiker-y boots, scarf, chapstick and lots of it.

Houston, we have a problem.

Looking up...

Tomorrow I meet a client with whom I've had lots of phone calls and who seems to have a sense of humor. And he was classy enough to mention that he'd be seeing a theatre show I like and did I want anything as a souvenir?

I'm meeting a fellow who sent pics of himself and wrote a long email, next week for lunch.

I'm emailing with another fellow who likes appointments of 4 hours or more so that they can have a meal and do a non-sex fun thing as well as the main event.

Another one likes to give and receive massages, then oral only, no F/S (full service).

Another one lost his wife last year.

And one more who sent a long email and pics of himself.

Finally, I'm starting to meet a better class of people...I'll keep you posted.

(sings) Popular, You're Gonna Be Popular...

I have a personal email for my real life, a business email for my real business, and an anonymous email for escorting. It has now come to my attention that I need one more - so I can talk to people about this blog, without putting out the email I use to communicate with the clients who might be offended by comments like "I wanted to mouthwash my pussy."

I have a business/personal phone. I have a whore phone (pay-as-you-go, thank you Virgin, and no, the irony has not escaped me as I suspect it has not escaped Richard Branson).

I have an account at two hobbyist bulletin boards, which means I effectively get messages from four places about guys who want to meet. (On the boards, in email, on the phone, they are gentlemen and I am a lady. In here and my head, they're guys and I'm a whore.)

And to track it all, I have an Excel sheet. Who wrote back last, what pics I sent them, did I send my all-purpose basic information cut-and-paste with enough big words to scare off some of them, have they proposed a meeting yet, do I have their email, their phone, have I googled them, what did they say they like. You worry about forgetting your significant other's favorite perfume or birthday or the six and a half month anniversary of the day you met? I worry about confusing the DATY, BBBBTCIM, Region A Salesman Guy with the FS, MISH/RCG, Blonde/Blue, Do You Do Couples Guy from City B.

I have 12 guys in active play - as in, we are talking about when and where to have a coffee meeting. This is way too many. I'm scared to turn away clientele, but I think I need to not schedule any more of them for a few weeks. My next appointment is this week, and I'm trying to decide if I should see more than one guy - I'm travelling to another area, I'm already going to be in a hotel and I have the ability to make the bed like the maid does.

Will I feel slutty and nasty if I see more than one? Will it get around that I saw more than one even though I'm saying I don't, which I think is part of the charm (May be wrong on this one)? Or will I feel good about maximizing my time, making the most I can off of the travel time and hotel room?





A new development - I sent off a non-public photo of myself holding a prop that could be considered a BDSM prop. The guy I sent it to turns out to be very, very curious...

Lessons 101

One of the other things I do is teach. And often, I am asked to teach a watered-down, fun-and-frolic version of what I do to under-10's. I'm good at it. They love me. But it's not really my thing.

On the outside, I'm saying, "Go, honey! You can do it! That's great! Good job! Wow!" but on the inside, I'm counting the minutes until my time there is up. They hug me, and they can't wait to come back next week, and I'm just glad to collect my pay and go home.

It's a lot like having sex for money.

Today's take - $400 out of which I paid hotel and it only took an hour. Wonder if that might be a marketing tactic - I charge with the idea that they can stay as long as they like, then make out well because they just want to get fully dressed and leave. In fact, one of the big differences so far is that when I have sex for fun, there's a lot of laying around naked that happens afterwards. When I'm a service provider, he can't wait to get dressed.

Went to Vicki's the other day and bought a bunch of new lingerie - Lover came with me and we also hit Macy's, where the dressing rooms were so deserted we practically fucked in the room. I lost my balls about going the whole way, but there was a lot of grinding with me in panties only.

I'm sitting in my hotel room, watching TV and using the wireless. I've made some discoveries:

1) I need to buy separate clothes as my instinct is to wash everything and when I mouthwashed, which I've never done before, I wanted to mouthwash my pussy.

So I think one or two dates a month will probably be sufficient, and I may not even do that. However, it is already fading into unreality - I'm still in the room and it's like he was never here.

2) It's been so long since I've had protected sex that I forgot that the wrapped-up part of the condom near the bottom of the penis pinches! Note to self - a little more lubricant wouldn't hurt, either.

I was definitely his fantasy girl. He had some bumps down there that I found a little freaky and I'm hoping it's benign as he claimed. When I discovered them during 69, I stayed calm but was totally freaked out and so ready to be done.

3) I'm normally a wild screaming orgasm-er. I yell "oh my God" and sometimes if I am feeling warmly, "I love you!". Today I faked two orgasms during oral (which never ever ever gets me off) and realized as I was getting into the first one that I have to tone it way down to be believeable. The after-orgasm voice is breathy and comes from my chest resonater. Gee, voice lessons *did* come in useful!

4) Having someone I'm not into lick my breasts makes me nauseous, which maybe I shouldn't place too much credence in as Lover is about the only person who can mouth my nipples and not make me nauseous. It's never been a great thing for me.

Have signed up at another escort board and am now getting PM's through that one, too. I don't think I'm ever going to advertise - I have another client scheduled for later in the month, and am likely to line up one more, and I just don't really want to see that many people. Again, it's like teaching 7-year-olds. The money is nice, and it's not actively repellent, but as a job I'd put it somewhere between grouting tile and cleaning the back of the stove. It doesn't actively disgust me, but having it done is better than doing it.