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A New York Escorts Confessions
It’s almost time for Thanksgiving. Which means it’s almost time to spend time again with Neal. Ick
One year later and I still haven’t gotten used to the idea of mom having a boyfriend. Okay scratch that. I could actually get used to that. If only it wasn’t him.
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confessionsShe was the kind of girl you noticed. At least everyone at the bar did. On Sundays she wore her Jets jersey cropped to just under her bra, which showed off her pierced belly. She had think curly blond—locks really, bobbed to her shoulder. Bouncy hair, the kind of hair that someone who wanted to sell shampoo would make a bee line for. She had a spring in her step, a lilt to her voice all topped by an adorable Scottish brogue. What was not to like?
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confessionsIt’s a world of Viagra and Botox and hair transplants and face lifts. Of personal trainers, baby doll dresses, plastic surgery, and Just For Men. And then there was Evan.
I’m always a sucker for the anomaly. And God knows New York City is the best place on earth to find the exception. But there are exceptions and then there are Exceptions.
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confessionsOK, in the spirit of Halloween—or not—check this out.
So at that reunion I went to that I told you about? Well, somebody had taken the time to make this In Memoriam board. There were senior portraits of four kids who had already passed away. We all knew about Evan who had died two years ago from an aneurysm. And many of us had read about Alec, the alcoholic who died in a car crash just six months ago. But the other two? No one had any ideas.
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confessionsMaybe I’ve been watching too many horror films. How else to explain the dream I had last night?
A warning to all who read further: this dream is rated NC 17. And then some.
I dreamed I was having a threesome with these two brothers I know. I have very little interaction with them in life. I know them marginally, haven’t ever thought the first thing about them sexual or not.
I started on the older brother. We kissed. I kissed his neck, his shoulder. He pushed the strap down on my dress. At that point, I had to go somewhere. The bathroom? I just remember a hall.
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confessionsThe other day I got a call from someone new. He told me that my name had been passed on by somebody I knew, whom he mentioned by name. He asked me if I was available that Thursday.
It was pretty familiar territory and yet what he said struck me. Not what he said really—but how. That voice—the deepest, richest voice I had heard in a long time. A James Earl Jones kind of voice. I pictured him, Z, in my mind. He would be big, at least six feet. He would have big hands, be a large presence both physically and in the way he’d command the bar at the restaurant we’d agreed to meet at, Nice Matin. I knew I’d be able to pick him out right away. It was a sort of game I liked to play.
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confessionsSo there I was Sunday, just past my third beer, completely miserable. It was bad enough that Shaun Alexander, last year’s MVP of the league, was out with a broken foot for at least two games. Now I had to watch as Seattle, with no real running game to speak of, was getting pounded by the Vikings—at home no less. Was there hope for my team? Maybe, maybe not. But there was certainly Ray.
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about me
So why am I writing this blog? I have an inner exhibitionist that just needs to be let out. I've always wanted to bare myself completely in front of strangers but have always been held back by fear.
As strange as it may sound, I've never really truly bared myself in front of any of my clients. For all that they've seen, they've never seen me be me. And for all that I've seen, I simply need to share it with you!
So why should you come? To be tantalized and teased. To get release by knowing the true me.
I promise that I won't bite, and if I do bite, I'll make sure you like it!
my favorite posts
- Caveat Vendor - Part II
- Selling Out (Part III)
- Poops!... I Did It Again!
- My First Escorting Experience
- My First Lesbian Experience
- Daddy's Little Girl (Part II)
- Selling Out (Part III)
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