My New Friends  

Posted by H in

Or so it's how they're called on Facebook and other networking platforms. First of all, welcome to all readers coming from these horizons. Don't feel attacked by this post, I like you. I really do, otherwise I wouldn't write about you (would I?) and would quickly have removed you from my list of "friends". Though I cannot say we really *are* friends (no quotes). We're people sharing interests, thoughts, feelings, maybe convictions and perspectives. Takes on life. On our lives. On love, on sexuality, on tattoos, on poster-girls and -boys, on death penalty, on flying squirrels and apple pies. And maybe a little more...

We are good crowd, aren't we all? Though we would probably sell out each other for no particular reason if that was necessary huh, because after all, as Bad Religion would say (I Love my Computer), "[we're] just a picture and a clever screen name". A disembodied version of a human being; and a human without a proper body has no rights. It's disposable, it's a reflection, an ectoplasm, a mirage.

Paradoxically, virtual friends can be more reliable. Yes they go around poking each other (no laughing, no laughing), they virtually kill and kiss each other for no good reason, just based on a few good words and the compatibility of their profiles. But, because you are just a liability in their list of friends and can discard you anytime they want, they also tend to be more open and maybe sometime even more sincere than the real versions. You'll find the very fake real friends, the ones who pop up and comment on every single thing you do or say, invite you to every single thing, and know all the rules by the book. Follow me, I follow you. Hey do you know my contact, maybe he wants to be your friend (no that's a new concept of social ascension: it doesn't only work at the workplace anymore. No you can get promoted in absentia in friends circles...). Then you have the experts, the one that become your friends because they have a particular knowledge of something of interest for you, or vice-versa. They are your friends because you share this interest and you are transferring information.

And finally you have the true friend. That one is boring on social network. If you poke him/her, he/she'll just tell you bluntly "Dude, WTF??!", and possibly smash you right in the face the next day on the way to work.


Damn, that post has nothing to do with the sex industry so far... We must have lost ourselves somewhere on the way. Excuse me, I'm becoming social...

We're getting there, actually. Social networks are also a very primitive jungle. Primal, really. You see an incredible and unending crowd of parasites, lurking around to find a significant other. Here, "significant other" means someone to drool on, to corner into meeting for a ONS (either by using your own tendency to f*ck around, or by making you think Prince Charming or Belle awaits at the door). And there's the social element to it again. It's well-accepted that people who go after super-models-type of girls do not actually do it only because they are sexually attracted to them. They are, of course, but also they need the ego prop that walking hand in hand or with any kind of promiscuity with such a specimen can give them.

And it's the same with virtual networks. You don't go to the lame parties with the nerdz (or you don't admit it to your friends; the only ones knowing being the ones attending the party with you, and if they tell on you, you're bringing them down with you!), and neither do you stick around with the nerdz on Facebook (well, hard to tell. Facebook sorts of modifies the definition of nerdy and geeky itself... Alyssa Milano, George Clooney or Brad Pitt would be geeky if they were on Facebook, for sure. They'll poke you in the eye, invite you to the movie compatibility test, or buy you and invite you to vampire wars. Crazyness.) You just have an unconscious tendency to go for the attractive contacts. Come on, admit it, except if your presence on social networks is business-driven, just say it: when comes the time to click on "Add as a Friend", there's a mental mechanism taking care of the selection process for you. Hort or not? Real friend or not? Celibrity or not? More popular than you? After all, if we only used these things for their intended purpose - connecting to people of your network of acqaintances: friends, relatives, colleagues, sports-club and town or city quarter - it would be deadly. Boring.

So you prop your ego and though you just invited all these people who have your test, hmmm, maybe the hot chick with the black and white picture of her sighing in a cutsy way in front of her webcam deserves an add, doesn't she? Or the smoking hot one with a photoshopped picture of her in Bikini on a beach.
How what the hell, go for it. Click it, you know you want to.

I guess the pet name of these networks defines them perfectly. Viral. Viral networks, viral markets. It's a disease, really. But on the one hand, it's a disease you decide to go after: you get a mass-reaction from the herd that reflects your behavior on the portal. It's like catching a STD: you asked for it, at some point, by ignoring common sense and rules.

So you just don't hang out with the nerdz, except out of pity, throwing them a bone once in a while. Because after all they are fun, normal, loving and decent. More than the web-cam-girl and bikini-chick, or 6-packs-guy, soccer-star or cool-revolutionary-artist.

But it gets even more twisted than that, doesn't it. Poke you, poke me. Now let's move to the real poking, shall we? Social networks are what you want them to be. A sharing-interest thing. A dating portal. A whoring portal. A customer place, a feeeding ground. Its viral nature makes it the perfect friend of anyone launching a business. And back to our industry, what's more perfect than an hypocrit viral system to sell dreams? It just calls out to escorts, strippers, models, porn stars to make a name. Not that all the people there are valid clients. As said earlier, there are plenty of weirdos and psychos on these things. But it's just promotion, advertising, and good marketing: you keep in touch with clients, keeping selling the dream, even after the end of the night. Or after the out-call.

I wonder how many independent escorts use social networks, as a marketing booster. G. used to be completely tech-free. She was working for numeros agencies in different countries, just hoping from one to another depending onclients taking her everywhere, and then she'd take a job somewhere else to use her time. She cared about providing good services, having fun, making money, and building a reputation in each agency. But not a huge one. She had a different identity for each agency. In one way, it's a defense mechanism: you severe the link and this bad review does not hurt your other names. But it also limits your influence and glory. She didn't care about escort review websites, escort groups, sex-workers' unions.

She does now, a little. The funny thing is, she even joined some because of me. Make me sometimes wonder if that's a good or bad thing. We talk about her business, and I tell her about what I see online, and that I think she can learn from other people's experiences. Sure internet is again a twisted place: people exaggerate, they amplify. But there's a truth to everything that a mass believes in. I tell she can be safer if she follows the trends and practices, improve herrepertoire, customer base, and especially her skills for screening bad types and dealing with them.

She now follows escort review boards and forums, has joined escort groups. But she still doesn't use social networks bound to clients. She does not mingle. She hates it in real-life, she won't do it here. Though her job is all about it.

Some of her co-workers are from different horizons. Some wouldn't even know how to use a computer, some would ask "What the heck is Facebook?", some have a website, a profile, a blog, and use private and public ads to promote their own independent business.

I guess it depends on the nature of the escort's job: if she's working behind an agency acting as a proxy, then the social networks are not really business driven, they remain a matter of interest and sharing. If the agency still uses profiles and (fake) names to promote girls, she has some advantage to get in using it (for now... I guess soon that would be so common that won't be an advantage anymore. It will be a necessity). If she's independent, Hell yeah that's probably a good selling factor. Hope escorts pick some marketing tips and tricks and learn how to prototype their profiles and even their online behavior to study how it impacts customer base. Now that's really business.

And on the one hand, it's petty and sleazy and I hate this business, but on the other hand, everything that makes the girls safer is good for me. And though you can never know who you're dealing with online, you'll have a statistic distribution of reliable contacts. The Seichuan earthquake in China got famously reported faster on Twitter than on world news, so fast that US sismographic facilities did not even have had the time to pick the anomaly up. Similarly, you'll have more people who'll wonder online "Where is [...]? Did she just vanish?" It's a mass-morphing organism. There should be really impressive improvements any time soon (if not already here) in artificial and automated monitoring with these things.


Scary ones too.

Theft of identity, facial profiles, virtual property, creation of customer profiles, cross-checking of real-profiles to identify virtual ones. Be careful what you wish for, technology is a double-axe.

The same way as you can use the picture of a hotter peson with close-to-0 probability that person will ever know, just to prop your ego and get customer base, anything you write and upload is also potentially stealable by anyone else. Names don't identify anyone.

Hell, you can even use for crazy things. Think of prepaid credit-cards. Buy one at a gift shop. Some are completely anonymous, and you can do whatever you want with them, in real life and online. Some require some remote identification screening. Social Security Number in the US, driver's license number. Or just name, date of birth and address. Gee, where could I find that... Oh wait, I know. Facebook, look for some random name, here I am: Name, address, date of birth. Just don't pink anyone with a phony nickname. Pick a student for instance, that's young, innocent (less likely to have a record) and lies less about this sort of things online. There you go. John Graham, born 17 July 1987, studying at USC will be liable for you (NOTE: I'm making a common name up, if there's such a John Graham, whooppsssiiiess...).

Endless possiblities and dangers.


Think of it, and in the meantime, I have to poke back some people. I'll be back after some Vampire Wars and after having bought some random guy as my new pet. Craziness.

My Vitality  

Posted by H in

I feel completely off lately, it's just insane. Don't you just hate these periods where you know that you feel like shit only because *you* bring it on you with you personal behavior, but you just can't snap out of it? And you *do* know that you would just have to get up and shake all these dark thoughts off your head and move, get active and think positive, and it would go away in a few days.

But you just don't. Misery likes company, and when you feel miserable, there's a pervert part of you who decides you want to stay this way. Like when you're angry and you know it's useless but you *want*, deeply just *want* to be angry. Because even though being angry is annoying and kills you, it feels just sooooo good to be angry.

These are the periods where you are unable to control yourself and cope out of bad conversations with dignity. When your interlocutor says something you could mock, and you know it would be uncalled for and unhearted to say anything, you still just say it. Deep down you don't want the fight nor the embarassment, but you just have to say that mean thing, and here it goes, Hell breaks loose, and your anger and frustration rush kicks in. Raaaahhhh, lovely feeling.


I've been feeling like I don't achieve much for 2 days, even wondering if I should completely turn my career around, or change my career for that matter. Even wondering about my relationship. Even wondering about why I write here. Wondering about therapy. Couples counseling, personal psychiatric support, everything.

But as usual, when I think that sort of thing (it sounds overly dramatic, doesn't it? Well it is, I am a dark person but not a disturbed one, and I don't let myself get fooled by temporary mood-swings), I just need to go to bed and tell me it's all OK, just a sad thought, and the next morning everything will be OK.

This post itself follows that pattern: it started moody and ends up optimistic. Yet I don't why, I feel a bit uneasy at the time.

Our Attraction  

Posted by H in

Some people sometimes wonder why G. and I are attracted to each other. After all, I am living with a woman who sleeps with other men and women, and she dates a guy who doesn't see to care that she does.

It can look pretty twisted from both angles, and not only is it really common for men to be unable to accept their girlfriend to be a sex-worker (NOTE: men have a hard-time to accept their girlfriend to be anything else than just that: their girlfriend. Fair enough.), but it's also not uncommon for sex-workers to be caught in a double trap: they are at the same time engaging in sexual activities with other people, and that makes it hard for them to find someone who trusts them and accepts them as such; but on the end, if that person accepts them just as they are, they also cannot help to think maybe he doesn't really care that much about them to let them do this.

That's just tricky, isn't it?

In our situation, I am attracted to G. because she's a fun, smart and loving person. And yes she's good-looking and drives me crazy (sexually and mentally, for that matter).

She's attracted to me because I happen to be really understanding, because I am taking good care of her, and because whatever happens she knows that if I ever were to reveal myself as not as great as she currently thinks, I'd still stay the latter will remain unchanged. I'll still understand her and help her in any way I can.

That is, of course, just a matter of trust. She's the perfect match for me in many ways, and me being the perfect match for her might just be in one: I don't ask question and accept her as she is.


Also, after such a long time (well, it's all relative, but it is a long time for the both of us in regards to our previous relationships) living together, we still have the hots for each other. Yes I'm smirking as I write this, but who would pretend it doesn't matter, not even a little, hmmm ? We still drive each other insanely crazy, and still have this irresistible sexual attraction that makes us go after the other one and corner him/her against a wall.


And last but not least, though we of course still discover bits and pieces of our respective pasts and paths - some of which reveal themselves to be certainly surpising, confusing, and even creeping - we still always fall back to basic common grounds, both in philosophical (big-word-throwing, sorry) mindsets or in social conceptions.


We are really different though. It's a very common thing for us to chat and then end up saying "I really like [...]" and to know that the other one thinks of answering "I hate [...]! We've got nothing in common!" with a smile. We have fundamentally similar political and spiritual views, but differently visions of the upper-layers.

Even when it comes to clothes we are a weird combination: we have the same tastes, but for different reasons. We share the same attraction to the same colors, the same clothes style, but I go for them out of practicality and rejection of the boundaries of branding and mass, because I don't want to be categorized, while she goes for them to stand out. Same result, for completely opposed approached.


Yes we are a weird couple. As weird as weird can be.
Guess that's why we found each other. If we had met at a common friend's party (which is unlikely as we usually don't especially like each other's friends), we might have hated each other guts. But we met on a neutral territory and hit it off right away, because in a crowd of people we were, despite all our differences, the only ones that could be a good match.

Oh well, maybe it's a thing just too complicated to explain.


(NOTE: the "perfect match" is to be taken with a pinch of salt, as I don't really believe in such things like soul-mates or perfect-matches. I believe in relationships that work, and where you have to do (acceptable and small) compromises, and work on the little shaky things. But you got that, right?)

Their Basic Rules  

Posted by H in

Or what they should be, according to a comic strip posted on "Bound, not Gagged":

1. You must respect your prostitute at all times
2. Yes, you must always wear a condom! Don't bother asking!
3. Produce your identification if requested.
4. Don't try to negotiate her fee.

But like they say at the end of the comic strip: "a girl can dream". *sigh*


Source:
http://deepthroated.wordpress.com/2009/01/23/the-modern-hooker-has-a-dream/

Their Idiotic Comments  

Posted by H in

Their Idiotic Comments

Lately I received a few interesting comments in my mailbox. I'll spare you the tidbits, but I'll disclose the juicy parts, just to give you a good picture of the specimens.

The "their" in my title here probably isn't reflexive of punters, pimps or any of the likes. Or just ones in disguise. My guess is, most of the authors of this poetry are probably just random guys, who like to persuade themselves that they still live and reign in a dark age where women have no rights, and while they would claim in public that they are pro-equality (or something vaguely similar), they just can't get around the thought that they need to give as much respect to females as to males.

And some are just some peculiar minorities. Or I really do hope so, otherwise humanking is pretty f*cked, I have to say. Well it probably is...


Here's the best I got today, for instance:

"ur pathetic [...] ur gf's just a fucking bitch and u do nothing?!!!! ur just a victimized ass!! I'd bitch-slap her like she deserves, fuck her 1 last time nd throw her out."

From another gentleman, I receive a very long e-mail with various nice comments, but the most thoughtful probably was:

"I'd bang her, take pictures, and expose her on youtube with a big 'WHORE' in red letters on the top of her head, and tell her families and friends. That would help her to realize and stop that job."

I also had religious freaks had a go at me a few times. Not the ones who are already normal religious freaks but think escorts are still God's creatures (thanks for them, I guess), but the ones who just cannot accept that thought and would rather consider all of them as some sort of evil beasts. An example:

"You should realize that not only is your 'significant other' on a dangerous path, but so are you as you do not act and still even support her in her way of life. [...] The day will come when you'll regret not having tried harder to save her soul and yours as well. [...] You both are horrible persons for finding joys and pleasures in this twisted situation."

Going a bit far back in my mailbox (or spam-trashcan, depending on the ratio of insults per line of text), I also have a few penpals who feel the need to advocate their apparent crushes on G.:

"What agency is she working in? Just let me know and I'd be glad to fuck her over and over, that way if she's sweet enough I could become her regular and you won't have to worry that much anymore, I'd look after her for you, and give her what you apparently can."

"I'd be glad to fuck her sweet tight ass [...] and as you seem to have problems with that and don't know how to use your dick, I'll be sure to make her scream long enough to have her return to you satisfied and exhausted".

Some are also concerned about my well-being, which is really nice of them, warning me that "the next time [I] eat her up (as [I] seem to be the kind of pussy who does that), [I shouldn't] mind the stinking smell and the stickiness, that would be [their] jizz".

Oh and of course, the playground trash-talk top #3 classics:

"I ass-fucked your girl."

"Sorry if she says my name when you touch her."

"I'm glad my kids will have a responsible father."

I also get e-mails from girls telling me that "[I am] a miserable cock-sucker and probably [have] now [sic] fucking clue how to please a girl and that [they] need real mean with a hard cock, no brains and just enough balls to rough them up" a little, probably, from time to time. That's good to know, thanks for the hint. And that I "really don't have any self-esteem", though in her wording it didn't seem like a good thing (what tipped me off was the opening subject with "ur a looser!!"). One also offered to "give [me] a discount for [her] services, to make [me] discover what a real high-end escort does that [my] G. wouldn't even dare to think of [...] so that I can properly blow [G.'s] brains out". If it had been in a different situation, I would certainly have asked G., I'm sure she would have been up for it. Now that's a shame.


Hey on the other hand, I had some pretty refreshing e-mails from men in my situation (and also from a girl dating a former male escort), and from girls thinking it's interesting to see another side of the mirror they don't think about, and others thank me for being proof of something potentially beautiful for them out there. OK, I get way more of the previous sort every week, but these ones just make my day anyway.

I could tell the other ones to get lost, but somehow I also need them, so please be my guests and send more. Anti-spam filters are amazingly efficient nowadays. Also, my e-mail still only works on and off though, so I guess I probably lost countless gems like the ones above. Too bad.

My Night on the Watch  

Posted by H in

G. is working again tonight and as it happens I have nothing better to do than to sit in front of my computer and stare at my screen with a blank (and probably dumb) look on my face while waiting for her to come home.

I am going to work early tomorrow morning but I can't get myself to sleep (I have recurrent problems with this), and though I could work on various things right here right now for my company, or work on personal projects of mine, my head doesn't seem to be in a condition where it's prepared to be productive in any way. I just can't do anything good tonight.


I tried to read but I couldn't concentrate on what I was reading. My mind kept constantly drifting away to think about articles I had read lately on escorting laws in the world, and the recent trend in trying to take down sex-slavery and sex-trafficking networks.

I settle for the worst time-waster possible ever: my TV. But needless to say, there's not so much on TV. That is not debilitating, that is. Though at least it does not require any concentration of any sort, but it does not really procure any satisfaction either.


Finally, I figured I could also work on this blog like I said the other day, but I am stuck with technical issues that I can't work around at the moment and will need more heavy work in the future. And starting tasks such as killing a fly with a shotgun in the middle of the night is rarely a good idea, except if you want to break everything down to pieces. As they say in the american "How I Met Your Mother" TV show (which is actually one of the shows I happen to like to watch once in a while), "nothing goog happens after 2AM".

So I am more or less sitting on my couch with my laptop and a cup of tea, trying to figure out what to do with myself. "I just don't know what to do with myseeeelllffff!!!"

Sorry. I got carried away. As I thought of it I played in on my MP3 player.


Anyhoo... I've got nothing to do and thought maybe I could try what some call creative writing (the persons saying there words being the writers) and others a sorry attempt at boring people out of their minds (these persons being the readers, obviously).

So far, it doesn't look that good, but let's try to get the ball rolling. Give me a gentle push.

G.'s on an out-call she left for 2 hours ago, with a guy she doesn't really know but who accepted to pay the agency extra for her based on her good reviews. So after dinner she changed into a more skimpy enticing outfit, put on some makeup, told me not to wait and aimed for the door.

She should be out for another 2 hours at least (4 hours out-calls are not really an habit, but if Mister John is paying, then it's all good), and the agency wanted her to take another call after that one, and she might actually not even be back before I have to leave for work. So bear with, I might ramble here for quite a while, as you can see. Feel free to doze in the back or escape right now.


As weird as it may sound, sometimes I like these times. Yes, these times, when I'm waiting for her, that she's out f*cking someone else, letting them do things to her and getting paid for it. These times when, without any control over actions, I can only sit tight, worry, and wait.

But these times are part of our routine, which I already described here. There is, at least for us, some sense of normality. It probably sounds crazy to people just starting relationships with escorts, ridiculously names to sex-workers and their clients who might think I'm a tool, and just plain weird for everybody else who must think it's just as horrible as horrible can be to consider "normal" to wait in the middle of the night for your significant other while she's prostituting herself.

I guess it is. But it's funny how relationships evolve, you know. There's that period where you think every tiny little detail counts, where everything is a the same time so dangerous and so safe, so enchanted. Then there's that period where you think you're just flying and nothing can stop the both of you. And then time passes on and at some point, without having ever taken notice earlier, you realize how things have changed on the surface. Ground and basic things are still the same, but a crowd of tiny little things have changed. The people are the same, the relationship is the same, but it's like all the things that use to be in a background and give some color to everything have now faded away and look even further back on the picture.


There are days where I think our situation is depressing. I have known G. for quite a while now, and though our goal is to have her stop doing this at some point, she's still doing it right now, will still be doing it tomorrow, and might still be doing for an indefinite while longer.

Why? Because I cannot help her? Well I could, or at least financially. Though things are tight, they're looking better than ever before. But they don't look good enough without having to go through huge changes if she stops her job. But I guess we're getting there. We used to be a "separated couple", living together, but still having our own adventures. That doesn't really happen anymore, and the "adventures" are led jointly. So for that and many other things, we don't really need financial independence anymore. And we feel more and more comfortable together, and though we have an endless list of fights are everything, we also have an endless list of things for the days to come. So we might as well share everything, life- and moneywise.

But G. doesn't really want to. She says she started this herself, and that she brought it upon me, all this, this complicated mess. And that she wouldn't feel good about not managing to end it herself. She got into it to help herself, she needs to get out of it for the same reasons, and terminate the cycle. Which is a very valid reason in my opinion, and I have a hard time opposing to it. But on the other hand, I just don't care much about honor, and she could just accept my help, take the hand I and other outreach, and flee for ever this life.

But maybe she also doesn't want to. She has the feeling the chapter's not over yet. In what sense I don't know. Of course I outlined countless reasons here why people cannot get out of this business easily, willingly or not. But maybe she also simply likes it. Terrible thought. Probably just a thought. Or maybe with a pinch of truth on
it. Like some readers told me, get real, she probably just enjoys the sex. Or others say that I'm just a complete looser and that "[my] girl is wearing the pants and just bitching [me] around".

Anyway, she's got her reasons, some unfinished business, and sometimes as much as you'd like to help people, even against their own will, it might be better to let things roll and let time play its healing game. My take is, she'll be ready when she is, and we have enough intimacy and trust now for me to be confident in her judgment and knowing I'd do whatever it takes if she needs it, or sit quiet if she wants it that way.


So here I am, sitting quiet. And waiting.

Your Communication Channels  

Posted by H in ,

As some may have noticed, I am currently trying to improve this weblog in various ways, to make it more enjoyable and easy to read, and to foster better communication channels for people interested in sharing thoughts about our main topics.


Following improvements include:
* re-designing the blog
* Twitter updates
* Facebook group


So far, I have switched to a new design template, but I still need to work on it to make everything fit correctly. I am not that good at web design myself, so it might take a while until I learn how to do all these decently.

I'd like to have a more homogenous presentation, and with faster access to things of interests for readers, such as related posts and related blogs, latest comments, short previews for each post with preloaded full versions, that sort of things.


I also came around the idea of using services I profoundly dislike, namely everything tagged as "Web 2.0" or the "Cloud" or other buzzwords. Hell, I dislike blogs in the first place, but this was the most appropriate channel nowadays to start talking about this, so I went for it. And I intend to do the same with a few other things, such as providing Twitter updates (you should already be able to see those) and a new Facebook group (called "My Girlfriend is an Escort", of course). Which means I created myself a Facebook profile. Look for "Ash MGFIAE" (yep, could not provide a single-letter firstname, so I guess "Ash" is just as good as "H").

I pretty much hate Facebook with a passion. However, I discovered on it quite a few groups about the escorting business or other sex-related activities, as well as a herd of people closely or remotely interested in the topic. You cannot fight change, and if that brainless portal thing is the way to go to communicate and spread the word, then so be it: I'd try to force myself to be present on it a little and to read what people are saying over there too.

Other possible improvements would be to use the usual things blogs use lately, Technorati, Digg, etc... I tried that a while ago and am already registered, but I could not fit them in the blog design in a way that satisfied me, and though I'd like to have people reading the blog to foster discussion around the theme, I don't really want to try that hard to generate useless traffic.


Well that's about it for the useless and boring stuff. Just wanted to keep you guys posted and apologize for the try-and-error process and the overall mess around here.

Her First Death and Second Life (Her Stolen Childhood)  

Posted by H in

G.'s first life ended violently when her family got torn apart. Let's not get into gory details, but just say some people left voluntarily, some left unvoluntarily, and some were left to pick up the pieces but after all decided to set sail, and to live behind the ones who were already at odds when everybody was still there. And to be sure the fun is complete, the ones left had to be tortured mentally and physically by the left-over governing person. Funky picture.

So that could be one of these posts where you get deeper into the levels of Wonderland to have a chat with the Cheshire Cat, and explain what things that are now happened and how they've been conditioned by things that were. Or weren't.

After all, I cannot pretend that G. not having a normal childhood doesn't seem to me to have had an influence on her life. Of course, I know lots of people in similar situations will raise themselves and call for an objection, your honor. Evidently. Because you better object than accept. She had a shitty childhood, which of course had bits and pieces of interesting and fun moments. All kids have fun moments, even in the dirtiest slums, in the poorest situations, and with malaria on top of it. Kids are kids. They have that quality: they just don't care about the wolf if there's a big blue butterfly landing on top of his ears.


But I wouldn't say she is still traumatized by it. But apparently, she had been, and for a long time, and she still has issues with that part of her past. She's sweet and all, but there's a scared little girl
hidden somewhere, and sometimes you can see in her eyes, those hardened eyes that can look up at you and tell you to back off with the severity of an army sergeant. And what these eyes tell you in such moments is dead simple: run away, daddy's coming.

Not that "daddy" seems to have been the worst father on earth. Apparently he did plenty of stuff the right way. Her passion for her art is from his doing; though he forced her into it at first, so I'm not sure it's still a valid point in the "Good Stuff" column... He also provided for her. Until she left. Which was pretty
young.


G. had a terminal cancer when mommy did not come home, a long time ago. And she died of agony when daddy took over what was left of the democracy in the home, sweet home. Friends disappeared -"friends are useless, my girl, you know it: they'll betray you"- just as pets did -"dealing with killers and bankers is not a walk in a park with your dog"- and roots where eradicated -"we move to a foreign country because that's where power is".

That doesn't bring us anywhere near prostitution, you'd tell me. Or quite the opposite, pseudo-psychotherapists would jump on the occasion to classify the case in a neatly organized folder. The affair is closed: the murderer was the father with the belt in the living-room. And bam, the daughter becomes an escort years later. Easy. Not quite. But that definitely fits into the picture, so that life was worth mentioning.


Some people could have been left for dead for good, after such a hit (and with the compassionate help of these sociopaths as parents). And there would have been no second life, or only a very long and numb second life, filling up the void left until the real, physical death would have put the dried soul out of her misery.

But G. was made from a different wood. Maybe because of these very crazy parents, actually. She did not become a hard and paranoid person out of her environment. That only came later. First, she was forced into it, like you're forced into taking the dive at bungee-jumping if people are queueing behind you. "It'll only last a few seconds. Enjoy the view."


She got up on her feet and ran. She ran straight ahead, for a long time.

Literally.

And she barely ever looked back.

Her New Sister  

Posted by H in

Don't send congratulations letters, it's not a family thing. That would require some missing elements first, like, I don't know, a family... No, what she found is a new friendly and trustworthy connection at work.

In her most active agency, G. has a few really good friends and a herd of reliable contacts, and some people she just avoids. But what she apparently found recently is the perfect dream: She landed the BFF. You know, that cutsy acronym for "Best Friend Forever"? Well she just found that.

It's not everyday that you see G. acting like a teenage girl. She may look like one sometimes, but she had to skip far too many steps in her life to have the occasion to stay in character for too long, and the need for the armored cover always comes back, just in case. So when she starts taling to me about that new friend of hers everyday with stars in her eyes, a few things go through my mind:
- God does that feel good to see her happy and excited
- Hell does that scare the shit out of me that the pain is going to be a proportional opposite when it bites her (us?) in the ass.


This is a new girl who just arrived, from a country where G. used to work. She started at the same age as G., but she's older. She tells her lots of war-stories of the sex-industry, seems to know everything about all sex-business in any possible country, to be capable to read between the lines of all penal and civil codes, is intermediate level in a shit-load of languages, and as the indecency of still looking fairly attractive for her age, with a humbled perception of herself and no overrated pride, but still also with a balanced acceptance and acknowledgment of her mistakes and success in picking agencies, hand-creams, plastic surgeons, dandies and love-partners.

She's honest, but can bit if she has to. She's lovely, but can turn into a mean SOB if you attack her. She goes by an ethical code of conduct, but work arounds it when desperate situations require desperate measures.

What is wrong with that picture? Everything if you ask me. That girl is indeed perfect, in the sense that she manages her life and goes by just fine. She protects herself really efficiently, and that's a notable and noble personal achievement.

But she draws a way to delusional picture of situations that always untie themselves happily at the end, and the fact that she gets dirty if she has to means only one thing to me: if it were to come down to that at some point, she wouldn't give a crap about G. or anyone else.


But that's just my pessimistic way of thinking, and in the meantime, though I am concerned, I am glad G. has someone to rely on at work. As long as she doesn't run away with G.'s agencies' finances, that is.

Someone that can possibly teach her more than she already knows about her job, and harden her. But on the other hand, she changes her in the same cold robot, that pretends to have remained this spirited libertine being. And I just don't buy that. And I am not sure I want G. to get that hardened. I want her to keep that tiny glimmer of hope and innocence.


I'm just being scared and careful, sorry. Guess what, it works both ways: *I* have changed from a cold frak into an emotional being with her, and *I* would like *her* to not switch to my previous personality. That's the usual hypocrisy and bite-me-in-the-ass-irony of the Couple's Equilibrium.

Si I just try to lay back and relax and listen to her when she comes home in the morning, even later than before because she now goes out for breakfast with her new "sister" after her last outcall of her shift. And to tell me it's probably for the best, and that I get old and worry without a cloud in sight.

Didn't see that coming: I'm in the overly protecting motherly position, and at the overly defense boyfriend-ly position at once. What the heck happened to me, huh ?

Our Nights at the Rock Show  

Posted by H in ,

Lately, G. and I have been feeling older. We're in our twenties, and still we had a strange feeling lately of being much older. Not in a way that we look down on our friends of the same age, don't worry. But it kept bugging us, as we felt as we most of our life was already gone. And that's a pretty depressing thought.


Your life. Is. Gone.
It's over. Terminated.


But on the hand, it can be quite satisfying. It's not that you've missed all the opportunities, it can be that you've achieved lots already. Though G.'s been having bad days lately [Her Shattered Confidence], I can say without a doubt in my mind she's had a pretty amazing life, from all sorts of perspectives.

But still, we had a weird sensation. The one you have when you end up talking with your grand'pa on the back porch during one of these really heavy summer nights, where the air is so thick you can't sleep and feel uncomfortable, no matter what you do, both physically and mentally.


And then we saw a chance coming of blowing off some steam, as a rock festival was happening in a nearby area. So we took the bike, and drove our asses down there, for a few days of rocking it out, as the not-so-kewl-kidz don't really say anymore. Spent the first night preceeding the festival with other bikers in a huge camp, drinking, chatting, smoking, burning tyres. G. being the sweetheart in wolves' clothing (though sometimes it's the other way around, actually) that she is, she usually does a good impression on that crowd. That impressed me a lot back then too. You can see that she is not really from that scene, but she manages in that pool to control the flock pretty much as well as anywhere else. Guess she's a good shepherd. If she says we're all going to have a good night, no one would contradict her and ruin it, and let her decide. Or leave without a groan. I even see old-time bikees melt in front of her. Probably with a few ideas going through their minds, but not going any further than that. So I spent most of my time either chatting with her around a fire with some folks from various places, or talking mechanics and road-physics and the usual bikers' war-stories with guys and chicks from all horizons, while she started the most spontaneous crowd dancing I guess that tiny town had seen in a while. Always love these kind of gatherings.

The festival began the next day and we were off to see a few bands, most of them which sucked pretty much as you would expect from a festival's setlist. That's how it's got to be. You can look at it with the eyes of the artist and see the originaly and beauty and , or just accept that it's at the very best OK, if not mediocre, but that it doesn't matter at all because it still is about having fun and not caring.


At such venues you just have 3 ways of acting. The first option is for you to be overly active and bug half of the people around you, wanting to show your enthusiasm and how cool you are. In here you'd recognize, well, all of you at least at some point, even if only for a day, when you were teenagers. Or later, because some people are even late when it comes to stupidity, while some others decide to be first even in that race. You know, they're the once you see yelling all the time, saying things like "This is soooo cool" and "they're the best rock band evvvvaaaa, man!!" Yeah, these annoying ones. Recognize them ? Well, they can still be funny to be around, admit it. They would be a good 50% of the crowd.

Then you've go the other end of the spectrum, people who behave like old farts, no matter how old or young they are. They think the previous types *have to be* the idiots they imagine, and that themselves are too cool to act in any way remotely similar to the aforementioned idiots. They'll be approximately 20% of the gathered flock.

And finally, you've got a smaller part of the audience. The 30% left, who think they of course don't belong to one group or the other. Well they do, they just don't know it, and piss and moan at both sides. Tight-asses, tss... Well, we probably fall in this category. We think we're too old for the first category, and to young for the second one, though age doesn't matter.


But we can recognize when we need a good fun, so we really forced ourself a little bit to completely let go for 2 days. Dancing, shouting, singing, slamming, stage-diving, head-banging. Of course, a festival is not complete if you don't have some theme to rant on. Usually any cause will do. Global warming. Civil wars. Conspiracy theories. The latest murder. An (in)famous rare bear in a random zoo. Pick one. Usually go for something extreme. It has to be extremely left wing or right wing. You cannot pick a centered and balanced theme, or people are unhappy. They need to rant. No: if the theme is anywhere remotely related to protesting against some major decision of your government, you cannot express any kind of support for anything remotely good that same government has done to cut them some slack. That's just not PC, you see. So that festival was not an exception and had its decent activist (or not so active, like I said, it's mostly about the ranting, isn't it?) theme.

The beauty of such events is that you meet either people who are as crazy and blind-sided as you about one theory around the main-topic, and you end up in an ephemeral BFF situation, or you meet your perfect nemesis for the week-end. Or you fake it to provoke one or the other just for fun. I love poking the bears, even the ones playing in my camp, especially when I know they have absolutely no clue themselves why they picked one side instead of the other. Come on, it's just fun, and questioning a stance is just helping them. It's part of the
ecosystem. And G. likes to hunt on young preys.

What can I say, she's a bit of a hunter. She likes to spot the idealist prey. When I try to talk to her about it, she doesn't want to admit it, says that she truly sees interest in most of the people she approaches for distant or (really) close social relationships, but she always walks away with a smirk. There it is, I didn't lie: that girl has a devil inside when it comes to sex.


So she picks up random strangers we end up fooling around with on the first night, and she would pick up other ones for the second night. And depending on the effect, we end up sharing cups of coffee in the morning, or they leave in the middle of the night because the devil kicks them out, once satisfied (more from that hunting-hunger
point of view than from any sexual one, though definitely a collateral factor).


It's always interesting to see how the lives of people connect.

In 2 days, bikers exchanges tips and tricks for things as varied as mounting rearview mirrors with chinese chopsticks, young activists switch sides or embrace more radical or more tolerant viewpoints, educated and non-educated teenagers go home with humbled or pumped-up memories of unexpected sexual encounters to relay and emphasize at the next high-school or university lunch-break, old-timers go home with revigorished memories of the good and bad old times and hope or despair in the future, bands move on to a next venue with built-up expectations for their next cheering or tomato-throwing crowds, and wondering if they again will end up in tents with weird but welcoming couples engaging them in either enthusiast conversations or mute sex.

And all it takes is just a cosmopolite crowd, a sweet-but-devilish escort and her idiot.

Ok it's mostly about the cosmopolite crowd, as it allows the two other elements to be replaced interchangeably with any other similar individuals.



I just like rock shows. Rock makes me alive. Rock makes me young. Look at Iggy Pop. There you go! OK, you can switch rock with any other genre, probably, as long at it moves you in some way. Even any other medium. Go to a quantum physics workshop, if that's what makes you tick.

And though each of these shows or festivals are inherently the same (the same 3 categories of people listed above, the same types of encounters, ...), they are all different. All kids (or old people) who go to their first show (or they ten or twenty first shows) always thing they're the bests in their lives. But after a while it just mixes and melts, memories and feelings are the same. You still compare one to another - so that you can have something to talk about the next time you run out of topics on mechanics with bikers. "Remember that '97s show in X, where that band trashed the shit out of the stage and fatty-mary puked her guts out?" - but you build know every time a little more what to expect as a whole, and what tiny detail makes the whole difference.

Well that's just rambling, it's just that: experience. As with anything else. As in experience to be a good lover, an expert in your field of business, your area of study.

I just like perfection, and when practice makes perfect while making fun at the same time, it's never bad.


So remember, all you need is a cosmopolite crowd, a sweet-but-devilish escort, and her idiot.

Our Nine Lives  

Posted by H in

I was baby-sitting the other day for an old friend, and while looking after the kid, I happened to put him in front of the TV for a couple of (so lovely, quiet and silent) hours to watch old cartoons. You know, the american classics, Hannah Barbera, Merry Melodies and the likes.

One of them featured a cat going through a series of trouble, and the show pictured this mythological depiction of cats having nine lives.

It got me thinking, maybe we just all have these, in a metaphorical way. We don't actually die, from our physical death; but we do from a more spiritual standpoint. Not in a religious way, but at various milestones in our lives, we move on from states of minds, levels of education or enlightenment, to the next ones. Some people do that more often that others, some don't really radically break free from any part of their existence and go on living their lives (happily or not). But some need to close doors, and close them for good.

I've closed some myself. G.'s closed heaps.

So I was going through my mind and trying to think about all these doors we closed, to list them all. And then (yes, baby-sitting bores me to death, as you can see) I thought I had to prioritize these. So I figured that, after all, 9 seemed like as good a number as any other to shortlist our milestones. And the more I thought about it, the more it becomes fuzzy. Considering major events in your life this way makes you realize that things that appear huge when they occurred were not necessarily that impressive. Either because of their relative value to
other incidents, or because of their absolute value to, I don't know, centennial world-hunger and war-and-peace issues, and the evolution of your own perception of such things.

And when you look at it that way, finding 9 milestones is not that easy. Of course you could just list your top 9, but are they really *that* important? That decisive, crazy, radical or life-changing?


For some, the birth of a child, the death of a friend, parting ways with relatives, or mating with a soulmate might look like a milestone. To others, it could be reading your most enlightening piece of literature. Having an epiphanial conversation with an homeless drunk in the ER, only to realize he had more degrees than you ever
will and is not the freaking loser everybody sees but someone who decided to walk away voluntarily. Your favorite movie, your first date, kiss, masturbation, wet-dream or sexual encounter in a dirty public bathroom. Going to first base with lily-golden-hair in middle-school. Having to put down to sleep your dog. Having to put
down to sleep your kid's dog. Helping someone to survive. Helping someone to die. Forbidding someone one of these 2 latest options. Going to second base with jenny-with-cute-breats in high-school.

It also made me think of that movie with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, "The Bucket List".


I could list our nine lives here. But I won't. That's not the purpose of my writing on this weblog. What I'll do, is list the ones that are related to it anyway, in both of our lives. And promise to list the new ones when they occur. We haven't reached the final count of nine (that's what's hopeful about it).

I'd be happy if you share yours on the newsgroup or in the comments, related to your "normal" lives, or the bits of them in relation to the sex industry.


Expect a series of posts coming about these.

Our Swinging Habits  

Posted by H in , , , ,

I have to say that my encounter with G. was sexually enlightening. Not that I was a complete virgin who would have been dropped like a white sheep in the middle of a wolves' lair. I had dated a decent, though not necessarily impressive I guess, number of girls before her, and had always put a huge interest and effort in being (or at least trying to be and trying to learn to be) a good, affectionate and generous lover.

I often got that comment from female friends of mine who at some point engage in lesbian relationships that pleasuring women is a nightmare. Tell us about it. We know. While some will just discard (or just be completely ignorant of) that thought and engage in sexual activities for their own pleasure, I know some men feel that huge rush of adrenaline when they're on a date, which is not only induced by the date itself but also by the stress of trying not to do anything wrong.

Any men who just disagrees with that and would pretend he cannot go wrong is just a plain liar. Being a good lover is just *hard* (and not just about being it).


So when I met G. and we slept together for the first time I had that adrenaline rush. I tend to be too self-contious as first in relationship, trying too much to have everything do smoothly, look spontaneous, while keeping it pleasant. And everything went fine the first time. And the next time. And the next ones.

But boy, did I realize she had a crazy sex drive that I was barely able to control... As she told me herself, she doesn't know if she got into this business because of it or if the business helped to make it that way, but it just is. She's always thinking of it (both on a sexual and emotional level, which means she's also the crazy jealous type, sometimes).

I think from all my "first night", the one with her though maybe not the wildest, was the scariest. Seriously, I was scared to my very soul, though I did not show it. For once, because I really liked her and did not want to mess anything. But also because she was driving us like a driver at Daytona. Hard to keep her under control, or even to let her hand over the control from time to time.

That was quite impressive and magical, in ways I won't describe.


But the funniest, and that is what was really new to me, was just the pace at how things evolved. So quickly. From one night where we fucked the next time she asked me if I would like to have a three-some with her, or go to friends for orgies or go to swingers club.

I have to say, this was not really my life style. I am really open to possibilities and discoveries, and that just sounds plain fun to me, so I was not really intimidated and said yes. Also thinking, maybe she was joking. Poor fool that I was...

So she was not joking, and before I knew it she would sometimes ask me during nights out if particular friend of mine or hers would do, and so on. Gee, that was an approach I had never thought of... Quite direct. And there we were.


Anyway, back to the main subject. G. likes swinging. I had never done that. She tends to think most of the things that would be in the domain of the "definitely possible but unusual" for most people out there is a common sense and even a norm. People have threesomes (or more), have orgies in high-school, all used cocaine, are all bi-sexuals, and all cheat and go to swingers' clubs.

Now I understand that considering her past and her circle, some of these (and for even restricted circles, all of these) could be the norm, like she says.

But I'd be damn if the vast majority of people on earth would live by these standards, like she pretends. That is just delusional.

But hey, that doesn't matter anyway. Like I said, it sounds plain fun.


So G. used to have quite a lot of sexual partners before (and during) our relationship, and to date more people at once, and go to swingers' clubs for some extra fun. Sometimes with rich clients who specifically booked her for such nights, and sometimes just with friends or on her own.

And she definitely wanted to take me to one. At first I don't really know what she had in mind. I mean, I know what she had in mind, but what it meant to her, I couldn't tell. Because we were just starting, and I didn't know if she wanted us to do that to keep our relationship mainly sexual, of if it was genuine desire to have fun, or desire to show me something (see, the adrenaline rush is back: "what the Hell could I have done wrong for her to bring me to a swingers' club?", is what you ask yourself at that point), or desire to share with me an experience that she truly enjoys.

Today I am still unsure. It seems more to be about having fun and nourishing other needs.


She even says she enjoys going without doing anything. Just watching, going around.

It also seem we have different references in the matter of swingers' clubs. One of my friends is born in a family who owns one of these. A small one, though not "private". He grew up distributing condoms at the entrance and in the darkness of the basement (now that's what you call an open-minded education). I see a part of these clubs like these: small places, with normal people going at it with other partners.

G. apparently sees them in a quite different light. In the same glamorous light that you see them in TV shows, like in Nip/Tuck and the likes. Rich, glamorous places, with mostly gorgeous people with lots of money and big cars. A part of me is not surprised - she does some pretty high-level escorting, I guess the worlds collide - , and the other is a little. Isn't restricting your vision to this fooling yourself? Or maybe I think too much again and this is just a matter of terminology. You have high-level escorts or whatever you call them, so you probably have high-end swingers' clubs.

So she likes going there just to watch, and occasionally tap on a stranger's shoulder to ask him in a feline and implicit wave of the hand or wink if he or she wants to join her somewhere, or join a group.


She said if I am scared, we could just go there and watch, there's a very famous and hip club in our area. I said I'd go with her as I don't mind and we'd see how it goes, that I was not opposed to anything.

I guess I just had trouble seeing where to draw the line, like most of the couples that hire her services, somehow. Though in my case the "line" does not even relate to another individual, but only to my own personal dual-beings: the one that is open-minded and doesn't care and the one that thinks there maybe are some things that, though not utterly incorrect, are too confusing.


So we went. And it was a great night. It was indeed a club of second sort, the glamorous type. A mix of "Nip/Tuck" and "Eyes Wide Shut" decorum (without the masks, fortunately. *That* I would have found
creepy :-)). And it was quite an enjoyable experience. Like I expected, the "rules" just being different here, as they are replaced by other explicit and implicit rules, it brings a completely new approach to sexuality.

You don't mind watching, being watched.

People don't judge. Don't laugh at one's look, moves, moans. Or if they feel like doing it, they just turn their back to hide a smirk and move to another room. And if you want more (relative) privacy, you move to a private room.

And people come on to you for that purely sexual attraction, invite you to a dance, and more.


It was a great night. We watched, have been watched. While we were having sex together or with other people. Together or separated.

And ever since we go there once in a while, for these little moments of pleasure, which appear like highlighted under a dual-colored light: enchanted by the decorum and situation, and disenchanted by the simplicity of the rules and the acts. As if the spectrum of colors was filtered to at the same point present to you this place and time as the most primal and the most sensitive. For a moment where jealousy has no effect, and lust is king.


I have no idea why I started writing about this today, to come back and recall memories of our first swingers' night together. Probably because it is a part of our past, and it's what defines both her and myself. Like her I have no idea if these events define us more than we do them because of who we are. What is the causality and the finality.

I guess I just wanted to share. That was a bit random, I expect lots of people to judge us when they read this, and take a stand by our side or turning us down in flames. That's why it's here. Like there are no indiscrete questions, only indiscrete answers, there cannot be wrong opiniated judgments. I'm just thinking a lot about the past lately, how a tiny thing in a chain of events could have made lots of things different than what they are now.

Her Shattered Confidence  

Posted by H in

G. just suffered a major mood swing the other day. Let's just say, so as not to give too many clues, that she had quite a setback in her real professional career as some big shot school she wanted to transfer to let her down cold and without any form of justification.

This is the type of things that can get to you faster and deeper than you would think if you are not prepared for it or in a vulnerable position at the time it happens.

Like I said in previous posts, she's been focusing on her studies a lot more recently and for the last 3 months, and has produced the best results I've ever seen her. And as it happens, she has already some decent recognition in her field to know that she has a valid potential to grow as an artist and make a career out of her works.

So when she decided she wanted to get really back in the game and transfer to either one of the most well-known schools of her profession, she started going at it really hard again and to practice on a regular and intensive basis, perfecting herself and reaching new levels of expertise, I must say.

Still, amongst good results and positive others from various institutions (among which ones, some really popular ones), one of them simply shut down the gate and told her to back off. No reason, no comment, no appeal. And it kinda crushed her.

Though poor G. was quite satisfied of all the other positive answers and reviews, she expected all of them anyway. Whereas that one caught her by surprise, and here she goes going her personal stages of grief. Which sort of come in reverse order as opposed to the medical ones: acceptance, anger, denial and depression.

At first she acted as she usually does: as if it did not affect her. And as if it was expected (she said a few times she would probably not get in) and normal, as if good old Earth would be spinning the right way. Though of course I did not believe she did not feel a thing, she seemed to take take it quite well.

Then she became angry at their answer and their dismissive manners, to later enter complete denial and ramble and contest in every possible way their decision, claiming its impossibility and silliness. I won't judge in this difficult situation: I am a stranger in her professional worlds (plural, because I am both a stranger when it comes to escorting and her artistic moves). But being the devil's advocate that I am, I can still see valid points for her dismissal.

But I was still trying to be supportive (something I apparently really bad at, where my only authorized comments should be, if not "they are all idiots", at least in the same direction as hers, and not in anyway supportive, even for the smallest bit, of her detractors. Fair enough, I suck at this.


Anyway, following anger and denial came depression, under the form of an unstoppable flow of silent tears, inconsolable despair and immutable abandon of all hope. The darkest realization was finally here: her life was on a right path for a few years (even when she did not like it) and then even on the way to fame and glory (even though, now liking it, she had to commit to the side affairs that we talk on around this weblog), but had come to a stop. She had lately almost always taken the worst possible decisions, ruined her life, crushed her career by driving it herself into a dead-end made of shards of glass, and partially ruined my life and careers at the same time by means of perverse collateral damages and side effects.

Let's say it: she is a failure, and might has well stop everything altogether, just keep f*cking around with clients and go on with her life as she enjoy it with me and then become the bitter and hopeless old women she so much fears to end up living as.

Or so she thinks.


To be perfectly honest, if one had to ask me if her life is a failure or a success, what would I answer ?

I'd say she's taken crappy decisions. And I mean *really* crappy, and that she sometimes went against all possible reason, for no gain. That she had (and sometimes still had) this evil attraction for the
deadly-ending self-destructive spiral, so easily recognizable with many teenagers (me included back then). You think the world stink, you don't want to be a part of it, and you're so f*cking proud that when
the world comes around to give you hand, you stab it with a screwdriver, hit the ground and run. And though you know you're dead-wrong in your doing, you just won't accept it to anyone but yourself during depressing (drunk/baked/whatever) self-lament sessions.

But some of these crappy decisions still led her here where she is, and she managed them with, well, success. She took the hard path through the woods where after playing hide and seek with the bad wolf for a while, she jsut realized he was sort of her own nightmare and did not really exist, except in her own mind, and kept on marching and stepped right on him when he finally tried to confront her. She ignored him and carried on. She took useless crappy decisions (we all do), and she took necessary crappy decisions (and though we all do, some of us can't resolve to take them).

And that's where her successes reside, here and in managing to develop her abilities to fulfill her own dreams *while* marching through the forest and teasing the wolf.

She's talented, she's clever. She doesn't have 3 PhDs, but she's got that street-smart approach to life. Sometimes a bit dark, but to the point and efficient. Though sometimes, her candide attitude rushes back in all its naivity. Guess when you're a kid and you get to learn the hard way on the streets, you do get the street-smart moves, but you still get the kiddy brains. You still dream a little, from time to time. Because dreaming is harmless, isn'it ? And though you should know better, when life comes back with a vengeance to hit you hard again when you thought you'd finally vanquished the demons, you're still a bit surprised.

Some people never completely let go of this genuine approach. Fortunately, in my opinion, otherwise you live a disenchanted life. And as I used to be like this, I somehow know enjoy all the little miracles that happen in my life with her, though they put me sincerely back deep in the mud. But it's a delight.


So you hit a wall, you realize you are a sex-worker. An escort. A prostitute. Some people consider you a whore (because according to a dictionary, you are, no matter what), a naughty brain-less chick with no aptitudes, who is doomed to live in the shades of shame and its cortege of lies.

And when you look back at all these, and you see no future, and only this dark past, you can only give them the right to think so.


Well let me tell you, that is just wrong. And I say this not only for G., but for other ones like her, who also struggled, and did this because they had no other choices, or even more despicable ones. Though I'll always think you do have a choice, because in the end, doing it is a choice. You are the one dressing up or down, pulling the trigger when poiting the gun at another or yourself. But you still took this one choice out of a spectrum of horrible possibilities, and it might be just as good. It's here and it's done.

Many young (or older) girls and boys face and will face these type of decisions. Whether the choice was the only one or not, it was, in your own sphere of references, objectives, desires and needs, the right thing to do, as long as you embrace the ethical consequences for you, your entourage and society, and also the roots of your situation. You are not alone in this, and you did not reach this point only because of your mistakes, but because of all the previous mistakes made by others before you. This is not fate, this is not bad luck, this is just life. There's no explanation to it, no greater order. No great Evil or even greater Good.


When I see (or read) girls like G. or Amber [Being An Escort] who feel completely lost because of this, because things pile up, and that an history of mishaps and failures let them lose sight of her own magnificience, I feel sorry, not only for them, but for all of us who are partly responsible for their state.

In the end I could talk G. out of her misery, have her reach true acceptance that this rejection was not important, and that it would not be the last one. That maybe she was at fault or that this particular institution was, and that no matter what she still had a million possibilities of achieving what she wanted. Maybe not so easily, maybe not so directly, and maybe by struggling again as she always has been so far. And that it's also just how it is, how she is, and how it will have to be. That giving up is not an option, that she has achieved many beautiful things, and fill achieve countless great ones for years to come. And that it will hurt again on the way.


I just hope there are other ones to tell the same to the ones I don't know or cannot reach. The ones who feel depressed when facing other kinds of rejection, from loved-ones (or so-called loved ones. you don't get to pick your family, and you can't know what's hiding behind the mask of all the other relationships) or from the establishment. Those who don't have anyone to tell them they'll be OK, though they're kids make their lives a nightmare, their friends beat them and laugh at them or abandon them as a sinking ship.

They have all my (useless, nevertheless sincere) sympathy.


Confidence is like trust: it's a long way to build it up and earn it, and it takes the smallest grain of sand to clog the machinery and have it all disappear.

Their Betrayals (Her IP Abuse)  

Posted by H in ,

As if the previous stunt was not enough, another agency decided to play it mean on G. She hasn't worked for this one in a while, as it is in a remote country which she occasionally visited. So how does this particular agency manage to bugger her ?

Easy: they still advertise her on their website, using her (partial) pictures, her (fake) name and (fake) story, and list her as "available" for services.

This is a fairly small agency, but with a really good reputation in this area. They have a few "advertised" escorts, who represent the agency, and then of course many other escorts which are just available for clients who do not mind getting a girl they cannot see (and hoping she'll be of the same "rank" as the advertised ones, but a tiny bit cheaper. "Dream on, dream on...")

So G. is (well, was) one of the "big ones", advertised on the main page. When she left she said she'd like to work for them again when she'll be back in the country, but it would not be for a while.

It's been almost 2 years and her photos are still out there. She asked them 3 times to remove the pictures and the photos are still out there. Now where does that lead us ? Court ? I don't think so... But I can see a very angry phone call or acid e-mail ready to be send with warning for a torrent of horrible reviews coming in if they don't remove these ASAP.

The sad thing, is that people are probably still calling for her over there. She used to have some regulars, and worked a lot at the time: almost 2 to 3 calls a day, day of the week. It was a really active and profitable period for her, planning to leave the country. That is a little sad, because poor suckers probably don't get what they pay for and because her regulars might think she still here and don't answer.

But who am I kidding, I don't give a crap about them.

But it gives a bad image of her being unprofessional, and though it does not really matter, it could still be a problem. For once, she might not work for this agency again because of this, and it was a good one, she maybe intended to go back to. It was one of the best over there, with great services, great rates, and good clients. The general mood and the relationships between the girls where apparently quite hard though, as it seems. There's a fierce competition in this country, and in this city in particular.

Also, it means this particular fake name is burned, at least to work in this area, as she's been getting bad reviews... since she left! Of course, as the client don't get what they call for. Of course, at least her regulars know it's not her, but some still rate her (her name) to point their finger at the scam.

We were thinking of going to this country at some point for holidays (but it's a long way there), and eventually pay them a visit and drop by to talk things over directly with them.

Oh and we asked a friend over there to give the agency a call for us, posing as a potential customer, and he was told "", "her best playmate" was available for "". (Well, not that outrageously high, hey, it's G. :-) But a bit outrageous for the wrong person... though she might be a really
professional and stunning girl too, how the Hell do I know ? We should have asked him to go all the way to be sure of that.)


So, that would be another recommendation to girls: be afraid of what agencies will do with your image. Do not give them pictures with apparent features and clothes that could be easily identified, even if they say they will cut or blur them. Give them already blurred and cut. And be strong on the grounds of your intellectual property, have it added to your contract (you have a contract, do you ? even in countries where prostitution is illegal, you should have one posing for another job), and be strict and hard on them if they don't do as
you ask.

Let them know you are the girl doing the job, and if they screw you, you'll screw their reputation. Don't let them scare you.

Of course it's easy to say when you evolve in higher level escorting agencies (though you'll encounter a round of tough persons there too and should be careful too: these are people doing really profitable business) and it might be harsher lower down the ladder. But still, try not to show any sign of weakness, or they'll use it and turn it around you.

Their Betrayals (Her Give Away)  

Posted by H in ,

I can see the sceptics smiling - I know some lurk around here, I'm watching you - and I can kill the suspense and tell them your right away: you're wrong.

As the title may suggest, G. did not betray me. She was slightly betrayed by two agencies. One she's working for occasionally, and one she used to work for in another country.


I said in my previous post [Her Regulars] that she was currently mostly seeing her regulars, keeping things straight. But she needed some extra cash for some errands and decided to ring them and tell them she would take out-calls for the night.

She doesn't really like this agency anyway and have been problems with it a few times. The staff tends to be dismissive, not really professional, and to lie both to customers and escorts (maybe it is just a post-modern approach to equality).

And yesterday they thought it would be fun to send her right into a trap. On her first call, the client that she met in a hotel was one she had seen before on two previous occasions. And that she had told the agency she never wanted to see again, and recommended for blacklisting. The guy was always to push for things unpaid for or unadvertized, and touching things "by mistake". The usual bad client. He was sloppy with the schedule, came late both times and forced her to stay longer (and even longer than to just compensate his being late in the first place). Also, he had a tendency to be violent. Not the "I'll smash your head against the wall" kind of violent, but the sneaky "I like to slap you or spank you hard and oops sorry I did it again even though you told me not too". The second time they met, it did this routine again and she had it, finished him rapidly and left, reporting him to the agency.

And still, yesterday they sent her to the same person again. And on purpose, as it appears, because when she called them to yell at them (in front of the guy), the charming lady on the phone just said "very good man, asked about you many times, paying lots of extra". Now isn't that sweet? He missed her. Poor thing. And even offered to pay more.

Now I can see - and G. too - the flattering part of it. She delivers great service and all the agencies she works and worked for - even the crappy ones - all give her credit for always returning clients home satisfied, and usually eager to call again. She's apparently a good client-fidelizer. Great.

But still, there should be a line here, and an agency should realize that it is in her best interest to not go against her employees will, otherwise they won't do the job well anymore. That's how it works. Here and in other industries. Though, like in other industries, maybe there are so many people in the market they can afford to loose good staff members for more money, and their balance won't suffer. And thinking of that industry, that is a deeply saddening thought, as it turns girls even more into a piece of (disposable) meat than they
already are sold as.

Anyway, G. warned the guy upfront, told him she was not working for this agency on a regular basis and that's why she was not available there. (And apparently the agency once sent him another girl impersonating her, according to him. How dumb and unprofessional is that too ? Common practice, unfortunately.) She made it clear she would get out of here at the first try on his part to do anything out of line, and that he'd better not try to be leading the dance or she might even take anything to forward as such a move. A blatant and clear warning, saying: "you have only one chance of getting what you want".

Johnny behaved for about two hours (he booked four), and then started to get excited again, grabbing her more and more aggressively by the minute. Which usually is OK ("it's all part of the show, baby", isn't it ?), but here a potential yellow sign. She warned him again, and he became violent. He turned her around and tried to force her on her knees to give him a blow-job (a service she rarely provides to non-regulars on out-calls). She stayed composed, staying in the role (NOTE: that sounds just perfectly fitted for this job and so horrible...), and telling him for one last time to back off, and that the fellatios were not included and required an extra right away. Guess the idiot thought (like lots of idiots) that it was a game, that she was trying to entice him or playing hard-to-get (go figure... you call an escort, you think she plays the hard-to-get ? seriously ?!), and grabbed her head. G. grabbed things too: things designed by mother nature to be touched only with tenderness and soft moves. She pressed, twisted, grabbed his arm while getting to twist it and push him to the floor using a move I showed her (yes, I take a little credit here, but hey, that seemed to have come in handy), and kicked him with her knee slightly on the head while he was going down.

That's my girl!! :-) Well I don't advocate violence, but hey, she did not kill him or leave any injuries, and he was a jerk, so who cares ?

While he was stunned she grabbed most her stuffs and ran for the stairs - naked - hoping to make her way out and just dress on the way. The stairs were locked (the type of building where you need the key to unlock the stairways), so she hesitated to go back and aim for the elevators. She did (and I can imagine she stressed like crazy waiting for it) and dressed waiting for it, keeping an eye on the door. When she was down she took a cab and went straight home.


You might think she yelled at the agency and resigned. No. Not until she receives on her account her half of the booking, that is.

And then she'll never work for them again.


So a few recommendations for escorts:

- Learn a few self-defence tricks. Possibly learn more than one, some martial arts tend to be too focused on one specific technique. Good recommendations: Judo (for control and learning how to fall. That will save you from lots of other tiny things), Tae Kwon Do (for longer range kicks and great for flexibility), Muay Thay (for great preparation and blockings), Jiu Jitsu (for a good mix of every things). You just never know when it comes in handy.

- If a client was an ass twice, don't give him a third chance.

- Don't trust sloppy agencies, especially the chinese hosted ones with staff members who can barely talk English.

OK I don't really mean the 3rd point, I am not that racist and close-minded as to blatantly tag a whole ethnic group as a bunch of exploiters, but somehow I am still too angry at the agency to remove it, and I see a pattern of flakiness in these (asian-hosted agencies, not asians in general). Maybe it's cultural, or it's a matter of background.

For the second point, I am a really forgiving person. I tend to always be the devil's advocate (G. hates me when I am). But if I were doing this job, you can bet lots that I would not take too many chances.

And I am really serious about the first point. In addition to great and obvious advantages to stay fit, flexible, and learn to follow your body's natural joints and articulations to fall decently and not twist
your ankle or such things, it is surprisingly helpful to let your mind shut off enough to let training take the better (and safer) side of you and just react instantly.


The second betrayal is coming in another post, that one has been long enough.

Her Favorite Brothel  

Posted by H in ,

Yes, she does work in brothels from time to time, and yes, she can even have "favorites". As in "liking one more than another". As in "liking it".

But don't get ideas, she does not really like working in brothels. No matter in what country and city she's worked for one, it never quite lives up to the perks of being an escort in an agency or an independent.


Of course you don't have to worry about advertising, but salary and working hours negocitations are a pain, and the treatment from both clients and staff is also not really the greatest you could get. And there is the fairly controlled but still present usual risks.


I realize that talking about brothels here could possibly give hints about where we could be. Some countries legalize or not prostitution, at different levels, brothels being one of them. The ones I am talking about here are not her current brothels. She does not really attend one regularly, but when we happen to travel to an area where there are some that she had attended before, she would ring them to let them know she's available. So once in a while, depending on our errands, she would work in brothels for a few days.

Except in a few countries, these are horrible places. The girls are completely objectified, don't have a say in anything, and have to wait for hours, sometimes with no free food, drinks or distraction. Clients usually are polite and shy at the very best, but usually here for satisfying primal needs and in only for a very quick f*ck.


However, some are OK. Her favourite one, resides in a country where prostitution is legal, under certain circumstances, and where governmental and non-governmental organizations provide decent financial, psychiatric and medical support to sex workers. Additionally, the staff is well behaved and professional, and tends to work more like normal escort agency. They would still require her to work for long period of times, but they supply pretty much everything: sexual equipment, food, drinks, entertainment. Rooms are private and cosy, with different ambiances to match the desires of clients.

She can also just pop in and ask to work here for the day if she needs quick cash. And it is a fairly expensive place, so girls do not deal with crazies. It's quite private. You'd never know it is there from the outside.

Girls there are nice to one another, and take care to maintain good working conditions and a good environments, and have a say in the brothel's decisions when changes have to be made.


G. even wants to take me there once. She has this fantasy of us hiring another girl to have fun with us. Still not really quite liking this idea: after all I would prefer her not be in there either. But at least if that were to happen, it's a good place to be.


If only they were all like this.

Her Regulars  

Posted by H in

G. has been focusing on her regulars lately, mostly because he wanted to keep time to herself and also because they - of course, otherwise she'd just refuse - have a better tendency to be enjoyable clients.
From her perspective this is a very good thing. For one thing, she feels safer with them, as she knows them a little better, if not very well for some of them. Her oldest regulars have been with her for more than 3 years now.

Also, she has a good time when it comes to the social aspect of the jobs. They are usually well behaved, treat her with respect, and won't take her directly to a hotel bedroom, if they even do it at all.
Most of them are mostly seeing her out of loneliness. They are from very various backgrounds, social contexts and age panels.
Finally, she also feels better having sex with them than with random clients and usually she enjoys it a lot more for obvious reasons.

At the moment, she's balancing it between 4 to 6 dates per week with her regulars, depending how many are in the area. Some are middle aged business men who travel a lot, and usually call her for a night out when they know they'll come down to the city.

Which is definitely better than when she's freely available for her agency, which would just call her if the necessity arises, and sometimes allocate her 3 jobs for the night. Whereas her she just goes out for a while, and knows she'll be coming home and be able to sleep normally. Or she comes home in the morning (she stays at some regulars' places, sometimes).

This situation really feels more stable and balanced, as she has a regular and satisfying income for a lower risk, less tension, and less working hours.
It is, professionally, definitely better.


Personally, it is maybe a bit more confusing, both for her and for me.

For her, because she feels at times like she is cheating on me.
For me, because sometimes I feel like she's dating them more than she's working or them. Or do I ?
Why would that be any good at all for me, you might ask ?


After all, that an escort starts to like some of her clients could be bad news for the disposable boyfriend. She may just end up mating with a rih client and leave you hanging.

That's a sad perspective and a possibility, but not very likely. Though G. has a few co-workers who have ended up marrying clients, I do not really feel threatened in my positions by her regulars.

They provide her with safer environments, which allows me not to worry when she's out. They usually pay her at a super-sized rate, instead of a downgraded one, as some could espect. They mostly just do it out of
courtesy or appreciation.

They also tend to be more flexible with her schedule, which gives us time. And it is easier for her to negociate with a regular than a "normal" client if he pushes for a specific timeframe. Of course some of them are very busy, and considering she provides the service, they still feel (are ?) entitled to push from time to time. But overall, they're more civil (from what I know and hear) and restrained.

She also knows what to expect from them regarding sexual services, and after a few months with the same clients surprises are a rarity.

Overall I feel definitely better when she tells me she's going out to meet a regular than when she goes out on a normal outcall.


And the fact that she enjoys having sex with some of them is a different issue. It comes down again to our position on relationships, and for the moment we still consider ours open. She's not cheating on me, she's working. And not seeing anyone else on the side, and hasn't feel the need to go have a look around lately for anyone else, and neither did I. And if she did and would tell that would be fine, as it is for me to know that she is having sex with regulars and sometimes comes home from clearly enjoyable sessions.

But she still despise them, though in a more attenuated manner than her normal clients and the agencies' and brothels' staff, for having her do this job. And that's why I cannot be frightened by this. She still doesn't like the concept, the idea. She goes by just fine with it, she lives with it, she accepts it.

It's just how it is.

My Advice to Wanna-Be Escorts  

Posted by H in ,

I came across a post on Peridot Ash's Friction blog that I had missed until now, where an 18 year old girl says she wants to get into escorting.

I just can't find words to express how this saddened me.
I replied in a comment and suggested her to also read Amber's Being an Escort blog which in my opinion gives a really touching and human point of view of job.
(Actually, Peridot's and Amber's blogs are probably two of my favorites so far, as the former provides a very extensive coverage of various aspects of the industry, and the latter a profoundly personal and emotional perspective).

And now I just came across this fairly old report on the Bound, Not Gagged weblog (another very interesting source), about an escort getting gang-raped at gun-point and without getting reparation from the judicial system. This so insulting, depressing and vile, as comments on the post noted.
I think it serves as a very good example of how escorting can go *real bad*. Not only can things go wrong on many other different levels, like for instance in your personal - your relationship with your lover, kids, parents and friends - or your professional lives. But also how it can just in one split-second switch from the "innocent" sex-work to the ultimate and most humiliating of the darkest nightmares.

Of course this is an extreme case. Like winning the lottery, this is a minority on the scale of probabilities. But it definitely *is* a possibility. A risk.

So, if you want to get into the escorting business, think about this twice:
http://deepthroated.wordpress.com/2007/10/20/hooker-raped-and-robbed-by-justice-system/

I'll attach the full-text in a comment just in case it would ever get removed.


EDIT:
additionally, this post is also potentially interesting to make wanna-be escorts think twice about it, for various reasons. Though it condemns the ways of objectification of the ads it features and their graphic representation, the sole fact that they exist warns against the potential dangers of the industry:
http://www.spreadmagazine.org/blog/?p=416

Our New Year's Resolutions  

Posted by H in

Our New Year's Resolutions


Though I am not a big fan of this tradition where one sets for himself a bunch of limits to ploy under (self-imposed limits can only be good things in only 2 scenarios: if you are an artist (think of The White Stripes) or an adept of Vipassana).

But it's always good to set things to look up to and goals to aim at.


We looked back at our past year, and we realize we need a few things:
- more stability and balance (between work, friends and us),
- more time for ourselves,
- more money.


Which translate to our more tangible goals:
- to travel to various places I won't name,
- to move to a bigger apartment (and possibly buy one),
- to do more charity work (we already do some, and give a part of our monthly income to organizations we believe in, or which we believe are more capable than we are to deploy it to do things locally or in remote parts of the world). Though we were fairly broke at some points and still don't have a really good-looking balance on our monthly statements, we always managed to devote enough to these things. It would also be nice to combine it with the "travel" goal. I might write more on this later.
- to eventually get G. out of this job, though the last time we talked about it, she didn't seem to want to quit it for now. First of all that would be financially tricky for the both of us, and also she doesn't want to rely entirely on me anyway and cannot go through a complete transition now with her studies. We both always
keep in mind that we don't know what the future's made of and we may (touching wood, and such things) break up for some reasons. You just never know. I agree with that and want her to be independent financially too as much as possible, though not at the extent of her doing this job. But she gets along well with it lately, and it doesn't bother her. I respect that.


Nothing really unexpected I guess, but let's see where we go from here...


(giving back to Caesar what belongs to him: this post was done written after reading Peridot's)

Our Latest News  

Posted by H in

First of all I'd like to thank people who asked me by sending e-mails if we were doing fine. That was a little unexpected, but quite fun to realize some people actually read this thing.

We've been doing just fine, and like I replied to a commenter, there simply wasn't anything big enough for me to go out of my busy way and write about it.


We've been working lots. G. has been reducing her amount of weekly out-calls to focus more on her studies lately, and I do additional shifts at a second job to balance things out.

But we've also been going out a little, reading tons of books, visiting old friends, traveling by bike and camping on week-ends. Our usual get-aways.


Her friend is recovering nicely from her rape. She still has occasional appointments with a psychiatrist, but apparently mostly out of her own desire to reassure herself and discuss various topics than out of necessity.

We spent the last week-end with her and have gone out for a few drinks in nearby bars. A small and calm venue to start with, followed by a slightly more active but still quite cosy and family-like place to have her feel safe, and everything went just fine, or she didn't show any sign of anguish. Which is a real relief, as a few months ago she was scared of being anywhere after 8pm. It's quite refreshing to see her smile and laugh and not have this anxious glare in her eyes when a guy gets anywhere near her.


From the more serious side of this blog, G.'s been dealing nicely with her job lately, no mood swings about the job, not that many angry customers, no troubles with agencies, regulars, brothels and the likes, and balancing things well with the other aspects of her life.


What can I say ? Everything's just fine, that's why I was silent.

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