Incalls

I had a request from a client for an incall. Normally, all of my appointments are done outside of my home -- a hotel, the client's house, etc. This time, however, the client (a regular) wanted to meet me at my place.

What's a gigolo to do?

I surprised myself when I agreed. Understand that this client is a regular. I've been seeing her for the past six months, and I know her to be a kind, trustworthy person. Still, never having done an incall before, I was nervous.

I cleaned my apartment until it was gleaming, not unlike a picture from a magazine. And while my abode isn't quite as glamorous as what one might find in a copy of Ocean Drive or Miami Home & Design, I do pride myself on living in a handsome building that has a great water view.

The client was impressed when she saw my place, too. Thankfully, I still had a bottle of wine left over from a party a few weeks back, so we drank from that to break the ice, so to speak. Not that there's much ice left to break with a regular client, but you know...

And yes, we did have sex -- in my bed. The sheets were clean and the scented candles let the scent of vanilla carry into the air, which made for an aesthetically-pleasing scene... I hope. This client in particular likes doing it doggie style, and while I was facing a mirror, it was too dark to really see anything.

One of the benefits of being a sex worker is that sex can be a cathartic experience -- meaning when I'm feeling down, engaging in sex (a physically-strenuous activity) can help lift my mood. While that might sound psychologically dubious, I truly believe the endorphins released from sexual activity can lift one's mood, just like exercise.

Between sex and exercise, I probably have endorphins to spare, which makes getting through tough times a little easier. Will I do any more incalls in the future? I don't think so -- if for no other reason than inviting someone into my home is still a personal decision, one that I don't take lightly.

Yet, for the right price, aren't we all flexible?