Our First Encounter  

Posted by H in ,

We often think about how things started between and how crazy they were. I won't give too much details here of course, but I still feel like writing about it. I don't feel like writing about anything related to her job now.

We did not really hit it off right away the first time we met. Actually we remained distant, because that's how we both are. But apparently she thought I was super cute and she, well, wanted to fck me. I said already she used to date a lot of people and to be sort of a player. I just thought she was way out of my league, and found her way too hot and beautiful for me to even dare thinking I'd have a chance. And yet we hooked up. We barely had spoken a few sentences to each other when that happened.

We were at a friend of a friend of a friend's private party, and had nothing better to do that just drink. Of course, alcohol is always your best ally when you want to end up in bed with someone for no real purpose. Though I was not thinking about it at all, and she just seemed already quite drunk. And then at some point, while we were just chatting on a couch, we barely kissed, almost as if we both leaned and came close to each other by mistakes. We were talking of random things because there was no one around, and we didn't seem to have much in common (except maybe whiskey and liking to get people started on border-line politically-engaged talks). That came as a surprise. There was what seemed to be a very long pause, where I probably looked terrified and where she hesitated before she started smiling a little (that my friends, would be the player's instinct rushing back :)). And we both got up as if to pretend that did not happen and went to a nearby table to get another drink (can't even remember if my glass was empty. We just needed a way out of the moment.)

And then, after a awkward silence pouring glasses and looking in each other's eyes, as a the sound system started barking a new song, she grabbed me and kissed me. Or I grabbed her and kissed her. We still fight about that all the time. What I do know from my point of view, it's that I thought she started it and I had 2 tiny voices in my head saying "the Hell with it, if that girl diggs you, you just *cannot* dodge the bullet or you will hate yourself", and "yeah, on the other, she looks fairly baked and drunk already...". I decided the first voice had the strongest point, and that if it came to a more intimate situation, I would follow voice number two and bail out like a gentleman (and hate myself, yes...).
So I remember grabbing her, that we sort of danced, though that probably looked like a couple of drunk monkeys rolling in the middle of room, and moved back to the couch where we crashed without letting go of each other and stopping kissing.

Then I remember that went for a while and decided to move it to one of the bed-rooms, that we threw out everything that was in there, so that no one would come disturb us. We were in a completely frenzy. And then she took me against a wall (which in the morning revealed itself as a dresser's door in bad shape...) and started kissing my neck (at which point you usually start thinking "ohhhh, gooodd"). And then voice 2 came back to me, and my own voice from my teenage years where I promised myself never to take advantage of a girl. Well I really hope I didn't that night. G. still picks on me too, saying she actually was super-drunk and doesn't remember much of the details, except that I kissed her first, and that she had a great night. That's sort of nice to hear, and on the other, I feel like shit every time she says it. Sweetness... But I looked at her and thought voice 2 was dead wrong. That girl was not that drunk! Hey we made it without falling to the bedroom, though without looking, that's a strong argument in favor of the sober-state, isn't it?

We had the craziest night ever. The scariest too, at least for me. G. was definitely more experienced than me (well that's often been the case with my ex-es anyway, and I never once had a comment about it being awkward. So, though I assume the previous one was probably kind to spare my feelings, I guess I did OK with what I knew about, you know, the stuff and how it works). Anyway, I was scared shitless because she was so beautiful, and so bad, and so mad, and so all over me, and that it had been such a long time. I was, on the inside, completely freaked out. On the outside, I managed to take back (some) control from the beast...

The rest of the memories is too private (and a bit confused). I remember people knocking on the door and us telling them to fuck off (obviously). I remember a crazy undressing session. I remember a bed, a carpet, a desk (students' rooms are handy). I remember that we kept going until I finally got a clear sign that she was over.

And I remember being kicked out of the room.

Go to Our First Encounter - Part 2.

Your Concerns about her STDs  

Posted by H in , , ,

I got an e-mail recently from an escort concerned about things I wrote here, in regards to G. performing oral (thanks your concern, by the way).

Yes, she does that sometimes.

But with various levels of flexibility depending on the level of the rate and of trustworthiness of the client.

In general she just doesn't offer oral of any kind to first-time clients at her normal rates.

Then depending on the rate, for a significant extra she'd do protected oral (I won't go into using all the acronyms used on review website, I'm not there yet). And it will remain as it is for some time.

More regular clients get protected oral and the right to jerk off on her for extra prices.

Really regular clients, or clients she really enjoys spending time with, and pay lots, she had sometimes asked them to provide clinical results beforehand.
Some just can't be bothered, in which case it stays as it is. Some will gladly do the test. She even has one of her agencies who gladly refers the clients to a clinic, so that results can be trusted (yeah, on the one hand, if a guy can buy a girl for a night, guess he could buy a printer and a medical clerk).

And she gets tested regularly herself, as do I.

She never caught anything bad, except a thrush every once in a while, that is apparently completely benign (she's just apparently predisposed to a certain kind).
She had once a terminated pregnancy though. She doesn't know for sure which client it was, but she learnt she was 3 weeks pregnant a few years ago, before I knew her. Most probably, a malformed condom, or some guy who was not careful and dripped and she did not notice. She's been extra careful since then. She puts the condoms on and discards them afterwards herself.

There were times, a few years ago, where she would go out of her way for a lot of extra cash and do oral with no protection.

When I learned that I was quite shocked. Not because of whatever some people may think it means for me, but for the risks it represents for her. I just can't imagine a girl playing with her life like that. It actually struck me personally with other girls I dated before G., who after just a few dates, would ask if I would like to have sex without condoms. Hell no, you think a few dates are enough to know each other, build trust, and know your medical history?? Think again.

I guess some readers will think that if she did it, she probably still does it and just doesn't say it.

I sincerely don't think so (otherwise I wouldn't be taking any chances), and trust her with that. She's a pro and has been at it for a while, these rare regulars are quite close to her, and I believe her when she says that more often than not she now talks them out of it when they express the idea, mostly because of me.
Like I said earlier, she has a hard time now going at it with clients and not thinking of me (even if only after the job). And of course sex itself is already difficult at times, but un-protected oral apparently fucks her mind upside-down.

The last time she did it with a client she cried herself to sleep for 2 days. It makes her feel cheap, used, and unworthy of being with someone. That was a long time ago, though.

Sometimes I read blogs of girls with stories about such services too, and I wonder if they know what they're doing.
I wonder how they deal with it if they're involved with someone, and how that person reacts to it.

I'd be glad to hear people share their experiences and opinions about this.

I'd also be glad to talk more about this topic in general. I think it's really important that girls get a bullet-proof sexual education when it comes to diseases when they want to start that job. Unfortunately, not all agencies would go at great length to make sure they're in the know. If there is any agency involved, anyway.

Like I said, I was pretty shocked when I talked with G. about various things, and realized that she got startet with that life-style so early that she barely had an education for it, and picked everything up on the go.
It's quite laughable at times (I pick on her, saying that I picture what used to be a completely innocent girl with barely a clue of what she's doing and trying to reproduce fantasies and movies), and also completely scary. Because if you start with no basics at all, you're bound to make mistakes.

Our Open-Minds, Your Surprise?  

Posted by H in , , ,

This is mainly in response to Natalie 's comment on my "Our Good-Byes" post, but also just to clarify some things and give my touch on these matters...

Natalie commented:

wow. thats just nuts to me that you let your girl leave with some guy you dont even know...AND she tells u she likes his company and his sex....

I just cant grasp that. I hope you are not harboring feelings of unworthiness. Bc that would def make me feel not good enough for her.

Why is money so important to her that she would leave her "love" to go be with anothe guy for a WHOLE MONTH and maybe LONGER??

I couldnt leave my babe for longer than a week without freaking out lol
I think we just are different, you and me. I don't impose judgment on anyone, and I don't think one approach is "better" than the other, or that there's only one right answer to this.

For starters, I am a polygamous person. Or I used to be, and even if I'm not anymore, it's because I have no need for it and because I've found my peace with it, and am happy with the current state of my life. But I still understand and recognize the concept, and I don't have a problem with G. being polygamous herself.

Then, you'll tell me that this is not, in the strict sense, polygamy. She's not living with her clients, and is not romantically involved with them. She's still attracted to some of them though.

Anyway, I am just not a jealous person. I wouldn't like to discover one day that G. cheated on me with someone though. But "cheating" here means screwing someone and not telling me. If she comes up to me while we're out in a bar and tells me she's got the hots for that guy or girl over there and thinks she could be interested in following her instincts, I don't really have anything against it (and neither would she, in general).
Or if I'm not around and that happens but I get "the talk" the next morning or a few days later about what happened, it's fine with me. It's a matter of honesty and trust.

It is mainly just sex after all. Like I said, that would just be her following her instincts, her needs, her desires of an instant. It doesn't mean she would have with these sexual partners the kind of connection. And if she were to start developing that sort of connection with them, then what is there to be afraid of? To be replaced? Maybe. For me. But on the other hand, aren't we supposed to all try to find the person(s) who fit and suit us the most? That's what we're all looking for, and I cannot imagine standing in the way.

All words, and easy words to say when it's not happening though. But right now that's my situation and point of view.

And when she's out with clients, I tend to see it the same way. The financial aspect of the transaction doesn't pose a problem to me. It is a transaction, and it is in some weird way at least more honest and straightforward than what you find in the clubbing/partying/dating scenes.
I don't think of it as something horrible for this reason. It is because she doesn't like doing it, and because it fcks with her brain because she cannot detach herself completely and has a hard time living a double life.

But in some cases, it's not that much of a problem. And with this client, though she's not really attracted to him, she is not scared by that duality. It doesn't mess up with her (as far as I know), and if it's OK with her, it's OK with me.

Rest assured, she wouldn't have gone on such a trip with any client. She has to have some kind of compatibility with the person. Whatever the price, she wouldn't go for the first time for such a long time with a stranger, no matter what the guarantees. She requires to have some kind of professional history with the client before, and if she doesn't, she requests to meet him beforehand a few times.

In regards to your question about what makes money so important for her that she'd leave me for a month...
Many different aspects to this answer. We share common goals, which require some basic wealth. Some of my goals are her own success in her (real) career and happiness in life, and these two things require some money.
Third, like all girls in this business, money's a drug. Sex is drug. Luxury and attentions are too. So are all the other aspects of this life, even the ones that make you look down on yourself.

I guess you could say G. is the type of person who's gone through so much in her life that, no matter what you'd say and what would happen, she'd keep looking at the world with such a negative view (when she needs to, that is), because she wants to hate the world. She wants the world to be bad to have this reason to hate it. Because it's soooo much simpler than to think you were just unlucky, or that life was unfair with you, and just accept it, and move on.

Like I said earlier: pride is the worst sin of all. But wrath is a close second, they can eat you alive from the inside, and nurture themselves in closed circuit. If you don't find the shutdown button, it'll break you down.

And I guess, though she's made huge progress to deal with both of them on an "instant karma" level (by starting to be capable to control them in arguments and situations and to realize she has to start turning the page and not letting herself go completely bezerk on tiny things that happen everyday), she still has deep-down a close relationship to both of them.

G. and I both have a double duality. We both are a strange kind of schizophrenic individuals, oscillating between the things we believe in and the things we want to believe in (consciously or not), swimming in the Cocytus flowing between the shores of our ethics and principles on the one hand, and the ones of our goals and interactions with the (harsh) reality. And Then this duality reaches another level as we complement each other.

Like I said at the beginning of this post: maybe there's no right answer. Well I'm sure there's at least one. That one works for me, it doesn't mean it's universal. Maybe it's just not possible to find a solution for everybody in this equation.

On a lighter note... like Natalie says in her comment, "that's just nuts to [her]". It's something she thinks she could not deal with it. So far, I can, and don't see any change in that attitude any time soon. I'd like to change other people's attitude about it though, because my view seems better (obviously. I can be an hypocrite, just like that :). After all, if the situation doesn't stress me, and it does concern other people, then either I'm an idiot (but idiots die happy and clueless), or you'll be the ones dying of an ulcer. Maybe that's another good approach to changing people's view on prostitution. It's twisted and capitalistically oriented. They'll love it.

And about freaking out while she's gone... don't worry, she does, and so do I. But that's not specific to escorts. "Normal" couples do that too when they're apart, right? Or is that only something I want to believe in again?

Her News from Afar, Your and My Voyeurism  

Posted by H in , ,

G.'s apparently having a ball on her small trip with MrRich. So far, they've been mostly doing nothing, going out for drinks and movies and talking. One informal business dinner so far, for which G. made the effort of dressing up to show off her new wardrobe (She loves clothes. Seems like it's a common minor addiction that goes with the job too ;)).

I get e-mails from people saying it can't be just all that. That she probably hides the sexual components from me. Of course she does. You think she'd just pick up the phone and tell me "honey, today MrRich took me to the nicest place ever, and I enjoyed it so much I started getting wet and went down on my knees under the table to thank him"?

Not. Really.

What she does is telling if she had fun, tell me if things went bad. She keeps away from the sexual elements if it's not necessary, except for funny things. And I don't really ask. Well sometimes I do, but then I regret it because it's not my business, and she knows I don't want to know, and usually don't answer at the first strike.

There's been occasions where I asked what she did, what services guys wanted, if she liked what they or she did. I mean, in the end, I'm still a man and curious to know what makes my girlfriend tick, as sick as it may sound.

Also, some clients for these lengthy trips just don't like having their fictitious girlfriends spending time on the phone or online. After all, they pay for their time (to what you could answer that if they pay for a girlfriend, they should get the drawbacks as well. Bet they don't see it that way).

So at the moment, I guess she's probably in the bed room with him, as she told me they were going back to the hotel with a cab. Doing her job.

It's no different than when I went for her at home when she's out in a job in the area. I don't have to know what happens. It's better that way. It's better to keep it professional, and mainly sexual.

I'd honestly acknowledge that when I read some other girls' blogs, where they give in great detail the summary of their encounters to foster the curiousity of potential clients (and the excitement of the rest of us and the satisfaction of the target client), I sometimes have that techni-color super-large picture of her in my head doing what I'm reading.

But then it goes away because it's not surprising really. It's the job. And then I know that if she had a professional blog too, she'd write the same with the same detached attitude. I'm not saying everybody writes like that. I know some of the girls I read are sometimes really into it at the moment they're living these experiences, and for good reasons. There's nothing utterly wrong with them enjoying the sexual parts of the job. Thus their narrative is not necessarily just strass and special effects. But some do just narrate for commercial reasons.
And not all of the jobs are as fun and enjoyable as a 30-days long vacation with benefits and all-paid expenses on sunny beaches and glossy night-clubs.

My Second Day Alone  

Posted by H in

It's been almost 2 days since she left. I don't expect news from her at the moment, as they were mostly supposed to be switching planes during lay-overs.

I had a text message from her business phone sent to her personal "escort"-phone that she left here to contact me. Things seemed to have been going great, she's exhausted from the flying, but the business class is awesome.

The not so enjoyable thing to read is when she wrote she still wants to be part of the club of people having sex on airplanes, but also still hopes she won't make it into the club with someone else [than me]. I would gladly have skipped that part.
It's been a fantasy of hers, and she never had the opportunity, which she thinks is a total shame considering her personal and professional track records (who's counting, right? let's not turn everything into a competition...).
Though she gave people oral on airplanes, but that doesn't count.

What the heck am I rambling about...

Sometimes I wish G. would be blogging too that she would write a blog like Alexa's, for instance, so that I could know what she's up too.
Though Alexa's blog is a bit weird for me to read. It's at the same time really enjoyable, but also overly positive. It's tied to her business, and narratives of encounters with clients cannot be negative for that very reason.

But still, I wonder sometimes what she's up to, and even though knowing something might drive me made (remember, spare me the details, if you don't mind), considering how much I know from what she's done with clients (though I probably know only 5% of the whole thing), I guess I'd be fine, and at least I could have first hand a confirmation that she's OK and having fun.

Anyway, I've been up to nothing lately, mostly working, and trying to dodge my boss whenever I could.
He's still a bit piss about me leaving him hanging the last time on Valentine's Day, but on the other hand we had nothing to loose with these potential lousy business partners.

Ah well, and now I ramble about my work-life, which has nothing do to here.

Better off to bed.

Our Good-Byes  

Posted by H in

I dropped G. this morning at her rendez-vous with MrRich. They were meeting at the airport, so I drove her there with her 2 suitcases earlier this morning with the bike. We had a quick brunch at one of airport's cafes and waited for MrRich.

Yes, we both waited, because G. had apparently told him lots about me (well, it's all relative, I guess I know more about him than the other way around) on previous occasions, and he's always wondering how that situation of ours can work out and wanted to meet me.

The Hell if I know why... Maybe it's a territorial thing to make clear than she's not mine for a month (or more). Or he's got issues with it and wonders how the couple he's getting in the middle of actually looks like.

Anyway, I finally decided that was too creepy and took off half an hour before he arrived, to G.'s relief. That was a crappy idea in the first place. I got her a trailer for the bags, made sure she has everything she needed for the (fairly long) flight to come, kissed her good bye and took off.

It feels quite weird, I have to say.

It's not a completely new situation for us, but that crazy "meet the John" game in the "the Escort, The John and the Looser" series didn't feel quite right.

Still have the same feelings I discussed the other day that I feel like I broke something, that she's not completely capable of doing this job anymore. Which is a good and a bad thing.
She used to be able to enjoy this kinf of experiences fully, enjoying all the perks, potentially enjoying the sex, and especially enjoying to get paid for it.
But now I could see she was puzzled. But at least she feels safe with him, and even says she likes his company.

It crossed my mind to turn around and take a peek at MrRich from a distance, but I decided otherwise and drove off.

My Song of the Day (Spare me the Details)  

Posted by H in , , ,

The last one reminds me a lot of Self-Esteem, actually. Except the guy still has issues with the situation, still has things unclear and unsaid about his relationship.

But it's usually the one I think of when an idiot tries to friend me on Facebook, first thinking I'm a girl (and usually opening conversation with a combination of "wanna fck?", "SEX FUN CAM" or "hey hun, gorgeous pictures [what pictures??], wanna hook up or chat on webcam??????" that make me lose all hope in humanity everytime), and then usually asking blank point questions about G. and I.
The weirdest ones being:

  • Where are ou from?

    Why do you fkcing care??? You want to out us out right away, that would make your coward feel better for believe in something you don't??
    Or am I just missing something??

  • Are you getting some?

    What do you think, numbnuts?

  • Do you have pictures of her?
    Did I say I was her pimp or something, or you just want to believe in the cliche? Yes, I go aroung giving private shots of my girlfriend to perfect strangers, and carry around her professional portfolio for your pleasure and risk her anonymity.

  • I'm sure she likes that when another guy fucks her and when she comes home still thinking of him.

    Well, maybe, and I don't really care. If she enjoyed it, it's her own mind, she's free to drift away and think about whatever she wants. I'm sure you're looking at girls on the street too, aren't you?

So when I see these, I always have that "spare me the details, if you don't mind" line ringing in my head. Cause yes, I write about it, and I'm fine with her seeing other people professionally and personally, but it doesn't mean I want a live feed of the encounter.

Without the part about "my dumb donut" "acting like ho". She's one, I get it, that doesn't make her cheating on me, and I don't call her "my dumb donut" (weird, btw...). The situation in the song is quite different.

But still. It just crosses my mind.

My girlfriend, my dumb donut
Went up to a party just the other night
But three hours later and seven shots of Yager
She was in the bedroom with another guy

And I don't really wanna know
So don't tell me anymore
And I don't really wanna hear
About her feet all up in the air

And well I'm not the one who acted like a ho
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So spare me the details if you don't mind

Now I can understand friends who wanna tell me
They think they're gonna help me open up my eyes
But the play by play makes me wanna lose it
Everytime you do it, man, it turns the knife

And I don't really wanna know
So don't tell me anymore
And I don't really wanna hear
About her feet all up in the air

And well I'm not the one who acted like a ho
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So spare me the details if you don't mind

Now I don't need to hear about the sounds they were makin'
And I don't need to hear about how long it was takin'
Or how the walls they were shakin'

Now lying in bed wallowing in sorrow
Missin' the tomorrow that we could of had
Running through my head, over and over
Things I never told her now just made me sad

And it drives me insane sittin with a vision
stuck with that image burned into my brain
And it feels so dumb that I could ever trust her
When someone else fucked her, then walked away

And I don't really wanna know
So don't tell me anymore
And I don't really wanna hear
About her feet all up in the air

And so I'm not the one who acted like a ho
Why must I be the one who has to know?
I'm not the one who messed up big time
So spare me the details if you don't mind

Cuz I don't wanna know
Don't wanna know
(Spare me the details if you don't mind)
Don't wanna know
(Spare me the details if you don't mind)
Don't wanna know...

Her Preparations  

Posted by H in

G.'s been finishing her preparations for the trip. She reviewed with the agency the terms of the contract one last time before signing, pack a full-bag of various clothing attire, from clasy business outfits to swim-suits, not forgetting everything needed for the bedroom (before you ask: no I don't mind *too much* that she would use things she bought for us or that I bought for her on the job, but she usually keeps professional and personal stuffs separated, even if identical): lingerie, toys, creams, a few costumes.
Not that it matters anyway, MrRich is the type of person who could just buy all of this on-the-fly, and actually have someone buy it for him and drop it at the hotel.

The schedule has been slightly reviewed, she'll be attending:

  • a private company's race car competition
  • a public automobile event
  • a day out in a theme park with MrRich's young kids
  • a sail-boat cruise in the pacific
  • for the moment, 5 business dinners
  • for the moment, 1 private dinner with MrRich's friends
  • a night out at a local swingers' club

This is a short-list of the events she *has* to attend, as specified on her contract. These all have fixed dates. To that will be added other things, such as night outs to casino and strip-clubs, and possibly some days off at the beach or in the mountains.

The rates have been modified in accordance, and she just received another professional phone to use on the trip, paid by MrRich, as are the visas for the countries to be visited (wonder how that's done).

I am surprised a contract of that sort does not even specify the limits of what MrRich will be allowed to expect from G. in their intimacy. Maybe it comes from the fact that it's illegal in some of the countries they'll be visiting. G. says it's just not how things are done, and that it still is like normal agencies in countries where prostitution is illegal: sexual services are never acknowledged and are left to the mutual consent of the present parties (my ass :) wait. sorry, hers...)

She's been doing UV sessions to get a decent tan quickly, worked out the past 3 days to get in shape, and has been buying language books for some of the destinations where she cannot use one of the languages she masters. She bought in advance a new night-gown, knowing MrRich won't paying for these, and willing to surprise him (he's usually a good tipper, and it's a double win as he also likes her to be completely herself when they're not in a social environment).

The only thing she's slightly concerned about is going away for so long (the longest contracts she ever had while I was with her were for 2 weeks, though she had longer ones when she was single), and this particularity of MrRich to sometimes be a bit unpredictable. Not in a too offensive way (like I said, apparently MrRich is a gentleman, sort of), but in the "honey, we take off for the Maldives in two hours" way. And she likes things to be planned.

Also, the bigger the job and the money, the less you can feel entitled to refuse for things the client requests. MrRich is not the super-kinky type, but there are still things she doesn't enjoy having to do. It's all part of the job.

The last one thing she's got left to do is to cancel two booking she already had for the next week - or actually transfer to other escorts, whom the clients have already met - and keep working out until the big day, on the 23rd.

My Song of the Day (Want you Bad)  

Posted by H in , ,

This one is on a slightly different and funnier note. For starters, I liked the music video when it got out. :)

Then, I also identify myself, because though I like a certain type of girl than not necessarily always match G., she's definitely the type of girl the Dexter refers to in that song. Vynyl, tattoos, you get the idea. We're actually sort of the opposite. I'm the good one and she's the bad one, and we wish each other the other way around (maybe because our private circles made us deal with and date people that way, and miss that somehow? Go figure.)

Anyway, she's bad, and though her badass-attitude drives me nuts (in a very good way in general, that's one of her aspects I have the most respect for), sometimes I long for conventionality.

If you could only read my mind
You would know that things between us
Ain't right
I know your arms are open wide
But you're a little on the straight side
I can't lie

Your one vice
Is you're too nice
Come around now can't you see

I want you
All tattooed
I want you bad

Complete me
Mistreat me
Want you to be bad

If you could only read my mind
You would know that I've been waiting
So long
For someone almost like you
But with attitude, I'm waiting So come on

Get out of clothes time
Grow out those highlights
Come around now can't you see

I want you
In a vinyl suit
I want you bad

I want you bad

Don't get me wrong
I know you're only being good
But that's what's wrong
I guess I just misunderstood

I want you
All tattooed
I want you bad

I want you bad

I mean it
I need it
I want you bad

Her Second Life (Strip-City)  

Posted by H in

G.'s second life really started when, after having left her home and never looked back, she began to face the difficulties of life.

Let's be honest here: it could have been way worse than what you're about to read. All in all, she got pretty lucky for a while and did not run into that much trouble. Young and alone on the street, without a job and obviously without any qualiying degree at her age, G. was not off to a good start to make it on her own. But that's how it is for many people.

Where her story differs, it's when she meets truly helpful people, who seeing a young girl on the street decided to help her out without even asking for a reward or a refund. I wouldn't say none of them didn't get any ideas at some point. But neither the independent teenagers - who were all a few years older than her - nor the bars' and pubs' managers and kind-hearted people who just lent her money (sometimes fairly big amounts at a time) forced her to pay back.

Sure she was still prety much alone and scared, without real friends, but it didn't start that bad. She didn't have to prostitute herself back then, she didn't kill anyone, nor did she start robbing banks. I guess that's a pretty darn good start, isn't it?

So our young G. is in the first half of her teens, and - guess what? - already working as a bar-tender in crappy bars in the city. Not really the sleazy and kiny bars at that point, but still. You can imagine she's really young, and either they're just dumbasses and don't figure out how old she is, or they notice she's in trouble and accept to take the risk to help her, and they're just sleazy as Hell and figure "hey, why not exploit a kid, after all the laws we have against these don't stand any ground, do they?".

But G. is not dumb and realize in a few months that it won't go like that for long, that she needs to put more distance between her and her estranged "family", and to make more cash fast. And if pool-bars and the likes won't mind hiring an early teen, for sure other people won't look twice either. And quickly, our tiny G. makes the switch from pool-bars to underground bars and night-clubs. And as night-clubs start to become part of her life-style, and that she picks up really early the tools and the tricks of trade when it comes to flirting and manipulating, it seems logical to start taking shifts in top-less bars. And from there, on clients' and managers' recommendations, she makes it to strip-clubs.

Of course tiny G. is still young, and though she makes a living - enough to get out of that city, and go to a few different countries before finding one where she can build herself a hard-shell and bury herself in a hole - she got hooked on the trendy lifestyle. You get the picture. Expensive hairdos and make-up, jewelries, some fancy and some kinky clothes to keep the vibe up when she parties or does private functions as a stripper (Beware, bachelors, Here she comes! Would you know that the girl dancing for you and maybe giving you lap-dances and hand-jobs is actually underage?? Way underage...), even some one-of-kind designer outfits, because a young girl needs to keep her self-esteem up and her mood is directly related to the attention people give her, as is her salary. So she needs a bit more money.

And still, even if you do a living from bar-tending - more or less naked - and dancing - more than less naked - the nerve of this industry resides in three letters: *TIP*. And tips do mean good service, and good service means big smile, pretty face, nice body, nice clothes, good attitude, and did I say nice body? And plastic surgery is expensive. Good thing that the world is full of sleazy private plastic surgery practices with surgeons who put ethics and the Hypocritical Oath aside if you show up at the door holding enough watermarked paper in your hands.

G. wakes up one morning with an awful pain in her chest, and as she tries to make it to the bar behind which counter she should be (not topless, this time...), she starts to make a mental note to self that maybe that she went one step too far on the road to perdition, at least for her age, and that maybe this was not worth the tips and the attention, especially considering how much it cost, the scars to remain for life (especially if you're young and stupid and don't rest while it heals), and the excruciating pain. A well, sleazy surgeons are not necessarily bad surgeons, and it works like to get a lap-dance at a strip-club: if you're not a paying that well or do not seem famous, don't expect the best service advertized on the flyer.

Hopefully (matter of point of view, obviously), a few weeks later, our poor G. starts to appreciate the reward for her efforts. She's still in the first half of her teens, and now a private and public stripper with lovely augmented breast, a killer half-angelic half-devilish smile, and a body that would make you go crazy and not care at all that she might not be as old as she looks like, or as you tell yourself she looks like. Money flows in.

And still flows out. Because the infernal and vicious circle of lust and luxury just got started. What used to be the occasional joint becomes a routine, with additional accessories. Bongs appear, roommates grow, and pot is now more of a lifestyle or a continuous escape than a timely pleasure.

And because money keeps flowing out but G. knows where to find it, she moves to bigger cities. Bigger bars, bigger tips, more clients, more demand for mature-looking underage breast-augmented girls. And bigger bars to go out and spend the money, more drugs, and at the same time more generous managers who don't care when the cocaine is on the house when the doors close. Fancier clothes, less private parties, and some time to just live the high-life, the one with stars, strass, the fully-loaded jetset and the designer clothes.

Her Big Contract  

Posted by H in

G. got a phone call of one of her agencies today (one of her favorites, actually), asking her if she would come down for a quick chat at their offices for a long-term contract with a client.

This client (let's call him MrRich) is one of the biggest payer at this agency, and has already been with G. a few times before. Apparently well-mannered, decent guy, and enjoyable company.

He asked the agency to book him 1 or 2 girls for a long-term contract, preferably with good communication and linguistics skills. As he had already been with different girls there, the agency asked for his preferences, and his choice went for G., among others.
In the end, she'll be the only one going with him, as he agreed himself over the phone that one of G.'s kind is enough (a compliment, of some sort, I guess ;).

So G. will be going away with him for a month, for a pretty huge salary bonus that I won't disclose, with pretty much all sorts of expenses paid.
MrRich is mostly travelling around the world to meet business partners, and his on the board of various companies of various sizes, according to G. She's got a few clients like that. Usually not always the most cheerful persons, but well-mannered (if of at least a certain age) and quite prone to extend the bill if necessary.

Basically there are no limits to the contract: there's not fixed destination (he travels depending on his schedule), and it's been written for 30 days with possible extensions. Accommodations and daily needs are of course covered.

And here she goes the miss packing her suit-case for 30 days, with planned stops at some pretty fancy beach-resorts, a stop at a race-car competition, and maybe a detour for some skying (slightly reminds me of Alexa's trip last month... wonder if that could be the same client ;)). The base rules are that G. has to accompany him on business functions in the evening, show up at social events (like the race-car thing, for instance, or casino parties), and of course share intimacy with MrRich during the whole trip (though MrRich is not that active any more. He also enjoes sex-less company, talking, watching movies).

In brief, that should be a fun trip for her. I can see she's sort of excited, though she doesn't want to show it too much to me. She doesn't want me to feel bad about her living so soon after my return, and for her sharing another man's bed for so long when she's wouldn't have anything to do with him personally. But her nervousness when she's packing can't like, she's definitely thinking of some fun ahead. Like I said, she likes this lifestyle. She hates it, and hate the same time cannot say "no" to its perks.

MrRich will be coming to the city in a few days to pick her up.

Your Love Stories  

Posted by H in ,

I just came across this blog from Google, with an initiative to a "My Map where you can mark the romantic places in your life", allowing people to upload information about their personal love stories.

This is pretty useless, for sure, but I also thought the idea was somewhat cute. I'm not really aware of the capabilities of Google Maps though, except for looking up where I want to go and how I get there, so I got bored after 5 minutes.But still, fun idea.

Official Google Blog: My Maps, your love stories

Bouncing Visitors  

Posted by H in

That article got me wondering how many visitors following my blog actually "bounce back", so I'll be checking that soon and have a look at these tools.

I don't want to spend to much time in optimizing things as it's not nearly my intent, but I'd be interested in knowing a little bit more about my readers and their whereabouts, destinations and origins.

For reference:
Official Google Blog: Stop bouncing: tips for website success

My Song of the Day (Self Esteem)  

Posted by H in , ,

There are 3 songs I often think about when writing on this blog or when I discuss my relationship with people.
They express mixed feelings I get when people ask me about how it is to live with G. and her doing what she has to. Going to list them here in different posts through the week.

Though the lyrics don't exactly stick to what I think and feel, I always find a strong emotional connection to them, except with more or less acceptance (depends on which one of the 3 songs we're talking about) than the lyricist.

I am not that much of a huge of a fan of The Offspring, but interestingly it's always the songs Dexter Holland wrote about girls that I think are the most touching (some more political ones are more thought-provoking though).

The hit-song that got them to the top of the charts (and made "Smash" the all-time - so far - best selling record on a independent label), "Self Esteem", already dealt with, well, of course self-esteem, self identification and pride.
Though the main character in the song clearly has issues with his situation, I always think of it.

It's just a song I refered a lot to in my life. I actually *want* to be this "sucker with no self-esteem". Pride is in my opinion the worst sin of all (no religious intent here). You'd make the worst mistake because of it, and it will lead you to the other ones. It's the most perversely powerful of all, if you ask me. (Wrath being a close second).
I want to be someone who doesn't give a crap, and does not let himself get hurt by things he has no real control on.

La la la la la la la la la la
I wrote her off for the tenth time today
And practiced all the things I would say
When she came over I lost my nerve
I took her back and made her dessert
Now I know I'm being used
But that's okay man cause I like the abuse
I know she's playing with me
But that's okay cause I've got no self esteem

Oh wayo, yeah, yeah
Ohhhhhhh, yeah, yeah (Repeat three times)

We make plans go out at night
I wait till 2 then I turn out the light
this rejection’s got me so low
If she keeps it up I just might tell her so


When she's saying, oh that she wants only me
Then I wonder why she sleeps with my friends
When she saying, oh that I'm like a disease
Then I wonder how much more I can stand
Well I guess, I should stick up for myself
But I really think it's better this way
The more you suffer
The more it shows you really care
Right? Yeah!

Now I'll relay this little bit
It happens more than I'd like to admit
Late at night, she knocks on my door
She's drunk again and, looking to score
Now I know, I should say no, but
It's kind of hard when she's ready to go
I may be dumb, but I'm not a dweeb
I'm just a sucker with no self esteem


When she's saying, oh that she wants only me
Then I wonder why she sleeps with my friends
When she's saying, oh that I'm like a disease
Then I wonder how much more I can spend
Well I guess, I should stick up for myself
But I really think it's better this way
The more you suffer
The more it shows you really care
Right? Yeah!

Our Society  

Posted by H in , , ,

It's fucked up in so many levels. Yet I keep being optimistic, thinking lots of people are dedicating some resources (some of them all of them, including their lives), to make it better.

But still, sometimes you wonder how it's going to turn around, or how long it will take, and if it's even possible, as it seems a huge part of the world population is not ready to cooperate to turn things around as long as they can put their personal pleasure first. And I don't mean (only) politicians. They're the easy ones to bash here. But I see countless people who would just not frown up much to just get richer. And the sad thing is, some would do naughty stuff to just get by. Hey, they have too, we know that, but does anyone have a sense of community, of sacrifice?

It doesn't take as much as one might think...

And when I see "so many levels", I don't even know where to start. Education; discrimation of gender, races, opinion, faith; vindicative economic ideologies and historical battles...

For instance, to stick to my blog's subject, when I read Sol Smith's blog "How to be a Badass Dad", especially this post, I agree with him I just don't know what to do. What if I have a daughter? How can I choose between having developed her own sense of self-identification, feel whole and complete, safe and not discriminated, and at the same time not have the feeling that I would be stealing bits and pieces of her girly childhood away from her? It's so persistent, so part of our customs that we just *accept* that girls are supposed to be different from guys. Different toys, different clothes, different colors, different perceptions, different abilities.
My kid would see other kids with parents who don't feel the need or aren't even concerned about that, and these kids would have had the ballet dance classes. And then my daughter would come for me, and no one wants that. Freakin' dilemma.

If you ask me, most of it comes down to education. The moment you start reading a kiddy book to your children, and you see a stereotypical representation of a boy with blueish shorts, pants and shirt and of a boy with a pinkish/redish dress, even if it's drawn like a minimalistic figure, you start formatting your kids for what is to come. You're telling them what life is supposed to be.

You give them different toys. You let them watch TV propagating the same ideas. You let your boys hang out and think they have to develop a (even if so slightly) macho attitude, even if disguised by chivalry and manners.

Yes bodies, physiologies are different. Which means our minds also probably are. The inner workings of our human forms are different, depending on our genders. But come on, I don't think my freakin' DNA tells me that from 1 to 6 I should be wearing damn blue pants with yellow ducks on them!

Nor does it tell me that men cheat by nature and that women are sluts. It doesn't tell me that Arabs are terrorists, that followers of Christ all have to be dumbstruck by the idea of abstinance, or that the Dalai-Lama or Che Guevara are modern saints.
What makes me think, or believe these things, are fragments of my environment, of my education.

My education doesn't end when I leave the school. That would be too easy. It starts getting fucked-up the moment I can receive sensorial stimuli in the womb til the day Alzheimer would make me senile! It's developed by my parents, my teachers, my classmates, my roommates, people in public transportation systems, reporters, TV guides, tour operators and many others.

I argued this over and over with friends, relatives and strangers. Lots of them often *refuse* to see that they are a product of what they have gone through. A common life of defense, especially for the ones having had rough pasts, is that they had [some particularly extreme kid story] and ended up radically different. Yes, they ended up radically different, but because of millions of tiny factors that influenced them, and decided whether they'd follow their models, or try to break free from them. They're still products of their childhood's martirdom.

But hey, parenting is hard, and there's *no* perfect plan here. And even if you would do it perfectly, for you local environment, you cannot control everything. Send you kid to his first day at school, and keep in mind you're sending him off to an horrible world. A world with good and horrible parents, diseases, flawed politics, and carried-on beliefs that are not being analyzed and revoked by families and friends because they come from a chain of people part of your circles of trust. But guess what: you'd be well advised not to treat information given to you by friends in a different light than if it had been by a complete stranger. Your friend might honestly not know he or she's wrong. Or don't want to admit and prefers to keep bull-shitting his or her idea all the way through (come one, we've all done that, right?!).

The other day on Facebook I saw in a (quite pathetic) thread a comment that made me infuriated: "ideal sizes for girls are 90-60-90" says a "Doctor" on this thread (login and subscription required). And then gives a link to a plastic surgery facility in Lebanon. Fck me! Fuck that! How many insecure girls is he turning in Barbies?!

And I instantly think that guy is a damn motherfcker, another one of these guys abusing girls, selling them dreams. But what the Hell do I know? Maybe he's broke, maybe he's got to do it, maybe he doesn't really believe in what he's selling and saying. Maybe it's just how the game's got to be played where he is, like in Brazil or Floria and California, where if you don't have a perfect body, you're no one. You've got to fit in. To be part of the dream, so don't you dare fuck it up for the others. Be a good soldier and get in rank.

It makes me sick.

It makes me sicker when I hear friends of mine, girls and guys, abiding to this shit. When I see guys who think they've got to be someone to be the tough kid on the block, or the genius, or the hard-core driver, or practice martial arts or work out and go to the beach for the sake of showing off. And when I hear girls tell me we're hypocrites because we want them to be these objectified dolls, but I still see them enjoying their shopping saturdays and putting on their new (more and more poorly designed, but still more and more expensive) clothes, and giggling on the streets when they go out to think they'll have a good time, and that the good time necessarily includes to get drunk and/or high, and most probably laid.

Not that I see any problem with any of the last, I know people who keep off some or even all of them, and some who use them like there's no tomorrow. But not in a way that makes them sheeps or tools, just because they have a personal, genuine interest in these things or the ambiance they generate. Yes they still are products of their environment, but some of them manage to see the difference between their controlled and prefedined acts - shaving and putting on decent clothes for work, to maintain appearances and tust - and the manipulated ones - following this season's shoe trend (and mock it in 2 years), talking the new talk and buying the new car -.

Of course, there's a global trend. People, (real) fashions, languages are dynamic. They evolve, and it's OK. And yes, personal relationship also need to be based on trust, and you'd definitely trust more someone showing off attributes you care for. But who defined these attributes? And why do you have to rush things? If he's got a car, aviator glasses, a stupid emo-haircut that shows sensibility but tight clothes to show that he's a man, does that mean it's enough and safe?

I don't know, sometimes I hate myself for becoming part of this modern world and not trying to stop it. I hate gadgetry surrounding progress, but I do believe in the improvement of the human race's condition through automation and computing. But for crying out loud, stop making classes easier, and add more of them. My school level was already miserable compared to what my *father* had to deal with, and the kids *I* taught right when I got our of school were already happily dealing with reduced programs. What's is gonna be when *my* kids go to school? I don't believe in super strict eduction. I believe in practical, hands-on, constructivists approaches. I believe that curiosity is not something you have when you're born but something you foster when you're an infant and a kid. I can't believe I'm awake when I meet people at friends' parties and clubs who dare to tell me that they don't read, or who just talk about tv-shows and celibrities when I try to ask them about their opinion on the latest headline news.
I can't stand people who think that because the society is rotten, they've got to let it rot more, and be OK with it; though complaining at length and asking for their leaders to change it, when they are the ones who *now* have the power. Political leaders are just representatives, at least in democracies or even in other constitutional regimes. Hell, even Cubans, though controlled, could be in control of their lives. What the fuck is up with that? Why do people tell me that because all politicians are liars, they just don't go to vote? Well go, idiots, go and vote blank, to at least show your dismay. Make up your damn mind, because sometimes you don't have a choice, and you've got to select the best of two evils. And better start acting on it and trying to watch over that new leader of yours to be sure he or she doesn't fuck up, and start planning for the next mandate, so that this time you have a decent choice.

But who am I to judge? I'm just a guy, who accepts that his girlfriend makes a living out of fucking (and being fucked by) other people. Well I don't care, I think marriage is a limitation anyway, it's also a preconceived ideal that forces pressure on people's shoulders, on their self-representation of their reputation, that adds in another layer of rules and boundaries, as if they did not already have enough.

And no I don't agree with this business. So why am I here typing on my computer and not doing anything about it? Some people tell me that I'm a coward and don't do a thing to change it. Maybe I don't change it radically for G., that's true, maybe I'm a fck-up that way. But I know it, and I aim for other other goals. My goal here is to talk, to spread the word (that's at least one liberty I have), and not to follow these ideas of our society, of my fcked-up education, that girls are objects, men are the abusers, and al.
I believe in the projects I see starting online, in sex-workers fighting for their rights, their right to work in safer environments under governments taking their voices into consideration, and ultimately their right to see prostitution or pornography not be just that: an (il)legal bi-polar activity perpetrating social and mental dicatorship. But turning it into a part of a society where sexuality is not frowned upon and only discussed in a low voice, with paraphernalia sold in dark shops in dirty alleys.

There's a lot to learn from our world. Each country often identifies better solutions to its problems in different countries, but fails to find the best out of the cards she has in hands. Then at least pick one that is better, give it a shot, and then improve on it again later. I don't see that many sex maniacs in Germany, though I see soft-porn adds on the street in plain view in city-centers, and on TV at 11. I see lots of rapes and sexual assaults in Australia because of the way youngsters are let to deal with their lives with no control and have no realization of the consequenes, but I don't see so-called sexual "deviances", even though I have pornographic TV-ads at 11PM. I don't think I have a much higher HIV/AIDS rate in Las Vegas, where prostitution is legal. I don't think I see the product of lawful prostitution in Sweden turn the country in some 12th century representation of Hell.
I do sexual abuse in Japan out of the diminishing position of women, and younger generation of men struggling to cope with their status change and wondering what their identity is now that they're being told gender should not matter. I do see desenchanted kids in Canada who know the kamasutra by heart by 14 because they haven't seen on TV that sex is not about either (one or a combination of) fun, pleasure, bonding and emotions, but quite the contrary, that it's supposed to be a social contract and that girls have to take pleasure in pleasing their boyfriends, but nothing else.

I'm done with writing for now. I feel like throwing my laptop through the wall and fcking crying right now.

Our Valentine's Day 2009 (It's the 15th already??)  

Posted by H in ,

The rest of the evening is pretty sweet too, actually.

After lots of crying, a bit of hitting me (go figure... :) ), and the sweetest kisses I had in a long time, we can finally have dinner (I didn't eat since the previous morning! And she's super hungry too. Bring the damn food!), share two decent bottles of wine, even dance a little (doesn't sound like it, but that's a crazy feat for me... the things you do on Valentine's!), and just sit together on a couch holding each other. With the same waitresses stopping by from time to time, knocking on the door this time, to see if "that guy waiting with the roses" finally got lucky, and even one of them telling them she'd wish her guy would do something like that (Thanks, I have to say! And well deserved tips for some really nice waitresses!) and look at us like with puppy-eyes like we're made of sugar.

A few other drinks later, we walk out the door (hanging on to the wall, a little...), and walk a little on street hand-in-hand or holding each other again, with the bouquet of roses.

We finally call a cab on the street, and when I ask if she wants to go home she says she's exhausted, but when I ask if she could hold on for more, she smiles, and I ask the driver to drive to the hotel.

The room service had been kind enough to have candles and wine prepared as I had asked (freaking tip for the bus-boy again), and she just cannot stop smiling (the receptionist grinds a bit too much too, when he hands me over my swipe-card... nevermind:). Though she also reprimends me because I already pulled that one off a long time ago, one of the first times I took her out to dinner on a special occasion, and says it could get old... Right, that didn't look like the smile of someone who's bored!

And from there we have of course a very romantic, loving, sensual, kinky, fiery [adjectives getting stronger here] night. We play with one another for a very long time until she's satisfied, and we enjoy the room's huge bathtub with some more wine, until we get intoxicated again and end up having sex everywhere in the room and balcony and fall asleep when the sun is already shining bright and high in the sky.

All I can say is, these smiles on her face when I she opened the door on me at the club, when she saw the room, and this afternoon when I woke her up and took her home to end up in our apartment's bedroom again, they're just priceless.

Simply priceless.

Here's to you, Saint Valentine. I used you, you made it, but just for this one time!

Our Valentine's Day 2009 (The Real Deal)  

Posted by H in ,

I took a night-bus from our place to the club. It's a pretty hype club on the outter rings of the city. She loves it there. It's like a perfect mix of things she really enjoys herself, and things she likes to have to socialize and party. Music she likes, but also music she likes to goof on. Fancy interior and rooms, shiny happy people, but also some more cosy alcoves for more intimate parties. Good ethnic food, but also the pricey cocktails. This was my Top 1 on my 5-reservations' list, and I kept calling all night long since 7 PM to force them not to give away our table and alcove, certifying them I'd come eventually and pay extra.

When I get there, I am actually surprised that they held my reservation that long, it's now around 1AM. The guy screams at me for a good 5 minutes, that it's Valentine's Day and he cannot have this and that I am crashing his business and bla bla bla. Someone really wants a great tip at the end of the night...

So I wait here in a private alcove and wait for her. I get a message around 2:15PM from a friend, telling me G.'s done with her job and his coming, thinking she'll join them. I ask her to tell her she has to ask for her name, that they booked a private room.

And from 3 to 3:30PM, I stand up like an idiot facing the alcove's door with my flowers. With some waitresses coming in a few times by mistake and having a good laugh at me or giving me a cute smile; which, I assume, means they would probably like the attention. that makes me only even more nervous, I feel like a freakin' teenager again! And then she bursts in, starting to yell something to her ghostly friends to cover the loud music.

And sees me and starts crying, falling into my arms.

Best Valentine's Day memory *ever*, ladies and gentlemen.

The bad thing is, I don't think I can ever top that...

Our Valentine's Day 2009 (The Masterplan)  

Posted by H in ,

Or should I call it what our valentine's minute...
Read and see for yourself :)

As you might have noticed, my previous post was sent at around 10PM on the 14th. The thing is I was away for almost 2 weeks now, but decided to come home just a bit earlier because A) I missed her B) I had already told my bass to kiss my ass, so adding an early departure to the bill could not matter that much C) because I wanted to make it on time and surprise her on Valentine's Day.

Now the weird thing is, for people who know me, I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. I think it's overly stressful, puts to much pressure on everybody, and turns things that should be lovely and simple into traps to generate heat and lightning thunder.

Buuut, I also happen to think that if you're completely overwhelmed by your work all year long, as we are, it's not a bad thing to use some special - even if pre-fabricated - occasions to have some romance in your relationship, and remind each other that you are special to one another. Now OK, I know, you should not reminders to know you are and she is special. Well it's just how it is. Sometimes, you do. And if you cannot tell if at this very moment he or she needs that tiny reminder, then you just better jump on the opportunity just in case.

And I also think that, between Christmas, Easter and Valentine's, though all being from a christian religious origin that I don't give much crap about, I still prefer the one that symblizes true Love with the people you want to live (or share at least that date) with. And don't get me started on Mother's Day and all its friends!

So I was about to jump on a train this morning to head back home, when I received a call from a friend telling me he wanted to go down to the city for the week-end, and could give me a ride. Perfect. Let's have a quick road-trip, I hadn't seen him in a while.

And so we drove off, heading for the city. Tiny problem: we have to speed like crazies to make it on time to be there before midnight, so that I could still surprise G. by having her open the front door on me all suited-up with roses (can you say "cheesy") or at least crawling from exhaustion, throwing at her a flower plucked from the neighbours' pot, and crashing on the bed after one breathless kiss (at the time, that sounded more like it...).

While we were driving, I started to organize the plan. You know, the plan. The. Freaking. Masterplan. The one you cannot miss.

  • Booking 5 differents tables in restaurants and bar-clubs down-town and in the hype suburbs for 2 to X persons,
    so that she can pick the level according to her mood, the time, her friends, and wardrobe -> checked.

  • Calling a (single and not dating) friend to get my dry-cleaning and allow me to change at her place. Oooohh I will have to pay for this and no, I don't mean "paying" in a naughty, and no, G.'s not jealous of her. But I can bet I will have to run errands for her for a month...). Anyway -> checked.

  • Calling the florist to have roses delivered at home at 6PM to still have something in case I'm too late and have her know I think of her, and still believe I won't make it on time -> checked.

  • Calling again the same florist to have other roses delivered to the previous friend for me to pick up when I come home -> checked.

  • Booking a hotel room in a decent hotel with decent room service to do nothing on the 15th, though probably at loss because my guess was she'd prefer us to end the night at home -> still checked.

How does that sound to you? Personally, I was pretty proud of myself. Well, between pride and disgust for falling for all the cutsy usual VD stuff, but I felt like it.

But still, we were running late, My buddy and me, and the freeway was far from being deserted.

From (girl-)friends of G. I knew she had no plans for the night, except maybe drinks with some girls around 1 AM (the typical no-dates-on-VD sad night program), and from another escort, that she - at least apparently - had no professional booking for the night. That last point was my biggest concern: to do all this for nothing (well I thought she would still have appreciated me doing all this, even if it were in vain. that's something, isn't it?), and that she would have to spend that night with yet another guy in quest for that "GirlFriend Experience" on Valentine's Day. After all VD is another pretty good day for sex-workers (or at least with non-married clients).

We made it through the city gates and bridges around 10:40PM, and he dropped me at my friends' place around 11PM. So far, so good. I took a shower because I smelled like a 3-weeks old dead skunk, got changed in a heartbeat (suit, tie in the pocket for the restaurant. She likes me in a tie, but it's hard to tell when she really wants me to wear it and when she just wants to see me with it and then discard it), and grabbed the flowers and a cab.

It's 11:20 when I make it to the corner of the street, and see some light on our floor, and I think I could be overly-melodramatic (well, I thought that was already done anyway...) and wait till 11:55 or something, but decided it's wrong to impose torture (and take a chance). So I get in and wait for the damn elevator to take me up there, slowly.

And then I knock on the door.

And there's nothing.
Except a tiny voice in my head telling me with Rowan Atkinson's voice: "How do you feel now, bunch of idiots?"

I so much had in my mind a picture of her opening the door, either dressed to go out or still drapped in a robe or towel after getting out of the shower, and looking at me surprised, with that smile of hers starting to appear, like when we argue about something and she finally acknowledge's I deserve a win, or when I make up for some mistake and she gives me the cold treatment, but ultimately starts to relax. That moment, the one when she just *starts* smiling, as if thinking "alright, you made it, but just for this one time!"

And here goes nothing. It's 11:30 something, and I'm here dumbstruck. What can I do? I could keep the flowers for tomorrow, I could move the late reservations (probably blacklisted anyway already...), and do it all over tomorrow? What about telling her I'm coming back home tomorrow night?

And what about *calling*, you idiot?

But first, I need to be sure she's not sleeping, so I get in. And I see the flowers I sent earlier this afternoon (good, at least that I didn't fuck up!), standing in a vase, with my card in front of them. And a note next to them saying only this:

"If by any chance you're coming home tonight, I'm sorry but I have a booking.
Thanks for the flowers. They're beautiful.

Love you"

I think the thing that touched me the most out of this is not the fact that she loves me, liked the flowers, or that I feel for her having to do this job on Valentine's Day. It's that she *foresaw* I might be that kind of idiot who would terminate a remote business meeting to surprise her (It also got me thinking that, if I had not done it, the look on her face when she would have come home and found nothing but her note, standing here and completely useless, would have been just as the painful on the reverse scale). That's simply a wonderful feeling. Try it, seriously!

So she's on a job at the moment I'm reading her note. That hurts, it feels like I fucked up, but her note makes me just super-happy.

I decide to call her, thinking I'd get her machine, as I usually do when she's working.

Except she was not working at the moment. Don't worry, it won't end in a fairy-tale. The guy did not cancel or anything, and I won't be able to give her the roses just on the 12th strucl of midnight. I say I call her to wish her an happy Valentine's, and ask what she's up to. Well at first I get a vocal beating for calling that late on Valentine's Day, cold moron that I am (indeed, I called everybody that night, but not her... there was more than a crack in the masterplan after all). And I can sense she's a bit disapppointed. Remember the note. She probably thinks now that I won't be home.

I thought of telling her, because that is just mean to break the hopes she had. After all she hoped I'd be home. But she's going on a job in a few minutes, and what's better: to cheer her up and let her go on a job, which will make her incredibly sad for not being with me and having sex with someone else? Or to just comfort her, let her do her job professionally, and tell her I'll see her soon? I go for the second one, don't you think? Of course I do. (though I can also see coming a mean side-effect, as she would later realize that she *still* was out fucking some else on Valentine's Day when I did everything. Either way, that's bound to happen...).

And I ask when she'll be done, and if she has other plans. And yes she does, she's got a second job with no sex involved until 2AM at a function, and then she was thinking of joining her friends if they're still out. So I wish her good night, tell her I love her, and hang up.

And text all her friends to tell her when she comes out that they still are at one of the clubs where I booked a table. And I realize I have to ask one of them to call her to say the them, just in case she would be too tired and wouldn't bother calling.

It's 00:35 on the 15th when I get out.

The masterplan failed, but I get a second chance. For now.

My Way Home  

Posted by H in

My Way Home

I am currently on my way home, typing this from a friend's car (who knows about both the girlfriend and the blog, don't worry). I've been away a while as I said earlier, and I can't wait to come home and take G. in my arms. This is a silly post, but I just cannot help it.

I read the other day Thursay's Child's story of her first kiss with her partner, and I just thought of it again and now it makes me miss dearly my own signficant other.

Now drive faster, driver!

(especially because today's the 14th, until midnight, and I have to be on time...)

Her Silent, Inner Sea of Tears  

Posted by H in

Some escorts have no problem going about their sex-work. They enjoy it plainly. Some have favourite activities and clients. Other just hate it with a passion, but are in it for the money or any other reason good enough to have them endure it.

As I said in earlier posts, G. happens to like her job, from time to time. Mostly on a social level. She likes the attention, is scared to death of aging, likes to be in the spotlight, with people crawling at her feet. She likes the momey, the drugs, the swingers' parties. But she doesn't like to be objectified by clients, by agencies who make her feel like shit because she didn't change her haircut in 2 months or hasn't bought a new super-expensive skimpy outfit in 2 weeks. She doesn't want that. She wants the fun, and wants and deserves to be seen as just a girl providing sexual services, but no illusion of glamour. That, she only wants in parties.

She does enjoy the sex with some clients. These exceptions are mostly her regulars, because she's more relaxed with them, and because they became regulars for that reason: she can have a good time with them. She is quite addicted to sex, and that part of the job is not that bad for her. She won't necessarily enjoy every session, but it takes her sexual tension down, and she likes it just for that. It's a good enough reason.

But emotionally she struggles when she's dating someone. It was a nightmare in the past for her apparently, and it broke her almost completely when she was dating me. She was actually really relieved I found out. Scared shitless that it would mean the end of our new-born relationship back then, because she didn't want that to happen, but incredibly relieved that the secret was gone. And even more that I didn't make a scene and could accept it just as it is, without imposing changes, or at least no radical ones (leaving in the middle of our *planned* activities is now out of the question :)). She has less problems with it now, though it still eats her inside a little, as I can see.

But when she has no attraction whatsoever for the client, no built-up sexual tension, she has a hard-time acting on the job. She'll say herself that in such cases she would probably more often that not provide a mediocre service, just because she can't be bothered, and that way the client won't show up again. Lots of escorts would say this is a very bad way of dealing with it. She didn't use to be like that. She used to be able to shut of completely, and let things happen, pretend, and scream. Not being really in the moment, but acting on it on instinct. Following an habit she developed. But now, she's actually back to the way she was when she first started: she's hating it guts. And when she's in bed with clients, and she can't get her mind around making it enjoyable for herself, she'd just like to plunge her nails in their skin, scream, and cry. That's how she describes it: she's dead and screaming in her head through the session.

This is pretty horrible for various reasons. First, not that many clients like "a dead fish", as they poetically describe the attitude of escorts who just lie on the bed and do nothing, just waiting for them to get it over with. And that could have a bad impact on her virtual reputation. But she's not that gone, not that bummed. Otherwise that would be a complete nightmare. But it's frightening to think that being in a relationship made her lost grip of what made her strong enough to do this fully, and without caring. I feel like I broke something, and no matter how touching it is for me to think about it, considering it means I matter to her, it's creepy to think that now I make her job even more awful to deal with than usual. That I turned a part of the she-wolf into the normal princess she used to be.

And when she comes home at night, exhausted, I feel like I can see and hear these tears and screams, and that she just silently ploys under them, and sacrifices even more than what she used to. She actually sacrifices now, whereas before it was part of her atmosphere, of her life and lifestyle, of her.

I feel not only responsible for not taking her out of this, but also for changing her in ways that affect her, and without knowing if this a more of a positive or a negative outcome.

My Week Away  

Posted by H in

I happen to have been away from home for a little more than a week, and am coming back today. Though G. and I sometimes barely see each other over a 24hours clock race, we rarely are apart in a geographical way. I am always slightly more stressed when she out of reach and when I know I am even more powerless than I usually am. Not that she really needs me anyway, in a practical way, but she often needs me for emotional support.

This is the thing I might like the most about our relationship. I still feel like I'm G.'s boyfriend, best friend and confident at the same time, and this just is a greate, pure feeling. Sometimes I am these 3 personalities at once, and sometimes it's like I'm taking turns in a single body. She would just come home completely worn and drained out and would rely on me to be just one of the second or the third kind.

But when I'm away, she's got neither of these three, or at least that I know of. Sure, she's got some friends. Some are far away from here, some are a few blocks or stations, or phone relays away. But rare are the friends she can talk to about this side of her real-life. Most of the "normal" friends simply don't know about it. And most of the ones in the know either see it as something overly "cool" - so that she doesn't want to talk to them about it (which probably is a wise and safe decision) - or are grossed out by the idea and prefer not to hear any of it - even when she would need it.

When I'm away I have to play the answering machine's game. I have to provide moral and emotional support in advance or with a delay, but almost always on her answering machine, because getting a hold of her is just too difficult. When I'm at home, it's pretty much the same, plus a few moments of shared intimacy, week-ends of shared community, and a few notes left on the kitchen-counter or the bed's pillow to serve as loyal proxies.

What if she's the next one getting raped? What if she's suddenly feeling lost?

Your Revenge (2)  

Posted by H in , ,

I already shared in the previous post's comments the reply I sent him, and his answer. But here's to elaborate a little...

Y's reaction is understandable, as I said before, because he obviously got hurt pretty badly by the outing of his significant other. He was apparently humiliated because of what she did, and because of the impact on his personal life. And we all know we make radical decisions when we're angry or hurt.

Yet I cannot help but to disagree with his reaction, both on a personal and on a social level. First of all, it seems obvious to me that his girlfriend was hurt in the process too, and possibly more than him. If they were a couple for such a long time, she obviously had feelings for him and felt incomfortable at times for hiding the truth from him. Also, the outing has a stronger and direct impact on her personal life than the indirect one it probably had on Y (this is of course only speculation. For all I know, Y could have been runner up for some big position somewhere, thus getting hurt really bad in the process). And even though Y tells me she did it for the money because she liked this lifestyle and enjoyed it and lied to him, I still always fall back to this same pattern, this same, powerful and irresistible addictions, and I think she's more to pity than Y. But again, this is mostly speculation, maybe she was an horrible monster, and she used him. Some are of this kind, unfortunately, and I wouldn't be as dumb as to blindly defend all escorts on earh for being saints in devil's diguise.

But I think letting some time go, keeping things as quiet as possible, possibly breaking up and then helping her might in the long run have more impact than the vigilante's approach.

I do not believe one bit in the effect of this kind of assaults on prostitution networks. They mostly bring shame to the girls with no real damage being done to the networks and to the social roots of the prostitution business. Of course, you'd tell me that in time of war, killing the soldier on the other side of te front-line won't ideologically change a thing to the moral grounds of the war, but that if you manage to have the enemy run out of troops, you'll eventually conquer. And be a mass-murderer, whether you did it for a "right" reason or not. Trying to take down prostitution networks, whether they are the ones based on sex-slave trafficking or more polished higher-level escorting agencies, by arresting all the girls and boys out there won't change much to the situation.

There a social stigmas to address first. There's first of all a gender inequality we have to fix, which is the root of all evil here. But can it even be addressed? After all, men and women are utterly different, though both humans. They have different chemical reactions and different hormones ruling their bodies, different chemical markers, different physiologies. And... that's pretty much it. I believe everything else is just the pure fruit on education and social contexts. So longing for complete equity might be wishful thinking, but a social common denominator doesn't seem that impossible to me. Yes there are difficult issues to address, for instance in the professional level (pregnancy and maternity leaves always come to mind). But overall, I think the current status of prostitution (and the one it had for centuries, for that matter), comes down to the vision we have of women. Not that women don't have a similar vision of men. But they don't have the social leverage to impose it, so they're the one struggling under the hammer.

Of course fixing gender equality mentalities won't be done in a snap of fingers. There are strongholds that need to be attacked first. For starters, the judicial system, which sometimes gives precedence to women (think divorces and shared custody cases), but mostly gives precedence to men (think everything else: male prostitutes, pimps and male customers all have less issues than their female counterparts). If we could only fix one thing, that would be the one to start with. Because then, if we cannot rule out prostitution (and should that even be done? Couldn't prostitution be performed on legally and morally, gender-agnostic grounds?), at least we could start controlling it, fixing it from the inside, rather than by firing at the dummies on the outside, while the patriarches and matriarches get away with a slap on the wrist. Improve legal and social cover for sex-workers. De-criminalize prostitution, make it a legal institution, with its laws and regulations, protecting the workers, the employers, and the customers.

The swedish approach is interesting too: you decriminalize the prostitution providing services, while you still penalize the ones acting on it, buying it. It seems sort of illogical at first, but somehow better than a complete dumb blockade. Providers are (mostly) doing this job out of necessity. Whether it's legal or not won't change a thing. Don't come telling me customers buy the services out of "necessity"! Or maybe if we would stop all prostitution networks overnight, we would see a giant spike in stress-rates of the (generally male) population, but maybe there's something else at the system a fault for this. Maybe we're just too much a bunch of tight-asses to accept that this stress is here and we have to deal with it, and that it comes from our social boundaries, our etiquettes and law-less regulations. Following this approach, you prevent people from buying it, making them realize that the ultimate source of this depravation (geez, it could sound like I'm turning right-wing / republican... sorry about that), it's above all them, who generate it.

Y's approach also strucks me on a personal chord, as he seeks revenge in strangers' despair. He helps to take down girls who he never knew beforehand, after having fucked them, and apparently taking pleasure in their demise. And that's just wrong. There's a reason why we have judges, advocates and jurys. It's because the victim cannot be a reliable, impartial judge. A victim is blinded by anger, by pain, by sorrow. That's why modern (well, not that modern, but whatever, you get the idea) judicial systems aim at providing courts with the decisional power, and to force the mass of the people to have faith in their judgment for the community. Here, Y was a collateral victim, and then becomes a judge, with his full power.

You could also criticize the way there arrests are made: by ways of prostitution themselves. That's just completely unethical, if you ask me. Kantian philosophers would prefer to take their eyes out than to see this. Utilitarians can smirk in the background, thinking it pays in the long run, though as discussed above, I don't think it will. This is just a complete mess, the destruction of another handful of lives, for no real achievement, and with the perverse effect of reinforcing some people ideas that they've been unfairly hurt and deserve revenge over a general evil, which they embody in anyone parttaking to a similar activity, though without direct connivence.

It is. just. wrong.

Now it seems Y is more or less at peace now, because of this. Or is it because of the years that have passed? And what piece did it bring to him to know that he was engaging in sexual relationships with girls who were possibly also dating other men. That he became part of the machinery, in a perversely double-axed way? Did it satisfy him to mock these girls and make them infuriate by diminishing them, their services, their lives, and their lives to be? Apparently it did. And if you ask me, *that* is where society fails. In educating masses to accept pitfalls, and not act on them by seeking revenge, without fighting evil with another evil; in teaching masses not to take personal pleasure out of pain, to erase its own scars; in preventing masses from becoming its own dismise, its own cancer.

Some will say that's overly harsh. It sure is. I consider prostitution as part of this global "cancer". But it's there anyway, and there are *reasons* for it, *issues* that need to be addressed, quests that need to be fought.

I'm a conscience objector when it comes to these things. I just can't see how a wrong thing done for the right reason can be anything else than just wrong. Yes I also sometimes abide with utilitarian approaches, and think of a greater picture, but I can't accept to let anyone down, especially if it doesn't really save anyone on the way.

Still, I'd like to thank Y for contacting me and sharing this with us, as I definitely is an interesting topic and dead-on when it comes to the matter of relationships with sex-workers, and how it affects one's ego. I would really be curious to read other testimonies from other sources, and encourage everybody to come forward with their stories. But also, I encourage you to let your ego at the door and meditate on what really hurt you, if you were hurt at all, because I think humiliation is more a stigma imposed by your peers because of their narrow-mindedness than an absolute rule. And in that case, humiliation is not justified, and you should seek other peers, with decent moral values.

Your Revenge  

Posted by H in

I didn't know if that post was better suited for a "you" or a "them"... It changes from the former to the latter on the way...

When I was looking for people's testimonies and asking them to share with me their own experiences, I did not really expect the kind of contribution I just received. A reader (let's call him Y) just stumbled upon my weblog and decided to share with me his own experience. As it happens, Y was also involved with an escort.

The first big difference between Y and me is that, though we both didn't know about our respective girlfriends' activities at the beginning, we discovered it in very different lights. For me, as previously explained here, I discovered the truth by myself, and pushed her to come forward and be honest with me. For Y, it all happened in a harshed manner. His girlfriend, with whom he had been for already a quite time, got busted by the police as part of a prostitution network dismantlement. I am sure all the escorts reading this blog can imagine what it must have been like for her. The problem is, Y got humiliated too, and very badly. So much that is reaction was quite the opposite of mine, and that instead of supporting his girlfriend, he apparently caught her off, and dedicated significant effort and time to convey his vendetta and get his name cleared while having other escorts "pay" for what had happened to him.

You'll find below the e-mail he sent me, with some modifications to obfuscate Y's identity. Feel free to share what you think of his reaction. I think it's understandable, though it's one I would condemn. I'd publish my own comments later, which I already shared with him.

In 19XX, when I was X years old, I had the most humiliating and embarrassing experience of my life. I had a [younger] girlfriend, who I had been with for almost X years. She was arrested in an escort prostitution sting. I was publicly embarrassed, humiliated and devastated. I survived because of the support of my friends. My buddies convinced their girlfriends/wives and other females to shun her for what she did to me. I wanted to do something to get back at her but never had the opportunity.

[years] later, I read where the police used a confidential informant in an escort prostitution bust. [an acquaintance of mine] was [...] in the State Police (the state will remain nameless). He knew about what happened to me with my ex-girlfriend/whore. I asked him about it and he told the State Police uses confidential informants to break up prostitution rings. I asked him if I could do this for the police and he was willing to consider me if the time came.

When I was X [years old], my friend asked me I was still interested and, of course, I said yes. I was looking forward to this day as a chance to get even with these escorts/whores for my embarrassment. He worked out of a city, which too will remain nameless, about X miles from where I lived. I met with him and other officers to discuss this and set up their plans.

They had about X high-end escorts who were flaunting what they were doing and the police wanted to bring them down and make examples of them. These X whores would only accept clients that were referred to them by each other or other select few escorts they trusted that were looking to break into the bigger money of high end escorts.

The police had been tipped off about one of these want-to-be high end escorts that did not show discretion when she had been drinking in some of the “power bars”. Upon investigation, they realized that the high-end escorts/whores used her as a source to confirm the viability and safety of potential clients. The police set a trap and she walked right into it. She got charged with felony prostitution because the set-up location was strategically placed within a half a mile of school. When busted, they offered her the chance to be an informant and they would drop the all the charges. She agreed.

When I met with the police, they gave me a cover story where [traveling business man cover story]. This job would not give me the time to find a girlfriend and I was using escorts for my sexual needs. They used the same apartment and furnished it with high priced clothes, furniture and other objects and the apartment was wired for sound. The police wanted not just to charge the whores with prostitution but also tax evasion. The plan was to get the confidence of these whores and get them to admit critical information. The plan was to get them secure with me and after fucking them (with a condom), get them to open up. The two questions they wanted answered were how long they have been escorts and how frequently do they do prostitute themselves.

The initial sessions with each of them would no questions, just establish a rapport with them. I would contact the whore and she would want a reference. I would give the name of the previously arrested whore and she would call her confirming that I was legitimate and not an undercover cop. The whore would arrive and I would escort her into the bedroom. I would have an envelope on the bed with $XXXX and the word "donation" on the outside of the envelope. She would take the envelope into the bath room and come out naked and over the course of 3 hours, we would fuck (but to the whore I would say "make love"). I would tell her she was the best I ever had, tell her how lonely I was in town, she was gorgeous, etc... On the second session, I would ask her tame questions like what restaurants she went to, what she liked to do in town, what are the best things to do on the weekends, etc... She would usually start answering those questions on the second or third sessions I had with them. Once she did that, I would have follow-up sessions were I would ask other innocent questions and then ask "how long have you been escort". On the next session, it would be similar and then I would ask her "how many times a week to you do this?" After that, I was to ask embarrassing questions like do one do bachelor parties, "have you had sex with under-aged boys", etc...

Over a [...] period, I would come to town a couple of times a week and fuck the whores. During that time, I had about 25 whoring sessions. This was the best sex I ever had. Every time I fucked them, all I could think about was "you are going to be arrested on felonies".

After they got all the information from the X whores, I was asked to be part of the arrests. I was given a police uniform and a badge. My job was to taunt and belittle them so they would get angry. People who get arrested and are angry run their mouth. When I showed up for their arrests, these whores got very angry at me, like they had been betrayed by a lover. I would tell them they were a lousy fuck and I was the one that informed them they were being arrested on felony charges. During their questioning, my job was to laugh at some of their answers and comments. Over a course of a weekend, all [...] were arrested.

Eventually, I had to testify in front of a grand jury and at their trial. All X were convicted of numerous felony prostitution charges and tax evasion. They were sentenced to X to X years in prison.

I got my revenge!


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My Girlfriend is an Escort

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