Tag Archives: escorts

The Agency

Beautiful women
For your pleasure.
You may browse at your leisure.
There will be no sinning
For we
Only offer company,
But, what goes on behind closed doors . . .
We break no laws
But, discerning gentleman will understand
that money may command
a girlfriend
For the night
If the price is right,
But we must both pretend . . .
You do understand that we
Only provide company . . .

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You May Lie

You may lie
Back and think
Of your native lands,
And sigh
So he will think
In his drink
That his hands
And unshaven kiss
Have tipped you
Into the abyss
Of bliss

In his heart
(The better part)?
He may know
That it is not so,
But drink
Causes many a man to think
The untrue is true,
(But there are sober fools too).
And you,
do you Do
What you Need to
When you take the cash
Of the lonely, brash
And rash?

A review of my short story, “Samantha”

I was pleased to receive the following recent review of my short story, “Samantha” on Goodreads:

“A powerful and well-written story”.

You can find the above review here, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1260963716?book_show_action=true&from_review_page=1.

To read more reviews of “Samantha” or to purchase my book, please visit, https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BL3CNHI/.

A man of the world addresses a young woman of easy virtue

“A service like any other,
But don’t tell your mother
As she
Is not like you and me.
We see
The truth plain
(which many distain)
That for the right price
He Can frequently have the She
Of his choosing
And vice
Is a call
Or click away.
How easy ‘tis to fall
Off a log, and oft we lack
The will to climb back”.

The Escort Life

My stories, “The First Time” and “Samantha” explore the world of escorting or, not to put to fine a point on it – prostitution. In “Samantha”, Sam is forced into prostitution by her brutal pimp, Barry. While in “The First Time”, we meet Becky, a young graduate who enters sex work in order to clear her debts and avoid homelessness. All of my stories are fictional as are the characters portrayed in them, albeit based on extensive research into the world of sex work.

Below is a guest post by a young woman who is engaged in escorting in Australia. As a writer it is important to listen to people with knowledge of the subject matter about which one writes. Information gleaned from the internet can be extremely helpful. There is, however value in hearing it from the horse’s mouth so to speak. I am, therefore grateful to Sydsugarbabe (not her real name) for taking the time to write the below guest post. The article below reflects the experiences and opinions of the author (Sydsugarbabe) and does not, necessarily coincide with my own. As a writer receptive to the lived experiences of others I do, however believe that the below piece contributes to our understanding of the world’s oldest profession.

For Sydsugarbabe’s blog please visit (http://sydsugarbabe.com/author/sydsugarbabe/).

 

The Escort Life

Desperation. One word that sums up what it took to finally make my plunge into the realm of pleasing men for money. There’s no real way to sugar coat, I

felt trapped by my circumstances, lack of time, lack of money and couldn’t see another way out. To be entirely honest though, the adult industry has always

been somewhat alluring to me, tempting me from the ripe young age of 18.

When I was young I lingerie and topless waitressed, the thought of becoming a stripper or a prostitute intrigued me though I never really thought I might

actually do it. I, like most escorts I know, have deep seated self esteem issues, I didn’t think men would pay me.

One year ago, I began a business quickly, with no money and little planning…. rookie move… but I was sick of living week to week, scraping together

dollars and cents at the end of each week to buy food. Something needed to change and I set out to change it. Once realizing my business needed more capital

than I had, I began looking into escorting.

I wasn’t game enough to meet anyone from an agency, I would get sick with anxiety at the thought, I wasn’t ready but goddam I needed money. I fell into

Sugar Dating and dabbled there for a few months. Sugar dating was more appealing because I didn’t feel like I was a hooker… sure, in essence it’s the

exact same thing. I am selling my time and my body to men for cash. How I justified it was, I got to choose them unlike in the escort world. These men

wined and dined you before bedding you. It somehow seemed to satisfy my mental anguish in some regards.

Still, I was extremely nervous upon starting. I wasn’t too sure how I felt about it all. It confused me to no end when a man paying for pleasure could make

me wriggle, squirm and moan in what would be called ecstasy if it were a partner of my choosing. I had no attraction to these people, how could my body

betray me like that and enjoy the moment?

I made the transition from sugar baby to escorting when I began dating a male escort. I fell for him because I didn’t need to hide anything. I had no

need to hide my raw sexuality or the fact I too fuck for cash. He began pimping me out in the most basic fashion, but as everybody knows business and pleasure

aren’t supposed to mix, even when your business is pleasure. Tsk Tsk.

I joined a long standing and reputable agency once joy turned to tears with the escort. I began seeing a lot more clients, for a lot less money.  I was

very happy with my decision, but a down day as an escort is a seriously down day. There is no real efficient way to articulate just how empty you feel.

All your energy goes into turning into your escort persona, turning on the charm, and becoming a man’s play toy for hours on end. They all begin to look

the same, they are a blank face with a cock, which you are there to fawn over and excite. You are theirs for that time. You have to mentally detach and

go somewhere else. This is easier in some bookings than others of course. Some clients make you focus and discuss the whole way through the sexual act.

This is draining but this is their time. You must look as though you enjoy every second of it.

It makes my stomach turn with particularly sleazy men, you can watch their eyes turn from corporate profession to this particularly glazed over look, deep

with desire and sexually driven. They don’t see you, they see sex, you aren’t a person, you are a piece of meat.

On the opposite end of the scale there are a few lovely, lonely and old gentleman that require more company than pleasure. The polar opposite to the other end

of the spectrum. The young men. It’s quite crazy to think that a prostitute would rather work with an old man than a semi attractive young one but it’s

true.

Young men are watching every second of their time and make sure they get their money’s worth. Hard, fast and full on for the entire time. Most certainly

not easy cash made in ANY regard.

Regardless of their age, the one thing I despise is a client making me cum. I can’t enjoy it, I don’t want to enjoy it, it’s a service and the situation

would never have happened without the exchange of cash. It is the one time I feel dirty. I understand this is hard for people to comprehend though a friend

worded it well

“Every escort keeps something from their clients, so they can remain detached, something anything. In your strange case it’s your orgasm”

Unfortunately however I can’t keep it away from them all the time.. such is escort life.

“To want to abolish prostitution seems to me as dumb as wanting to abolish rain.”

Today’s Daily Telegraph carries an article entitled “343 French Sign Don’t Touch My Whore Petition”. The petition was prompted by a proposal, due to be debated by the French parliament which, if passed would impose heavy fines on those who pay for sex. Opposition to the proposal is summed up by one signatory of the petition who said

“To want to abolish prostitution seems to me as dumb as wanting to abolish rain.”

French feminists are strong supporters of the proposal to criminalise those who pay for sex and have expressed their outrage at the petition. According to some (but not all feminists) prostitution always constitutes the exploitation of women by men. Men have no right to “purchase” ladies and those who do so ought to be criminalised in order to deter others from exploiting women. This perspective underpins the Swedish Law on Prostitution which imposes a fine and/or imprisonment on those who pay for sex in Sweden. Sex workers are not criminalised on the basis that they are the exploited party and one assumes that proponents of the French legislation wish to criminalise clients rather than sex workers.

Opponents of the Swedish legislation and similar laws contend that consenting adults ought not to be criminalised merely because two or more adults decide to enter into a voluntary arrangement for the provision of sexual services. Prostitution is, according to this view a free choice for many adults who enter into the profession. It may not constitute most women’s first choice of career. It is for all that a choice freely entered into by the majority of adults engaged in the sex industry. Proponents of this view argue that the state should concentrate it’s resources on tackling forced prostitution rather than interfering in the lives of consenting adults.

To supporters of the criminalisation of those who pay for sex there is no such thing as choice in prostitution. People enter prostitution out of desperation (frequently after having suffered sexual abuse as children). Consequently those who pay for sex are perpetuating that abuse and should be fined or imprisoned for exploiting vunnerable individuals.

In my story, The First Time we meet Becky, a young graduate who enters the world of prostitution as a professional escort in order to clear her debts and avoid the threat of homelessness. There is no brutal pimp compelling Becky to enter prostitution so on one level it can be argued that she becomes a sex worker of her own free will. On the other hand the fear of losing the roof over her head acts as a powerful incentive for Becky to become a prostitute so although she is not subject to physical or verbal compulsion Becky is, it might be argued compelled by the dire financial situation in which she finds herself to enter the sex industry. She is, in effect left with Hobsons Choice which is, in reality no choice at all. Against this it can be contended that many people faced with severe financial difficulties do not go down the route taken by Becky. Therefore Becky does, in the final analysis still make a choice, she is not a mere victim of economic circumstance. For the Telegraph’s article please visit http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/france/10415267/343-French-sign-Dont-Touch-My-Whore-petition.html. For my Amazon author page please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

 

“To want to abolish prostitution seems to me as dumb as wanting to abolish rain.”

A Question of Interpretation

“Wonderful to meet you Becky. The pictures on the website really don’t do you justice” Colin said rising to pull out a chair for his date.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls” Becky said smiling warmly at Colin.

“No I always say what I mean and you, Becky look absolutely stunning in that blue dress”.

“Thank you” Becky replied, “This is a nice restaurant, I’ve never been here before. I just love traditional restaurants, those oak beams look to be several centuries old”.

“Yes its rare to find a place like this that hasn’t been ruined by some god awful corporate chain. The boards of those places should be lined up against the wall and shot”.

“Shooting is a little extreme. Making them eat in their own restaurants every day for the remainder of their lives would be sufficient punishment”.

“I’ll settle for that because I’m opposed to the death penalty on principle” Colin said smiling broadly. “What would you like to eat or would you like a little longer to choose?”

“The roast venison looks delicious”.

“Good choice. I’ve had the venison several times here and its always been excellent. Would you like to choose the wine?”

“I’m happy with a bottle of the house white”.

“The house white it is then” Colin said signalling to the waiter.

 

 

Bret ascended the stairs. Christ the flat was on floor 21 and he was only on the 7th floor. Typical the lift was out of order and as was so often the case with these council built 60’s tower blocks the stairs stank of urine. Thank god he didn’t live in a place like this.

 

 

“So, Becky have you met many men through the agency?” Colin asked as he poured wine into their glasses.

“This is our evening darling. It doesn’t matter about anyone else” Becky said taking Colin’s hand, “lets not spoil it by talking about other people”.

 

 

Thank Christ he was there. Bret pressed the door bell. It was opened by a lady in her late fourties or early fifties with iron grey hair.

“Come in Bret. How are you?” she said closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine thanks Molly. How are you? Who’s working?”

“We have a lovely new black girl, Caroline. She’s petite, just five feet with long black hair and 36d cup. Monica’s also working”.

“I’ll see Caroline”.

“OK but she’s with a customer at the moment. Would you like a drink while you wait?”

“No thanks” Bret said trying to make himself comfortable on the ancient sofa. Something sharp pearced his skin.

“Fuck not a bloody needle?” he said jumping to his feet.

“We don’t allow drugs here. You know that Bret”.

Bret glanced at the sofa. A rusty metal spring protruded through the threadbare fabric.

“You should get the bloody thing replaced!”

“Sorry Bret I’ll speak to the owner”.

Bret nodded. He knew that nothing would happen. The next time he visited the same sofa would be standing in that filthy corner. Did they never clean this place!

 

 

“I love Keats Ode to a Nightingale. Every time I read it I’m reduced to tears”.

Colin raised his eyebrows.

“You weren’t expecting a girl like me to derive pleasure from literature. I’m the kind of lady who reads chick lit or those trashy novels you pick up in airport book shops am I? Is that what you think of me?” Becky said. She smiled but beneath the smile Colin could detect something else, was it sorrow?

“I must admit to being surprised but, of course there is no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy reading great literature”.

“I read English literature at Notingham university. You look shocked. What is an educated girl like me doing in a business like this. That is what you are asking yourself isn’t it?” They both spoke in low voices but given the noise emanating from their fellow diners it would have been almost impossible for their conversation to have been overheard.

“Yes I must confess that I was”.

“I need to pay off my student loan. Most jobs don’t pay the kind of money to clear it quickly. OK I could pay it off gradually, through my taxes but I want to get a mortgage on a decent place and I don’t want the loan hanging over me. Plus, if I’m honest I like nice clothes and fine dining” Becky said.

“I’m sorry if I offended you”.

“You didn’t darling” Becky said allowing her right foot to rub discreetly against Colin’s leg under the table.

 

 

A door opened. Bret could hear muffled voices followed by the closing of the front door.

“Caroline there is a customer for you”.

Caroline entered and without speaking motioned to Bret to follow her. Closing the bedroom door she asked

“What do you want?”

“Sex”.

“£60”.

Bret handed over the money and undressed. Wordlessly Caroline followed his example and began to massage his back.

“Turn over” she said after only 5 minutes, “Come quick for me babe there is another client waiting”. As she spoke Caroline rolled a durex down over Bret’s erect penis. straddling him she started to sway her hips rapidly in circular motions.

In the distance the sound of running feet could be heard. A crash of breaking wood reached the couple’s ears. Caroline leapt off Bret just as the bedroom door burst open admitting two men in police uniform.

“I’m arresting you sir on suspicion of paying for sex. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?”

Bret desperately attempted to cover his privates with the bed sheet. This couldn’t be happening. He would wake up in a minute at home in his own bed. Bret had heard about the new law which criminalised those who paid for sex, however he had taken the view that police resources being extremely tight the force was highly unlikely to go out of it’s way to enforce the legislation.

“But what about her?” Bret asked pointing to Caroline.

“You haven’t answered my question sir. Do you understand the caution?”

“Yes, but what about the girl, aren’t you going to arrest her?”

“The law says that she is a victim sir so no we aren’t going to arrest her”.

Bret looked stunned.

“But that isn’t justice, its fucking Alice in Wonderland! Everything was consensual”.

“I don’t make the laws sir. I just enforce them. Now just get some clothes on as you will need to accompany us down to the station”.

 

 

“I’ll need to go soon darling” Becky said giving Colin a kiss on the cheek, “can I use your shower please?”

“Of course. There are clean towels in the airing cupboard”.

“Thanks sweetheart. Don’t get up, I’ll take a shower and let myself out. I hope to see you again soon” Becky said climbing out of the bed.

Colin lay there listening to the sound of the shower. The agency was a good one. They always provided top quality girls and the ability to pay by credit card prior to the bookings meant that you didn’t have the unpleasant task of handing over brown envelopes to your date. Under the new legislation what he was doing was technically illegal. However in the unlikely event that anyone did ask questions he and the girl would say that they had met through the agency which provided dates for social events. They had enjoyed one another’s company and had ended up in bed. Payment was however (as stated on the agency’s site) for companionship only, consequently no offence had been committed. Alice in Wonderland? Perhaps but no prosecutions had taken place of clients using escorts and Colin very much doubted that any such prosecution would meet with success.

 

The end