• It’s kinda funny, sitting down to dinner, about to dig into an asparagus dish, then stopping fork mid-air with the realization that later that evening you’ll be peeing in someone’s mouth and asparagus makes your pee smell funny.

• Just about all the men are married and lacking something at home. It kind of turns me on when their wedding-ringed hand roams my forbidden flesh. They can’t keep their mouths off my pussy. A huge number are doctors and lawyers. A dentist wants to do me in his dental chair after hours. A massage therapist wants to pay ME to give ME a massage. Two men want me to make them my sex slaves, and they’re already calling me “Goddess.” One guy wants me to be his “little girl.” One older guy has the sweetest Southern accent.

• I usually masturbate three times a day, and thought this would take place of that, but I’m still really horny … I feel like a kid in a candy store, and I’m still masturbating on my own. Maybe that will wear off.

• I think it’s so funny that I might be talking to a potential client on the phone, and he’ll ask if he can come see me in 20 minutes. “Um, sure!” I’ll say, then hang up and scurry around tidying up and changing out of my awful mismatched sweat outfit and oversized stained T-shirt and into thigh-highs, lingerie, and a skirt.

• I feel way too smug and carry myself like a queen when I’m out in public. I like knowing that the bank teller is dealing with a whore, that the guy standing in front of me in line might be my client someday. I am Queen of the Pussies.

• They all rave about my body, in person or in pictures. They can’t believe I’m 29, HA!!! I’ve talked with a few guys on the phone, and they keep saying, “Gee I kinda wish you would date me instead of doing this, you’re so interesting!” I suppose men falling for me left and right will be an occupational hazard, so I’ll have to keep boundaries in place. They can take me on trips if they want to have me all to themselves. Temporarily. Sorry, no rent-to-own. And so far, I really like the guys I’ve interacted with. Their looks don’t matter to me as much as I thought it might.

• One of the sub guys made an appointment with me, then sent me an email later saying, “Goddess, I’m sorry but I forgot it is Passover and I can’t make it tonight.” For some reason I find that hilarious. And I stand by my belief that Jewish men are kinky bastards.

• Two of my girlfriends who I have confided in are obsessed with this whole thing. They keep barraging me with questions, phone calls, suggestions. They’re jealous.

• I honestly feel that sessions with me is a better use of time and money than going to a therapist to deal with daily anxiety. It’s a huge stress relief, wonderful to confess to a non-judgmental woman. They act like it’s a great gift to be in my presence, to sample my breasts, curves, put their hands in my hair, take in my womanly scent, and I can tell they leave feeling great, that it gives them something super exciting to think about prior to the appointment, and great material to carry them through the rest of their work day or week. I am a wonderful indulgence. And they love the intimacy, the eye contact, the mind stimulation.

I’m a sexual intellectual.

And now I’m off to Vegas.


April 7

Among My People

At the airport en route to Vegas, I asked my traveling companion, “So, is this the first time you’ve taken a prostitute along as opposed to just getting one there?”

He gave me a pained look.

He kept whining and begging me to reconsider my gig. “Look, I want to date you. And I’m fine with you dating other guys and doing your own thing. All I ask is that you not be a prostitute! I really don’t think that’s asking too much!” I just smiled sweetly at him.

I think it’s odd that since I’ve become a whore I have:

• flown first class for the first time
• stayed in a suite in a fine resort
• had spa treatment
• eaten in fancy-ass restaurants
• seen fantastic shows
• been spritzed with Evian water at a topless pool by Mexican pool attendants
• been handed money to go shopping

In other words, I’m enjoying the finer things in life.

I tried to get him to hire a redheaded hooker there (they hang out in the casinos), but he wanted a small blonde, and we never got around to it. We had fun checking out hot chicks’ cleavage together. He likes hot little blondes with short shorts and high heels. He also told me he loves hanging out late at night in the casinos, watching the women in their tiny dresses walk around barefoot, their heels dangling from their fingers by the strap.

He told me how annoying it is to see a picture or watch a show with a hot chick in it, and they cut the view off at the ankle. He pointed out a sleeping blonde on the plane who had taken off her shoes. “Seeing her foot is more exciting to me than seeing a breast exposed,” he confided happily.

I swear to god this guy is a werewolf. He’s got this animal magnetism thing going on, and he turns dominant and aggressive in the bedroom. We spent a lot of time in bed. I jerked him off with Vaseline. We did a scene in which he “forced” me to blow him and “raped” me. Then I forced him to have sex with me after he had been out all night and was exhausted. He ate me one night before we went to sleep, and it was like a gift he was giving to me. I woke him up sucking his cock. He photographed me the entire time. We had a blast.

On the airplane ride home, I looked at his normally brown eyes in the sunlight and saw they were green. I’m sooo grateful he has a hairy chest. He’s a beast.