The Call

I rolled over in bed and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey stranger."

It was my old agent in Miami. I opened my eyes, sat up. "Hey, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. How's life in the Big Apple?"

"Busy, hot. And Miami?"

"Hot as a desert and humid as a swamp. So, listen..."

"Oh come on, you know I'm not escorting anymore."

She laughed, told me to relax. She just wanted me to make the offer as courtesy. A former client of mine is at her summer home in Martha's Vineyard, she said. I've been to this client's summer home before, in fact.

"I appreciate the sentiment," I said. "But that part of my life is over."

"It's Simone, isn't it?" my agent said. "She's the reason you quit."

"In fact, she is."

My agent chuckled, almost cynically. "And you're fine with her working as a dominatrix? My friends tell me she's setting up her own dungeon."

"She's quite good at beating people," I said. "She tanned my ass last night."

"Be careful with that one," said the agent. "And if you ever need any extra money, you know who to call."

The agent hung up after that. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell just happened. Had the Martha's Vineyard client really remembered me? Or was my replacement in Miami not working out to my agent's liking?

Why is that sometimes, I feel like sex work haunts me like a ghost? It follows me around, whispering in my ear, tempting me to come back. The money is there, after all -- and apparently, so is the demand from some old clients. Before I quit, I'd have been all too happy to hop on a plane from Miami to Boston, then relax in a chauffeured car to Martha's Vineyard.

I changed my life, got a "normal" job. But is the old adage about sex work true? One a sex worker, always a sex worker? I'm not sure. And I won't lie: the idea of my past being revealed is scary. Not because I'm ashamed of it, but because I have a low tolerance for BS and judgmental people -- both of which would erupt if my past as an escort came out into the light.

No worries, I guess. I can't go back. What would Simone think?

The Bloke at the Train Station

Like many other people in major cities, I take a train to work.

Each morning I notice a man on the platform -- dark-haired, handsome, medium build. I'd say he's in his early-to-mid 30s, about a decade older than me, give or take. For reasons I can't quite describe, I keep thinking that he's a male escort.

It's stupid, I know. Judging from his formal attire of sharp suits and polished leather shoes, I doubt he's working in my old field. Well, I shouldn't really say that -- there were plenty of times I donned a suit at a business woman's request.

It's the brief case that does it, really. No male escort ever carries a brief case. They're so bulky and unattractive. A messenger bag, sure. But an honest-to-goodness brief case? Not so much.

I've told Simone about this bloke, and she thinks I'm just a victim of my own overactive imagination. And even mentioning another man gets her all hot and bothered. Seems that Simone harbors a fantasy of her own: watching me get it on with another guy.

"It's not compeltely unheard of," she said to me. "Plenty of girls do."

"I just don't get it," I said. "What pleasure could you derive from watching some guy suck my cock -- or vice versa?"

"You wouldn't be in control. You'd be outside your comfort zone. You'd be doing something you've never done before -- and you may even like it."

"Ah, so that's what it is, then?"

"What?" she asked.

"You've always fantasized about having a three-some with another guy. By having me fool around with one, well, that would give you easy access to a third party, wouldn't it?"

Her silence meant I was on the right track. I leaned in, kissed her forehead, then refilled her iced tea. That girl of mine -- always thinking, always scheming. Most boyfriends would be repulsed at her candor, over her somewhat kinky fantasies. But me? I'm a lost cause. Because even now, I'm still in love with her.

New Careers

Did I mention Simone is now working as a dominatrix?

It was a natural progression, I suppose, given how often she's tanned my hide in the past. She'd grown bored with escorting and was ready for something new. Beating men into submission seemed as good a path as any.

Of course I know it's not that easy. There's more to it than just a quick spanking or tying a bloke up with rope. It's personal, psychological, and Simone herself is the first to admit that she's still learning. She suspects it'll be months -- perhaps years -- before she can truly consider herself "good" at dominating others.

My thoughts on her new job? I support it. And, strangely enough, I find myself turned on at the thought of her dominating another man. Does this arousal come from the same place as men who enjoy being cuckolded? Both involve seeing their significant others engaged in intimate acts with another.

Simone was never one to want to watch me with another woman. She did, however, admit to passing thoughts about watching me with another man, but such a fantasy was never realized. It's not that I don't love her -- it's just that I'm not into men.

All right, that's it for now. I really am going to try and update this blog of mine more regularly (I know, I know: you've all read that so often it probably doesn't mean much anymore, but I'm trying, folks!) Until then, take care, be well, and browse through the archives. My professional life in escorting might be over, but I and the rest of the internet can cherish the memories forever.

Montreal

Again, I'm so sorry for the lack of posts. Between work, vacation and spending time with Simone, I just haven't been able to put my ass in the chair and type up a proper entry.

So, what's been going on with me? For starters, I visited Montreal, Quebec Canada for a summer holiday and had an amazing time. Everything I'd heard about the city was true: the clean streets, gracious citizens and beautiful architecture. I so loved my time there that I didn't want to leave -- and that's really saying something, considering I now live in New York City!

Simone joined me on this holiday, and to say we were making out like to love-sick teenagers would be something of an understatement. Funny how in the states, such PDA is frowned upon, but in Montreal, Simone and I received more than a few compliments, if not hoot-and-hollers.

My regular job is coming along well, too. Fall is typically our busiest time of year, so but my co-workers are lovely and the work itself is varied and interesting. Do I miss escorting? Sometimes. Are there a host of new  benefits to working in the nine-to-five world, too? Certainly.

And, on a more sentimental note, my parents recently celebrated their 25th anniversary. Can you believe they actually went to Vancouver to celebrate?! Funny how my mom emailed me, asking where they should go and what they should do. For a brief moment I stared blankly at my laptop screen, remembering how much fun I had with Rebecca.

The melancholy didn't last long, however. Especially not when Simone walked by naked after just getting out of the shower. 

So, that's pretty much it, folks. I'll try and make the next entry more exciting -- perhaps summarizing some of the graphic sexual discussions the ladies at work have on our lunch breaks. I don't know if they forget I'm there or just don't care. Perhaps a mix of both.

Cheers!

Testing

Back when I was escorting, I was frequently tested for STIs. Monthly, in fact. Now that I'm on the "other side" I haven't been tested since I left escorting for good in May. 

I feel... strange. Like I'm letting something go, like I'm being irresponsible. Why, you ask? It's not that I tested positive for anything. I'm a freak about using condoms and only having anal sex (the riskiest form of intercourse) with clients I knew and trusted. 

Perhaps it's because, in many cases, sex workers actually have better safe sex practices than "regular" people. The more I think about it, the more I believe it. While sex workers are, by and large, loathed and pitied and dismissed as unfortunates in society, we're ahead of the pack in many ways.

Yes, I spent nearly two years picking up strangers and having sex with them. But pray tell, readers: Wasn't I safer about it than most people? For instance, my agent always knew where I was, and who I was with. I always used protection, and had previously agreed as to what exactly the client and I would be doing.

How many people can say the same?

I still think there's a lot that the general public can learn from sex workers, at least the ones at the high end of the industry. For instance, regular STI testing is so very, very important. And yet, so many people fail to do it. Herpes, gonorrhea, HIV/AIDS -- all terrible conditions, but preventable and manageable with the proper precautions and treatments.

So with that, I'd like to make a plea: If you haven't been tested within the past year, please do so now. If you enjoy my blog, if you enjoy my writing, then do it in my honor. It's truly the best gift you can give yourself!