Just a little bit more

Tonight, I had a super super super creepy experience with a client.

No, he didn't try to take advantage of me. Nor did he try to get me to do stuff that I didn't already agree to. I'm safe, I promise.

It's that Mr. Lovemaker just loved looking deeply into my eyes and murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. When there's chemistry, he whispermumbled, it's more like passion.

I am so very amazed that clients honestly don't seem to realize that I am getting paid to be nice to them. Maybe it's that they want to believe so badly that what they're getting is some sort of "authentic" experience that they'll take any kind gesture to mean that it's "real." I realize that lots of married men see sex workers because their own relationships have long since fizzled into something less than passion. And I realize that it's more pragmatic (not to mention more economically sound) to see a sex worker than it is to sustain an affair, but I really feel that some dudes have incredibly skewed expectations of what we/I can give them. Sure, you can call it a Girlfriend Experience, but I am not your girlfriend. Maybe it's than when they hand me the wad of cash, I have neglected to tell them that I am only willing to rent out my body and my acting skills. My brain, my passion and my genuine self just aren't for sale.

I think this profession is turning me into a man-hating dyke quicker than you can say womyn.

Here's the worst part, though, the part that maybe made it all the more disturbing to me: I had an orgasm with Mr. Lovemaker.

Wow, was that hard to admit. It was the first time I've had a genuine orgasm with a client and one of less than a handful of times that I've had an orgasm with a man born with his penis. You see, I was fantasizing about my current crush, anything to take my mind off of Mr. Lovemaker's ministrations, and I started feeling myself get turned on. I requested that he enter me from behind so that I could bury my head in the pillow and think about this girl while touching myself and, well, I came.

How come I'm ashamed? How many times have I read similar confessions from other sex workers and thought to myself, Honey, no worries! It doesn't have to mean anything! Easier said than done, I know now.

It's become really clear to me and most likely to you by now that this is the wrong profession for me. I'm no Annie Sprinkle, spreading the joy of sex to the world through my sexual gifts to one john at a time. No, loves, I'm just some broke lady who's begrudgingly loaning out her body until things change for the better.


I'd rather be working

So here's the update. I haven't worked since I injured my back (for obvious reasons) a weekish ago, but now I'm completely and totally broke and have no choice. Like, I need to make $1000 in the next week or so or else I can't pay my bills. Part of that is due to the fact that the unemployment office in this city is decidedly, well, stingy.

This is all also complicated by the fact that I'm leaving tomorrow night for my parents' house and won't be back until Saturday. Fret, fret fret.

I've been trolling the craigslist erotic services section, naturally, but it's so freaking hard to find clients when you're only answering ads. I'm REALLY paranoid about attracting LE (Law Enforcement) that way, so I continue to agonize over whether putting up an ad on craigslist or another escort lister like Eros is worth it.

If I do decide to do it (which I probably eventually will) I came up with the way to advertise myself. The headline will read (in all caps, because that's how they all seem to do it on craigslist): EVER DREAM OF A SUICIDE GIRL WITH MEAT ON HER BONES? Before you spit out your beverage, let me assure you that I hate the Suicide Girls industry as much as the any other person with a politicized brain. But hear me out. You see, the city in which I live is an extremely button-down city. Wait, let me rephrase that. People in this city who can afford escorts are, for the most part, button-down dudez a.k.a. White Guys in Ties. And I have a few qualities (piercings, busty, biracial) that make me "exotic." I could capitalize on the biracial thing, but I have a feeling that dudez looking for some sort of Asian girl would expect a skinny one. By capitalizing on the plus sized and pierced angle, I think I could carve myself out a real niche in this city.


Tonight I found a client that I'll hopefully be seeing on Saturday. He was really sweet and fell all over himself in his email telling me how hot I am and how much he can't wait to see me. I noticed something curious right away, however. Most clients, like most escorts, create a separate email address with which to conduct their naughty business. Mr. Compliments, though, used his work email!

Of course, I went straight to his work website and found out in fairly short order that Mr. Compliments is Senior VP for a big consulting firm in the city. After reading his bio, I was even more stunned to find out that he does tech stuff. I mean seriously, wha??? Even the least tech savvy client in the world knows not to solicit prostitution over work email! After reading even more of his bio, however, I was even more amused to find that Mr. Compliments adjuncts at my alma matter!

The question at hand: will it feel more like shadenfraude or sheer evil delight when I pee in his mouth and then make him lick my asshole?