*Cough Cough*

I didn’t work yesterday because I was just busy. It’s amazing how you learn to fill your days, and even when you don’t really do anything, you seem to have no time. I woke up this morning with the intention of working, and even called in, but once I rolled out of bed and started functioning, I discovered I had woken up with a yeast infection. To most girls, this may mean misery. To me it means day at the beach. A large group of my friends had headed out to a near by lake this morning, and originally, I regretfully could not join because it was Saturday; My big money making day. Tomorrow, I have family obligations, so if I wanted to be responsible, I had to work today. Can’t tell you how happy I was to have a legit excuse to get out if it. Although I don’t appear sick, or feel sick, I really can’t work in this condition. So I hit the road and joined everyone at the beach, then returned back for great food, great music, and a beautiful fire. Throw in a shooting star, and you have the best day of my summer. There was so much love in my day. 

You’ll Never Guess…

So I was minding my own business on a Sunday afternoon and I get a call to go see Dave. Dave lives near me so I google-earthed his building to see where I’m going, and it’s the same building as Richard Gere (see blog from Feb 18 & Mar 22) . Fancy that. And it’s the same floor as him… quick check of old records, ha ha ha, then I remember, Richard Gere uses Dave as an alias. Silly Boy. The girl at the agency said he called not knowing what he was looking for, and based on my description, he picked me. When I talked to him on the phone, he gave no hint that he knew/remembered me. Neither did I though. I wondered what kind of situation I was walking into. Would it be awkward? It wasn’t. It was nice. It was the same as it always was. We sat in the narrow doorway of his balcony with our legs over lapping and flirted and caught up. He tried to convince me to go to the lake with him. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t want to go. We spent the afternoon together. Laying in bed, playing. We ordered Chinese, then a movie. I know he is just using me for my body. I’m ok with that. I’m using him to pretend. We all have our issues. He’s really cute, and really easy to get along with. He’s like my re-fueling station.

This song came on as I started this blog and I thought I'd share it with you...

Odd Ducks

It's been longer than usual since I've written, but believe it or not, I've been quite busy. I'm making good on my word to promote myself and I can now be found on the company web site with a new blurb. I've been moved to the top of the "Gallery" as I am regularly in the top 5 for bringing in the most business. You can find me in the back of the Sun, I'm also advertising in two different Craigs List type sites. Because I'm bringing in so many new and repeat clients they're also giving me more generals. Most days I'm getting more calls than I want. This is a good thing.

Most of the time I'll stop at four calls in a day. (Not saying that, that s every day, but when it is…) Man, just writing that makes me feel a little dirty. My friends have asked me how I can do it. I just can. I think my body has just gotten used to it. I really don't mind. But after four, I'm just tired. That makes for a long day. It's not just the hour I spend with them, there's driving time too, and it's a big city that I live in lol. I think I spend on average 5 hours a day in my car.

I've had some odd ducks this last week too, let me tell you!

I get this call to go an out skirting town which is good for my pocket. The guy also wants GFE. Perfect. But while talking to him on the phone he starts asking lots of questions about my driver. Right now I don't have a driver, but if someone asks, I say I do. This guy was asking so many questions though. Like "Where's he going to park?" "What is he going to do with his time," "Is your driver a guy or a girl?" and on and on and on. This made me pretty nervous about things. Even though Andrew and I ended things on pretty bad terms I called him up to see if he wanted to make $100. It would easily chew up three hours of his Friday night. He was already busy, so I called another friend. I was worried that it would be inappropriate cause he's a ‘civilian’, I guess you'd say, but he was free and I needed someone, so off we went. As we pull up, he asked what the plan was if things go wrong.  I assured him that they wouldn't, but if they did, kick the door down. "Seriously?" he asks. "Yes." "But I don't have the right shoes for that" he jokes, pointing at his flip flops.

Dudes place was beautiful, and he seemed pretty normal. No problems getting money or other red flags. One things got started though, the man fucked the shit out of me. Seriously, I've never had sex like that before in my life. I'm not saying it was great or anything, just intense! At one point he literally picked me up by my vagina. This went on for two hours! Ugh, I was exhausted by the time we were done. (Don’t worry, I wasn’t hurt or anything)

When it was time to go, my prince of a driver was there right on queue, and things were not discussed. He did have a bag of chips for me though, which made me the happiest girl in the world.

It was an hour back into town and my initial thought was I was done for the night, but there weren't that many girls booked on, so I took one more call.

It's so funny how there are 'types'. My second call that night was a 'type' and I didn't need this kind of work experience to recognise it. In a past life I taught ESL in Asia. I found the ex-pats who I met were all just a little off. Or a lot (myself being no exception) but it's like the reason they go is cause they don't fit in here (myself being no exception). This would be that guy. He looked for oil in the middle east. To say he was unique would be kind. He gave me a tour of his house and insisted on showing me his sleeping children. I all but begged him not to; it felt so weird, so inappropriate. But I couldn't stop him from opening their bedroom door and letting the light shine in. I politely refused to enter their room though. Like I say, unique. Harmless, but definitely unique.

On the opposite end of harmless, I've had a lot more coke heads than usual. Makes me wonder I there was a big import recently. This mornings was really bad. And it started out wrong from the get go. I was wearing purple underwear, and he's like, "Who told you to wear purple? I hate purple" What The Fuck!?!?! I played it super coy and playful, I said, "Don't be silly, no one told me! What’s wrong with purple?" And he launches into this retarded story about mis-ordered fabrics. I tell him, "Well, why don't we just take it off then." This seemed to mellow him out a bit. He had a hard time not slurring his words, and he was telling me about how his ex wife killed their baby. It was fucking weird. I got out of there.

Last night I turned down two calls because I didn’t feel that they were safe. It was after midnight, and one was to the cities sketchiest hotel. I’ve been there before, but not late at night. The second call the client wanted me to meet him in a back alley. Both of these things I’d do in the light of day, but not late at night like that. I told them straight out that that’s why I wouldn’t do it too.

Game Plan

I still see Frank two or three times a month. I asked him how old he was today. He made me guess. I tried to low-ball it, and guessed 72. I was exactly right. Eeks, he looks a lot older. He had his hip replaced late June, and that went smoothly. He’s back in the saddle, so to speak. You always see in movies, where the girl is fucking the old guy, and for whatever reason she’s not supposed to be there, and he has a heart attack and dies. I was thinking today, what would happen if I were in that situation. I decided today that if I were with Frank and he died, I would do everything I could to make it look like he was just having a nap and then I would leave. But does he nap in pajama’s? Would I have to dress him? Cause that would be impossible! But I don’t think I would call the cops. I guess primarily, because no crime was committed, but also because I wouldn’t want to ruin his memory. It’s nobodies business what he and I do. And it would only bring harm, if his family found out. I am glad I have decided on this. It’s best to have a game plan for just in case.

I have also decided to write my mother an “If you are reading this, I am dead” letter. It may sound over dramatic, but lets be honest. I work in a high risk industry. If anything happened to me, she would find out. You can’t predict these things. Right now, I have business cards in my desk drawer, scraps of paper with men’s phone numbers and address’ strewn about my apartment, my escort licence in my purse full of condoms, and my contract with the city in my filing drawer. Not to mention my computer history. I have picked a friend to be my in case of emergency for work, and the game plan is to tell my mother first, then immediately come clear out my place. But like I say, if it is a work related incident, there’s no stopping her from finding out. That would be a crushing blow to her. Thinking about it almost makes me want to quit. The letter would be to try to explain it. I haven’t written it yet. The idea intimidates me. Where do you start. It’s like writing your own obituary, only worse.

I also think it’s way more likely that I’m going to die in a car accident than on the job. And I’m ok with this. It’s not often you hear “She died instantly” in deaths in my industry. (That was a really inappropriate joke) 

Not As Planned...

Not all things go smoothly. And I don't mean for me, per say, but for the clients. Sometimes things go wrong. There were two definite situations I have in mind when I say that.

A while ago I was called to a hotel I've really been looking forward to seeing. It has a reputation for being quite beautiful. I really wanted to see the inside of one of the suites. When I get there the client meets me in the lobby, and he tells me, "We have bit of a problem" And I don't like hearing that. It concerns me immediately. I ask him, "What kind of problem?" And he says that we couldn't go up to his room. That is a problem! It leaves us in a bit of a predicament. It's not my problem. It's definitely his problem. I really don't know what his thought process behind this was. What happened was him and his buddies came to town for a concert, and while the boys were all sleeping it off, and he was awake and bored, I guess. So... idle hands... ?lol. 

So he called me, and I came, and he has no room. I ask him, "Well, what do you want to do about that?" He had the option of sending me away. Someone may not like me. I'm happy to say that's never happened before, but if I'm not your particular taste or whatever, I can go. However there is a $70 no-show charge. What's happened a couple times, is someone didn't have enough money, so I took their $70 and left. Ha ha. That would suck for them. It's like an NSF charge at the bank. "What? You're broke? Well... It's gunna cost ya!" ha ha ha. But this guy didn't want to do that. I told him that we could spend half an hour together. He agrees to that. And keep in mind we're still in the lobby, so we go around a corner and he pays me discretely. I'm thinking this is kinda hilarious. What are we supposed to do now? "Did you want to go for a walk? There's a Starbucks around the corner. We can hang out" Alison! Do not laugh out loud! So that's what we did. It was around 10:30 in the morning, so it's not like it was dark. This guy really wanted what he wanted though. I had to tell him that I require 1. Privacy, and 2. A bed. I'm not going to fool around with you or anything in any sort of public space. Because, A. I don't want to get arrested! You know that. It's kind of one of my things. Especially for some bullshit charge like public indecency. Really! and B. I don't put on free shows. So if you want to fuck me with your buddy watching, you're both paying me for your time. He wanted to fool around and give him a BJ on some side street. It's still a street though. There are still cars driving down this street, at 10:30 in the morning. "It's not going to happen" I tell him. Then he tried to get me to fool around with him in the parkade of the hotel. And I didn't even get as far as to determine if he had a car in the parkade. I didn't care. Some hotels have cameras in the parkades, some don't. Again, I'm not taking that chance. Especially in downtown hotels. I may want to get back into the hospitality industry. I may want to apply for a job, and my future boss being, "Oh right, you're that girl we caught fucking in a car down in the basement that time." Nope. That's not me. Needless to say he was very disappointed. I'm baffled to know what he thought was going to happen. This was funny, and weird, and awkward, and just stupid. It doesn't take the cake though.

That was one situation. Another was more recent.

I was called to a job, and it was a triple. Three girls. I wasn't heading it up, but I'm game. Where and when? I arrive about 10 minutes early. Unless I know the guys, or the situation, I don't go in alone if I'm out numbered. It was dark, so I couldn't quite see the house numbers but I know it's one of two houses. I park around the corner, and wait for the other girls to show up and play on my phone. Whilst doing this I see these guys sitting out on their balcony, and I think, "Awww, shit, that's them" Then I see them pointing at me. "Fuck, I've been spotted" They get off the balcony and they come down, and they approach my car, so I roll down my window, and I'm straight up with them, "I'm just waiting for the other girls to arrive." They invite me in, and then buddy opens the passenger door. The physical reaction I had to this was surprising. I didn't feel threatened by these guys prior, they seemed like normal guys, but when he opened my car door, he invaded my personal space; my safety zone. Clients do not get in my car. They do not touch my car. They often don’t even see my car. That’s my security thing. I like them to think that I have a driver. I like them to think I’m not alone. So when he open my car door, my reaction was a little intense. The level to which I was uncomfortable was high. At this point, I figure I may as well go in. 


So we are up on their deck, chatting, they’d been drinking, with a kind of festive feeling. Then this chic shows up. I don’t know all of our girls, or what they drive, so I’m thinking this is one of my colleagues arriving. But the guys are like, “Oh, shit!” This girl was the home owner’s secretary/girl he was banging. Their words, not mine. The home owner and the girl go off to get beer, and that leaves me with the other two dudes and we’re making small chat, when my actual colleagues show up. I kind of felt a little insecure. One of them was that really curvy vivatious girl I told you about. I think she’s really beautiful. She’s a little bigger, but she’s stunning. Then the other girl had the alternative look going for her. She had tattoos and piercings, and borderline orange/pinkish hair. She had her own kind of hotness going on. She had two Tim Burton tattoos. One of them was of Edward Scissorhands, and the other was the girl from Nightmare Before Christmas. The guy was like, “So you really like Johnny Depp” She got very politely defensive about this, but still very defensive. Like, obviously she had been asked a lot about this, and obviously she was tired of explaining it. Maybe she loved her tattoos, but she was tired of talking about it. That’s what I got off her. Strongly. Then dude #2 comes out of the kitchen, looks at her, and says, “You’re not happy to be here at all are you?!?!” ha ha ha ~Realme, do not laugh out loud!~ But she just looked pissed. I think she was even texting at the time, and to me that’s the biggest no-no. You’re getting paid hundreds of dollars for a small amount of time. Get the fuck off your phone. She denied her misery, but she wasn’t sellin it at all! Meanwhile the home owner and his Plus One, we’ll call her, return and Little Miss Tim Burton sees this other chic show up. And, I’m not going to lie, she looked a little hookerish…And Miss Tim Burton thinks she’s one of our girls. And she vocalises this! She starts asking, “Did we do our math wrong? Did we send to many girls?” Blah Blah Blah, I don’t know the conversation that went on between the home owner and the Plus One on their beer run, but I’m standing back just watching this all play out as my co-worker calls the agency to ask if there are too many escorts here, and watching the Plus Ones reaction for jealous based on the fact that the guy she’s fucking is calling escorts. This, my friends, is priceless. This is the strangest fucking situation I have been in, in a little while. But everyone was chill. There was zero drama. No conflict. It was pretty easy to chuckle to yourself just watching what was going on. As the hour ticks by, I’m waiting to see what happens. There are three guys, and four girls. So I say, “You guys should call one of your buddies, and even things out.” Then they give me a hard time for wanting to work to hard. “I’m just sayin…” I tell them. Then one of them pulls me into the other room. I was glad. It’s so much like junior high, where you just don’t want to get picked last for the baseball team. We’ve all been there! Looks aside, I think my personality has a lot to do with it though. I think my openness, and my candidness go along way. I give that more credit than how I look. I’m not saying I’m ugly or anything, but it still felt nice to be picked first. So he pulls me into the other room, and I tell him, “I don’t know man, I kinda want to see how this one’s gunna play out…” But whatever.

So we go, and have our fun (as I call it, ha ha) And I’ve mentioned this before… I squirt, and I leave a bit of a mess. Guys love it. I feel awkward about it, but they go crazy over it, so I don’t hold back. When we’re done, the home owner and the plus one have gone into the other room, and I didn’t realise the other girls were waiting to use our room. I kind of felt really bad, cause they had to fuck in my wet spot. Ha ha ha, eww. “Sorry about the mess team,” I tell them. They play it off like it was nothing. I wouldn’t want to be in someone else’s wet spot. Ha ha. My Bad. I don’t even know if Miss Tim Burton made it past the threshold of the bedroom door. I also think this is funny. I’m sorry, that makes me a bitch. But she wasn’t that nice. But from her perspective; she obviously didn’t want to be there, she didn’t have to fuck anyone, and she still got paid for the hour. So Good for her? I guess… I don’t know. It was a funny situation all around. 

Good Client

It’s been a few hours since I’ve left my client and I’m still feeling lovey dovey. Some men just know how to treat a woman. It’s nice. He actually tried to book an appointment yesterday, and (in so many words) I told him to call back when he was ready. I honestly didn’t expect to hear from him again. He was someone else’s regular, and the reason I got the call was because she was unavailable. Sure enough, 8:24 this morning, I get his call! I stole him away from her… Yes! We decide to meet at 11:30, which gives me plenty of time to sleep for another couple hours and shower before I have to get out the door.

When I walk through the threshold I have to size people up pretty quick to determine any kind of threat. ie their general mood, if they’re high (they often are) / how high, and what kind of high, and if there is anyone else in there. I’m also looking to get a read on them to see what kind of girl they’re looking for. Some people just want to fuck and that’s it, some want to take things slow, some want  conversation, some want to lead, some want to be lead... I’m getting pretty good at reading people, and recognising cue’s. I enjoy it. I’ve always been a people watcher, but using these new tools in my real life has become fun. Especially at the bar! Ha ha. 

I always like to tell you my first impression of clients. My first impression of this guy was good. He was blondish, well built, in his mid to late thirties, and nervous, which came through in a jumpy boyish kind of way. I put on my playful eyes for him. I kind of teased him a little, and my laugh came easy. We talked a bit, he offered me a drink, I told him about my weekend, then I asked him if he wanted to go in the other room. He walked up to me and put his arms around me. He’s going to ask me something, I think to myself. I already know that it’s going to be a question that I’ve heard a million times, but he thinks he’s the first too ask. What is he going to want me to do? On a scale to ten, my nervous-ometer goes up to about a four. “Well… I’d really like too… would it be ok if I…” He stammers, “Can I give you a massage?” Ha ha ha, Phew!!  I laugh, and look down shyly, “Well, I suppose I can struggle through it…” I tease, like it’s going to be painful. Awesome. I like this guy already. What’s really funny though is on the way over I was reaching into the back seat of my car, and I pulled something in my neck. I though to myself, ‘What are the chances, that I’ll get a massage out of this client? Slim to none!’ Bingo! We go into his room and start to undress. I have this thing where when I’m taking my pants off I turn around and bend at the waist, pushing my ass into their groin, or hands, or just so they get the view. Men love that. They are so visual.

The massage was nice. I asked him why he never got into massage therapy if he loved it so much. He laughed and said, “Cause I wouldn’t be able to…” I laugh too, knowing what he’s talking about. “Same reason I never got into it, I wouldn’t be able to behave myself!” And sure enough he wasn’t. Man he was good. I had explained to him before we got started about GFE, but in the heat of the moment, he looked at me from between my legs, and said, “You’d better stop me now…” I couldn’t. I pushed myself into his face. Sometimes passion just takes over. Afterwards, I scolded him, “You broke a lot of rules, Mister!” He gave me his faux guilty look, “Sorry.” He murmured and continued to stroke his fingers up and down the length of my back. “Mmm-hmm,” I said, as I melted.

I told him about my experience looking for male escorts, and how there really isn’t a lot in the city. I suggested that if he really loved giving massages as much as he said he does, he should look into it. He told me that he didn’t have the tool for it. With hindsight I should have known what he was talking about, but I didn’t. We talked about it a bit longer, and he made himself clearer when he confessed that he thought he wasn’t big enough. “What?!?! You know porn is not real right? Men don’t really have cocks that big.” I would honestly put my client at slightly above average anyway. Stupid porn. Cause of inadequacies and disillusionment for men and women everywhere. I don’t think I was able to talk him into it though. 

I’ve been a very bad hooker lately. I’ve been letting men get away with more than they should.

I was at a three girl call last week, and the client was crazy wealthy, and this little rendezvous was sponsored by these two sales guys for him being their biggest client. Three guys, three girls, and this was a work thing… for them… How does this happen??? “So… uh, after you sign this deal, wanna get some hookers?” ha ha ha, I just could never imagine women doing that. What a perfect world it would be if we did! HA! Anyway, point of my story, since it was his treat, he got to pick first, and he picked me (yes, I got ego off that, I thought the two other girls were beautiful) and this was another time where there was just a lot of passion, we really connected. I whispered in his ear (sincerely) how badly I wanted to go down on him, but that would cost extra. “The guys will pay for it,” He told me. I didn’t want to interrupt them, because they had their own girls, and I didn’t want to interrupt us either so I went ahead without collecting first. This is something that I never do. Cause, like I’ve told you, I get screwed every time. So away we go. Afterwards, we’re all in the kitchen, and I snug up to him and say, “Don’t forget…” Then look down and back up at him with my kitten eyes (Think Shrek) and he grabs his buddy and then waves me into a back room with him. They only have half the amount owing. Of course. I let it go. This is a client I want to keep! But like I say; every friggen time. Frick! Get your money first Woman!

Then last night there was this guy… And this story need a little back ground… And it’s probably going to fall under the category of too much sharing, but we’ve gone this far… The idea of anal is a huge turn on for me. I have done it, and I have enjoyed it, but not for a long time. It’s something that I absolutely refuse to do at work, but given the right partner for Realme I keep trying to enjoy. I love it in theory, but in practice, I just can’t do it. It’s uncomfortable, and not sexy, and sometimes quite painful. I’m not one to give up though. I want to be able to do it! I want to be able to love it! Back to my story. Last night I had this client, and he paid for GFE, so after he was finished, rather than getting dressed and heading out (tactfully) I hang around and he’s playing with me a bit, and I tease, “Don’t do that if you’re not going to follow through!” So he gets down to business, ha ha. Earlier in the evening his thumb kind of circled around my rim, and I politely move his hand away, but now things were getting pretty intense, and his thumb just went right in! It felt amazing! He removed his thumb, and I begged him to put it back. I’m bad. My orgasm was great though. Oh man.

So yes, I’m breaking a few of my rules, but I’m pretty ok with it.

Love You... Love You Not

Tonight’s client was a divorcee. When he was done he leaned up and looked at me and asked, “Should I be happy now?” I told him no. His wife left three days ago and he spent most of our time telling me how much he loved her, how much she was his soul mate, and the only one for him, yet he wants me to call him next Friday. He wants me to see him regularly. They split up 8 months ago, and he fought it like crazy, and that didn’t work, so this time he’s letting her go, and hoping that she will realise that she needs him as much as he needs her. He’s hoping that this will work.

I have no doubt that he loves her. We were talking about swinging, and during the discussion, I was wondering to myself if he’d ever cheated on her. It’s not a question I would ever ask, but because I knew the answer, I was certain of it, I did ask. He said anything he ever did with someone else, she encouraged, knew about or participated in. The two of them used to swing. He said that that was the beginning of their demise, which I understand. My partner and I used to swing, and it may or may not have been the beginning of our demise as well. It was a lot of fun, but it’s hard to have a relationship doing that. I always think it’s so weird. It’s a mess. Relationships are such a mess. I’ve always believed that people were fooling themselves into believing that we, as humans, are capable of monogamy, but maybe some are. The way that he loved her was true… yet still he wants to see me once a week. It doesn’t make sense.

This job continues to open new doors in my perspectives on the human psyche. I’m continuing to learn how people work. And the more I learn the more it baffles me. I guess it keeps bringing me back to the fact that people are people. I know I can’t really explain it, but it makes sense to me why he wants me there. I’m not saying it’s ok. If I were the ex and my +1 was seeing escorts three days after I left, there would be nooooo going back. But I get it from his perspective. Guys think with their dicks.

Him and my ex would have been best friends! They were the same. Former body builder, very flashy with his money, loves his wife more than anything in the world. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it now, I don’t know if I’ll ever find anyone who will treat me better than my ex did. My ex worshiped the ground that I walked on, but part of the reason we broke up was we stopped communicating. I don’t know why this man and his wife broke up but I can tell that there were just so many similarities. When I left my ex, there was nothing under the sun that would have brought me back. I was just done. Maybe that’s where this woman’s at. I have no idea why they split up, but it’s not like they were together for a short time. They have kids, and it’s heart breaking. I so badly wanted to wave the magic wand for him and make his marriage better.

When we weren’t talking about his wife, we were talking about me. LOL. He wasn’t rude by any stretch, but we were very much on the same page though, that this was just sex and conversation. We had perhaps the most honest discussion that I’ve ever had with a client. It definitely leaves me with a lot to think about. He asks, “So how do I know you’re not faking it?” I laugh and say, “Cause I don’t lie in my job. I lie about my name and my age. That’s all. But you’re a smart guy, you already know that.” We laugh. He had already asked, “How old are you really?” I told him. Who cares. He didn’t. “I know you weren’t 24!” Ha ha. “So what’s your name?” I wouldn’t tell him. “Is it an emotional thing?” He asks. I say, “No, it’s a safety thing,” But then I think about it, and I laugh and tell him, “Well, I’ve had fuck buddy that I didn’t really like, and I made him call me Alison, so I guess it is an emotional thing.” This kind of opened the gates to honest discussions and we’re going to be straight with each other.

He asks me the age old question, “How can I get a hold of you next time” “Same way you got a hold of me this time, call the agency.” He winces, like it hurts to hear that, “Aww, I hate the agency.” So I ask him, “Why do men hate the agency, what is it?” And it’s not me giving him an opportunity to complain, it’s me trying to trouble shoot. I want to figure out what the problem is, and work around it. He told me, and I suppose I already knew this, “I don’t like middle men. I want to deal with the people I’m dealing with and not others. Especially when it comes to this sort of thing” That’s fair. At the same time, that doesn’t change my position. I even told him about the email exchange I had with my boss. Yes I think my boss over-reacted, but no, I don’t think she was wrong to feel that way. He gets that too. He’s a very reasonable guy. He has his own business and he understands how business’ work. So were brainstorming about how to get around this. We decided that we would set up a time next week where I was to call him. Now next Friday, between 10 and 11 am I am to call him. I told him, that I am nothing if not reliable. For some reason, when it comes to this job, I have mad skills for getting where I need to be the very minute I need to be there. So I’m happy with that, and he’s happy with that, because he doesn’t have to call the agency. And I’ve told the agency, so they already know. Everyone is on the same page and everyone is happy. I think this is a good way to do it. I’m not soliciting, I’m calling when he is expecting it.

I ran into Andrew, at the same bar where I met him and he… I don’t even know why I’m talking about this… it’s my personal life… You want to talk about my personal life?  Fuck this job. That’s what I say. I was at a car wash the other day, you know the kind where you do it yourself. I was vacuuming out my car. The guy using the spot beside me had the same motorcycle as my dad. I have a weakness for motorcycles. A serious weakness. So I started chatting with him about it. Not because he was cute, or I was flirting, just cause I’m the chattiest person of life. Ha ha. It was funny, cause I’m looking like I know shit about bikes, when that’s the only motorcycle under the sun that I know any thing about. Before he left, he gave me his number. Like I say, he’s an attractive young man, with a motorcycle, and mmmm, that turns me on! And he gave me his number! And that’s nice. But, it’s like what’s the fucking point in calling him? What. Is. The. Fucking. Point?  So I call him, and we go on a date, and it will be job interview style, you know, “Who are you” “What do you do?” “What do you like?” So on and so forth. “Oh I’m a personal concierge. This is what I do. I’m not a prostitute, cause why would I tell you that on the first date?” Hypothetically, lets pretend we get to a second date, which, you know, anybodies guess… so second date, third date, and we fall for each other. At what point do I tell him that I’m a big fat liar?

There’s two things there. There are two things that he will have to overcome. 1: The reality of it. The fact that I fuck people for a living, and 2: The fact that I lied to him, about such core things. And that’s a big lie. Those are two big things to get over; breach of trust, and big issue. He’d have to be a really understanding guy. And this is something that some one could understand, but not a lot. So I go back to my original point. Why. Why should I even bother calling him. His phone number is sitting right in front of me now…

I actually got my flirt on quite a bit this weekend. There was this girl at a wedding I went to. This girl was… my type… and she was smokin’ hot, a lot of fun. She tracked down my number from the maid of honour and texted me the next morning. We talked about going out that morning but it didn’t work out, so we might go out later this week. I would like to be friends with her, if nothing else, but I would like to be more. But I go back to the What’s The Point?

I need to come to terms with the fact that as long as I have this job, I will be single. But I’m optimistic. I always hope things will work out. But that optimism continues to kick me in the ribs.

Joke of the Post: Some men don’t realise they don’t have to sell me on them. they spend a lot of time on the phone, telling me all about themselves, and how he’s attractive, blah blah blah, million dollar house, blah blah blah, mustang in the driveway, blah blah blah. I don’t care about you. I just don’t care! Also! I don’t believe you. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t believe a thing that comes out of a clients mouth until I see it. Clients lie to me daily. And I don’t care. Ha ha ha. So like I say, you can tell me whatever you want, and I will nod and smile with my innocent little doe eyes, and even if it is true, I still don’t care. If anything, you’re just making yourself a bigger mark.

Joke of the Post

Fucking Cream Soda

The craziest thing that’s ever happened to me happened tonight. For dinner tonight I stopped in at my neighbourhood deli, and I grab a cream soda off the top shelf of their drink fridge. The bevy behind it fell over and exploded! Seriously, it was huge. Cream soda and glass shards rained down on me, and I was literally covered head to toe in it. My initial reaction was pure confusion. What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened? It was awful. The shop keeper felt so bad, and ushered me back to their sink where I washed myself up a bit. Really, there was only so much I could do. And they still made me pay for my food. Assholes. But they also had to clean out their entire fridge, and wash all the bottles in there. The shit went everywhere. While I was paying, I started to notice that I was bleeding. On my hands, and on my arms, fuck. I had little nicks and cuts everywhere! Gawd! I was on my way to a job no less! I had to run home, have a quick sponge bath, change and re-do my make up. I decided that the cream soda in my hair could be thought of as too much hair product. What a shit show!

Compassion

In doing my research for writing up my promotional material like my internet ad and what-not, I’ve realized I really need to step my game up in terms of thinking of what I’m doing as more of a business instead of a facilitator of my entertainment/travel. I really don’t take it that seriously or think of it as a job because I really don’t have a boss. I don’t have someone giving me feed back or reporting on my performance, or all the typical things you relate to a job. There’s no schedule. Yes, I do get paid, and yes I do have clients. I do gauge my performance by my call-backs, and by the feedback that they give me, but at the same time I really don’t take their feedback seriously because they’re satisfied. They came, they had their orgasm, they had their happy moment, they’ll say whatever they think you want to hear. Like I say, it’s such a weird job, it’s hard to take seriously.

A little while ago, I had a client. When I talked to him in the initial phone call, he was… I wouldn’t say nervous, maybe shy. My heart goes out to shy people because it’s so difficult to do something like this because they are shy. To call someone and ask for sex, it’s hard to do. I would want to call a male escort and I’m too shy to do it. So this guy; I had compassion for. We were talking and he wanted to set up an appointment for the next day. It’s not that I won’t do that, it’s just that I hate doing it. Say I book an appointment for tomorrow at 8pm, then that means, the agency won’t book me an hour or an hour and a half before that. They’ll pass the calls that could go to me to somebody else because I have this appointment. Then people chicken out. Whereas I wouldn’t have appointments before, and then they chicken out, I’ve lost three or more potential hours of business. That’s frustrating. So like I say, if I can avoid it, I won’t take appointment calls. As I said though, I had compassion for this guy and he wanted to book for the next day. He was flexible, and able to work around my schedule, so it worked. He asked me, “You don’t mind older men do you?” I told him not at all. “Oh, good. Cause I’m Forty…” Forty something, I forget what he said. When I was younger, I dated someone 19 years older than me, so trust me, I have no qualms with older men. I told him that I was sure that we would get along just fine. 

Another thing that would have prevented me from taking this call was he was staying at the sister property of the hotel which I use to work at. From fear of being recognized, I have never taken calls at these hotels. I only knew a few people at this specific property, so I took a risk. The next day, things went well. I confirmed, and he confirmed, so everything was good. When I pulled up to the hotel, sure enough they were having this big bbq out in the parking lot where all the chefs from all the hotels were there. “Fuck!” I think. I just kept my head down and hustled in. I don’t think anyone saw me, which was good. Of course though; You’re trying to avoid something, and there it is in big flashing lights.

But really? What’s the big deal? So I’m walking into a hotel. It’s not like I’ve got thigh high boots on, with my ass sticking out. I dress professionally. What I wear to my calls, I would wear to a job interview. A knee length skirt, a tight skirt, like a pencil skirt, and a blouse or shirt with a loose collar. It’s not anything too scandalous. Sometimes I’ll wear stockings with the line up the back of the leg, but that’s about as risqué as I’ll go. It’s not uncommon that I will stop off at my moms afterwards a call if it’s in her neighbourhood. What I wear is no big deal. Ha ha, I’m no floozy!

So I knock on the guys door, and he opens, and he’s just this really clean cut guy. And he was a gentleman. He made himself sound like a troll. We hung out on the couch and we talked about my job a lot. It’s funny because when I started working, I think people may have known that I was new, which makes me laugh a little. They didn’t ask if I was new, but they would ask a lot of questions about my job, like why do I do it, or how long I’ve been in the business for. Questions like, what’s it like, and things like that. Lately people haven’t been asking those questions, and I’m not sure why. We talked a lot about it though. He really wanted to emphasise how much respect he had for me, and for the girls in my profession which was nice. It was considerate of him. He wanted me to stay for an hour and a half, and so I didn’t charge him for the half hour rate, I charged him for the hour rate, and then half of the hour rate. So I gave him a deal. Normally the half hour rate is 2/3 the hour rate. I think I gave him GFE as well. Like I say, when I was thinking of stepping up my game, and he phoned, I thought to myself, I’m going to use my new customer… Well I guess it’s my old customer service strategies. When I worked at the hotel or the restaurant industry, if a client was a great person, I would up grade them, or give them extra food, or whatever I could do. You return the favour of kindness. Or you should. In all industries. So I did. And I have no problems with that. I appreciate their kindness so why not.

Afterwards, we continued to hang out and talk to the point where I wondered if the girl at the agency forgot my time call. I really felt like I was there for two hours. We were talking and he really opened up to me. Like really opened up. He was talking about his kids. He is divorced, and he has three boys, and he started telling me about his middle child. What got us started on this was we started talking about summer festivities, then we started talking about drugs, then we started talking about his kids. His kids are in their early 20’s and they like to party. He was telling me about how he would always be their DD if they needed. If ever they got stuck, call him. That was kind of his philosophy. Don’t ever, ever, ever drink and drive. At one point he joked that he got such a reputation, that one of his kids friends phoned, and he asked, “Where’s my son?” and the friend said, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him tonight, but we were hoping you could give us a ride home” So he went. He was that guy. I think that’s so important for teenagers to have in their life. I bet if one of these kids had a problem, that they were scared to go to their own parents about, they would be able to go to him. He’s that guy that you wish you had as a father. (and by you I mean the general population, I wouldn’t trade my father for anything) He was telling me about his middle son. His middle son was just the nicest guy. He would find the good in anybody. He was telling me about his sons struggle with drugs and alcohol. He knew that his boys smoked weed. He said that it was kind of the household joke, that if their weed went missing, everyone knew that it was him who stole it, but no one ever talked about it. I think that’s funny. But this is coming from a girl who smokes up with her dad from time to time. Then he told me, that his middle son (and he didn’t say that he was his favourite son, but it was quite clear by the way he talked about him) that he died in a car accident because he was driving drunk. It’s the way that he opened up to me, it was kind of powerful.

Not everyone is cool with my job. I don’t kid myself. I was talking to a friend the other day, Kelly. Kelly and I are very good friends and we’ve been friends for a while. But her own values causes her to struggle with what I do. She tells me that she doesn’t take what I do and have it reflect her judgements on me, but she has a hard time being able to relate to it. Like if we didn’t already have the relationship we do have, and I told her what I did, she wouldn’t give me the time of day. That’s her views. Back in January, you may notice I didn’t post a lot of blogs. And the ones I did post were not overwhelming with joy. Back in January I went through a lot of struggles. I was outted by some friends, I was in a car accident, a lot of bad things happened in January, one right after another, and all with in a couple weeks. I struggled a lot. She told me a couple months later, she felt that that all happened because I sold my soul. That’s a really awful thing to say. But I took it as a religious person telling a gay person they’re going to hell. “Yeah, yeah, ok, whatever” I really didn’t personalize it. I don’t think she thinks I’m a soulless person. That’s why we’re still friends. I know she didn’t mean it as a personal judgment, she just has her own views of right and wrong. 

My point is, I really don’t think she understands how much compassion I bring to my job. I really don’t think what I do is a bad thing. It’s just such an overlooked need. Love. And I’m not saying I love my clients, but I give them way more than just physicality. I give them compassion, and I give them someone to hold, and I give them my time. Sometimes I feel like I validate them. Some guys, you know don’t think very highly of themselves. They’re like, “blah blah blah, do you think I’m hot, blah blah blah” I hate blowing smoke up peoples ass. That’s not my gig. I don’t inflate egos. But I tell them that I think they’re a really good person. Based on how they’ve treated me, and based on how they are, I tell them that it’s clear that they’re respectful, and gentle and they’re a good man. Some people just really need to hear that, because they don’t believe it themselves. I also think that the message carries more weight given the intimacy of our situation. I’m really just grateful for this job that I’m able to help people like that. People are just lonely. Everybody deserves to have some love some time. Even if it’s not a relationship, or if they can’t have a relationship because of their own fucked up emotional issues, that doesn’t make them unworthy.

So. Back to that client that I had and my new business strategy of just being generous, he definitely gave me a $150 tip. It was surprising. I don’t want to say that I didn’t earn it, but I don’t get a lot of tips in my job. The girls at the agency talk about some girls, and how good they are at getting money out of the clients. It’s funny. I kind of want to work on that a bit. I had a client last week, and he had all this cash on the table. I decided that I wasn’t leaving without all that money in my pocket. He originally booked me for half an hour, then extended it, and continued on in increments until I had all that money. I just worked it.

Is that a dichotomy? Am I contradicting myself? I want to help these guys emotionally, but at the same time, I kind of want to suck them dry? That kind of makes me feel like a bad person. I suppose suck them dry isn’t the whole truth. But it is a business, and I am in it to make money. I want to be good at my job, and I know that I’m good at the work that I do, but I want to be better at the business side of things. Another thing that I need to improve, is get better at promoting myself. I don’t like saying dirty things about myself. It’s not classy. I struggle with it. Ha ha.

Lesson #27

I am never going to eat babaganoish before seeing a client again.

Nice Boys

I think people think that most of my clients are high end. I think people have an image of what type of people I see. And I have to say it’s probably not true. I would say that the majority of my clientele are heavy on the middle class side of things. They’re probably mostly renters, and I would honestly say, way more of them are single than you probably think. And you can tell when men are single. You can tell by women’s shoes at the door, you know, their toiletries in the bathroom. Things like that. You can tell when a man’s married. You just know. And I won’t say that I don’t see married men, but I would definitely say the strong majority are just people who are unable to… well… they’re just guys, they’re just regular people. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Having said that I was called to a house last week, and I think it was easily one of the wealthiest clients I’ve ever had. The other client I’m thinking of would be someone that was the neighbourhood of a client for my other company, so when I pulled up to that house, I was pretty nervous to which house I was actually going to. But this guy that I saw last week; young, gorgeous, he kinda looked like a skinny Jude Law. Which frankly, I appreciate. He looked a lot like Jude Law, but like I say, easily one of the wealthiest clients. When I left his place, I was stopped at a red light. The car in front of me was a Lexis, there was a BMW beside me, behind me was an Audi. My poor Chevy felt so out of place

He was a good time though. One of the funny things about him was, we kinda hit it off. But at the same time, I really didn’t trust him. An expression I learned in my younger days is: How do you know when a drug addict is lying to you? His lips are moving. And I hate to say it, but I’m kind of starting to get that feeling about men. How do you know when a man’s lying to you? His lips are moving. Please don’t interpret that as I’ve been lied to so many times, I’m getting bitter, it’s just funny. People will tell you what ever they want to tell you. And he told me a lot of very complimentary stuff. He told me that he hasn’t had any sex in six months, and he hadn’t had a blow job in eight. But like I say, he looks like Jude Law. So I kind of didn’t believe him. And a woman lived in that house. There were defiantly women’s clothes in the closet, and toiletries in the bathroom, so it’s like “Yes, yes, I believe you” but I didn’t. And he told me he’s going to call me back every week, and again, I didn’t believe him. Normally I keep track of my clients in my little black book. Largely just for tax purposes, and also for call-backs, so if someone is like “You saw Jon six months ago” “Well, I saw 3 Jon’s. What’s his phone number?” He kept his word and called me back a week later. But because I’d been slack in keeping up my little black book I didn’t remember his name. Even when I got the address, I drew a blank. And of course my GPS took me to a really wrong address. But when I pulled into his neighbourhood, after consulting a paper map, I knew where I was going and I was really quite happy to see him again. It was a double call. And so it was me for him, and one of our girls for his buddy. When we get there he was just a cool dude. You know, laid back… he’s kinda like the smouldering sexy guy from high school, only grown up. You know, the kind who leaned against the locker all intensely. Him. But his buddy… frick! So funny. He would just ask the most ridiculous questions. It was his first time and he wanted to be respectful. He just kept saying that. He was raised properly and he didn’t want to offend with his questions, but he had so many questions. How it worked was his primary question. “How does it work!?” and we are trained to be vague. We know these guys aren’t cops, but it’s hard to say, “Well, You go into the other room, then you take off your clothes, and then you fuck. Conversation is not really necessary.” You know? You don’t really say those things, so we kinda beat around the bush, and used innuendos, and subtly, but he was really funny. And he’s like, “So can we just make out for a while?” And then he’d laugh. Laugh so hard. We’d all be killing ourselves. He’d ask these questions with a dead pan-face, and then he’d start laughing so hard. Then he’s like, “What I care the most about is that you have a really good time.” But he was dying laughing when he said it. So of course I say, “I love how you can be serious about every thing ridiculous, but the thing you want to say with the most conviction, you’re busting a gut!!!” This guy was hilarious. In a way he kind of reminded me of Jim Carry. He looked like a normal person until he smiled, and  then he looked like he was out of a cartoon. It was really funny. Before Jude and I head up to his room his friend wanted to put cable on or something like that, and Jude was like, “Fuck it cost me $15K to install that thing, and I don’t know how to even work it” This is a flat screen tv and when it’s turned off, it’s a mirror. For real.

After everything was over, I ask him, “So what do you do?” It’s silly, but I feel like by asking them, I can get some of their insight, and I can do that. But really? I went to university, and I became an engineer. That is how I have money. Oh, that’s how you did it. Education! Right. Anyway, this guy… I can’t really say what he does without breaking confidentiality. But me not really being in the pop-culture loop, or the scene, in my fair city I guess you’d say, couldn’t recognise him. I don’t know faces. If I fucked a politician, I wouldn’t know. This guy is not a politician, but you could say he is a local celebrity, so to say, in the business world anyway. And it’s just like, “Yup. That makes sense that you have this much money.” I don’t know a single person in the city who doesn’t know about the impact he’s made. Anyway, It’s weird… well… I don’t know where I’m going with this. I like him though. And I hate when I like clients. Well, I don’t like-like him, but there are a few clients that I have that I let get away with more than other clients. Sometimes, I wanna stay past my time call, cause they’re cool. This is defiantly one of those guys where I want to say, “Yeah, I’ll chill. No worries.”

Now that I have my internet photos up, I am mad busy. I had four calls today, three back to back. He was the first of those three, and I’m pretty glad about that. After you have sex once, your make up starts to wear off. After you have sex three times, not a lot of make up left! Not going to lie. The internet photos are absolutely paying off. I also have an ad in the sun. So whereas I would get two generals a day, now I’m not getting any, but I’m getting three or four calls a day through call backs, or the sun ad, and my internet photos, so that’s pretty awesome.

They’re getting the escorts to work the phones, because the girls who normally work the phones are all on holidays. I struck up a conversation with one of the girls. There’s a competing agency in town and I hear that they are the It agency. It turns out that they were the It agency, but then all the top girls from that agency got fed up with dealing with their boss, and came over and started a new agency, which is the agency I work for now. It’s funny because Andrew said, “We’ll drop your rates, and we’ll get more business. People don’t want to pay that much money” The whole Timmy’s vs. Starbucks thing. And I thought at the time, but now that my internet photos are up, I really believe; People do pay that much money. People will pay the extra for GFE. The more time that goes by the more I’m glad I didn’t quit and go with Andrew. And I’m talking to this girl, and she had a very good point. For example, say I’m not working at a certain point in time, someone calls for my ad, they give the call to someone else. Which means the same for me. If someone calls for someone else’s ad, and they’re not available, I get it. Whereas if I were working independent, I wouldn’t get those calls. I wouldn’t get the advertising ricochet. Not only that, but there are also generals. I’m really glad for what I’m doing. Also talking to her, because I know that people gossip, and I really can’t trust anyone, I also put in a big, “I love my boss, and I love my agency, and I’m really glad to be working here!” Blah blah blah, plug plug plug. Hopefully, in a gossipy way, that gets back to my boss.

I got a little side tracked there.

Speaking of guys you want to spend a little extra time with, I had another two girl call… I don’t know if it’s summer or what, but man! It’s like spring. The boys are in heat!!! This was last night, and it was late, maybe two or three in the morning. It was the guy that I wrote about having the man cave. And this guy, I just like him. He’s so awesome. He really just needs a girlfriend, cause all he wants to do is play guitar, and sing and stuff. He’s got this one song…Inspite of Ourselves . He's hoping I will sing the duet, but I don't know the words! He likes to sing folk music. He’s got a voice like Bob Dylan, which I generally wouldn’t say is a compliment, a but he does it well. Me and this other woman are there. She can sing, doncha-know-just-ask-her-and-she-tell-you-how-great-she-is. She wouldn’t sing though, cause she couldn’t find a song that she liked. That’s like not dancing cause you don’t know the steps. And I’m like, are you kidding? I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, yet I’m strumming a guitar, and singing along. It’s what makes them happy. We’re paid to make them happy. I had fun. He’s trying to teach me how to play the guitar. Alex says, “I can’t believe normal people pay to get guitar lessons, and you’re getting paid to get guitar lessons.” I’m like “Yup. That’s me.” We played guitar, and we went into his room, and we have fun, and he wants me to stay. He really takes it personally when I don’t stay. I hate it when guys take it personally. Well that’s not true. Mostly, I don’t care when guys take it personally. But when it’s someone who is cute, and sincere, and just cuddly, I do feel bad that I don’t stay. But like I say, we all know what happened with Richard Gere. That was a lesson. You know, you don’t date your clients. Cause then they’ll fuck you. And it’s sad. It’s not that sad. It’s ok. As I was saying. He wanted me to sleep over, and I really wanted to. We were lying there waiting for my partner in crime, and her plus-one up stairs to finish up, and we’re lying there, comatose cause it’s 4:30 in the morning, mumbling to each other about how comfy we are, and them my phone goes off in a shrill alarm telling me time’s up, and I gotta go.

Sigh. It’s funny. Such a funny job I have. I still struggle wrapping my brain around it.