Sunday, November 6, 2011


When he walked in, I could not believe it. He looked exactly like Jack Palance. To be more exact, like Jack Palance as Curly from "City Slickers." Everything: the clothes, the leathery skin, just everything. He even kind of talked like him.

He got himself "comfortable" (which is code for naked,as  I'm sure y'all know), and I could not believe his physique! This guy was about 70 years old and was in incredible shape. I said to him, "has anybody ever told you that you look exactly like Jack Palance?" He, naked as a jaybird, dropped to the floor, puts his right arm behind his back, and proceeded to do one-armed push ups!


And, yes, I'm old enough to remember Jack Palance doing one-armed push-ups at the Academy Awards. I laughed so hard, I started crying. This guy was awesome. Possibly my favorite client so far.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

TAE, why didn't you "Highly Recommend" me?

Most members-only sites have a system in place that allows providers and hobbyists to verify each other. As I am a provider, I'll limit this post to the scenario where a hobbyist requests a recommendation from a provider. The choice of possible responses usually goes something like this:

No, I have not seen this member.
I have seen this member, and do NOT recommend (WARNING!)
I have seen this member, YMMV (your mileage may vary), barely recommend
Yes, I have seen this member, and I recommend 
Yes, I have seen this member, and I HIGHLY recommend

Other providers will check the hobbyist's references before booking an appointment with him, so it is important that we choose our response carefully.

The hobbyist can view his own references as well. This is only fair, but it sometimes can create a little drama. Sometimes I get an email that says something like "TAE, I thought we had a nice time together. I was on time and used good manners, why did you only 'recommend' me instead of 'highly recommend'?"

My response is truthful while being tactful, but I will tell you, dear reader, what I really want to say. "A "highly recommend" tells other providers that you were the ideal client. Ideal includes reaching into your wallet at the end of our session and tipping me for providing excellent service, as I always do. Yes, I appreciate that you were prompt, well-groomed, and polite, and that our time together was pleasant, but you do not get extra points simply for being an adequate client. You get extra points for also being a gracious and generous one. I mean, would you stiff your waiter? Your hair stylist? Your cab driver? Or even your paper carrier? Maybe you would, but that makes you a horrible, horrible person. Bottom line is that if you want me to be so over the moon about my date with you that I "Highly Recommend" you to my sister providers, don't be a cheap bastard!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

A good question for women considering becoming an escort

This is the second question I felt worthy of cross-posting over here since I am deleting that Q & A Tumblr account. It was asked by a woman who was considering becoming an escort.

Q. Any tips for a woman looking to become an escort?

My response
Ask yourself why you want to be an escort. There’s not really one right reason, but there are many wrong ones. Any girl can be a streetwalker or place an ad on a cheap website and go meet any guy who calls them, but that is extremely dangerous. Be discriminating and have them come to you. You have to be smart about it and accountable to yourself. You need to ask yourself a few questions.

Do you just want to make easy money? Because it isn’t easy. And I don’t know where you live, but the going rate for most cities in the US is between $175 to $350 per hour. You might get tips, but you can’t count on it. You are responsible for paying for the hotel room, supplies, food, gas, etc. and if you’re screening your clients properly, you’ll only get two or three per day.

Do you just like having a lot of sex? Because you are mostly fulfilling fantasies. Their fantasies, not your own. Your job is to satisfy the client. If you are satisfied in the process, that’s great, but it’s not to be expected. Also, you won’t be attracted to most of your clients.

Are you financially responsible? You will need to manage a separate business account and make sure you always have funds for supplies, your cellphone bill, your ads, and you will need a credit card to book your hotel rooms with. Nice hotel rooms. When I say nice, I am not talking about the Super 8. I mean, allow $100 to $150 a day for hotel, or you will not attract the type of clients you want to have.

Do you use or abuse any type of mind-altering drugs? Don’t be an escort. You need to have a clear, sharp mind to make the best decisions for yourself. In addition to verifying the identity of your clients, you need your gut instinct and intuition to be intact.

MOST IMPORTANT! Are you capable of setting standards for yourself that protect your physical and psychological well-being and enforcing those standards and boundaries even in the face of temptation and desperation? If not, you have no business being an escort. It is too dangerous to you. No amount of money is worth you being hurt in any way, shape, or form.

As far as specific advice: 1)Go see an attorney who can familiarize you with the law and advise you on how to protect yourself. For example, where I live the only two things that are illegal pertaining to me are solicitation for prostitution and practicing massage without a license. I never agree to have sex for money or discuss what they are getting for their money. I tell them they are getting an hour of my time. If they persist with their questions or insist that I tell them specifically what they are getting for the money, I won’t take the appointment. If they are already in my room, I show them the door. And instead of offering a massage, I offer a “non-therapeutic full body rub.” The hour I spent with an attorney was the smartest $75 I ever spent. Go back twice a year to make sure there haven’t been any changes in the law. 2)Be independent. Don’t let anybody else decide who you see, where you work, when you work, how you dress, nothing. You are your own boss. You are accountable to no one but yourself – do this and you will be accountable to the people who deserve it by default. 3)Safety first. Money comes and goes. There is way more to gain or lose in this world than money. In fact, money is the easiest thing to recover from. Safety first!

Audio of me talking about a funny client I had

Neal made a short of one of our funniest conversations a while back and I forgot to share it with you.

A good question for men considering hiring an escort for the first time

I had a Tumblr account for a while in which people were allowed to ask me questions, anonymously, and I would answer them periodically. I am closing that account though due to lack of time and also a lack of mean people being able to keep their meanness to themselves. Why do people feel like it's perfectly okay to say ugly things to a woman simply because she is a sex worker? All people deserve a basic level of respect simply because they are a human being, regardless of whether or not you agree with their lifestyle or think they are moral. But I digress... the purpose of this post is to share a good question that someone asked. I thought it would be helpful for men considering seeing an escort for the first time, or even men who have seen someone before but didn't have such a swell experience.

Q.Hello Tae, first I would like to tell you that I really enjoy reading you blog. I would like to know if you have any advice or any tips for someone who is looking to see an escort for the first time?

My response

Yes, absolutely. Please be careful. Make sure she can provide you with reviews, and don’t see anybody that doesn’t want to screen you or doesn’t provide at least one full hour of service. Confirm that she is drug and alcohol free. You want to see someone who is health and safety conscious and very discreet. So, if her advertisement is sexually explicit, beware. If you answer an ad like that, you have just as good as agreed to pay for sex and you could be walking into a trap.

Not all escorts enjoy their job and there are some girls who are on drugs and will rob you or try to rush you out the door quickly, so the reviews and how she presents herself in her ad is very important. Stay away from the girls that portray themselves as, for lack of a better word, skanks. seems to be a pretty good site because you have access to ads without having to be first verified and confirmed as legitimate. Once you find the lady you would like to see, she will then require either a reference or two or that your identity be confirmed through your phone listing or employment. Ask for her reviews first, then cooperate with her through your screening process. She wants you as a client and is NOT out to get you. She’s just trying to protect herself.

Don’t ask a bunch of sexual questions over the telephone. Just trust that you are going to be happy with her services. The more comfortable she is with you, the more she will offer you once you meet in person. You start asking questions that could be used to entrap her, be prepared to get the blanket statement “you’re paying for an hour of my time, sir.” So, just be easy-going, don’t haggle over the donation, lay the money down without discussion as soon as you meet, and you should have an enjoyable time.

Let me know if you do it and how it goes. :)

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

My 10 freakiest clients to date: #4

The foot fetishists.

Not just the ones who think feet are pretty and may spend a few minutes stroking and admiring my feet or ask me to wear open-toed sandals or something. That isn't so freaky. Along those lines, I like bellies. I may want to rub a guy's pooch for a few minutes. While bellies aren't for everyone, I don't think just having an appreciation alone is enough to be considered a freak. Some may like big dicks or breasts or whatever. We all have our thing. And I put a lot of effort into having pretty feet so I don't mind a little flattery.

But some of you take it too far and it becomes really fucking weird.

  • Refusing to make an appointment with me until I describe my feet to you in detail while you breathe heavy and moan into the phone. I'm on to you fuckers. "My feet are nice and well-kept" is all you're ever getting out of me again!
  • Spending the entire hour kissing, smelling, licking, and finally fucking my feet.
  • Cumming on my feet, then licking it off.
  • Showing up with an electric foot spa, ready to give me a pedicure. Not that I don't appreciate the free pedi, but really? 
  • Taking pictures of my feet. (I shudder to think how many foot fetish site galleries I've contributed to.)
  • Paying me extra to get my feet as sweaty and stinky as possible for you.
  • Smelling my socks and shoes while masturbating.
  • Trying to steal my socks and shoes!
Yes, some fucker really did try to make it out the door with my socks and shoes.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

For the (non-squeamish) ladies who want to have un-messy sex while "Aunt Flo" is visiting

Someone asked me on Facebook if I ever started my period unexpectedly just before an appointment and if so how I handled the situation; if I told the client I could only do oral or if I just canceled the appointment altogether.

The answer is neither. There's actually a way around this problem and the man has no idea.

I remember tweeting about this some time ago, but I think I only had like ten followers at the time and they were all spambots except for one lovely woman called Pax (*waves at Pax from afar*.) In other words, nobody read. :( I'm glad to have the chance to talk about it again because many ladies may not know that there's a choice between being deprived of sex while at your absolute horniest (it's true!) or making a bloody mess of their partner's face and genitals (in addition to ruining all of your towels.)

This is an old escort trick, apparently. The first friend I ever made in the business shared this with me and all of the working girls I have ever known swear by it:
The natural sponge!
This works best for heavy flow days. Make sure the sponge is in sterile packaging, cut off a good-size chunk (bigger than you think you will need), moisten it by soaking with water and squeezing out the excess, and insert as far up your vagina as possible. The heavier your flow, the more sponge you will need. Just before sex, excuse yourself to the restroom to remove your tampon and insert the sponge, then wash up good. Return to the bedroom and have amazing, blood-free, odor-free sex! He won't feel it. And don't worry it can't get lost up there; it won't. Although, there was one time I had to sit on the toilet, apply lubrication, and push the darn thing out. A friend had to help me. It was not pleasant. We got it out though. :) I know, that doesn't exactly sell it. lol That was just a one time thing. Usually it's just fine and it's very well worth it. I love the natural sponge.

My favorite thing to use though, is this:
The Instead Softcup
Here is a picture of the box:

This product is absolutely awesome, but it is only suitable to wear during sex on medium to light flow days. Follow the instructions on the box, but also try putting a dab of lubrication on the edge and on the opening of your vagina. Also, the first few times you remove your cup, squat and do it in the bathtub because it is M-E-S-S-Y! Your tub will look like an over-the-top murder scene from a B-movie and I am not exaggerating. Only at first though. After you get used to it and gain some skills, you'll be able to remove it on the toilet and transfer it to the sink for rinsing without spilling a drop. And you definitely want to rinse it before disposal. It holds a lot of blood and throwing that in your trash basket would just be gross.

I still have a hard time believing that men can't feel the cup, but I've asked a few clients if they could feel my "diaphragm" and all of them, even the very well-endowed client, said no. (Pretending it was a diaphragm was just easier and that's exactly what I'll claim it is if a client ever does feel it.)

Both the sponge and the Softcups are available at most drug stores and larger stores like Target.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

I don't work weekends

Friday afternoon through Monday morning -- and sometimes through Tuesday morning -- I cannot work as an escort. There are many good reasons for this:
  1. I've mentioned that I have another "normal" job. That job has to take priority. For insurance purposes, for my sanity, for the sake of family and friends knowing where I work, and in the long-term, when I finally finish my degree, my resume will not have a big gap in it that I have to explain. My regular job pays less, but I value it more.
  2. I am a mother. This takes time.
  3. On top top of that, my mother's health is worsening so she now lives with me. This also takes my time.
  4. I need one full day off.
Almost without fail, I turn my phone on Monday (or in the case of today, Tuesday) and some jerkoff has left a series of messages. "Tae, it's Dick, trying to get a hold of you, I really need to see you." "Tae, Dick here again, I know your recording says you won't be available until Tuesday afternoon at 3:00, but I really need to see you. It's Saturday morning, could you please make an exception?" "Tae, it's Dick again. Your recording says to only leave one message but you never call back so I had to call you again. Please call me. It's now Saturday afternoon and I still haven't heard from you." "Tae, Dick here, I guess you aren't going to call. Too bad, I was going to be very generous with you."

You know what, Dick? FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHAT! You're calling me on a fucking Saturday morning when my ad clearly states that I am completely unavailable on the weekend, my voicemail greeting specifically tells you that I can't check my messages until TUESDAY and to leave ONE message and I'll call you back on TUESDAY afternoon. And just in case you can't wait, I even went the extra mile when recording my message and gave the phone number of a beautiful escort the same age and build as me, a woman I know and trust who would be more than happy to serve you.

And still, you felt it was necessary to try and lay a guilt trip on me for not being available.

It didn't work.

First, generous men never refer to themselves as such. They just are. I can almost guarantee if I had been available you wouldn't have given me one red cent above my required donation. Second, I'm not a money hungry cunt. My time off and peace of mind are more important to me. I'm not hurting. My bills are paid, I have savings and retirement accounts, there's a modest but nice roof over my head, clothes on our backs, food in our bellies. Fuck you and your money. I'd rather eat rice for a week than to see men like you!

By the way, asshole, when you called, I was at Lowe's buying yard tools to help my neighbors clean up the substantial damage caused by the storms and tornados -- damage their insurance company is refusing to pay for. So, excuse me for not being available to suck your cock for you!

Fucking asshole!

Men, clients, don't be like this. Read the ad. Listen to the voicemail. It's OK to leave one message, but don't expect her to call you back during her time off.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Best work-week ever

It's as if this week has been heaven sent.

Let me back up for a minute before talking about this week though.

Last week was awful. I was being harassed via Twitter. Who would have thought you could use Twitter to make a person's life miserable like that? Once you follow someone they can send you private messages and I usually follow everybody back. Most of the time, the messages I get are very sweet and supportive. And then this really mean person came along and started to verbally assault me. It started out as him pretending to be concerned about me and then escalated from there. I made the mistake of thinking I could talk to him. I soon realized there is no reasoning with this person and I blocked him. Then, he followed me again under another account, and I followed him back not knowing who he was, and it stared all over again. And again. And then one more time.

It must have been time for me to learn a lesson about keeping boundaries because on top of the Twitter stalker, I had to deal with a couple of jerk clients, too! One of them, I had to kick out of my hotel room because he wouldn't stop licking my face.

Gentlemen, listen up, when a woman tells you to stop doing something, that means STOP. Something as seemingly innocuous as a kiss, or in this case a face licking, when done against a woman's will is a violation. It feels like a type of rape.

So, the face licker left the room as requested and later emailed a genuine apology. And then, after a public fit of sorts by me, the Twitter stalker finally left me alone. I don't know if he'll be back or not, don't care, I've decided to not let it bother me. Some people are going to be mean; I will just block them immediately without conversation.

Anyway, so Saturday came and I did the update for the Minutes of Mayhem and it was awful because I couldn't hear anything and I was also just feeling blah. Good thing it's an unpaid thing, done just for fun and because I like Neal. Not that kind of like. I mean he's a good guy and I hope his podcast does well. So, visit the link and listen and download previous episodes.

Now for this week. It was a wonderful. I only took a total of six appointments from Tuesday through Thursday. The first five came as soon as I touched their penis. I am not exaggerating. Then, the last client, rocked my world! I came in his mouth, literally squirted I mean, and then he fucked me until I came in four different positions. Actually, it was more like one big long orgasm that continued as he flipped, bent, and twisted me around. He was awesome. And when it was over, he tipped me and didn't make that shitty joke that I fucking hate about "you should be tipping me." Gah, I hate when clients say that. I want to throw their money back in their face. But this guy was a perfect gentleman and he made me feel good.

So, yes, great week.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

"I didn't know whores observe religious holidays"

said a prospective client when I told him I was off for the weekend.

Why can't people just accept when they don't get their way and be nice?

"Actually, I am always off on weekends because I am a mother and I have another job. Take care and Happy Easter." (you horrible human being, I felt like adding but didn't because I refuse to say mean things to people even when they deserve it. Yes, I do want a medal, thanks.)

Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Teacher Fetish

As far as fetishes go, teacher/student is pretty common. I haven't kept a log or anything, but I'd guess it to be my third most popular request (foot fetish and spanking (me spanking them) being first and second, respectively.)

What I find amusing is that the fantasy that they ask for is always about the same and yet I never in all my years of being a student either had or even knew of a teacher that even remotely fit the stereotype in either dress or behavior. Where did boys get this from? It's that damn Van Halen video, isn't it? No. It goes back further than that, I'm sure. That video was smoking hot though, wasn't it?

I don't want to write a dissertation on the teacher/librarian fantasy thing though, I just want to tell you about my appointment yesterday.

I don't usually do out-calls, but I have seen him before and I knew where he worked so I felt comfortable going to his house. I dressed the part (white blouse, buttoned all the way up, tight black skirt, heels, hair in a bun, glasses, etc.) His fantasy was the same as every other teacher fantasy, but he went out of his way to make it as real as possible. I mean he really took it to a whole other level that I had never seen before. He actually had a student desk, a chalk board with chalk and erasers, a backpack full of books and everything. He even had gold star stickers. Gold fucking stars. What age was he supposed to be, anyway? I didn't want to know. He's thirty-something in real life and that's good enough for me.

I had to teach him a lesson of my choosing. Naturally, my subject was "common spelling mistakes": your/you're, to/too/two, there/they're, its/it's, whose/who's, etc. Hey, no reason I can't really teach him something while I'm there, right? He listened and took notes. I praised him for being such a good student. Then he flirted with me and I had to "put him in his place" and give him a warning. He sassed back just as the bell rang and I said "class dismissed. Except you, Carl! I need to have a word with you."

He really got into it. I gave him a choice between classroom chores and detention. As he wiped down his desk and cleaned the chalkboard, I unbuttoned my blouse, took my hair down, and removed my glasses. He acted all surprised when he saw me. "Mrs. Miller, what are you doing?" "I've been watching you all year, Carl. I want you. I want you real bad." He said, "I knew it!" and then became more assertive, kind of switching the roles. When it was over, he asked how he did on his "oral exam." I gave him an A. You should have seen the pleased expression on his face when I handed him two gold stars. He just lit up. Ha.

Because the teacher fetish is so common, I don't consider him to be one of my freakiest clients. OK, it was kind of weird that he had his own desk, but not super crazy. Definitely a "what in the fuck?" though.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

The Spuff Mate Update

Last week was my first time ever doing a podcast or anything like that. I have a fear of public speaking, like many people have, but it isn't just about having people looking at me. It's knowing that more than three people can hear me at one time. But I've always been one to take my phobias on - I don't let anything control my life (why I refuse to smoke, drink, use drugs, or have toxic friends or relationships) - so when presented with the opportunity to do a small bit on a (what I thought was relatively small) podcast, I reluctantly accepted. I was every bit as nervous as I thought I would be. Did I suck? I've received several messages on Twitter saying I did great, but I'm not sure because I can't bring myself to listen to the damn thing. Any of it. Even the parts before and after my interview. I know, I know.

Last week Neal told me (during the podcast) that he wasn't sure that they would be able to have me back on this week (today.) Since I didn't hear from him all week and he hasn't mentioned it to his following on Twitter, I assumed that I was not going to be on. Then, yesterday, I got an email asking me if we were on for today. I was really surprised. So, apparently I did not suck or he wouldn't ask me back. Would advance notice and at least one little plug have been the nice and polite thing to do? Yes. But we're dealing with Neal Mayhem here. He doesn't do nice or polite. LOL

So, I hope y'all listen live today at between 10am and noon EST on The Spuff Mate Update with yours truly should be about one hour in. I'm not sure what he'll be asking me about this week, but there is quite a well to choose from as I have had one crazy fucking week! The main guest is the brilliant comedienne Shari Vanderwerf .

I hope y'all tune in, but if you miss it the download will be available sometime on Monday. :)

My ten freakiest clients to date, #5

I peed in a client's mouth this week.

He begged and pleaded with me; it was his greatest fantasy and blah blah blah. Sigh. I was tired and agreed to do it as long as he didn't utter another word. I'm pretty squeamish when it comes to bodily fluids so my bladder pretty much locked up on me. Now, usually I pee at least once an hour because I drink at least four liters of water a day. At least. My pee is completely clear, by the way (and odorless, which probably was a disappointment to the sick mutherfucker.) I highly recommend drinking lots of water and hot tea. Anyway, so there I was, standing over him, fingers parting my lips so as not to obstruct access to my urethra; him kneeling down on a towel in front of me with his mouth wide open. Imagine trying to relax in those circumstances. I'm used to sitting down to pee. I can't even hover; I have to carry Clorox wipes with me everywhere I go so I can sit my plump bottom down on a clean toilet. And now I'm supposed to pee standing up? Into this sick fuckos mouth? Ugh. It took me forever, but he eventually got a mouth full. Actually, most of it went in his mouth, but you know when people have a fetish they tend to get crazy with it. He made sure it flowed all down his chin and everything.

So *sexy right?! (*fucking disgusting)

I've peed on a guy before, but never into his mouth and all over his face like that and I still can't believe I did it.

I've worked as an escort/provider/hooker/whatever off and on for a number of years. My first go round only lasted a few months. I stopped for two years before having a second go round, which lasted six months. It was during that second go that a man offered me one thousand dollars to shit in his mouth. Prior to that, I had considered myself to be pretty sexually adventurous. Kinky, even. You may think that about yourself, too. Trust me when I tell you that whatever your most embarrassing fetish is, men out there pay for things far crazier. For one thing, they ask total strangers to shit in their mouths! I said no, of course. So then he sent me an email the following week asking me to shit on a plate and send it to him on a refrigerated truck. Fuck no and never contact me again! I was polite about it, but that was the message I hope he got. No way was the money worth having the knowledge that another human being consumed my shit filed in the back of my brain.

I just shivered.

One more thing about the piss drinker: he's a nurse practitioner! Why would someone working in the health care field want to drink piss? You never know about people.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Well that could have gone better

I was very nervous and my my phone kept cutting out during my interview with Neal Mayhem so I was not the greatest guest. He is absolutely adorable though; I could eat him with a spoon.

He asked me about any upcoming appointments I might want to share and I think I forgot to answer. I do have appointments scheduled, a few of which are bound to be freaky deaky because a few always are, but most of the time I don't know about it until they spring it on me during our session. Just so happens that "Mr. Sweaty" wants to see me again on Tuesday. I wish I would have talked about that. Maybe next week or the week after, if   he even lets me back on the air. hahaha

Y'all can listen to the podcast *Monday* on iTunes or go to the Minutes of Mayhem website for links.

UPDATE: Apparently the way it works is Saturday's show is available sometime the following Monday. So I guess I'll be hearing it for the first time on Monday. In the meantime, you should subscribe and check out previous podcasts. He's very  naughty; right up your alley, if you're reading this blog.

I will now attempt to fall asleep again

Regardless, I will lay with my eyes closed until my alarm goes off.

Tune in to Minutes of Mayhem today at 11am EST, where the hilarious and delightful Neal Mayhem, who assures me I am in good hands, will relieve my performance anxiety, attempt to understand my thick, American southern drawl, and coax the funny.

It's a comedy show. I am not a comedian. When I'm funny, it's not on purpose. I'm just me; all laid back and shy. So, it's a damn good thing that the stories I have to tell are funny as hell on their own. As long as Mr. Mayhem steers me back on track if I start to ramble, I'll do fine. It's going to be great fun.

If I don't suck, it'll be a regular feature on the program called "The Spuff-Mate Update." Fun, huh?!

I'll time my Saturday visits to the gym so that I can do my guest spots from my car in the parking lot after my work out. If Mr. Sweaty knew about this, he'd probably ejaculate on the spot.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

My ten freakiest clients to date, #6

Calling mid-afternoon to arrange a date for early the following morning is not an unusual thing to do. His reasons, however, were very unusual. This fetish was a new one on me:

"Do you work out?" he asked. Not really is the truth, but I wasn't about to spoil anything so instead I just asked why. "Well I was hoping you could work out right before our appointment."

OK, so he wants me sweaty. Not only that, he then went on to ask me to not shower after my last appointment the day before and if I could eat Taco Bell for dinner. Then he wants to know if I have special work-out clothes. Again, not really -- I have yoga pants and a tank top, but he wants me to answer the door all sweaty and wearing stretch pants and a sports bra. A white sports bra to be exact. "I can do that." And why not. The ensemble is about fifteen bucks at Target and I should have them anyway. I aim to please!

I did shower after my last appointment because fucking ew but I used unscented feminine wash and did not wash my armpits. I ate dinner at Taco Bell, as requested, bean burritos with extra hot sauce and nachos, did my shopping, then went back to the hotel, knitted for a bit before setting my alarm. I could not fucking sleep. I'm not used to spending the night away from home. My daughter was spending quality time with grandma for a few days so I decided to work out of town where I could make more money. The bed was nice, but it wasn't mine. I tossed and turned all night and ended up falling back asleep after my alarm went off. I woke up at 8:15. FUCK! I shoved a banana in my mouth, threw my new work-out clothes on real fast and went to go to the hotel gym to work out. I didn't have any water so I decided to get a bottle from the vending machine. Sold out. Every vending machine in the entire hotel, all four floors, were SOLD OUT. Great. I settled for that awful vitamin water. At this point, I have maybe 10 minutes to get sweaty before he arrives. I go to the gym and, of course, both treadmills and both elliptical machines are being used. Ugh. So, it's back up to my room on the fourth floor, via the stairs. I see that he called while I was running around trying to find water, but I am not going to call him back until it's time for our appointment. Being early is so rude. So my hotel room....just picture this: jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups, jogging around in circles, more jumping jacks. Still not super sweaty, so I held a complicated yoga pose until it was time.

He looked like a mama's boy. They always do. This is why I don't flinch at the raunchy guys... Get them alone and they're happy with a nice blow job and missionary, maybe the occasional ass-fuck, but hey who doesn't like that. But I'm telling you this, and you can take it to the bank, the most normal looking men you've ever seen; the ones wearing neutral colors and sensible styles and fabrics; the ones who probably cut the crusts off of their sandwiches and floss every night without fail: FUCKING FREAKS, the lot of them. Trust me on this.

For an entire hour, he sniffed my armpits and ass, licked my crotch through my sweaty stretch pants, and masturbated while I made him smell my dirty underwear.

Then, after all that, as accommodating as I had been, he asked if I would give him a discount next time because, and I quote, "we seemed to have a connection." Well, dumbass, the reason it seemed that way is because I WAS ACTING. My job is to fulfill fantasies. So, by his rationale, he should receive less pay for the days that he enjoys his job? What an asshole. I told him no. No discounts. If you want quality service, you have to pay for it, bucko.

I let him keep the undies.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Truthful Tuesday

I know it's Saturday morning, I just want to start next week with fresh posts so I'm doing this while I have a few moments. This is the last of the posts from Tumblr I'm bringing over to Blogger. Is Truthful Tuesday just a Tumblr thing? I'm not sure. I participated four times though and I'd like to share them here. I have to. I'm so sentimental where honest writing is concerned and the stuff I have written about my life as an escort is as honest as I've been since becoming one. I'm looking forward to writing again. About these Truthful Tuesday posts, I'm not sure when I wrote them, which Tuesdays of which months... yet another example of Tumblr's suckage; they don't date/time stamp your posts for you. Yes, you can find it but it's extra steps and not worth the hassle. And that's the last thing I say about Tumblr here, though I will say that the themes there are nice. I'm especially going to miss mine. It was perfect. Okay, that was the last thing.

Now for Truthful Tuesday posts:

Truth #1 - I am boring
The whole point of Truthful Tuesday is to reveal something honest about yourself that might be surprising, I gather?

With that in mind, I’ll tell something that doesn’t fit the stereotype most people have of sex workers, but would probably be a *yawn, whatever* type post for people who really know me:
I am the youngest member (by 25 years) of a knitting group. We get together every other Friday, rain or shine, come hell or high water. We show off our latest knitting projects and accomplishments. We have tea, cookies, and scones (I bake the scones: plain, orange, and cinnamon-raisin.) We talk about everything you can imagine from relationships and sex to politics. We respect each other’s opinions and have a great time.
I would rather knit and dunk scones with these women who are old enough to be my mother and grandmother than go to a crowded, noisy club full of drunk fools any day.
Truth #2 - If I could get away with it, the only man I'd let have my breasts would have to win my heart first
Even though I understand why my clients want to touch, caress, squeeze, lick, and suckle my breasts; I resent them for it and it makes me want to puke on their disgusting face while they’re doing it.
Truth #3 - I may be a whore for money, but I am definitely not one for attention
When I’m not working, I wear baggy clothes and floppy hats so that men won’t look at me.
Truth #4 - I want to love and be loved, but now is not the time
I’m not totally unhappy being single, but I am not totally happy either. I mean, I haven’t had what I would consider to be real sex in several months. Sex with clients isn’t the same. Most of the time I’m just trying to please them and get them out the door because I don’t really want to be with them. I don’t have a friend with benefits either. So, I masturbate a lot. I haven’t had time to date and I definitely don’t have time for a relationship. Then there’s always the dilemma of me not wanting to lie about being a paid sex provider, even by omission, and there being no way on God’s green earth I would date a man who would be OK with me doing this. Nor would I want to date someone who would insist I quit, even if he offered to help out financially: 1)I’m too independent for that and 2)I don’t like being told what to do. No, even though I hate it sometimes, what I need to do is just be by myself until I finish my degree next year. Once I can finally get a job that pays enough to make a decent living, when I’m settled into that new way of life and have more time and energy to give, I’d really love to meet someone and have a normal relationship. It won’t be easy though. I’m a single mother of a young child and have to be so careful about who I allow into her life. Any man interested in me would also have to be open-minded and non-judgmental enough to be able to handle that I have been a prostitute without ever holding it against me or throwing it up in my face or being jealous. That kind of worries me, to be honest. 

Friday, March 18, 2011

While on the subject of the unfortunate side-effects of unhealthy habits

Let's talk about how artery plaque affects your ability to achieve the raging hard-on of your dreams:
I take a lot of massage appointments, mostly cater to older gentlemen, fifty plus, in one of the fattest states in the country. This means lots of heart problems, lots of blood pressure meds, and therefore lots of limp dicks. Sure, they can still cum. It just takes longer and you have to be more creative. [I don't think I spelled out enough just how hard it is on the arms and hands to jack a limp dick. There is nothing more tiresome.] By Thursday evening, I am feeling the burn and by Friday afternoon I am counting the hours ‘til the start of my weekend and my arms are ready to just fall the fuck off of my body. 
If you are a male under the age of 40, please, I beg of you, don’t let that happen to you. Exercise, eat healthier, don’t smoke. Who cares about what you look like, just do it for your sex life. I’ve met 90 year olds who have lead a healthy life and still get rock hard erections. Be them instead. :)
The above was an excerpt from one of the posts of my soon-to-be-defunct Tumblr. I have one more thing I want to cross-post from there before I shut it down and begin writing fresh posts for my new blog here. I can hardly wait. Blogger is superior to Tumblr in every way, as far as I can see, and I am really looking forward to posting regularly. That is, whatever my time and mental energy will afford me in the future, I have no idea, but my intent is to post regularly. Look for my first brand new post on Tuesday evening. ox 

Smokers and oral hygiene

I cannot bitch about this enough.
Smokers, don’t delude yourselves: your breath fucking stinks! (and your clothes, your hair, your fingers, your skin, your every fiber of your being…) Don’t think you can just put a stick of spearmint or peppermint gum in your mouth and make it go away. It doesn’t work. In fact, it MAKES IT WORSE! Don’t just take my word for it, the Food Detectives on Food Network also found that spearmint gum intensifies bad breath. If I recall correctly, Ted Allen likened the odor to “doggy do-do.” If all you have is gum, your best bet is Big Red™. 
You know what’s better though? Fucking quit. It’s disgusting. That’s not really my place though, so I’ll tell you the next best thing: Brush your entire mouth. With a liberal amount of toothpaste containing baking soda and peroxide. Brush your gums, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks, and for God’s sake YOUR TONGUE. Rinse thoroughly. Rinse your toothbrush. Repeat, this time letting the toothpaste sit in your mouth for two minutes. Now, use mouthwash and GARGLE. Don’t smoke again until after our appointment. Start sucking an Altoid or Tic Tac five minutes prior.
Your breath is still going to be unpleasant, but only mildly so.
And gentlemen smokers, unless she also smokes, keep your tongue off your provider’s body. I’d rather my dog lick me after cleaning his ass than be licked by a smoker and I think most non-smokers would agree.
Obviously I dealt with smoker’s tongue today. It was so nasty. Wet, stale cigarette kisses all over my neck and chest. I couldn’t keep from gagging. The moist, stale cigarettes and old burnt coffee smell hovered over my face, like a fog. Christ, I want to throw my guts up just thinking about it.
If it sounds like too much effort for you, choose a provider who doesn’t advertise that she is a non-smoker, providing a smoke-free environment. Even better, choose one that discloses that she smokes. This requires that you actually read the ad, yet another pet peeve of most providers, and a good place for me to end this particular gripe. For the moment. (Trust me, I will bitch about this again in the future.)

Men, here's a tip: sex is much more enjoyable for the woman when she can fucking breathe!

If you don’t know how to fuck a woman without putting your entire weight on her chest and diaphragm, especially if you have a gut resembling a pregnant woman in her third trimester, you don’t get to be directly on top. Get up on your knees and rest her feet on your shoulders, get behind her, scissor, whatever — get creative.

Do everyone a favor and embrace the fuzz

To shave or not to shave? Listen, sometimes we have to accept the lesser of two evils.
Men, we ladies understand you men with a lot of body hair being self-conscious what with all of the unrealistic images being shoved down your throats via ads, porn, etc 24/7. Women aren’t the only victims of this. You guys are told that to be desirable you must be athletic, ripped, have a Ron Jeremy dick and, with the exception of your head, which should be as full of hair as it was when you were twenty, your body should be completely bald. You’re told that this is the ideal. Some of you become so obsessed with this image, you actually shave yourselves from head to toe.
STOP IT.  Or at least be willing to shave as often as necessary to not develop any stubble whatsoever (and good luck with that.)
I just fucked a porcupine. The entire front of my body and my pussy is one big rash. My skin is irritated and it burns.
Men, take advantage of the fact that women are not as visual as you are. Sure we like to look at pictures, but what it all boils down to in the real world is whether or not you are a good person. Even for a casual encounter, we need to feel comfortable with you. How can we feel comfortable with someone who isn’t even comfortable with themselves? Liking yourself and your soft body hair is much more attractive to us then a stubbly chest and crotch. Speaking of comfort, do you want to know what it feels like to have 1,000 prickly needles poking into your pussy during sex? No? Well neither do we. 
All Women!

My ten freakiest clients to date, #7

As soon as “Mr. S” walked in, he asked to use my restroom. “Of course,” I replied. This is not unusual. Most men want to wash their hands and maybe take a little bird bath to freshen up, which I appreciate.  So when I did not hear the toilet flush, but heard the water run, I thought nothing of it.  He emerged from the bathroom with a big smile on his face, all ready for his rub down.  After the happy ending, I had to go to the bathroom.  To wash my hands, obviously, but also I always run a fresh washcloth under hot water and put a little soap on one side so I can clean the client. So, I walk into the bathroom and OMFG. That fucker left a big, nasty shit just sitting in my toilet.  And talk about stink.  I gagged.  I’m gagging again just thinking about it.  Though I will say, it was a perfect “S” shape.  I remember thinking to myself well, at least he is getting plenty of fiber.  Oh, stop it. HE LEFT A BIG, NASTY SHIT JUST SITTING IN MY TOILET!  So, why is he a freak and not just somebody who was possibly nervous and forgot to flush the toilet?  I’ll tell you why.  Because I could smell his stinky ass during the massage.  He did not wash up after he shit, as most normal, considerate men would.  He wanted me to smell and see his shit. He is a nasty scat fetishist.  One of two nasty scat fetishists that have made my top 10 list. But not to worry, I will not do two nasty shit stories back to back.  I would not do that to you.  But somewhere down the road, prepare to be completely grossed out again. Sorry. :)
I did not confront him, by the way.  Nor did I give him the satisfaction of hearing me gag.  I simply flushed and behaved as if nothing had happened so he never called again. To think I went through the trouble of assigning a special ring tone for him: the theme from “Jaws.”

Thursday, March 17, 2011

My ten freakiest clients to date, #8

Number 8 is devoted to all of the men who have entered my hotel room, copped a feel of my boob, some even having the cajones to actually lift up my top and gawk at them as well, told me you left your wallet in the car, and then fled the scene.
Get help.

My ten freakiest clients to date, #9

Unlike “Chaps”, with “Muu muu” I knew what I was in store for ahead of time. His email was very specific. Usually (for obvious reasons) I don’t allow any prior discussion of what is going to take place during our session, but since his didn’t involve any sexual acts, I felt comfortable replying with an agreement. His words were “make me pretty and then show me off.” By showing off, he didn’t mean in public (that would be a different freak that we’ll get to further up the list), he just wanted me to take pictures and upload them onto his blog.
Both of Muu Muu’s references tried to warn me. One said, and I remember this verbatim, “remember John Travolta’s “Edna” from Hairspray? Like that, except uglier and less convincing.” The other said, “it was hard for me to keep a straight face, but he’s a’ight.” There was no way for them to fully prepare me though.
“Muu Muu” stood about 6’3”, weighed at least 300 pounds, and arrived wearing the uniform from a popular pest control company and carrying a duffle bag full of the following:
  • 2 wigs - one beehive, one bouffant, both brunette
  • Make-up - it was all orange and blue. Orange blush, orange lipstick, foundation with an orange undertone; blue eyeshadow, blue eye liner, and blue mascara
  • Clip on earrings and bangles - gold, turquoise, and HUMONGOUS
  • Shoes - Classic pumps in black and fuchsia (he said, “I just love fuchsia, turquoise, and orange together, don’t you?” Me:”Oh yes, it’s beautiful. You’re going to be SO PRETTY!”)(I told you, I’m a pleaser.)
  • Pantyhose - You guessed it, all suntan
  • Lingerie - White grandma bras with rolled up socks for stuffing and girdles
  • Stretchy belts to match his shoes
  • And his dresses, I could have died - all muu muus, cut off and hemmed into mini dresses
I teased and styled his wigs and dressed him up pretty. I feel kind of bad calling him a freak, because he was actually a really nice person. He just wanted to be dressed like a woman and told he was pretty. Who doesn’t want to hear that they’re pretty? I’m rather indifferent when it comes to appearances - I’ll go anywhere with no make-up and wearing my pajamas, yet tell me I’m pretty and you’ll make my day. So, can I blame him? The only really freaky thing about him was that he was this huge guy, dressed like his grandma, in the ugliest clothes and make-up I have ever seen on a person, pretending to be a high fashion model while I took his picture.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

My ten freakiest clients to date, #10

I'm not posting these in any particular order, as “Chaps" here deserves to be in the top five for sure; but I can’t begin to move on to the other freaks until I get past him.
He gave no indication of his freakiness prior to our appointment whatsoever. His telephone demeanor was pleasant, polite, charming even. His references on P411 checked out; none of them thought it necessary to mention what I was in store for, so I assumed him to be your ordinary, vanilla-type hobbyist.
He arrived promptly, wearing a long trench coat and carrying a small suitcase, kissed my hand, exchanged pleasantries for a minute or two, again everything seemed normal, and then got real serious, threw down an extra $200 on top of the donation, clapped his hands together one time and said, “OK, this is what I want.”
My mouth dropped open as he emptied the contents of his suitcase on the bed and lined it up: nipple clamps with various weights from lightest to heaviest, a ball gag, rope, a paddle, and two dildos (one small, one porn-star sized strap-on.) Then he gave me the run-down. His instructions were very specific. I was to tell him to remove his coat, then he would act embarrassed and refuse, I would insist, then he would pretend to cry while slowly revealing that he is wearing “my bra” and a pair of chaps. His punishment would be a verbal lashing, several swats with the paddle, then I tell him to remove “my bra,” bite his nipples hard and make him put on the weighted nipple clamps. Then, I tie his hands behind his back, gag him for being a bad, mouthy boy, more paddling, heavier nipple clamps, small dildo, even more paddling, heaviest nipple clamps, then fucking him with the strap-on “really super hard” and then, because he’s been “such a good boy”, go a little softer, reach around and stroke his dick until he cums.
“Alright, I can do that.” 
It took two short walk-through, um, rehearsals (for lack of a better word) for me to get it, but it all went down without a hitch. Like an actress who hit all her marks, I was feeling pretty proud of myself after.
No, I’m not into that shit at all, but who am I to judge? Dysfunctional as it may be, that was what made him happy and that is what I’m here for. I’m such a pleaser.

I'll tell you about the other nine as I am able.

Men, would it kill you to read the provider's full ad and listen to her voicemail greeting?

Why do you guys skim ads and ignore the information on voicemail greetings? It takes more time to have the provider answer those questions for you than it would if you just paid attention. Not to mention the fact that many times our ads and voicemail contains information about exactly when we are available.
Around 6:00 in the morning, this man left me a message asking for a 1pm appointment. I didn’t answer because I don’t turn my phone on until 8. My ad and voicemail both state this clearly, but he didn’t pay attention. He became irritated that I wasn’t returning his call right away and he left four more messages, each one more hostile and condescending than the last. My ad and voicemail also request that you leave ONE message and let me get back to you (otherwise my voicemail gets full. Not to mention the fact that if you don’t have the patience to wait for a call back, you aren’t the type of man I want to spend time with.) My voicemail also says that I am no longer available after 11am because I have to check out of the hotel. I called him back shortly after 8, just as soon as I turned my phone on and got my messages, and I told him I was leaving at 11. He became very rude and I had to set him straight. If only he had bothered to READ MY AD.
This type of thing happens all the time. Hobbyists, please take 2 minutes to read the ad and listen to the information provided in the voicemail greeting. It will save both of us a lot of time and hassle.

Why do I hide the large-size condoms from my clients?

I really want to know why.
I’ll explain:
I have on hand two types of condoms: regular and large (I’d love small ones for my older, obese, and Asian clients, but haven’t found them yet.)  I keep the condoms in a bag in the nightstand drawer. Today, after I massaged my very-well-endowed client and we had some touchy-feely time (a quick aside; men do like to cuddle. A lot. They just like to do it all BEFORE the sex), he had a huge erection and was ready for some oral fun. So, I opened the drawer, reached into my bag, but instead of pulling the condom out to open it like I always do, I opened the large condom with my hands still inside the bag so he couldn’t see that I thought his dick was big. Then I realized something: this was not the first time I’ve done this. Concealing the large condom wrapper is what I do.
First of all, it’s doubtful that he doesn’t know he needs a large condom already. He’s (presumably) bought condoms before. And much the same as I definitely notice when my jeans are too snug and I need a larger size, he must know that the regular condom is too tight, right?
Is it that I don’t want him to feel self-conscious? Maybe. Though that doesn’t make much sense. My experience with men has been that the one thing they are most self-conscious about, their biggest fear, is that their dick might not be adequate. So dumb, by the way. I am definitely Team It’s-What-You-Do-With-It-That-Counts. Well, within reason. If it’s too small to keep the condom on, that’s a problem. On the flip side, I’m running the other direction from a porn star dick. Anyway, in what capacity could I possibly be protecting his ego? None that I can reasonably see. But being that this isn’t a conscious thing I’ve been doing, reason wouldn’t factor into my behavior at all. I could have been sub-consciously protecting the part of him that wants to be the same as everyone else. The facts are that I only use one large condom for every 20 regulars so, though men consider being well-endowed a good thing, it is the minority.
Maybe I don’t want him to feel too good about himself. That sounds wrong. I mean, I love making clients feel good about themselves and I base my entire session with them around that, but maybe somewhere deep in the back of my brain is the fear that he’ll suddenly, upon realizing he’s in possession of such a fine specimen (his thoughts, not mine), start getting ideas that he shouldn’t have to pay for sex and doesn’t need me anymore. Also ridiculous considering most men who pay for sex don’t do it as a last resort, but rather because it’s less complicated. But silly fears are not rational, ever, and since my ex-husband who had a huge dick and was so proud of it, he thought it was such a shame to waste it all on only one good woman, decided he didn’t need me anymore, they could, too? 
Am I even making sense? Good thing this whole Tumblr thing is for me because I would pity the person attempting to make sense of my ramblings. I’m no writer.
Anyway, I can think of a few other reasons why I hide the damn Magnums, but after analyzing each of them, I can’t think of a single logical reason to continue this practice. It is silly and stupid and I’m making a conscious decision to stop it immediately. Well, starting Monday. I don’t work weekends.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Promptness is key

Gentlemen, there are many appointments that you can show up early for.  Your appointment with your escort is NOT one of them!  Showing up early on a lady is generally a bad idea to begin with, then factor in the possibility for overlaps.
Your doctor, lawyer, dentist, insurance agent, even Fido’s veterinarian all encourage you be fifteen minutes or so early to fill out paperwork or just in case there’s been a cancelation, they can squeeze you in a little early.  They also have a waiting room and there is no need for discretion.  If you see your neighbor there, it’s all smiles and friendly chit chat.  Being early to these appointments is good.
Your escort, on the other hand, books her sessions with the need for discretion in mind and also (I hope) to allow herself enough time to bathe, put down fresh linens, and make everything nice and cozy for you.
Two or three minutes early is fine.  Up to five minutes late is fine.  But any more than that either way could create a real problem.
My advice is this.  Get to the location up to five minutes early, but wait until it’s time for your session to call and let her know you are there (or knock on the door, depending on your arrangements.)  If you are going to be more than five minutes late, please call her ahead of time so she knows what’s going on.
Also, if you’re late, don’t expect her to lose her next appointment for you.  She was there ready and waiting for you, pay her in full and expect to depart at your originally agreed upon time.  She’ll make sure you’re still satisfied.  And if she’s anything like me, she will give you your full hour if she is able to do so, just please be understanding if she can’t.
Providers, be on time for your clients.  Nobody likes a flake.  If you want repeat business, treat your clients with the same respect that you expect from them.  It’s about consideration.  As they say, “it ain’t rocket science!”

Monday, March 14, 2011


This should go without saying, but based on what I deal with on a daily basis, it obviously doesn’t.
Gentlemen, just before our appointment, BATHE. Wash yourself thoroughly. With soap. Use a washcloth under your armpits and on your ass. And get deep down in there, too. Yes, wash where you poop from. Because nobody wants to smell your stinky ass! If you can’t do it at home, please ask to use my shower. It’s just common courtesy.
Check your breath. Does it stink? Well, that needs to be remedied. I honestly don’t get why this is such a problem. How can men not think about this? Things you may not have any control over like hunger and nerves can cause unpleasant breath, but nothing that cinnamon gum or a couple of Tic Tacs can’t cure. Please.
I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash your hands after you use the toilet, and yet I am constantly having to do this. Come on, now!
Don’t keep pestering me to kiss you on the mouth. I explicitly say that I am full service, but not GFE. Don’t come here and expect me to compromise my health (and in turn the health of my young daughter) after I have already made it clear that I don’t french kiss. If your escort kisses you, she kisses everyone. I don’t care if she claims you’re the first client she’s ever kissed. She’s lying. And eventually someone is going to get herpes, mono, or even just a common flu… you know we’re most contagious before we even have symptoms. And don’t even get me started on the gall and irresponsibility of some men who actually ask me to not use a condom… It’s just unbelievable. Use the right head on this one, guys!

Sunday, March 13, 2011


I have a regular client named “Jeff”.  He always gets a one-hour body massage followed by an oral happy ending.  Now, I don’t normally get aroused by my clients, but I find him Sexy!  He has this thick body, just the right amount of hair, and the most gorgeous cock I have ever seen in person.  And I’ve seen a lot of cocks.
He’s big enough without being freakishly huge, about 7 1/2 inches or so, just the right amount of girth and circumcised, but with a small amount of foreskin left. It’s a beautiful dark pink, that doesn’t sound too appetizing, but you would just have to see it to know what I’m talking about.  The color is uniform; it is just one gorgeous cock.
But here’s the thing…
“Jeff” can’t “contain himself” for longer than twenty seconds.  I am not exaggerating.  Just the act of rolling the condom on causes him to need a break for a few seconds.  So then I’ll go back to massaging his thighs a little.  Then I’ll ever-so-slowly slide his full length into my mouth and he immediately starts shaking and says “wait a minute.”  We go through this about eight or nine times and finally I get sick of it and ignore his request that I stop.
This is sad.  ”Jeff” is married.  Can you imagine being married to a gorgeous cock like that and not being able to use it for more than ten to twenty seconds at a time?  Poor thing.  I really feel for her.  He had better have one talented tongue!  And do windows!  That is all I have to say about that.

A Typical day #1

Seems as good a topic as any to start off with.

So, I do most of my appointments out-of-town these days.  It's better that way.  Better financially, better in the sense of not having to worry about hearing a familiar voice say "God bless you" when I sneeze in line at Dunkin' Donuts.  Talk about an awkward moment for both provider and hobbyist.  He thought he was blessing a stranger; the look on his face when I turned around could only be rivaled by mine, which was an expression of panic eclipsed only by that of the one and only time I am sure I saw a ghost in my life.  Holy cow!  What else could the two of us do except cooly say, "thank you, sir" and "you're welcome, ma'am," like we would to anybody else and go about our business.  In public, we don't know each other.  We've never met.  Period, end of story. So far I've only had one client either not know or blatantly defy that rule. He was not a crazy stalker, just a guy who had nothing to lose by acknowledging our acquaintance.  I was lucky.  It was enough to make me never want to experience that again though.

So, now I travel to other cities two days a week.  I am totally independent.  I host in my hotel room -- a nice one, always indoors, always very clean, priced to not be unaffordable for business travelers, but high enough to keep out the riff-raff.  I post my ads a day or two ahead of time so that I have a few or more appointments lines up when I get there.
I've been in a beach town for the past two days and have done pretty well.  It did not start off that way though.  Last night was nothing but a bunch of bullshitters on the phone and men wanting to set up appointments for today.  So I went to bed without having earned a single dollar, but was still feeling pretty ok because at least I had an 8am appointment lined up.
And then...

He did not show up!  Why the fuck do people do that?  Have the decency to call for crying out loud!  It's not like I can  just replace one client with another.  I am responsible.  If I set aside time for you, I will book other appointments around you.  This inconsiderate boob cost me another client who wanted to see me at 8:15 for 30 minutes but I had to decline and offer another time, which was not doable for him.  Argh.  Not to mention the fact that I rushed through breakfast to be ready in time.  Oh well, that's how it goes sometimes.  I did not let it ruin the rest of my day.  I kept a positive attitude and the day did get better.

Client number two was right on time.  It was a thirty minute appointment.  He just wanted oral.  Oral is always done safely.  Condoms are MANDATORY.  Not to get off point here, but gentlemen please do not risk your safety or the safety of your loved ones. Condoms are less fun, true, but how much fun would it be to get herpes? Yes, it can be transmitted that way.  Anyway, I do care that my clients experience the most pleasure possible so I buy the thinnest ones I can get without sacrificing safety.  I was fortunate enough to find a brand that has no bad aftertaste.  Now, when it comes to release, I do give a few options.  They can cum in my mouth or while I am deep-throating them, but the condom stays on.  If they want to cum without the condom, I will finish with my hand (or they can do it themselves if they wish) and release on my body or theirs (99.9% of the time, they choose MINE, of course.)  Breast releases are popular.  My breasts are really big and all-natural (this is how I have managed to continue to do quite nicely even during these trying economical times) and so naturally this client wanted to cum all over them and I can't really say I blame him.

Client number three forgot to call an hour ahead of time to confirm his appointment and I had already told another client that he could stop by.  The client begged, he HAD to see me during his lunch hour, so I called the newer client and asked him if he could wait an hour, that I would compensate for his patience by giving him a little extra time.  He was a doll and agreed.  Client number three shows up, I have to spend five minutes convincing him that I am not a police officer (hint, gentlemen, if the lady is refusing to tell you what you are getting for your money, she is NOT A COP. Cops want to make you agree to pay for sex so they can arrest you.  Don't be stupid.  If the girl is trying to protect herself, she is legit. Sheesh.)  Anyway, so he realized I was legit once I showed him my reviews online and he got comfortable.  Then he whipped out that freak flag and let it FLY.  He must have flipped me in ten different positions while fucking me.  "You were a bad girl.  Daddy has to fuck you now, you bad girl."  And then he was the professor, punishing me with a good old pounding for showing up to class with my cleavage sticking in his face.  Then he asked me to show him my "pretty white teeth" so he could smack them with his cock and I had to pretend to drink his cum.  He stayed the entire hour and got his money's worth.  He was a small guy with a big dick.  You never know about people.

Client four was already in the parking lot when I called to let him know I am now available.  I was still putting my clothes back on when he knocked at the door.  Now, I don't like to rush sessions and generally try to give the client their full amount of time, but sometimes they are in a hurry and just want to get off.  I reminded him he had extra time coming to him, but he didn't care, he just wanted to cum and leave.  Two minutes of covered oral followed by a quick handjob and breast release.  He left whistling and smiling, in less than ten minutes and tipped me an extra $40.  "I'm not sure I earned this today."  "Oh yes you did, sweetheart."  If only they could all be like this.

Client five also forgot to confirm his appointment and called from the parking lot less than five minutes after client four's departure.  I told him I needed ten minutes.  I showered (I always shower after every client), remade the bed, got dressed, and he knocked at the door while I was reapplying my lipstick.  He was another quick one.  Today was bj and breast release day.  My breasts are softer than a baby's bottom from all  that semen.  It's a real shame there is no way to bottle that stuff for lotion.

Mid-afternoon and I finally got to eat something and run to the store for some toiletries I accidentally left behind at home.  My next appointment called to confirm so I finished up my shopping and rushed back to the hotel.
Client Six arrived on schedule, ready for action.  He wanted sex in a thirty minute appointment, which is not usually a good idea because of the rushing involved, but he promised he will get off quick and I was too tired to argue.  He kept his word and was done in fifteen minutes. I offered him a back rub to fill in the extra time --which he accepted (damn him, I was just trying to be polite... I didn't expect him to actually say yes. lol) -- the timer went off and he left.

And I am spent.