But what do you actually…do?

Hmmmmmm, interesting stories from my time as an escort…
Well I’ve got lots of those! Some good, some heartwarming –reaffirming your faith in humanity! – some horror stories, some funny, some downright odd I suppose.
But I think I’ll stick with the ones that bring a smile to my face, the ones I don’t really understand but who am I to judge what works for others?
These are the fetishists. Not the run of the mill dom/sub ones – they’re a pound a penny! Or the watersports/hardsports guys. Or even the bin men… Shudder!
I’m talking about the guys who have a very specific fetish, like the foot fetishists. I get a lot of those, I have small feet which they love. I always keep my toenails polished and my feet nice and soft. So they like me! Some of them simply want to caress and kiss my feet, maybe suck my toes a little. Some like to paint my toe nails for me. Others want to see in a selection of shoes and boots – open toed, high heels, platforms, strappy. Some like me to wank them with my feet – harder than it sounds, it uses muscles that don’t usually get that kind of a repetitive workout!
Then there was Mr Shoe.  He would turn up carrying a huge stack of pristine designer shoe boxes. All in my size… Heaven for most women! Not so. He has strict rules about what I wore, on my legs that is – I could have worn a flour sack as long as I had the right stockings on! And we couldn’t meet anywhere  with wooden or laminate floors, it had to be carpeted. Then he would begin to open the boxes, and ooooohhhhh he had good taste! Which just made it harder.
All  I had to do was wear them and pose and walk to his instruction. I honestly can’t remember ever touching him, not even a peck on the cheek. So what’s the hard part you ask? I wasn’t allowed to keep any! He had a huge range of shoes, all in my size, different ones each time, but only ever to be worn on carpet and never mine to keep! Agony for a girl like me. I love shoes.

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When an escort is exposed, is it just the escort who suffers?

No, her entire family suffers. Her friends whisper behind her back and cut her out of their lives, the neighbours laugh at her and abuse her in the street and she becomes a target for every low life criminal around her- because she must be rich right?

Nearly 2 years ago, while on a short tour to Scotland my 18-year-old daughter received a letter through the post. My daughter thought as did my family that I was away on a business trip as I had a professional day job and could cover my short tours with the lie that it’s just another conference or meeting. My daughter phoned me at 9.25am on a Tuesday morning crying that I had to come home urgently. I was terrified that my Father who has bowl cancer was dying or dead. I asked her to tell me straight away what was wrong she couldn’t speak through the sobs and hung up. I phoned my Mother straight away asking was it Dad, but it wasnt my Dad it was ME.

Mum very angrily told me that the letter which was addressed to my daughter by name had inside several escort profiles, reviews, pictures and a covering letter. The letter explained to my daughter how I was working as a prostitute and had been for the last year and how good I must be in bed as I had all these reviews from men who had slept with me and how rich I must be because the profiles included prices. The pictures had been unblurred so my full face was there for her to see, there was no denying that it was me in the pictures. The letter also stated that if my daughter looked on ***** ****** right now, she would see me and if she didn’t believe it was me she should ring the telephone number on my profile. Continue reading

Celestial Interventions

The good, the bad and the god damn cheesy cocks

I am an escort!

I know, quick, pelt me  with stones old testament style for my harlot ways. Isn’t it funny – Jesus’ ‘’lady friend’’ Mary Maggie was herself a retired lady of the night, and she got to wash the feet of  Jesus! Think about that! He without sin as they say!It’s funny the bible basher bigots seem to be ones throwing the most stones and I doubt they have all been good boys and girls. Infact, I know they haven’t.

The good:  I choose to be an escort, how I became one – a simple matter of falling into it. Falling I said, not being pushed.

I met a guy on a dating site who then he told me he was married. Obviously I told him that I didn’t want to meet him so he offered me 300e for one hour of my time.  Initially I was the like “The nerve!”. Then I looked at my bank balance, realised pay day was a week away  and my thinking swayed slightly. I mean- I was a girl who had a lot of sex. In fact I adore the act of sex, the leave your emotions at the door kinda sex, the lets have some fun kinda sex.

You could say I was an open minded type of gal, or for want of a cliche I was a nympho. Continue reading

Outsider looking in….

I am not an escort, but have a pretty good insight into the sex industry

I witness positive and negative aspects in the escorting world every day. I have to admit that this insight has made me different person than I use to be. A person more understanding, caring and patient.

Made me realise how much more support WE need , and by WE I mean women. Sex workers, mothers, sisters ,girlfriends, business women and much more to name. My every day insight is full of escort stories, opinion exchanges, escort reviews, bad and good clients, bad or good incidents, happiness and sadness.I will be always grateful for the experience I have had within the sex industry and the girls I talk to every day. I would like to start my story from the beginning when I was on the “other side”.  By “other side” I mean other way of thinking that I have now. Thinking that escorts work only on the street corners, wearing sleazy clothes and trying to attract lost guys with provocative behaviour. Sure, this picture is part of a stigma attached to the sex industry and to sex workers.  I am guilty of thinking that way also in the past.

I remember, I would never give much thought for the ex industry or women working in it. I would follow general opinion, how bad and rotten this environment is. I would hear stories how Escorts have drink and drug problems and how miserable their life is. When you think about it a little, then you may feel that it is probably easier to think this way because you do not have any insight or dealings with the sex industry.

Since you are not involved in it why should you think any other way? You may also ask yourself what difference it would make if you think the opposite way? Continue reading

The questions they ask…and what we would like to say

Are you open?  I am not the Spar sir.

Do you do watersports? Well no, but I go to the gym alot

Do you offer owo? No, not really. But I’m going to say yes because I want the cash. When you arrive- I develop amnesia

Are you really 21? Of course not. Im 31, but I have candles and a fine optimism

Is the price open to negotiation? Yes, you negotiate and I laugh at you

What do you really like? Money. If I could get away with asking you to post it through the letterbox I would

Can I book to see you next week? Do you really think I know what I am doing next week?

How many clients do you see? As many as I can. Usually thrush or rheumatism kicks in.

Why don’t you post on message boards? Too many creeps in one place also give me thrush

Do you enjoy reverse oral? That depends if you dribble, bite, or are generally untrained

Will you join me in the shower? Sigh. Yes. If only to ensure you don’t dodge the soap

Can I see you early? Say, 8am?  Have you gone entirely mad?  Whoever said sex in the morning is sexy hasn’t seen me without coffee and makeup. Plus decompression time.

Have you got a strap on? Yes, but the strap is broken. So now its a dildo, with hand strap. I’m creative.

Why do you do this? Im a masochist with aspirations.




I was brought up never to lie. I was always to be honest, tell the truth, shame the Devil! Problem is, when you have as many secret lives as I do you sometimes have to. That’s the sacrifice, you see. I don’t lie for me, I lie so that people don’t have to worry about me. I lie to my Mother so she doesn’t think she has failed me. I lie to my Father so he doesnt have to feel he should save me. I lie to my friends because I don’t want them to pity me.  I lie to people like you, because if I didn’t- you would usually try and shame me. Casual questions? Small talk? Not for me i’m afraid. My back story has a back story.

Problem is, sometimes lies sneak up and catch you, when you least expect it. When I met my boyfriend I fell head over heels in love. Heart palpitations, butterflies, tongue tied- the real deal. Long conversations where you cant go to sleep because missing a moment together hurts too much.  Every moment of every day was a wasted moment, unless it was with him. I had never felt like that before. Funny thing was, so did he. Perfect, right? Except I never really found the right time to tell him that the translation job actually involved more negotitation and nakedness than he might have thought, and I just couldn’t, wouldn’t risk watching that light in his eyes that was only for me die. Continue reading