Tuesday, February 12, 2008

How this all works

So you want to book a date with me? How does it work, and more importantly, what will it cost? It all starts with an e-mail. Usually a woman get my address from a friend, or she approaches a female sex worker, who then refers her
to me.

Some emails are bold. "Where, when, and how much will it cost to do X?" Others are more shy and tentative. Unsure of just how this all works, and not sure what they want, save that they want something more than what they are getting. These are my favorite.

We will exchange a few emails to discuss the basics, and then make a date to meet over coffee.I meet all my clients like this first. I find that this helps ease their fears that I’m not some ax-wielding crazy guy, as well as showing them that I look as good in person as the photos, and that the chemistry we've created via email is not just wishful thinking. The less of the unknown to stress over, the better.

I normally book my time in 2 hour blocks, $200 per block. What happens in that time is up to the client, you are paying for my time, and undivided attention and my wicked imagination. Larger blocks of time are negotiated in advance, and usually only after I’ve seen someone a few times and gotten to know them a better.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Julia

The subject line of the email was “time for a tune-up”.

At 25, Julia is one of my younger clients, and on the surface not someone you’d ever think would hire a gigolo. She’s working on her PhD in physics, of all things, and is by far smarter than almost anyone else I know. I don’t see her very often – she has to save her pennies to come see me – but I always look forward to her call.

She views her time with me as a treat, a reward to herself for the hard work and long hours she puts into her academic career. Some women would spend those pennies on a day at the spa, or a new outfit, perhaps a fancy dinner out. She’s always so focused on the abilities of her mind that she sometimes forgets the needs of her body, so during the few hours we spend together I do my best to remind her that along with that incredible mind, there’s also an incredible body that deserves its fair share of attention.

She had a study group until 7:00, so I agreed to come to her apartment at 7:30. When I arrived she was still tidying up the debris left by half a dozen starving college students. She refused my offer to help with the cleanup, waving me to the couch in the living room, and joined me a few minutes later with two glasses of wine.

“I forgot to ask on the phone,” she said as she handed me a glass. “Can you stay for two hours tonight?”

“Two?” My eyebrow went up, surprise evident in my voice. Two hours was generally out of her comfort zone, financially.

She grinned as she sipped her wine, pixie like with her cap of midnight hair and fine, delicate features. “Two,” she confirmed, and handed me an envelope. “I got some birthday cash from my Grandma Catherine last week.”

“Well, that’s a nice surprise,” I said, but I was frowning. Perhaps I was shooting myself in the foot here, but I liked Julia a lot, and couldn’t help but feel a little protective of her. I didn’t want her to regret splurging her unexpected windfall with me. “Are you sure you don’t want to save some of that for other things? I know you said you needed a new television.”

She waved my concerns away. “My folks are upgrading their TV to a flat panel, so they’re going to give me their old one soon. And besides, Gran told me to spend the money on something I really wanted but couldn’t normally afford.” She smiled. “I want you to be my birthday present.”

Touched and a little humbled, I reached out and slipped the wine glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. “Then happy birthday,” I whispered, and framing her face in my hands, kissed her.

She leaned into me, her lips parting on a sigh, though I could still feel the tension in her slight frame. Julia spends so much time in academic pursuits that it sometimes takes a while for her to turn off her mind and tune into her body, so I took my time. Seducing her mouth with nibbling little kisses and flicks of my tongue, and stroking my hands lightly over her clothed body until she was pliant and soft against me. Only then did I move to divest her of the bulky wool sweater that was standard apparel for Seattle in winter. It slipped easily over her head to reveal the delicate lace bra cupping surprisingly lush breasts for a woman with a such a delicate frame.

Her eyes were unfocused, blurry now with passion as she reached for me before the sweater hit the floor. Her tiny hands fluttered around my face before dancing over my shoulders and sliding down my chest, and she sighed my name.

I slid my arms around her as I stood, lifting her easily. Carrying Julia always made me feel powerful, commanding. She’s so small, so slight compared to me, I might as well be carrying a sack of feathers, though no sack of feathers could ever feel this good in my arms.

I carried her to the bed she’d brought from her childhood bedroom and laid her on the quilt that ironically, had also been a gift from her grandmother. She sighed again as I came down on top of her, carefully pressing her into the mattress, and set about making good use of the two hours that felt like as much a gift to me as it was to her.

I took her clothes off slowly, peeling them away and paying homage to each newly revealed patch of skin. Drawing out the seduction she craved so much until she was writhing on the bed, nearly mindless with the needs of her flesh. Knowing the astonishing intelligence that lived inside this woman, it was all the more humbling to watch her surrender to her body, and it was truly a gift to be the one to draw that out of her.

I made love to Julia for those two hours with pleasure and joy, taking her sighs and gasps and building on them patiently. We strained together in the tangled sheets, her much smaller body dwarfed by mine, her arms holding me as securely as mine held her.

After, she curled trustingly against my side, her head pillowed on my shoulder as her breathing gradually returned to normal. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Happy birthday,” I told her again, and she giggled weakly.

“Thanks for being my present,” she murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

I held her for a few minutes more, savoring the feel and scent of her skin. She slept on, peaceful and satiated as I dressed quietly. After pressing a last kiss to her forehead I left the apartment, taking care to lock the door behind me, and walked out into the cold winter night.

Thanks, Grandma Catherine.