Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Don't give me culture!

I share my favourites from the world of culture: film, music and the arts on my "keeper" list. These ones are all erotic and/or sex work related.

My favourite typecast actress would have to be Anita Morris, who normally plays the horny redhead. You will recognise her from the She Was Hot (Rolling Stones) video; her cougar waitress (moonlighting unofficially as a sex worker) character who is paid after taking the virginity of the character played by Rob Lowe in Hotel New Hampshire (brilliant movie with a great message, also starring a young Jodie Foster) and the conniving red haired sexpot trying to outsmart Danny deVito's character (in video above) in my all time favourite movie Ruthless People. She also made a guest appearance playing the same type of femme fatale in the TV series Cheers where poor old Cliff got taken for a ride.

My favourite highly suggestive and very intimate song by a New Zealand artist is When You Come written by Neil Finn. I'm sorry, call me dirty-minded (as if I'd care) but I get nothing out of this song other than an intensely hot, loving relationship and a man worshipping with wonder and revelling in his part in the partnership of his partner's orgasm. Gets me excited every time but also a little embarrassed because it's so personal. It's like you're in the room perving.

My favourite opera is Puccini's Madame Butterfly about a Japanese geisha who falls in love with and still hankers after an American sailor who has gone home and married an American girl. A cautionary tale. New Zealand Ballet did a beautiful production of this story a few years ago. (I also saw a brilliant dance performance of Bizet's Carmen, another great female character - she has an attitude: I want to be free to love who I want! also with disastrous results sadly.)

My favourite Tarantino movie is True Romance featuring a tough yet sweet former sex worker who embarks on a crazy Bonnie and Clyde type of adventure with her last client. Being a true romantic I loved the happy ending. Close behind on the list of my favourite Tarantino movies is Jackie Brown, not a sex worker but a strong, fearless woman who happens to be hot in a sexy, curvaceous, womanly way. (She probably wouldn't baulk at sex work either.)  NB These movies contain violence, drugs and sex scenes.

My favourite erotic song of all time has to be Everybody Here Wants You from Jeff Buckley's posthumous album 'Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk'. Who could possibly resist being aroused by the sensuous timbre in the dreamy opening and lyrics such as "coffee smell and lilac skin, your flame in me, I'm only here for this moment". A close third on the list after the Crowded House song I mentioned before would probably be Marvin Gaye's Let's Get It On, a perennial motivator to listen to during those awkward who-likes-who-the-most situations before a new relationship is acknowledged to exist.

My favourite erotic artwork would have to be Brett Whiteley's famous Self-portrait in the Studio which won the prestigious Archibald prize at the Art Gallery of NSW. (I think one year he won all three of the top Aussie art prizes at the same time - the other two being the Wynne and the Sulman). His muse was his wife Wendy Whiteley usually, I'm not sure if she posed for this painting, but he has cleverly painted himself painting a nude in recognisable Whiteley style in his studio. The painting also features real hair which he stuck on, he was a redhead. Some may not have the same visceral response to this artwork as I, and this could be because of my well-known adoration of red-haired men, but I also suspect it has to do with my experiences with art lessons in the past. I've always thought life drawing is extremely sexy, a naked person being looked at scrupulously, don't try and tell me those artists (and maybe even the models) aren't thinking dirty thoughts, every time I've been to a class I've barely concealed my rosy-faced arousal. I once went to a life drawing class and took home the nude male model afterwards, once he'd got dressed of course.

And last but not least, my favourite pornstar is Manuel Ferrara. With a face like the aforementioned Jeff Buckley's if he'd lived long enough to age, the body of a hunky mature dude and a cock like, well, Manuel Ferrara, how could he go wrong? He's an award-winning porn actor, yes they have awards, and my fondest dream is to possess for my private pleasure a Manuel Ferrara Realistic Dong. I'm taking this opportunity to hint that I am hoping for a generous friend to one day send me one as a gift. I will then be able to breathlessly whisper very naughty things about how I am playing with it.

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

The Joy of (Phone) Sex

Among the men I am fortunate to sexually liaise with are interesting, intelligent, creative types. One of my clients who I regularly enjoy phone sex with is in this category and he thanked me by sending me his account of a recent session.  I find it very erotic.  He has given me permission to share it. 

I guess I consider myself on a bit of a mission to normalise society's ideas about men who buy sex or phone sex. As well as phone sex itself.  Millions of couples who are separated by distance have phone sex with each other.  I am trying to provide a service for those who choose to participate with me which is different from the $2.99 a minute options.  People can see my photos or book me in real life, they know I am a real person with body, mind and spirit as depicted in my blog.

Wake up phone sex is a particular favourite of mine.

Somewhere, in an unknown bedroom in an unseen town, a woman lies asleep. Hair the colour of glowing embers cascades over her pillow, her face partly concealed behind the careless tangles. Dawn light seeps through the curtains, caressing her body and nudging her into wakefulness.

Under the covers, she is naked. She always sleeps that way, relishing the feel of crisp sheets against her skin. Her sexuality is palpable. It is her trusted and treasured companion, intimately familiar and secure, to which she returns again and again. At the same time, it remains mysterious and seductive, an endless source of wonder: always new sensations to explore, new ways to tease and be teased by her lovers, with subtle nuances to flavour every orgasm. She savours the drowsy warmth of her bed, biding her time. Reaching down with one hand, her fingers begin to wander.

For this particular morning, we have invented a new game: the wake-up call. At the agreed time, my phone chimes to her text: “Ring me”. Returning the call, her familiar voice greets me: soft, gentle, alluring. But not immediately sexy, like a modern-day Lauren Bacall – her eroticism comes more from what she likes to talk about than how she says it. What she is thinking of; where she is touching herself; how she is responding. As a flame-haired teenage siren embracing her newly-discovered carnality, taunting the boys with her curves, smuggling them home, leading them to her bedroom, teaching them how to undress her, guiding their fingers to her wetness, straddling them. I tease her about her obvious delight in male arousal: is there anything she wouldn’t try? “Any way and every way”, she laughs. She loves using her feet, all the better while wearing black stockings. Or her tongue, or her fingers, or her breasts. “I’d take you in my ear, if I could”, she sighs.

Later, we say goodbye, each of us now deliciously awake, utterly relaxed. The dream-like world of telephone sex: fantasies shared, fantasies realised. Our love-making may be imagined, defined only by our words and imagery, but our shared sensations and our memories of what has passed between us are real. In days to come we will return to this space; and perhaps, one day, we will meet. She is only a phone call away.

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Politics and Working Girls

A working girl (in the other sense of the word or apparently the equal of*)

Like all tales of politics, this could get long and boring.  Personally, I have spent my life being a tiny dot amongst big groups of people starting with my huge immediate and wider family and large church communities, various groups of girls: single sex school girls, working girls, groups of ladies (and mixed gender groups as well obviously) in various creative and other professional pursuits.

To understand the dynamics of these situations, I have had to become a keen observer of human nature, usually from the outside. In any situation, not just with working girls, I tend to have a bit of an aversion to active participation in group situations especially when I identify those who are desperately ambitious at all costs, and who are happy to employ dastardly means behind the scenes usually due to their obvious lack of natural gifts or aptitude, not to mention intelligence.  Jealousy happens.

As I said, I'm not necessarily talking about working girls - just take a look at our current political election campaigns and you can spot the fumblers and bumblers whose spin doctors are having to work overtime.

During my straight period when I was no longer a sex worker, I was BFFs with a serving politician who I mixed and mingled with socially and privately and holidayed with - I even attended a formal political ceremony as their guest once. I have also been in love (aww, I still am a little, baby xx) with a former political speech writer whose friendship with me spans over two decades.  I wouldn't say I know any great secrets, but I have heard a couple of interesting stories.  I would even say that there are a few parallels with actual political life and the sex work scene.

There are some who like to be, or who just happen to be by default, holders of information, as an indication of their power, to be oozed out to eager listeners or given in sometimes inaccurate dollops like a mother bird feeding her chirping babies worms, but with the odd stick or lead bullet amongst them.  I personally think there is no merit in having such a position, for this is not any real personal power.  As well as that, when mistakes are made or inaccuracies eventually get revealed, one tends to wonder, "who can you believe?"  One thing is certain, if there is doubt about this, there is nothing to be had as far as honest and trusting friendship goes.  If friendship is actually your thing.  Friendship versus gossip and "knowledge" - what to choose?

I found it interesting that a blogger all those weeks back described a politician as a good mate.  Just after the politician or the blogger had got our self-described victim the politician in the shit.  I would cackle loudly at the craziness and then gloat at the comeuppance, but then you see people have been made sad or stressed or have lost their livelihood, and whatever you feel about these people and whether or not they deserve it, we are all people with things in common, even if it's only blood in our veins, and god, is this how we feel better for ourselves?  It's a sad day for each of us personally when the main thing that amuses us is the downfall of others.  Leave that to the well-known shit-stirrers who are quite correct if they have ever wondered if their mates actually despise them.  I always thought schadenfreude should just be relegated to the fetish list, I hope it doesn't become a common service on offer.

Every situation is different and I usually try and suss out the rules early: the ship girl scene was pretty violent but the rules were basic - don't take anyone else's tane (the shipgirl word for client) or "roll" any tanes. (In other words, don't steal from clients - yes, this was strictly enforced). Everything was sorted out via a physical fight, then forgotten. Sometimes girls would be fighting like men with each other then, a few days later, be bosom buddies again even though one or both might still have a black eye, bruised knuckles or a fracture, like a broken wrist.

At the Penthouse in Sydney, we girls were pretty united even though we mostly knew everyone's private business and discussions under the guise of "concern" happened behind people's backs all the time. There was no Facebook so we socialised in real ways, eg, by going out for dinner or to see bands. We would always get dressed to the nines and en masse we would certainly turn heads. Sometimes we would go to clubs and restaurants owned by clients who would kindly send over a round of drinks for us all or not charge us for our meals when it was time to leave. The rule was to be cool and look gorgeous, as this boosted the power of the group as a whole.  I can't remember major bitching among us, it was more of an us (as a group) against the clients (as a group) situation and most definitely us against the law.

In London it was every working girl out for herself it seemed and no sharing of knowledge or secrets, even for the sake of safety. Possibly this was the national feeling, Thatcherism was most definitely alive and well. I heard from a working girl I kept in touch with, that by the 90s the beautiful girls from the east of Europe were saturating the London sex scene charging next to nothing and willing to do anything which forced a change of the dynamic.  I presume this was "us who speak English as a first language" versus them "gorgeous foreign working girls".

Back in Sydney at Tudor Court there was definitely a divide between the girls on the night shift and the day shift. The night girls were a lot more glamourously turned out, seemed to live more exciting lives, and according to a day girl whose sister was a night girl, they mocked us day girls incessantly for our frumpiness and lack of big earnings compared to them. As well as that, it was a line-up system where we were all compared to each other in the cold light of day, and when one girl is chosen repeatedly over the others, girls' pride is dented and resentments are formed. The same thing happens in the days after the elections for public office.  Some gloat while others lick their wounds and false congratulations are issued as sincerely as one can muster.

Sex work in the internet age is incredibly interesting where we all market ourselves with photos and text full of promises to set our brands. There is also a couple of online forums for networking and socialising.

There is still the old-fashioned real life behind the scenes networking of some working girls. I love to catch up with working girls in real life - what a fascinating, beautiful bunch of ladies I have met in my time.  I relate better in person - my intuition has been finely honed over the years and while I tend to be a glass half full kind of person who sees the best in people, regardless I am usually quick to ascertain motives and intentions and decide where to take any associations with a person from here.  I assume everyone else does the same.

Every working girl has her own story and different goals but we all have something that can never be removed: the tainting by the stain from having once been a working girl but also the power from the knowledge that we can be a working girl. Being a working girl offers real freedom but also threat.

And so it is that it is usually another working girl that will misuse that knowledge or threaten to. That's why some bold working girls take that power back by "coming out" - they can choose to use their real names, show their faces in their advertising, reveal publicly to all they know that they are working girls or come out to their loved ones and just not give two hoots about others they know perhaps finding out. I've found the craziest of working girls, and the most paranoid are the ones who are truly leading double lives because they don't have one single support person in their straight life who knows and supports what they are doing which gives them a bridge to safely cross over from one identity to the other.

Back when you could be arrested for being a working girl, I had a close friend, still a friend today in fact, who saw a letter dobbing her in to the IRD which was written by another "friend". She saw the letter and recognised the handwriting because luckily a clerk at the IRD tipped her off, possibly in exchange for a sexual favour, and she was able to visit an accountant and get all her ducks in a row before the IRD came knocking.

In the internet age, some politicians have recently been potted with leaks which are easier to trace due to digital footprints. And so it is with working girls. We have forums aflame, rumours or suspicions (some which eventually get discredited) of text messages or other information screenshot and passed on, as well as emails and Private Messages forwarded with the original writer often being completely oblivious about the treachery. Offence is taken when one person doesn't know another well enough to know if they can trust them, and accusations are flung like shit, some of which sticks a little.  Nobody really knows what the fuck happened, I sure as hell couldn't possibly ever understand it.

Meanwhile on public webpages, there may be appearances of loyalty to one camp or other public do-gooding disguised as support towards people of one clique, while out of the public eye there is no actual support for others whatsoever. It's all just fakery, a specialty of working girls, but not just working girls.

Things are normally resolved by one person getting wind of the potential shit they have caused and a new series of emails or private messages are fired off, usually an acceptable modus vivendi. Events are normally then quiet or the nastiness and subterfuge is more cleverly hidden until the next public row which is pounced on with glee.

If you've got this far and you've thought you have spotted a reference to yourself or someone you know among these words, you are wrong.  I am talking generally and not about any particular person or situation in the sex industry, even if an event not long ago sparked a thought or two about the irony of human nature and the complexity of friendships and associations.

The sound of silence can for some be too dull so sometimes an upset seems to have been deliberately caused and again the group's collective energy is called into battle. It can take only a hint at something and a whole day can be consumed by some trying to get the inside knowledge on the crazy goings on.  Things can be implied and past misdeeds and good deeds used to justify opinions can be put on the digital table in full view for the entertainment of us all. Politics sure can be dirty.  Not to mention embarrassing.

But back to working girl life, I recently saw a survey which was a timely reminder of the unimportance of us working girls in the real world. We were ranked very low in a poll of occupations which can be trusted. No surprises there.

* Interestingly we were level with politicians, the biggest fakers of all. Oh, how can people be so cruel.

Friday, 5 September 2014

A Bossy Girl Or a Dominatrix?

Remember when you were a kid and you'd see a loud-mouthed 12 year old girl getting about with a couple of 10 year old boys in tow hanging on to her every word, she'd be ordering them about, getting them to buy her gob-stoppers and generally acting like she owned the place?  Well I wasn't that girl, but occasionally we sex workers entertain one of those 10 year old boys who were full of admiration for their older girl friend, now fully grown and asking if you can be a bossy girl.

And this is how it happened for me the other week: a youngish dude who I'd seen once before came in and when he got into the room, he told me he wanted me to be a bossy girl and to totally dominate him.   He wanted to please me.

In situations like this, because I am not a trained dominatrix and I'm concerned about the ethics of presenting myself as something I am not, I often have an inner dialogue, that goes a bit like this.

'But I've been told I'm too softly spoken to be a dominating kind of girl'.
'But I do have a strong voice, they said I could have been an opera diva way back then.'
'And then there was that dude who told me I was a paradox and called me a perfumed sledgehammer'.
'Yeah, but domination takes years of training, what if I'm not a strong enough girl for him'.
'Since when have I not been a strong girl???'
'He's not asking for a dominatrix anyway, he's asking for a bossy girl, and he's seen me before, he knows what he's in for.'
'He thinks I'd be a good bossy girl, huh?  And he wants to spend a whole hour pleasing me?  Now you're talking.'

And so we began.  Imagine my excitement.

For an hour I was in control of his mouth, tongue, hands, fingers, cock, knees and all and any other part of his body I felt like I could use.  He was a nice, strong dude obediently carrying out my instructions, without tiring, and I didn't even have to care about his pleasure or comfort.

"Start with my feet..."  "Is your neck sore yet?  Is your tongue tired then? Good."  "Make me come exactly as I tell you."  Over and over again.  "Your face got wet, oh that's too bad.  Now fuck me gently.  Now harder.  Stop.  Pull out.  Now use your tongue again."

There is truly never a dull moment in sex work and a lot of pleasure to be had, mine for the taking. And of course my clients'.  But I'm well-pleased about the number of clients who wish for me to be gratified as much as they are.  Why resist, and why fake enjoyment, when you can have.  I like to live a little.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

Advertising and "bait and switch"

With improvements in technology and the Prostitution Reform Act and ladies becoming independent and doing their own marketing, the sex industry has come so far.  You can more or less expect to get what you see in the photographs with independent escorts, although some complain of dishonest or overly-flattering photos or photos which were taken when the lady was several years younger and several pounds lighter.  It is so much nicer for men - they really are spoilt for choice and as far as I know there are no waiting rooms anywhere (like some places had back in the day) and they are highly unlikely to come across any other people, ladies or other clients, during their visit to a professional independent escort.

Independent ladies can write their own blurb and choose their own photos, revealing a bit of their personality and details about services on offer.  Rather than talking to a receptionist at an agency who will sell each lady, giving some more of a favourable spiel than others, callers can talk to the independent escort lady directly.  Gentlemen can pretty much get what they expect.

Bait and switch is a term used by clients who see images of a particular attractive woman in advertisements, usually at an escort agency or massage parlour, then when they turn up for the booking with the lady, they find there is another lady having been substituted.  If this lady is younger and hotter than the lady in the photographs, well, then there would never be a complaint, but as it is a lady that is usually older and less attractive, a few men then have their noses a little out of joint.  They feel they have been baited by the image, and then the lady has been switched.

Please note, that most agencies do not use the bait and switch process nowadays but some still do.  Back in the day, prior to the PRA, some used to as a matter of course, and I'll explain why soon.

Funnily enough, these agencies do not necessarily have an intention to deceive.  Well, no more than somewhere like McDonalds, which advertises pictures of delicious looking burgers, with all the items perfectly placed, cheese or sauce drizzled enticingly over some of the ingredients, and maybe even a faded swirly vertical line of steam, implying that your burger will be fresh, hot and totally delectable.  The reality is that the staff, in their hurry to meet targets of a certain number of burgers to be produced per hour, do not have time to perfectly drizzle the sauce, and instead it may be dribbled, over the sloppily thrown down burger which hangs over one side of the bun so that the other side is totally empty of filling, covered by wilted lettuce etc etc with a cracked bun on top and no steam, perhaps steam has converted the burger into a pile of sogginess (the previous steam has dampened the minutes-old bun).  The burger in the photo may be the ideal, but it is unlikely that the burger you are delivered is going to look like that every time.

The sophisticated honey in the escort advertisement may in reality be a pasty-skinned youngster with a bad dye job, or a mature "grandma" with a saggy tummy and stretchmarks on her down-facing boobies.  The sophisticated honey may be the ideal that the agency hopes to employ but on that particular day there is no one who comes close who is available to the gentleman who drops in.

So that's the ads.  What about their internet listings for particular ladies?  The photos show them to be so sweet. Cute poses with long legs and full breasts, sometimes a hand shyly placed over her tummy, or she demurely crosses her legs.  She may have pretty, long hair and you may catch a glimpse of pouty kissable lips.  The ads may even have been photoshopped a bit to make her look very va-va-voom indeed. Where was this young lovely when you fronted up for your booking?

The young lovely may or may not work there, or may have at one particular time and she represents the ideal that the agency would love to have there as she really gets the punters through the door.  They're all ringing up asking for her.  Or, if the young lovely really does work there, she may not be the sweet girl she is portrayed as - the agency has no control over how she behaves in the room, and if she is is not in the mood for working much, she may behave badly.  Despite all the praise and compliments she may receive from her clients, she may be grumpy and impatient with them if they take longer to finish than she would like, sending her clients home feeling like quite a piece of shit.  Or she may have been so popular and booked up that she grew to hate her job so no longer gave the warm, sweet service clients were hoping for.  The agency may even have had to let her go.

The reality is though, that if the young lovely in the ad really did work there, there would be an imbalance.  Everyone would be coming in to book the young lovely, and all the other ladies would be sitting around at the agency losing their working mojo and developing a sour attitude.  They all want a fair chance of making some money and if the young lovely is the only one that is busy, the young lovely will soon get burned out and become grumpy quickly, and the other ladies will be getting grumpy as well, for not making any money.  There may even be some office politics happening, where ladies are ganging up on the young lovely and it's all rather unpleasant.

When I worked at Tudor Court, there was a line-up system, and there was a particular lady, not especially attractive, she had a squarish shaped head and a heavy build, but she did this thing where she licked her lips and every time she lined up, no matter who else was on she would always be the one chosen.  While she was busy with clients, everyone else had a fair chance, but when she was in the line up doing her lip-licking thing, no one else had a look in.

So the agencies known for bait and switch, may believe that the fairest thing to do is to rotate the ladies.  If the young lovely really does work there and does even happen to be available, she will hide out the back so that one of the others can get some work, that way they all make roughly the same amount of money.  It's a bit of an old-fashioned idea.  Too bad about what the client wants, it was assumed he was happy with any live, breathing woman - insulting really.  Back in the day, when I was a ship girl, clients would really have to take who they were given and make the best of it.  They seemed happy enough.  They stuck with the ladies they had been seeing every time they had come into port for the last ten years because it would set the cat among the pigeons if they tried to switch.

As far as agencies prior to the internet, which has changed everything, they differentiated themselves with just a picture of some gorgeous model in a yellow pages and newspaper ads, and depending on the name of the agency and their ad, you'd expect to get a certain class of lady and pay a corresponding amount accordingly.  No one expected that the hot sexy lady in the ad actually worked there.  However, you could still ring and get a description or ask for a particular type of lady, a busty redhead or a petite brunette, or an athletic blonde and the nearest lady to your requirements would be waiting for you.

There were other places which would do the rotation system, where whoever was next up to be available would be, and no one offered GFE or anything special, but if you were lucky she was attractive and had a cool personality and a come hither quality that would draw you in and make sure you had a great time.  If it was a busy establishment, the girl would feel obliged to get you to come and out the door asap so she could go and look after the next guy in the queue, who, if they had a waiting room, would be waiting there nervously with the other guys, avoiding eye contact and hoping no one they knew would come in.  It was all a bit tacky really, that's why we ladies at places like the Penthouse thought we were all that, our dudes got to linger and mingle as if they were in a club (where all the women were gorgeous and they all wanted you) and therefore it felt more upmarket.

If bait and switch is a concern when visiting an agency, make sure you choose an agency that you can communicate your requirements to clearly.  Do they understand that you are wanting to book a specific lady as shown in the advertisement or listing?  If you get there and she is not the one in the ad, either ask to see the other ladies, or ask how long you will have to wait until that particular lady is free.  If necessary, have a print out of the advertisement.  However, if you are paying bottom dollar compared to independent escorts (less upmarket agencies tend to undercut independents by about $20 or more), you must expect that their business could be run on a rotation basis and it is not necessarily the fault of the lady that she does not meet your expectations.  If it is a concern, and you have a specific requirement rather than an easy-going, take-your-chances attitude, you'd be better off to pay a little bit more for an independent sex worker so that you can call the lady directly and clarify that all your important specifications are met before making the booking and parting with your hard-earned cash.

Saturday, 23 August 2014

In praise of quickies

I have to say, I'm not much of a time-keeper in the room.  I never schedule bookings back to back, it is very rare that there isn't enough time in between bookings for me to have myself and my boudoir looking just how I want it to be.  And when clients are with me, my attention is all on them and making sure they have the most enthralling time possible.  I also like us to wallow in each sensation as it occurs, and wallowing takes time.

So I never thought I would ever do a quickie (which is a short, usually 20 minute long booking) as I just could not see how we could fit everything in.

Then once I was on tour, and a young man called me and persisted with his request for a quickie.  My intuition told me that being a young dude, it was probably a struggle to come up with the extra $40 for the extra 10 minutes to have a 30 minute booking.  So my heart went out to him and I asked myself, why not?

I have to say, it was fun!  Remember when you were young, back in the day when sex outside of marriage was forbidden, and if you were doing it, you maybe had to do it fast because your parents were due home any minute?  Half the time you didn't even bother taking all your clothes off?  As soon as you touched, you would be groping each other, before long, dry-humping and there would be that enticing bulge going on which required immediate freeing upon being noticed.

Well, 20 minute quickies are almost like that.

Perhaps not as proper as an elegant hour-long booking or dinner date, but I think that quickies definitely do have a place.  I've seen them advertised as a "20 minute special for the busy man", and I think that has quite a nice ring to it.  You can imagine a horny man popping out for a dozen beer on a Saturday afternoon before the evening's rugby in front of the telly, and no one being any the wiser when he gets back in 40 mins looking relaxed and ready for the game; or a tradesman popping out to Mitre 10 or Bunnings to pick something up, or price something, and coming back having got exactly what was needed; or a salesman having some time to kill before a presentation or something and arriving on time for the meeting not looking at all wound up.  

Nobody can begrudge a man 20 minutes to have some fun, and it's such a short time that it can just be explained away by being held up in traffic, or in a queue at the shop, or whatever thought has come to mind.  Also it's such a little amount of money, some people spend as much at the casino, and it's gone in less time and with even less thrill.  

If allowed, life can also sidestep all its attendant mundanities and demonstrate its capacity to astonish; to remind you that you still have a capacity for the passionate.  The thing is, you have to permit yourself to embrace such potential wonderment. (Douglas Kennedy)

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Let it be known

I really love what I do.  I honestly feel that what I do helps mankind and is almost a spiritual service.  I don't mind if you laugh.  I'm not saying I'm holy, or godly - I realise I'm the polar opposite of a nun.  But I know that I've helped people through this line of work and I love the feeling of intimacy and closeness where it feels like a there is almost the power of a deity in such union.  As opposed to two people having a fuck, although that is obviously nice too.

I have met all kinds of men, including those who claim to be unconfident sexually, who have told me that they have a belief that due to repression, their natural sexual notions are no longer active.  Never underestimate the instincts of men though.  Men, who have humbly asked for a few pointers, when given some warm encouragement and a receptive environment, not to mention a willing, horny woman, have really come into their own.  That's why I know I'm doing the right thing for now and truly get job satisfaction, as it were, in more ways than one.

As much as I love this job though, I still have to keep myself safe.  This means emotionally, so if things are getting too heavy there, I'm afraid I will have to draw things to a close.  It also means I have to take care of my lady parts, for these are essentially tools of my trade.

So why would I mess this up for myself by risking getting a sexually transmitted disease?

Let it be known, that I, Amber O'Hara, do not, and would not ever, have sex with a client, including giving fellatio, without a condom.  So please don't text me and ask.

For some reason, I have had texts this week from idiots asking how much extra it costs to have unprotected sex.  Obviously their numbers have been immediately blocked and to save other ladies from inadvertently having to deal with these people I have done the right thing and shared the phone numbers of these morons with them.

To the texters, I would like to say: really, what are you thinking???  You are practically contenders for the Darwin award.  If a hooker ever offers or agrees to give you unprotected services, run far away.  Run especially fast if you happen to have another lover, ie a wife or partner, who you normally have unprotected sex with.  You might have some bad karma owing, but does your innocent partner unwittingly deserve some of the same?

To the other gentlemen who go about making bookings in the normal way, enquiring about services like mature people and never dreaming of unprotected sex with a sex worker, I hope to see you soon.  I'm sorry to have ruined this blog post by being a bit cranky, but to the lovely men who do not bat an eyelid when condoms are rolled over their penises with my lips, I acknowledge your very wise self-preservation tendencies.  And we all know intelligent men are sexy men - at least that's my not so humble opinion.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Where to from here?

 Amber O'Hara not ready to turn her back on sex work ... yet

It's hard to believe that it's almost a year since I embarked again on the sex work journey with certain financial goals in mind. My very first blog post, my personal yet public record of the events related to becoming a sex worker, was entitled Where To From Here? Some of my clients who know what my particular financial situation was (nothing dire, just a nice type of freedom I was after) may be interested to know that I am almost there.  Yes!  Congratulations to me!

But it has got me thinking, besides "where to from here?" how different it is from the last time I gave up sex work several years ago. I was young, gorgeous, living the high life quite literally, as in, I drank too much and took too many drugs. I had no CV to speak of and was probably pretty much unemployable considering the hours I was used to keeping and the fact that I had the curious belief that young people today are accused of having: entry-level work was beneath me and I would never degrade myself by working for such a paltry sum. 

I needed lots of cash anyway as I seemed to have no control over my impulses, particularly my impulses related to spending money. I was used to getting money easily and lots of it and since sexwork was illegal, well, you really had to spend it.  And this is a downside with the sex work lifestyle - the bad habits that are formed coupled with the "you only live once" attitude. Yes, YOLO sounds great but it is utter bullshit. Life is long and there is life beyond sex work. 

It's funny, I loved sex work back in the day and it gave me a feeling of personal power. "Have work clothes, will travel". I met glamourous people and I thought the lifestyle was sustainable, that I could do it forever. Then I had that nasty experience at work that may sound minor but it really hit me for a six. It's not like I was that easily spooked, I'd learned to look after myself, but that was the straw that broke the camel's back and made me take a look at my life. 

I was one of a tightknit little group of four sex workers who were best friends. We were all pretty, from similar backgrounds, rich, and we found ourselves in the big city of Sydney and were grasping our supposed upward mobility with both hands. 

Then the oldest one of us, all of 24 years old, the one who took the most and baddest drugs, decided she'd had enough and took herself to rehab. We were all behind her but we also couldn't believe it. She had a shaky start but she did it. 

Her story is the most admirable actually, of any person I've ever met, what she has gone on to do with her life is incredible, but it's not my story to tell, other than to justify my admiration by telling you that she fessed up to a criminal charge which she had hanging over her head, went to jail, became university educated and is now living an amazing life truly making the world a better place. What courage. 

I was next to follow, shortly after my disquieting incident, I also went to two rehabs (where I sadly failed - a bit disastrously really) but got into a couple of twelve step programmes, and I'm happy to say that a couple of decades later I still have not, even during a bout of adversity, had any drinks or drugs on a "day at a time" reprieve from addiction. 

I had given up sex work and come down to earth with a thud back into the care of my ever-forgiving family. A job hunt of sorts began in ernest. I followed every step in a book called What Colour Is Your Parachute? and was lucky enough to find and eventually land my dream occupation. I also fell in love and became a mum. I grew up. 

So it was a calculated decision as a mature person to get back into sex work. I'm past giving a fuck about what I consider the stupid attitudes of those who look down on sex workers but still feel a responsibility to protect my treasured loved ones from them so I'm not so out as a sex worker and likely never will be.  If I ever get outed, c'est la vie, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, but I'm sure it won't be the end of the world. 

So where to from here? I'm not ready to hang up my lingerie yet, I really do enjoy what I do and the money is great. I will likely not give up sex work completely either, I don't think there will be any announcements that I am retiring, most likely I will just tone things down a bit and put myself forward for more time at my office job and pursuing my own thing (writing, cam work etc). 

I'm interested in self-publishing kindle e-books and I'm already doing actual sex work much less due to my other occupations and projects. For example, I work less than I used to in Christchurch as I love to tour (for now), but my clients know they can call me even when my ad is not up and I will make a time to see them. And when clients from places I tour to ask me to text them when I am coming to their town, I am happy to do so. 

Even when I have stopped advertising completely I think it will be highly likely that I will still be occasionally seeing clients, I really enjoy meeting people and can't ever imagine a time I will not find fucking fun, it has been a life long interest of mine.  I much prefer consciously fading out of sex work rather than having to leave suddenly and with no back up plan, or because I've burned out. 

So I think that when women make what I think is a wise decision to pragmatically incorporate sex work into their lives, one must begin with the end in mind, because there will be an end of sorts to the exciting sex work lifestyle as it is currently known. I'd recommend treating oneself to travel and education and experiences that widen ones horizons but gradually learning to live on less, at least as little as the average person ones age with ones qualifications would be able to live on. 

Also, bank everything and pay tax. No one can threaten to dob you in to the IRD then and as well as that you get to use all your money on useful things, like travel, education and house deposits (or at the other end, the lovely feeling of quickly paying off a mortgage. Rising interest rates? Who gives a fig?)

And while I'm giving advice, avoid drugs and don't drink too much, or if you do over-indulge, consider that this must come to an end one way or another, hopefully not in jail, institutions or death. So be measured about it. Too much booze and drugs age a person terribly anyway, and who wants to be old before their time. 

The life's too short attitude is stupid. One would hope that life is not short, and that we have a wonderful happy amazing adventure of it, experiencing the great thing this world, our bodies, our loved ones and our enthusiasms offer us. 

So this is nowhere near the end for me, I'm  merely changing the narrative of my life a little. Although I may be fading away from active sex work in one city, I still have a lot I want to write about men, sex, sex work, relationships, sex in film and literature, orgasms, women and sexuality. 

So please continue to watch this space

Thursday, 7 August 2014

The Joy of Sex (Toys)

One of my favourite actresses, the late Anita Morris getting off on a mini vacuum cleaner from the film Ruthless People (a must-see if only for two of the great redhead stereotypes)

The other week when a lovely client was going down on me and I was focusing on the amazing sensation, it dawned on me that it actually felt a lot like the same type of orgasm I get from one of my favourite sex toys, the famous Hitachi Magic Wand (yes, he was that good.)  For those that don't know, the Hitachi Magic Wand almost guarantees an orgasm and are the vibrator of choice as endorsed by Betty Dodson and Carlin Ross, who teach women the world over how to orgasm.  I believe that they used to and maybe still do give a Hitachi Magic Wand to every woman who pays to attend their courses to learn how to orgasm.

I once wrote a post comparing my clit pleaser to a man performing oral on me and concluded that while sex toys are good, there is nothing like the real thing.  I try not to use my sex toys too much, because I don't want to become dependent on them and I would absolutely hate it if they became the only thing that could get me off.  Sometimes we sex workers see that with young clients who watch a lot of porn and masturbate quite a lot - they can't come easily during sex, although this is not a problem if ejaculation isn't necessarily their end-goal or they don't mind ending the session with a hand job.

I of course am in the fortunate position, pardon the pun, of getting a lot of oral sex, which when done correctly, I enjoy immensely - that has to be the understatement of the year.  But the other day while I was enjoying being pampered by this particular gentleman, I considered that, with the many different sensations that feel good and get us off, is it logical that when someone is going down on us or when we are masturbating we are searching for that holy grail of familiar sensations depending on what kind of orgasm we are in the mood for (or we just gratefully accept the kind of orgasm we are given).  And when masturbating, obviously it can mimic participation by a real person, and a real person can mimic the same sensations of a familiar sex toy, when the dude happens to be amazing at it.

I have different toys I use which do different things to different parts of my anatomy.  For example, I like my Magic Wand because it is great for giving me an amazing clitoral orgasm which I can feel right down my legs, but is often too intense if I will be doing a bit of walking around shortly as my legs often feel too weak afterwards and it takes up to an hour for them to come right.  Another toy I have which is like a thin, curved penis is amazing for inserting and aiming for my g-spot when external stimulation, perhaps with my hand, of my clitoris has brought me to a certain point.  That is a different kind of orgasm again.  Some orgasms are so intense they can cause a headache.

There is a scene in the amazing film Nymphomania Part 2, which I highly recommend, where the lead character, a nymphomaniac, decides to prevent herself from having access to anything which can stimulate her sexually or turn her on.  All the sharp edges and corners in her house are covered so that she can not rub herself against them.  She goes to bed wearing great big clothes so that she can not have easy access to her body.  But then after unintentionally bringing her hand to her mouth, she sucks her fingers and begins getting off on a (sort of) hand blowjob. I also love to suck my fingers, maybe it harks back to being an infant looking for comfort (comfort being a milder form of pleasure).

Just about anything can be used as a sex toy.  I haven't tried a mini vacuum cleaner myself, but humans are infinitely inventive when it comes to things which please us.  From the simple, such as jets in spa baths (yum) to the more complicated sex toys available today, I'm sure I'm not the only one who sometimes sees things and considers the possibilities of a pleasurable response.  Maybe this is how sex toys are developed - someone is using a sex toy and thinks, wouldn't it be even more amazing if there was an extra cock for double penetration and another extra little jangly thing that could hit my clit?  There is such a job as a sex toy tester, what fun.

We all have different ways of doing things, there are techniques that have been perfected over the years by skilled people to improve almost everything, and three different people can have three completely different ways to get the same result.  For example, there are many ways to peel an apple, we all learn one way and usually keep doing it until we are perfect at it, if we care that much.  And so it is with men who know how to get women off.  The inventiveness, cleverness and instincts of men always surprise me.  I am not a sex toy tester, but I am often the recipient of the years of practice that some men have had of pleasing women.  Men have different ways of doing things, and I have to say, some dudes have their technique down pretty darn fine.

I do like sex toys, but my preference is always for the real thing. 

Friday, 1 August 2014

Why I previously chose not be discussed on an online escort forum

Now that I am advertising online in an escort directory, I am possibly exposing myself to a larger amount of men throughout New Zealand who go online specifically to find a sex worker.  I have chosen to use a particular escort advertising company because they offered me a trial which went well.

Immediately a very different type of client came into my orbit, different from my regular clients which I had met through my advertisement in the escorts column of the Press.  Out of my Press clients, already several were happy with me judging by the percentage of gentlemen who returned to me.

I am not sure if my Press clients read the escorts column every week, or if they just accidentally came across me.  Likewise, for my clients who found me through the online escort ads.  Did they just happen to be perusing the site or were they actively looking for an escort?  Either way, I am glad they found me, it's been fun.

There is also an online forum owned by the escort advertisement site I use, but to be honest, some of these gentlemen on the forum seemed a little less ... well ... gentlemanly.  I don't have a problem with people discussing sex and sex work, it is one of my favourite things to do.  But on this forum there seems to occasionally be some rather negative comments and speculation written by men (about the sex workers who provide a service) perhaps that they would never dream of saying to the faces of the sex workers in question, or even on the phone and which they could not get away with ordinarily except on this forum (maybe due to lack of moderating staff on the forum), and at times, it seems you are only safe if you belong to cliques on the forum that I know I will never really fit into. (After all, I'm a ginga - my childhood was spent amongst bullies and baby gangs, in which I did not belong).

Even though the working girls' advertising money pays for the forum, it does not necessarily feel like it is always a supportive environment for working girls, particularly the younger ones who may still be finding their way.  I'm not naive enough to think that people don't have a problem with sex workers, or hold demeaning ideas of sex workers even on a sex work forum, but in said forum paid for by sex workers advertising revenue, you'd think it could be a little more escort-supportive.  However, I gather some posters think it is too escort-supportive and they should be allowed to say whatever revealing thing they want to say about any sex worker or her body or her service.

There are discussions all the time on different topics, including reviews of some of the girls.  Some of the attitudes of SOME of these men are less than kind, often unappealing, and quite frankly, these are men who most escorts would not want anywhere near them, as they would make sex work a lot less pleasant and fun.  Some of them sound like "too much hard work" clients.  (I prefer hard play).

So imagine my relief, when it was pointed out to me that quite a few of the men who frequent the forum actively avoid sex workers on the DND list, because DND stands for Do Not Discuss.  This means that these men are not allowed to discuss the sex workers on this list.  As an advertiser, this was a perk for me to be able to go on "the DND". One of the first things I did when my sales rep called me to discuss what to do after my free trial was to ask to be put on the DND.  Among the men who frequent the forum, sex workers on the DND are frequently talked ill of, there is speculation that they have something to hide by being on the DND or are avoiding reviews because they give bad service.

It is true: ladies on the DND do have something to hide.  What they wish to hide is themselves, from those who may be trying to take away their livelihoods (as some reviewers seem to be attempting to put escorts out of business by recommending gentlemen do not go and see them).  There is a subtle supporting of this even by many sex workers who "thank" reviewers for their sometimes derogatory comments about other sex workers, as they have every right to do of course in our free country.

I know a Christchurch lady who, although not active on the forum I am told, is "well-reviewed" there yet she does not get that many bookings compared to two gorgeous ladies who have worked in the same house as I.  They are both on the DND (one has since left the industry) but I witnessed first hand both of them frequently booked up during the hours they work.

The lady I mentioned, not on the DND who is well-reviewed on the forum has great photos, is really lovely, her reviews say she is lovely, yet she is lucky to make in one whole week as much as either of the DND ladies receive in a day or two, with the returning clients of the DND girls as well, of course, as their new ones not writing one word of a review about their obviously pleasing service.  So I can't see that this forum actually influences spending decisions of the punters.  It may influence the opinions of those who hang out in the forum, but are many of them actually the ones who go back time and time again spending their money?  It seems not.

Because men on the forum advise each other not to contact ladies on the Do Not Discuss list, the DND list is where many sex workers have happily put themselves for the time being.  It seems they consider the DND their own personal virtual 10-foot barge pole.