Rich and Broken-Hearted

December was a good month. Now it is the New Year 2011. The money was made (and a generous portion of it spent!) and I feel empty again.

After periods of breaks I started working independently as an escort last month. My rates were slightly higher than the going rate for high-class companionship. My phone rang continuously after minimal advertising and continues to ring. I felt very thankful, because I was not sure what to expect. My rates were high, and my service was safe. In the escorting world most girls who want to charge high rates have to include more ‘extras’ apart from just sex with a condom…..which I simply refuse to do. So I feel thankful. I had a handful of clients that I didn’t even have to sleep with. This is where escorting becomes addictive: when I have clients who pay lots of money for a quick and easy session (ex: minimal work for me).

Yet I sit here. Depressed. Lonely. Full of doubt and uncertainty.

I have been a high class prostitute for nearly five years now. I started in my late teens and now am in my early-mid twenties.

My ex-fiancee brought up a great point in a conversation the other day: “I have made a lot of money and it never made me happy.” This is also true for myself. In the five years I’ve been in the sex industry I have made quite a bit of money, traveled the world, owned most of the material possessions I’ve wanted (except the big one, purchasing a home)…and yet I’ve never been satisfied. And even worse, I have saved nothing. Money that comes easy goes very easily. The old cliché is something I truly believe: more money, more problems.

This blog is about the reality of getting into ‘high-class’ prostitution. I used quotations because the reality is it’s all a facade. The elegance and glamor of it really comes down to SEX — which in itself is only spectacular when with someone you love (for me at least). I will hopefully get to talk about things from ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ to the types of clients I encounter. I will also mention great books or films I watch that depict the lives/memoirs of other working girls.

Last time I re-read the last few chapters of a book called, “Disgraced” by Saira Ahmed. It’s about a Pakistani-Muslim girl who became a high-class escort. In the last few chapters she discusses her entering and leaving of the escort business. A few times her recollections have brought me to tears when she speaks about how it changed her view of men and her relationships. It reminded me of my ex and I. I still love him. I left him a few months ago….on my own selfish whim.

Being with him for 2.5 years made me realize that I have a serious addiction. I do not drink or take drugs. But I have a serious addiction to escorting. It may seem silly to say that but the reality is I cannot quit the industry. Most working girls will understand what I am talking about, because many of them have also tried to leave only to find themselves coming back after ‘breaks.’

I have tried leaving the industry three times now. The last time I tried to leave is because I met the man of my dreams. However, he was a former client of mine….which only later in the relationship I realized how it wasn’t such a good idea to be with a man who knows what I did for a living once.

I remember how we met. I was living overseas in a new country and big city. At first I established myself with a new job that was what us girls call a ‘straight job’ (meaning it wasn’t in the sex industry).  It was in retail. I worked full-time for eight hours each day and made petty money. It didn’t matter because it was just part of the experience of living in a new country for a while. Part of the reason I moved overseas was to stop working in the industry and change my lifestyle and habits. I was trying to be less materialistic and more humble. I was using escorting to fuel my consumer habits that were leaving me feeling empty and shallow.

Anyway, the retail job overseas only lasted a month until my addiction tapped up on me.  I was working so hard, but kept reminding myself that a whole week’s worth of wages is something I could make in 1 hour. Why was I slaving myself for petty pay when I could be paid to essentially get pleasure? That’s what I told myself. Indeed there were many clients I encountered who literally paid me to seek out my pleasure, but it wasn’t always that way. There’s the good, and then there is the average. Most of the men are decent looking and polite. Over the last five years I can only recall maybe 2 or 3 clients that were problematic, but nothing life threatening. Again, I am thankful that I haven’t encountered a dangerous client yet, because I know there a predators out there.

Back to my venture overseas. I ended up going back to the industry. I looked at the local papers and saw hundreds of advertising for escorts, brothels, and massage parlors. I was in a country where prostitution was legal. I wasn’t keen on escorting (going to a client’s hotel), so I decided to try a high-end brothel establishment. I called up one that was located in a posh area, and the following Saturday I ended up working. I made a lot of money that night, and ended up working until the early morning. The following shifts followed the same pattern. I felt great again. Whenever I got back to the industry I felt like I was on top of the world, because the money seemed endless and my ego was inflated. Only two months after going back to the industry in this new wonderous country I met my boyfriend (fiancee).

I remember the night vividly. I wasn’t even supposed to work that night, but I came into work. Before I even got dressed in my lingerie the receptionist asked me if I wanted to meet a client in the waiting room. She told me that I was exactly his type: busty and very attractive. So I went to say hi to him in my normal clothes and he chose me instantly. At first he booked for one hour, which later turned into a 3 hour booking. During those hours sex didn’t seem like it was his main reason for coming to see a girl. I could tell he was lonely. He told me about his life: he works all the time, Muslim, alone, doesn’t drink, doesn’t go out too much. Yet we had so much to talk about. I felt very comfortable with him. The fact he wasn’t touching me, or making a grab for my breasts (like most men do) made me feel I could trust him. I was quite horny that night, and because he was so polite I wanted to give him my body. I allowed him to go down on me, and I even crossed my limited and kissed him passionately. We had sex at the end that was quick. He asked for my number. I told him I don’t go out with clients outside of work, but I still gave him my number. Many men ask to take me out, and a few times in the past I had gone with them only to regret it later. But for some reason I trusted him.

I told him I was craving a specific ethnic cuisine, so on our first meeting he took me to the fanciest restaurant in the city. He was very respectful and polite. He bombarded me with gifts that night. I did not know how to react. My mind always assumed anyone giving me something always had a catch. But he said he didn’t expect anything. I had already set me mind that I would not have sex with a client for free. If he were to try to touch me or act sexual I would leave immediately. But that did not happen. The fact that he did not touch me or make a move drove my hormones wild. Instead I gave him a small kiss. We ended up kissing for hours. Even after kissing he still respectfully kept his hands off my body. It drove me insane, because I had never encountered a man who didn’t proceed to touch me. Finally I motioned him to do something (anything) to my deeply aroused body. So he decided we lay in his bed and cuddle. He kissed my entire body for another 2 hours, teasing me respectfully and being careful not to touch my private areas. This made me even more hot, yet I was shy to say anything.  Then he kissed my thighs and slowly started to kiss me down there. He did it for over an hour, teasing me and breaking my climaxes. I had the most intense orgasm and he loved it.

After that, he still continued to amaze me. After I had orgasm, he just laid back and cuddled me. I thought he would have expected something in return, but he didn’t. He was humble and said he enjoyed giving me pleasure. That made me want to give him pleasure too. We made love that night.

After that first date, I thought of him as a great person and new friend. I did not want to date him and didn’t even think about it. We continued seeing each other and he eventually asked me, “So are you my girlfriend?” I wasn’t sure what to say because I had not even considered it. I said yes…hesitantly.  We stayed together from then on and he continued to give me the best orgasms every day of our relationship. 2.5  years later we moved across the world together, engaged, and now are living on opposite sides of the world. I left him. The police helped me make him leave.

And now I love him. And now I need him. I chose my independence over him. In particular, I chose escorting over him. I have all that I want, and I’m unhappy.