Tag Archives: Memoirs

Clients, Escorts & All: How You Behave When No One is Watching Defines Your Character

birds-symbolism

The increasing apathy towards others makes it apparent that there is a war against love and belonging in society. Disunity is being promoted on a grande scale in subtle ways — for what purpose? Disunity, destroying bonds, destroying love — they all serve the purpose of making us mindless drones, consuming endlessly. I try hard to not let this realization harden me, though it is a battle at times. I am aware that goodness still prevails in humanity. I’ve witness many people become jaded by the rampant trends of shallowness, but I remind them that wholesome goodness still remains in the margins. Like anything of true beauty, goodness is often a hidden gem and not apparent so easily.

It is said that the true mark of a person’s character is how they treat others. For me, I further evaluate ones goodness based on how they treat the most vulnerable people outside the public eye. Prostitutes get to see a spectrum of empathy and apathy in humanity in ways that, perhaps, the average woman does not see. We see how men behave when they are outside the surveillance of society -when they are anonymous.

Sadly, a lot of ‘nice’ people in public can be the exact opposite behind closed doors — especially when their identity is anonymous and they are situated in a setting where they cannot be touched by the law. A client, for instance, may behave very differently with a prostitute than with others in a public setting. He may disregard common decency and respect when dealing with prostitutes, because he knows he will face no backlash since his identity isn’t being exposed. Thus, it is often behind closed doors where ones’ true colors are exposed. All prostitutes have their own share of experiencing such a soulless character. Indeed, not all clients fit into this heartless persona. Thankfully, almost all of my clients personally are decent men. Indeed, a client who treats prostitutes with respect, kindness, and dignity is a wholesome being — such a persons kindness is genuine when they behave morally outside the public gaze.

What is worrisome is that the complete disregard of a woman’s soul and emotional well-being (a women’s mind and soul completely divorced from her body) is increasingly becoming MORE common in society — and not just towards sex workers. When apathy becomes the norm, how are people to trust others? When hatred and exploitation of certain peoples becomes the norm, how can there be hope?

There is hope, of course. Goodness still exists in a rampantly shallow society, though in the minority. And indeed, hard hearts can be softened..

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Baran (2001)

For this post, I want to analyze and recommend a film that is dear to my heart, a film that inspires the softening of the heart. A very simple, yet deeply meaningful film by the talented Iranian director Majid Majidi, titled Baran. Though the film Baran has nothing to do with prostitution, it is a film that has brought me to tears in relation to my work as a prostitute. But beyond that, the film Baran has immensely valuable lessons of humanity that have become so foreign to many of us.

The story in Baran is situated in modern day Iran, in the context of neighbouring war-torn Afghanistan. Millions of Afghan refugees fled to Iran in recent decades to flee war, and what emerged were profound xenophobic views towards Afghans living in Iran. The xenophobic attitudes of Iranian society towards Afghans is common place, comparable to the bigoted American view of illegal Mexican immigrants, or bigoted Gulf Arabs attitudes towards their migrant workers. In Baran, the reality of Afghans in Iran is depicted by illustrating how they work in slave-like jobs, were severely underpaid compared to Iranian or Turkish workers, and had limited-to-zero access to government social welfare provisions.

What is compelling about this film is it addresses the topic of basic humanity: genuine love (which is selfless) and belonging, and most importantly, it addresses the societal conflict that PREVENTS genuine forms of love and belonging from taking place. Indeed, there are endless forces within modern society that attempt to seal our hearts and replace love with synthetic versions (or hate). One might ask: Why are certain vulnerable groups treated with such hostility and degradation? How does one become a apathetic person who commits injustice to the vulnerable?

Baran teaches the viewer that a hateful, apathetic person is often the product of the their respective societal norms. In other words, if one lives in a society that embraces hateful attitudes towards a certain group and constantly spews propaganda to continuously demonize them, then inevitably the majority of the populace will internalize this societal norm. In the case of Baran, the main character Lateef, a Turkish migrant worker (viewed as more ‘dignified than being a ‘lowly’ Afghan worker) epitomizes a young mind who has internalized the prevalent xenophobic attitude towards Afghans. He behaves incredibly cruel towards the Afghan characters in the film, initially. His hate is based off not his own observation and experience, but rather through xenophobic societal norms. Lateefs’ cruelty is far more grave given that the Afghan workers, in particular, had no social or legal protection in Iran. Thus, cruelty towards marginalized groups, generally, face no repercussions or backlash. Moreover, when someone internalizes xenophobic attitudes, their cruelty is perceived as nonproblematic and in some cases, justified.

Change is Possible – A Hard Heart can be Softened

What strikes me is the climax in this film, which occurs when the initially cruel character, Lateef, has an epiphany — a life changing realization. Lateef realizes he has made a grave immoral mistake by abusing and neglecting the vulnerable. He is filled with remorse. I view Lateefs’ epiphany and realization of his faults as his mark into manhood/adulthood — he, initially, had zero care or empathy for others. He was hot-headed and careless, thus demonstrating his immaturity and lack of empathy. Empathy is a quality that marks one into maturity — a child does not know empathy. For instance, a baby or child cries out to its Mother when it needs something. A child does not yet have the capacity to be considerate of the Mother’s well-being. But as adults, one of the most noble traits to acquire that breaks one away from childhood is empathy. Empathy requires the realization that ones own actions affect others. Lateef came to this realization when he was faced with the ugliness of his own behavior towards the voiceless Afghan workers, which haunted him. And how did he come to this conclusion?

Lateef went upon his own journey of realization by going outside his own circle to observe the life of downtrodden people — namely, the despised Afghan refugees working in Tehran. He was brought to tears by witnessing the the hardships faced by the Afghans (poverty, hopelessness, humiliation, loneliness). By witnessing the hardships they faced, Lateef realizes how blind he was to the xenophobia towards Afghans in Iranian society. Essentially, the lesson learnt here is this: it is easy to condemn, exploit and dismiss people or groups when you have not known them personally or have experienced life from their perspective.

Finally, the most serene aspect of this film, which usually brings me to tears is how Lateef seeks to redeem his morality by giving up his own comfort (he gives his entire years worth of salary and life savings to the vulnerable Afghans). Lateef is irreversibly changed by this epiphany into a wholesome, responsible and moral young man. Lateef, himself, is relatively poor, but considers his plight as an impoverished Turkish migrant worker as a paradise compared to the plight of Afghans. So, thus, he gives up everything he has, his money and even sells his own identity card — a card that will disrupt his own well-being if he is without it. Lateef hopes that by giving aid he will redeem not only his past immorality, but he is also performing his moral responsibility as a man towards the female protagonist, Baran. What is compelling is that not a single soul knows about Lateefs’  act of generosity — he sought no reward, no recognition, no recompense for giving his lifes’ savings away to the vulnerable. What is this gesture other than the expression of utmost selfless love? Finally, at the end of the film, the expression of content that Lateef expresses with his smile is the epitome of true love. I urge you to watch this gem of a film and witness the very subtle messages of humility yourself. SubhanAllah

My heart melts while viewing this film for the immense morality it portrays, which is something so rare and beautiful –something so deeply lacking in today’s modern society — selfless love. How many of us can say we love without expectation? How many of us can say we give altruistically towards others, anonymously perhaps, without any expectation? Indeed these are questions I have to ponder and understand myself. How many clients are kind and respectful to prostitutes without putting her comfort in jeopardy? How many clients can retain kindness to a prostitute despite not getting what they had hoped for? It is indeed a mark of strength and courage to retain selflessness in today’s world. Even if we desire to love others selflessly, it is immensely difficult in a climate that tells us to focus on inflating our own egos. But I still have hope– I still believe, and have seen at times, that there are beautiful souls among us. The degree of humanity expressed in the film Baran is something one can only dream of. I suppose I, personally, still have a child-like desire to be loved by another truly selflessly — we yearn for this feeling that we had as children (to be loved selflessly by our Mothers and Fathers, if we were blessed to have them both or at all). Indeed some people were not blessed to experience the selfless love of parents, so I hope that those people, in particular, are blessed with the most sincere love from others.


To readers, keep your hearts soft — Don’t feel down if you cannot attain the love/gratitude that you desire for yourself. Sometimes, one must forget about themselves and spread love for those who are lacking the most love in society today.

It is my hope that this post beckons one to ask themselves: How do you treat others when no one else is watching?

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An Honorable Love

I honored the memories by enduring the pain,

I did not numb, I did not run away, I just lived and accepted the torment.

My silence was my honor.

You, however, honored it by drowning yourself in alcohol.

In this new far away place,

Without heart, you perform your 5 daily prayers.

And this is how you show your honor,

Desperate to boost your ego, your faltering sense of ‘pride,’

By buying women, using them to quench your hunger, and discarding them once you’ve eaten their souls.

Oh, an honorable lover indeed.

Foolishly, I once considered our seperation akin to tales of the Great Lovers.

Only to realize, I was the only one mourning.

Oh, what wasted tears.

To realize all that flattery was really a slow, indirect rape.

Cunning foxes always use their charm,

To use others to please their own selfish desires.

Does a fox ever repent for the blood that remains on his teeth?

I will burn, I will accept the humiliation and embrace it,

For pain is ultimately strength, and I fear no longer to endure it.

Unlike you, who fears a drop of despair.

The laws of physics now apply:

“What goes up must come down,”

you have fallen from the pedestal.

And thus, no longer worthy of honor.

-Myself

———————-

fragrant garden

The following poem was written by a man, in praise of the scent of his lover:

A Woman’s Scent

That night when my mother
took me to her breasts
I knew woman had a scent
quite different from man’s…

Tonight you still remind me of
my mother’s old fragrance
though you too have your different scent –
a scent entirely your own!

In summer, an aroma of apple juice
envelopes your breasts. In monsoon,
the wet fragrance of wild forest flowers
in your hair. And in the winter,
your arms smacking of honeyed milk
and your lovely feet of jasmines. In spring,
this strong odour of musk in your loins,
and in your navel that faint lavender!

In different seasons, you smell differently.
In different places, you smell differently.

But when I smell you entirely at once,
my love,
your scent becomes
an undefinable something!

-Dr Tapan Kumar Pradhan

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Sheherazade Becomes Marginal in a Society that Embraces Apathy

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When you live in a society where shallowness is embraced, there will be a mass following of people who imitate shallowness.

You see, the elite can only thrive with a mass following, by creating a mass appeal, popularity.

The merciless thrive by exploiting the basic human desires, and brand their strategies with the facade of “love” or “humanity.”

This shallowness is a form of turbulence — keeping us distracted, distancing us from Light.

Light can seem invisible with turbulent vision; yet the wise know Light continues to radiate in full spectra in undetected forms.

The wise know to be wary of “charming” promises, as Plato says “Things are not what they appear.”

It is only those placed in liminal states who are able to contrast between discourses.

But you see, our state of being is not a static entity. Circumstances can harden us, circumstances can soften us —

Can one be so optimistic these days?

Something new is occurring in human history, with humans being hardened into objects, irreversibly.

Resistance is strategically kept powerless and marginal.

If only Foucault was alive to see his biopolitics now.

The once optimistic feeling of softening the soul is being negated in a new social transformation who’s future is unknown.

Long ago, Sheherazade softened the heart of King Shariyar. But this was a time when the art of wisdom was embraced by the ruling elite.

Once, people were aware of the dehumanization resulting from objectification.

An objectified human becomes inanimate, lacking substance — yet this obsolescence is embraced!

Now, increasingly, the art of wisdom is silenced, and instead ‘information’ prevails.

Modern education is information, not knowledge — and the marginal are drowning.

A life of simulated shallowness, avarice and merciless individualism is propagated as “the promise” and masks the greedy profit that lies underneath

I have softened the hearts of many men. Though, I am limited in the abundance of human drones.

A drone is taught to valorise surfaces only, like the body; it cannot detect the emotional depth of the soul.

How foolish of me to consider myself a Sheherazade in a society that is morally bankrupt!

You see, in a world where shallowness prevails, the shallow ideals will be rewarded.

Oh, the days when I was an object, I only attracted objects!

Oh, I am fully aware, that if I transformed myself into a walking simulation of stupidity (a shapely ass and big pair of tits as my sole identity), then I will reign popularity.

But you see, now, I refuse to be an inanimate object.

How could anyone be an object once they’ve reached their soul?

I speak in a language that cannot be comprehended so easily,

it will only resonate by those immersed in Love.

My silence speaks this language.

My God, I am so thankful You reign in my heart, radiating Your Beauty

The burning of my heart keeps me from solidifying into a cold, hardened object. I’m melting in Your bliss.

Love will shine, it radiates in all forms to those whose surfaces are still permeable.

-Myself

*The tale of Scheherazade is symbolic in showcasing that wisdom is what makes a human worthy of being. Scheherazade changed King Shahriyar’s murderous vengence towards women, and inevitably softened his heart. How? She used her wisdom, her knowledge — she was not simply an object. The symbolism has relevance to today’s context: When a human is simply an object, devoid of inner depth, they become perceived as insignificant, disposable as an inanimate object. Sadly, it has become a trend in modern societies for people to identify in objectifying manners, thereby neglecting the ripening of their inner beings. This trend is a reflection of the ‘popular’ social values that are advertised by all forms of media/social media. 

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set free

“They have taken us prisoners,

They’ve locked us up.

But that’s nothing…

The worst

is when people –knowingly or not —

carry prison inside themselves”

-Nizam Hikmet

(trans. Sisir Kumar Das 378)

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Do Panjereh

(…)

always been a distance

between your hands and mine.

always with this bitterness

our days and nights have passed.

 *

there is not a very long distance between us, but

(even this short distance) seems so far.

the only connection between you and me

is the kind caressing hands of wind.

*

we are forced to stay captive.

we will stay captive as long as we live.

for us the only way to freedom is death.

as soon as we are set free, we will die.

*

Oh, I wish this wall would fall down

so that you and me will die together

and in another world

we will be able to hold hands, be together.

may be in that other world,

the pain of shunning and hatred wont exists in hearts.

(may be in that new world) between their windows

wont be any barrier of walls.

-Googoosh

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Prostitution: Elitism & Why I Despise the “Man in a Business Suit.”

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Like many young minds, I once believed the stereotypes that were socialized into my little mind from a young age. Back then, I had no idea that the debauched images, ideas and discourses from the mass media would vastly influence me to have a narrow outlook on life. When I started prostitution, I had a naive sense that wealthy-looking men were the ideal clients. It was not only clients, but I had a naive admiration of the ‘prestigious’ and ‘elite.’ Only later, I realized that the most ‘prestigious’ people are actually quite poor, poor in they have not acquired any compassion or true beauty (ihsan). Very quickly I learned that wealth does not necessarily imply a persons inner qualities. True wealth and beauty are not material or physical, true wealth is in the heart. With clients, I realized the loveliest men are those whom are humble, easy-going and unscathed by the poison of Western-Liberal values. My ex and the Sheik, among others, are the best examples of such men.

Years ago, fresh to the sex industry, I remember an older prostitute who put us younger escorts into perspective. While all of us were chatting together, a newbie escort announced, “I only want to see clients with business suits!” Shortly after, a well-dress client entered, wearing a business suit and carrying a polished leather briefcase. The older prostitute joked, “Don’t get too excited girls. He might be jobless, going for an interview.” In other words, the older prostitute was trying to say that a ‘business suit’ doesn’t really mean anything — it doesn’t mean he will be a worthy client. She was right. A lovely, generous, warm-hearted client can exist in any form, any ethnicity, and any social class — and more importantly, in any type of clothing.

As mentioned in previous posts, some of the most generous clients I have had are those who do not actively showcase their wealth. As well, even regular working or middle-class men can also be generous and lovely. I was once naive enough to believe that a man dressed sharply in a posh business suit was the ideal client. But now, after all these years, I find the business suit quite unappealing. It’s not the actual clothes I despise, but I despise the VALUES associated with the business suit. The ‘business suit’ is symbolic of modern capitalism; It’s the image of condoning unequal profit, greed, competition, exploitation, egotism, ignoring the metaphysical — and even worse, this mentality and it’s associated values are PRAISED and embraced in the West, and increasingly being praised in non-Western societies. Sadly, so many people are seduced by these material values, which they consider important and worthy. This reminds me of a quote from the book, “Tuesday’s With Morrie,” below:

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It’s also very sad to see so-called Muslims exhibit and condone these traits of business ‘professional’ ethics, which is completely the antithesis of Islam:

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Now, of course, not all men who wear suits are the heartless, soulless persons with no values that I am depicting. And equally, not all businesses have inhumane objectives. Of course not. The business suit has become a norm, and indeed some whom wear it do not subscribe to the values it currently symbolizes. Some have to wear this business attire out of conformity, or expectation, but it does not define who they are. Here lies the importance of not judging on first appearances. We all wear facades and labels, but the trueness of individual is much deeper.

I, too, portray myself in ways that can be misleading. I advertise myself under all the terms of “elite,” “high-class,” “upscale,” “exclusive.” These terms could easily signify that I’m arrogant, pretentious, shallow, etc. These terms have very vague meanings, yet I only use them to market myself accordingly to the norms of escorting world. Sadly, the terms ‘elite’ and ‘high-class’ are the accepted descriptors for prostitutes who are allegedly physically beautiful, clean, well-mannered and can provide good service. If I don’t use these words, then clients might assume I’m the opposite of those qualities. It’s ironic. Subscribing to the term ‘elite’ does not make me a better lover, nor does it make me better person. In essence, good companionship and good sex HAS no class, no discriminant.

Like many odd reasons, our society embraces this notion of being “exclusive” — excluding others, and being only available to eligible persons. This makes me feel sad. I wish I didn’t have to use these arrogant terms for myself when advertising. However, although I would love to be more inclusive with whom I see,  I have to be exclusive when advertising. The unfortunate reality is that there are many “bad” seeds of clientele that exist in the escorting world. If I am too inclusive, then I make myself vulnerable to danger, undesirables, the heartless, etc. I do not like to give the impression that I’m “exclusive” in an arrogant way. I’m only “exclusive” to protect myself from the ills of the sex industry. In essence, I welcome decent, kind, warm-hearted men from ALL social statures so long they can pay for my services. I see that many “high-class” escorts misuse their imagined status — they develop an ego. Some escorts mistakenly assume that being ‘elite’ makes them better, and also believe that ‘elite’ men implies better clients. I made this mistake too, but very quickly realized I was wrong in my assumption. Judging clients on their heart and intentions is much more wise than judging on their level of material prestige. But one only learns with experience…

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A Courtesans’ Perspective: Fragments of Thought

Lately, I am reluctant to share my thoughts. Sometimes I see no purpose to continue writing at all, but then I’m reminded of how my writings can, perhaps, comfort and help others with similar experiences. Rather than a usual post,  this post contains fragments of my writings in recent months.

nature

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(…) I am immersed in emptiness. Yet this lonesome exile inspires my poems. Had everything remained glorious, would I ever conceive these poems? These thoughts brew endlessly in sleepless nights. If you see beauty in my words, then please know that they are the result of pain and tears.

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(…) At least, with your protective arms, I could forget the world. Forget all my worries. But now, there is no hope. No security. No protective love from you. Everything is gone. I want to escape so desperately. But I can’t. I am on my own. And this debauched society tells people to be ‘independent,’ in an effort to mask their exploitative interests. Yes, I am praised for being ‘independent,’ yet this made me further isolated from warmth and belonging — who did this really benefit after all?

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On “The Impact of Travels” :

(…) When I was in my early teenage years, I remember walking along a narrow lane in a busy city in Northern China. I was starting to become aware of my rapidly blossoming womanly body. My appearance caused the attention of onlookers, who first complimented my appearance and then ask “Where are you from?” Ethnic wise, I can be anything from Turkish to Turkmenistani, so whenever I travel internationally people often assume I am mixed with their local culture. As I walked along, an elder man, who seemed to look like a holy man of some sort, stopped before me. He bowed at my feet and then apparently blessed me. These early instances of superficial admiration started to build my growing sense of self..

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(…) I realize my daily routine is really just feeding someone else’s dream. Countless hours spent studying, reading. And I do this with painstaking joy and curiosity. But why through these elitist institutions? It’s very discouraging when realizing that most of our lives have been strategically tailored to maintaining a system of profit and greed. 

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Poetry:

(…)Let me wither away. Let me be like a corpse, a dead body, attracting all the vultures. Let them feast upon my body until it’s empty. What is the point to remain a half-dead body? 

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“Hopeless Moment” :

I cannot bear to be a burden to anyone anymore, so I stay in my own prison. If I don’t sell my dead body, then my savings will go dwindling, just like my heart. How can an escort remain successful when she is dead inside? My success is tied to my sense of hope — but how does one continue this work when all hope is faded? This smile is so fragile. I cannot bear to be fake, but I have too. 

My ‘sweetness’ is fragile, and I pray that good men will approach me. I fear the bad side of this industry, as I’m far too weak, at this particular moment, to deal with the bad seeds. And sadly, bad seeds are increasingly abundant….

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On “Annoyances of Advertising” :

In a perfect world, I could advertise and only lovely men would contact me. But in reality, my carefully outlined website isn’t enough to deter morons from contacting me and wasting my time. Yes, there are hungry vultures of men who sit on their computers, calling up escorts and inevitably waste our time. They have no sense of courtesy or respect. I ignore these types, yet unfortunately they are part of the process of sifting good potential clients from bad ones. I must say thanks to God, because my clients are lovely men who are deeply respectful. But sadly, an escort has to encounter the BAD to see the GOOD. And even worse, sometimes it’s not so easy to tell the good from the bad. 

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On “The Doctor: an ‘Endowed’ Client” :

(…) I was not used to his endowed thickness. He was too lovely to deny, so I wanted to try. He asked, sweetly, “Are you okay?” I told him, “Yes,” and motioned him to continue pushing it inside me. Whilst this handsome young doctor was attempting to fill me with his thickness, I was fantasizing that my previous lovers were watching me take it. I expressed this fantasy to another client, Mr.Zee, last night. Whilst he penetrated me very passionately, I said, “I wish a group of young handsome men are watching us, would you be shy?”

At times, that’s one of my main fantasies: to have my lovers watch me getting so wet and horny for another handsome man’s thickness. I want my lovers to get angry, yet at the same time see their manhood getting immensely hard. And then, my lover, of course, gets his turn after the other(s) finish. I do not actually consider doing this fantasy, but talking about it can be exciting…

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On “My Heart and Love Cannot be Bought” :

I swear, it is really the most strangest feeling to be extremely sad, hopeless, unhappy whilst simultaneously laying in the arms of a man who thinks you are a Goddess. I can illustrate this by narrating a client I recently saw. This client was of similar origins to myself. He saw me and couldn’t stop praising me. He said I was his dream girl, and he wanted to dedicate the entire appointment to praising me. His flattery was along the lines of “I’ve been dreaming about the most perfect girl all my life, and it is you.” He literally was licking and kissing my body for 2 hours. After he made me orgasm, he insisted that I come again, and again. Eventually, I had to forcefully push his head away from between my thighs. I found his sweetness very lovely, and felt very thankful for it. But I knew what he wanted — he wanted love. And I have no love in my heart to give him, except for the moments he paid for. He reminded me of my ex-fiance, who went to all lengths to make me feel pleased and happy in the most selfless manner. I feel sad that I cannot give him the love he desires. 

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Without love, everything can seem so pointless. Why aspire to anything if life is going to be lonesome and meaningless? And ironically, there is love all around me. I do have men who love and admire me, offering me the life I dream about. But I do not love them. I cannot force myself to love someone. I want nobody else. I have no desire to meet others. My heart is in exile. 

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Poetic Thoughts:

Let me burn. Let me burn until there’s nothing left. I swear, I am only a body now. My soul has departed. Like Pakeezah called herself, I am just “a dead body.” I am a beautiful body, who’s dead inside. I am painted with kohl and red lipstick, appearing like an elegant beauty of exotic regions. Once, this beautiful body and face was filled with light within, but now, everything is gloom.

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More on “My heart and love is not for sale” :

(…) Lately, I’ve met too many single clients who are trying to get a relationship. Most are humble and respectful about it, which doesn’t bother me. But some are arrogant, who mistakenly think they can impress me with their money and so-called ‘success.’ To the arrogant types, I feel like saying, “I’ve had much BETTER than you. I’d rather DIE than settle with you.” Yes, that’s extremely harsh, but honestly sometimes that is what I feel. One overly-confident client asked, “If a man supported you financially, would you be with him?” And I said, “Only if I loved him, but otherwise no.” No, my love is not for sale. 

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I am back in hell. Silenced. I do not dare to share my pain with clients, or anyone. If I wanted to, I can be loved and cared for. But I don’t want to be near somebody I don’t love. I’d rather sulk alone. I don’t want pity. The only one who can console me is the one who just died. 

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(…) and these nights drenched in tears, surrounded by abundance, has made me realize the most invaluable purpose of life: God (love). 

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On “Mourning” :

It feels like I’ve spent these weeks in mourning. Mourning, yet there is no comfort in the sense of closure. Finally, I went to a place of death, where there is only mourning. And I cried. I was shocked at myself, as I almost never cry in front of strangers. Everyone around me was crying, and somehow I absorbed their pain too. But for the most, my tears were in vain, as I was mourning the death of my own love. And how does one mourn when their heart is shattered? How does one just continue in life? Life can never be the same. 

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The Calm after the Storm – Erotic Reconciliation

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On this eve, I told him that this was the last day, and henceforth I will never speak to him again. It was only to be a quick goodbye. But I admit, one week without his beautiful cock and delicious body was making me crave him intensely.

I opened the door. We locked eyes. We both started to cry. One week before, I was furious and angry. I decided to start a big fight with him. I threw him out. He was innocent, as he’s my devoted lover. But sometimes, I just want out. Only later, I realize how inseparable we are.

Being the respectful man he is, he didn’t dare cross my ruling. After all, he knows how ruthless I can be when I am angry. When he arrived, I permitted a hug. The hug was so warm, that it was impossible to let go. He didn’t let go, as he started to bury his face in my neck. The familiar scent of love. He already knows every inch of my body…

Rather purposely, I dressed exquisitely sexy. My sumptuous breasts were well displayed in an elegant silk gown that clung tightly to my curves. My make up was perfect. My hair was fragrant, flowing and shining. My lips were on full display in a deep red lipstick. And my scent….. seeped out in every motion I made. My appearance was only to emphasize that I was in the mood to be devoured.

But this time, everything was emotional. I, his lady, was telling him that everything is over. Whilst we hug, he started to cry more. And then my own tears started falling intensely. For some reason, both of us believed that this was actually the real ending, the real good-bye.

But the hug made us both weak. Whilst in tears, I found myself biting my lips and clenching between my thighs. He grabbed me tightly while hugging, so my breasts were pressed against his own chest. How could I resist his delicious body, his euphoric scent seeping from his skin? But I did resist. I pulled away. I walked away….with one finger nervously on my lips. I knew he was fully scanning my body as I walked away, as this is why I intended to dress in such a racy gown. We stared at each other. But I quickly diverted my eyes and looked away. He continued to stare. “You look so beautiful baby.” In a rather vain nod, I just acknowledged his comment.

Although I was silent, my intentions were very clear by my eyes. All I was thinking was “Take my body now.” But no such words were said. He knew that underneath my silk gown was a soft, voluptuous, warm, aroused body — the body of his beloved. He also knows that I, his lady, am addicted to his touch. No words needed to be said.

I sat down, and tried to hide the fact that I was deeply deprived from not having his dick inside me for over one week. It’s torturous, as we are addicted to each others bodies. In that short separation, I had felt extreme sadness, and also extreme desire for pleasure. I went crazy with clients in that week, as it was the only way to express all my desire reserved for his body. But he is not replaceable.

He came closer. He sat beside me. He started to smell me, and hug me again. He was still crying. I kept still, silent, and I didn’t move. But I couldn’t stop breathing, nor biting my lips in anticipation. Was it a good idea to continue touching? Then he gave me a small kiss, which meant there was no way of stopping now. Suddenly, we started kissing intensely. After 3 years together, why were kisses on this particular night so intense and beautiful tasting? Deprivation.

I felt myself getting intensely wet as soon as his lips were touching mine. The taste of his lips and the smell of his body was making me lose control. He opened my gown, and caressed my warm breasts, and buried his face in my nipples. “I missed your smell so much baby,” he said. That’s exactly what I was thinking too, as his delicious smelling body was touching mine. Every move he made was exactly what I wanted. His hands slid under my panties, and his fingers felt the slippery wetness that was seeping out. Yes, it’s all for you, I thought silently.

I got up, and he followed me. He hugged me from behind, rubbing his hardness against my warm behind. He then caressed one of his favorite parts of my body — my derrière. He knelt down and started kissing my body from behind. His face was buried in my bottom, and he licked me all the way down to my feet. But on this particular moment, I didn’t want any romance — I didn’t want to be teased and worshipped. We’ve made love and did naughty things in many different ways, but on this particular moment I just wanted him inside me. I missed his hard, thick cock so much. I pulled off his pants. He took off his shirt. I licked his neck and licked his nipples…..oh, did I mention how beautiful was his scent?! I melted just inhaling and tasting his fragrant body…

I laid down on my back, and he opened my legs. I wanted him inside me right at that moment. He was just about to enter me, but he then put his face between my thighs and started licking my pussy. It felt intense, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his cock. I motion him to get up, so he could push his manhood inside of me. I was craving it so dearly, as my pussy was extremely wet and tight in anticipation.

As soon as he entered me, I screamed. He moaned too, which sounded so sexy. Both of us were in ecstasy. I grabbed him tight, digging my nails into his back at moments. The shape of his beautiful manhood and the way he fucks me makes me want to cum so hard. My pleasure is always first, and he fucks me in whichever manner I instruct. As he says, “I know every part of your body baby, I know exactly what you like.” And he’s absolutely right.

The kisses didn’t stop, as we were locked in each others lips whilst he penetrated me. I screamed so loud while he made me cum with his manhood, and I went crazy whilst he continued to push it deep inside me. I scream, “More baby…more…” I still wanted more, but he was ready to explode, where he came intensely. We collapsed on the bed, as if still in a trance. We held each other tight as we recovered from the intense pleasure. Of course, this was only the first round of pleasure, and only a very basic depiction of love-making for us…….as my Sheik and I have explored many different ways of giving each other pleasure.

On that particular evening, my intention of separation was, inevitably, revoked…..

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