April 23

My ex-husband loves that I’m a whore cuz I toss extra $$ his way in addition to the monthly child support I pay him. I knew it would be safe to tell him what I was up to. I knew he wouldn’t care as long as he profited from it.

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This morning, I had a pleasant quickie with a repeat guy. He was hitting me on the way to a second job interview. I marveled at the fact that I enjoyed this session more than my time with the guys I’m dating. I think I like that it has a time limit, and that I have to be “on.” I’m not allowed to wimp out and be lazy.

Later that day he emailed me to tell me he got the job! He said the guy interviewing him commented on the big smile he had on his face. So I suggest that a tip should be added to those lists magazines put out on how to ace a job interview: “Schedule an appointment with a beautiful whore beforehand.”

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Met with an older Indian fellow. He brought me chocolate-covered strawberries and was very eager and sweet. I can tell he’s a guy who constantly works, cuz even when we were lying still, his hands would be fluttering all over me like birds, working with his busy mind. His tongue was also like that—frantic and fluttering—which was nice on my breasts, but awful on my mouth.

His eyeglasses actually fogged up when we had sex. HA! He was hot afterward, so for some odd reason, he went out to his car and brought in this little fan for me to use, since I didn’t have one in the bedroom.

After he left I got ready for hospice. I spent time visiting with my 91-year-old patient who is dying of cancer. You’d think it would be a bummer, but I enjoy my visits with her. Spending time with her makes me appreciate life more. I like talking with her about things like what her favorite pair of shoes were back in the day. She told me she loved this one pair of dark red pointy high heeled shoes she got special for a certain dress. Sounded va-va-voom! Such a contrast to the orthopedic shoes she wears now. She was strictly dressing for comfort at this stage in her life, hospital gowns and robes. She likes hearing about my adventures—dating, my daughter, travel. Of course, I only tell her about a couple of my suitors. And she’s happy to dispense advice.

After hospice, I had dinner with the Werewolf. We discussed serious things, such as how we can’t be together, how the sex we had the other day was a moment of weakness for him. I felt so shy with him. So funny how I can be this total confident goddess with these other men, but feel so vulnerable with the one guy who gets me excited. I wanted so badly to fuck him in the parking lot, but instead we parted ways, the longing and tension strong and thick between us. I went home and lay in bed for a long time, thinking.

April 24

My Last Date With Santa Claus

Somehow I let myself get talked into a threesome with Santa Claus and this other whore he knows named Jamie. I dreaded hearing his humming and dealing with his funky little wormy cock.

I finally got firsthand experience on what other women in the business are like. Jamie arrived a half hour late. She dressed like she just got out of bed, wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt., and a grease spot on her nose. She was wearing a Bluetooth wireless cell phone device on her ear. She announced she just got a speeding ticket and told the cop to fuck off. She came off as amazingly stupid and crass.

It was an hour session, and she spent the first 15 minutes in my bathroom showering and prepping. I spent that time rubbing on Santa and scratching his back and thinking, What the fuck? Where’s the mystery of a woman showing up looking like a bum? And why should a guy pay for her to take a shower?

She hollered out from the bathroom as she applied her makeup an update about this other whore they mutually know, about how she got strung out on drugs and went to pick up her kid from her mom’s house and the mom tried to stop her so the drugged bitch ran over her mom. With her kid in the car. So now she’s in prison. I found this to be in very bad taste, hardly the kind of thing you want to talk about before a sexy encounter.

Finally he told her to hurry up and she came out of the bathroom wearing makeup and a red teddy, taking a swig out of her coffee. He gave her a mint. She was bigger than me and had a tan and a Chinese character tattoo on the back of her neck. I could only guess the meaning of it. Her feet were still a little dirty, despite the shower. We got on the bed and made out. Her cell phone kept ringing some rock song.

I enjoyed my time with her, playing with her pretty breasts, her long hair, eating her. She has a nice pussy. She pretended to cum. Then she ate me and did a very phony job of it. They both sucked on my tits. Santa laid down on the bed so we could both have at him.

I did my best to avoid as much of him as possible, while also touching him. I tried to assume more of a “prop” role, taking advantage of the fact that there was another woman there to share the workload. I played on the fact that they’ve been together many times, so I deferred to her as an expert. She told me, “I can sometimes make him cum by blowing him.” I acted amazed and impressed, and felt incredibly relieved when she clamped her mouth on it. That was the best place for it to be in my opinion.

Still, I was amazed and flabbergasted to watch her suck the shit out of it. She sucked it like a lamb sucks on a bottle. I asked him, “Do you want me to sit on your face or lick your balls?” He opted for the ball licking, so I did that. When he came, he gasped, “Take it all!” and she kept her mouth on it and took all the watery discharge, and swallowed it. I was horrified. As soon as she was done she hopped off the bed and started to get dressed. I stayed next to him and stroked his big body. The trace amounts of his cum smelled like infected piss and made me gag.

She was nice and all, but I was super annoyed by her whole attitude toward the thing. She was clearly focused on the man’s orgasm, as if that’s the only reason he arranged time with her, which I felt was disrespectful to the man’s needs and desires. But I have to admit she didn’t mind doing the dirty work.

He got dressed and told us about how his daughter was a druggie and how he was raising her kids, cuz one time he drove by a bar and saw them in the back of the truck with the dog, cuz daddy was inside drinking. GOD call me classist, but these were not my kind of people. I thought it was great that he is doing the right thing for his grandkids, but I sure as hell didn’t ever want to spend time with him again. I was so relieved when they left. I went back to my bedroom and noticed the stale smell of cigarette odor from her. I looked at my shower and saw her long brown hairs on my bar of soap. Disgusted, I threw it out.