Paying For It

I got an email today from a guy who saw my dancing video. He said he'd like to spend time with me, get to know me. I responded, informing him that I am an escort, and that he could check out my site and make an appointment. Aside from stating that he expected a different response, he also said "I would never pay someone to be with me". And this got me thinking. Why not? And why the implication that paying for sex/companionship/affection/fantasies is somehow shameful, or for desperate people? It also got me thinking about paying "for it", and under which circumstances I may or may not do that.

Before, and even after, I became an escort, I had a gazillion preconceived notions about the people who "pay for it", the clients. I remember so clearly, meeting my second client ever (well, second client as a real, dedicated pro. Ask me about my Lankan days sometime). There Brown Eyes stood, in the exact outfit he'd described in his email, looking crazy gorgeous and friendly. He looked at me, and he looked as though he was expecting me but, no way that's him... he was so beautiful... he couldn't possibly be waiting for me? To pay? ME?. I quickly assumed he was a cop, and I'm pretty sure I asked him if he was. He was not. At the time I remember flashing back to an episode of The Wire, where McNulty (certainly nothing to sniff at) is sent to bust a brothel, because Sydnor (equally nothing to sniff at) "...doesn't look like he has to pay for it". But what does someone who pays for sex/companionship/affection/fantasies look like? Who do you assume them to be?

That was the best money I ever spent
The man who uttered these words to me, immediately after some amazingly hot sex, is one of the most physically attractive men I've ever met. Not my usual "type". He's quite buff (an obvious polarity next to my ample frame, though I do work out daily) and seems aloof and shy. I picture him in a VIP booth, with other magazine-quality men, surrounded by eager magazine-quality women. By most standards, he's one of the "beautiful people". He's single. Sexy. Hot. Confident. Yet he pays for sex? He pays for sex with a fat girl? What the fucking fuck, Isaac Newton?

Hun, I don't have to pay for it
Realistically, almost no one has to pay for it. If you look hard and long enough, you can likely find someone who will give you what you want/need. Most of my clients don't "have" to pay for it. Most of them, if they were single, and we met under different circumstances, wouldn't have to pay me either. The overwhelming majority of my clients are attractive, under 30, and are really excellent lovers. However, there are some clients who feel that paying for it is prudent and/or practical. These include:

1. Married/Attached folks who don't want to be found out, and find affairs too complicated/painful.
2. People with specific fantasies and fetishes who don't feel comfortable or safe venturing out into the BDSM/kink (amongst others) scenes.
3. LGBTQP folks who want/need their privacy maintained.
4. People who are too busy to hook-up/date/maintain relationships
5. People who really just want sex. Right now.


You must meet a lot of creeps
While I'm on the subject of stereotyping clients, this sort of statement/question comes up often. The answer is no, I don't meet a lot of creeps. I meet a lot of nice, handsome, funny, shy, awkward, honest, horny people. I hate when people judge my clients just because they pay for my time. Just because they pay for pleasure? I especially hate when clients do it, because there are people out there doing the same thing to them! Because really, what do you know about my clients? Does the act of paying for sex make someone icky? Creepy? Pervy? And what does that make me? Ask the men you know. I bet you 7 out of 10, if they're being honest, will have paid for sex at one point. 8 out of 10 if they're being really honest. This is purely anecdotal, but of ALL the (hetero) men in my life, and of all the men that I've ever asked, I can think of only two who've never admittedly "paid for it": Pho ho and my dad (and I'm pretty sure my dad lied when he offered that information). SO chances are those creeps I'm meeting are your husbands, brothers, uncles, dads, teachers, doctors, lawyers, boyfriends, bff's, bankers and personal trainers. Many of them are legally bound to a woman, or a man, maybe you?

Would I? Ever?
I think one day I will hire an escort, just to experience the process. Seems to me that people need a fair amount of confidence and trust to pick up a phone, or go for a ride, make an appointment or deal, and then hand over a wad of cash. I'd be wondering "is this person really into me?" and if they seemed like they genuinely were into me, I would wonder if they were faking it. Many clients doubt the compliments I give them, which leads me to believe that at least some of them ask that question as well. There was one point, years ago, when I wasn't getting any head. It was like there was something wrong with me. I considered hiring someone, having exhausted what seemed like all of my options at the time. If I hadn't met my ex around then, I may have *GASP* paid for it!

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with paying for it, or getting paid for it. Some of my best relationships are with my clients. Pure, simple and refreshingly honest. I provide a fun, accessible service. I leave them happier and less tense. What's shameful or wrong about that?

Fantasies: ALL business

I've noticed a trend recently. When I fantasize, i.e. when I am getting off (or trying to), it's almost always clients who feature most prominently. I guess that more than a year into escorting I am still shocked that 99% of my sessions are fun, satisfying, and with people I am really attracted to. When I began, I had SO MANY misconceptions about sex work. I just thought that those things didn't apply to me. When I began, I still thought that many hookers, strippers, porn stars, etc. were likely just cokeheads with hot bodies who probably didn't enjoy what they were doing. I'm not sure why I thought I was the exception. Meeting other like-minded sex workers completely opened my eyes. But then, my eyes have opened to many of the biases and judgments I carry around over the past year. I thought only people who HAD to pay for sex (whatever that means) paid for sex. But no. I remember seeing Brown Eyes, my second or third client, ever, and thinking "holy crap! he must be a cop!" WHY would such a GORGEOUS man be paying for sex? Especially sex with someone like me (me being much less confident at the time), i.e. someone many men wouldn't even admit to being attracted to?

It still baffles me at times. I think much of it is the anonymity. Maybe a lot of my clients wouldn't want to date or otherwise spend time with me, so they feel they should compensate me. Many are married or attached. Some just have a specific fantasy. I'm sure a huge chunk of them fear rejection. But this is not what this post is about.

Fantasies. Lately they involved the following: twitchy dicks, poking, warming and tickling my thighs and ass. Female nipples and clits, being licked and sucked, by me, to perfect orgasms, no reciprocation required. Two of my favorite clients ever, the new one from last night, let's call him Crème Brulée, and Nate, the golden shower enthusiast. I picture Nate under me, licking me, drinking my piss, and Crème Brulée, sitting on his chest, kissing my lips and nipples, and maybe even playing with Nate's equally formidable cock. I think those two together might literally be too much for me to handle, and don't think either of them is bi. Pity. Would I have a heart attack in the face of so much sexiness? Other fantasies involve the Unicorn, Dinar, and a young man I will call Pompadour who came by a few weeks ago to service me. Even after he came, he stuck around to make me come. Rare in guys who aren't paying.

I dunno. For all of my open-mindedness it still seems weird to me that the sex I get paid for is almost always better than the sex I end up having for free. I'd argue that I get off on the anonymity, but the longer I see clients, the hotter our connections seem to become.

So yeah. If you rocked my world, chances are you get me off even when you're not around. I still can not believe the boy from last night. Un-fucking-believable.