It is only a job….

Escorting can often be nothing more than a job

Sex in general and working in the sex industry in particular always had some level of stigma attached to them in a society where religion still has some power and some influence.

Excepting ancient times, where ‘sacred prostitution’, practiced in temples and ‘houses of heaven’ was not just tolerated but also encouraged and respected, sex in general and working in the sex industry in particular, has always had some level of stigma attached to it, in any society where religion still had some power or some influence.

And now, right, I have had enough! Can people understand I am not doing anything wrong! Consensual acts between two people should not be so frowned upon by society, even if they involve cash.

Escorting is just a job for me. Perhaps not the easiest and most relaxing job in the world, but you know what, it is probably the best job I have ever had. And I know what I am talking about, I had a lot of various jobs in my life.

I like doing things the way I want. I like being my own boss. I like to decline any task / service / person that makes me uncomfortable. In this context, working in the sex industry as an independent is the perfect job for me.

My only regret is that I didn’t discover this job sooner, when I first came to Ireland. I lost so many years doing jobs I didn’t like, never feeling fulfilled and accomplished despite my hard work. So yes, if I got to re-live my life, I would start escorting much earlier then I did.

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.