God, I’m such a dork. I’m still catching on to this lingo—I had two guys ask me about massages, and I wrote them back telling them, “I’m not a massage therapist.” Then it finally dawned on me that they were speaking in “code.”
One guy asked me if I ever “Went to Greece.” Thank God I paused before I hit reply, cuz the first thing I thought of was Europe, beaches, and spanakopita, NOT anal sex.
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My Ratings
So there’s a site out there that lets the guys rate the “providers.” Which leads me to ask, is there a www.ratemyjohn.com ? Cuz it’d be fun to chat with the ladies and say stuff like, “He’s uncut!” or “Cheap fucker!” or “Why is he paying for it? I’d date him!” Ha, yeah right.
Also, I heard through the grapevine that while I’ve received two positive (okay, glowing) reviews, one guy had the audacity to complain that he emailed me and “hadn’t heard back from me yet.” Oh, please! My response?
“That baby! I’m keeping up as best I can. I only have one pussy and one brain and two hands. Sheesh! Does he want me to outsource?! And I’ve responded to EVERY single person for cryin’ out loud (that would be 200?), except for two who contacted me today, and that’s without a personal secretary or pimp. I’m talking eight hours of adminin. work a day! When does that leave time to suck cock?”
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Old Dog, New Tricks
Tonight I hinted to my ex-husband about my new endeavor, and he practically came in his pants. Seriously. He begged me for a blowjob. I scoffed, “What? You want a family discount?!?” I crossed my arms and stared him down. “What’s in it for me?”
But he’s been around stray dogs enough to perfect the hangdog look, so I took pity on him and got on my knees, agreeing to discuss details later.
“Lick my balls,” he whispered hoarsely.
I swiped one nut with my tongue and it was game over. He spewed on his belly. If only my clients were that easy!
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Collecting Data
Stripping made me hate men. But this is making me love people. I’m gaining such an understanding of how people work. I feel like I’m a psychologist doing hands-on research.
When I stripped, I was young and naïve and just accepted the assigned gender roles. So that meant men were predatory creeps, and women were victims. Now I look at it with fresh eyes, recognize it is so much more than sex to men, and I sure as hell know I’m no victim.
I have the right perspective to pull this off with respect. I’m offering an experience, surreal, fantasy, mind, body, emotional, intimate, an outlet. It’s hard to explain, but it’s kinda like that cliché: “It’s not what you say or what you do, but how you make people feel.” And what goes around comes around.
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I just realized I’ve turned my lovely home in a quiet, tree-lined, snooty subdivision into a one-woman whorehouse.
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Okay, here’s the ugly part of this whole business: I’ve been with two men this week who wear loafers with tassels. I remain completely impassive upon glancing down, and realize this fact proves my professionalism.
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Charity Work
I had a guy ask me if I’d offer a discount since he’s out of work. I told him no, almost regretfully. He seemed like a nice guy. He then asked if I’d spend an hour and a half with him for the price of one, since he wanted to bathe me and take his sweet time exploring my glorious body. I said sure.
He came over, and he was big and fat and hairless. I gracefully made my way through the session and let him eat my pussy twice. Thank goodness he had hundred-dollar bills to leave on the dresser.
I prepared a bubble bath and slipped off my robe and entered the water, very much hoping he’d keep to himself and just converse with me as I ran my hands over my soapy body. But dammit, he started shedding his clothes, eager to join me in the bath. He plopped himself in the tub and water splashed out all over the floor, instantly turning the moment from sexy to oafish.
He spent our bath time twiddling my nipples and sharing details about his cold wife of 30 years and their dismal sex life. I silently resented her for uncaringly pushing him my way to tend to. I also wondered what she would think of him spending his earnings as a part-time high school baseball coach on a whore. Oh well, at least he got a fucking home run.
That was my last client for the week. Now I’m off for the weekend to play with my daughter and not worry about scrubbing my every orifice. Ahhh.
Cock Overload
Oy! I have nine appointments scheduled for this week. I usually only see about five cocks a week. I hope some of these dudes cancel. I have two Petes in one day! Pete and rePete— HA! And countless Mikes. Ironically, I haven’t encountered a single John yet, but I’m scheduled to fuck a Lenny!
Each session takes about an hour of prep, plus there’s all the correspondence to keep up with.
I have to squeeze in dates with my three guys this week (I hope I can resist demanding money for their time) and a date with some other new guy (he’s cute, but I really should charge him), and hanging out with a couple friends.
God, I love wearing sweatpants.