Jake Tahoe

2010-08-14T00:04:00.000-05:00

Had the night off work earlier this week and everyone was being lame, so I facebooked an old buddy from high school. She smokes a lot of weed now, so I figured she'd be an interesting way to spend my night. We met up at the bookstore, where I was buying The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and she was reading You'll Never Blue Ball in this Town Again. We sat in the lounge chairs, bullshitting about funny shit from the past and talking about our latest projects. She's unemployed, I stuck to the activities not formally discussed here. She offered to drive us to the cheap theater, where The Back-Up Plan was playing. That was the film we decided on after smoking two bowls and a beautiful joint in the parking lot. All supplied by her, I might add. Who doesn't love reconnecting with old friends?

I saw her again tonight after work, to smoke more weed at her place. She lives with her mother and her boyfriend, but they don't seem to mind too much on what she's up to. There was no air conditioning, so once I was flying I took off my clothes and sat on her laptop, stumbling like crazy. She was also nude, and very into an episode of Kourtney and Khloe. We got slap happy and started losing it over Holly's World. The guy on there is the most annoying person I've seen on t.v. and it was too much to handle once my brain felt like a nimbus.

After calming down a little we turned on Gaga and somehow started on the subject of sex. She was frustrated that since leaving her dumbass a few weeks earlier, she hasn't been having sex. I tried to explain how a couple weeks isn't so horrendous, but I stopped once I mentioned how much sex I have been having this summer and she looked ready to kill me. So I decided to offer up my penis instead. She agreed, responding simply with, "Sure, fuck it." Which I didn't, but I'll get to that in a second.

I started rubbing her crotch while nibbling on her neck. I was on my side, she was laying on her back, reaching a hand to grab onto my ass. I did this for a few minutes, feeling her get wetter and wetter while moaning progressively louder. She assured me her parents are alcoholics and are in a constant rem once they fall asleep so I was able to relax and concentrate. I eventually brought my left hand to take over, bringing my right up to her tits to give them some attention. Then I moved up to her neck, squeezing it gently while inserting two fingers inside of her. "I Like it Rough" had come on, so I figured I'd get in the spirit. I kept fingering her, slapped her in the face once, took the louder moan and scratching of my back as motivation to do it again. Then I grabbed one of her hands and made her start playing with herself. "Do you like that?"

"Oh my God..."

"Put your fingers inside yourself. Make it feel good."

I sucked on her nipples while she did this a little longer, then returned to wrestling. We tried to use the vibrator, but neither of us were too into it anymore. I think she came without saying anything, but I was so stoned she probably did tell me and I just didn't realize. I was asleep a few moments later.

2010-08-09T19:43:00.001-05:00

The date with the governor made me feel like a real prostitute. Not that street walkers aren't legit, they're just always portrayed as victims in t.v. movies. If I keep it classy I have a better chance of seeing Chace Crawford portraying me on the big screen.

He texted me and told me to dress relatively nice, for he'd like to take me out. Surprise #1. I rarely, almost never get taken out. It's usually to the bedroom and out the door. He asked me what my hourly rate would be, which added to my excitement. I'm used to charging an hourly rate for sex, but to get paid to dress up and eat good food? Score. I kept it at $100 hour. This way he may keep me around a little longer.

I met him at this trendy restaurant downtown, that I've only been to once for a family event. Second surprise. I've been taken to dinner by clients before, but it was usually in the Applebee's range (no disrespect to the big A, their wings are awesome.) The bread platter, not bowl, was amazing. I would have been content with skipping the entree and instead devouring the eight variations of bruschetta all evening, but he insisted I try the tilapia special, which was also delicious.

He is a good conversationalist and it was actually a nice meal to sit through. He mostly talked about business and his different plans for a real estate company he had just started. It wasn't too fascinating, but he has a great sense of humor and kept it amusing. I asked what inspired him to open a real estate business in 2010, and he mentioned that him and a friend renovated several houses that were foreclosed and raised several property values to nearly $1 million. Who knows if it is the truth, but it sounded impressive so I decided to be naive and coo about how cool it all sounded. Key to acting interested but keeping the attention on your cock: Listen intently, compliment moderately. This way they feel they are on a real date while remember, once you make a cute comment, that they get to I was on a fancy date, gotta be polite ya know? Especially when you are getting paid.

He had gotten a hotel room down the street from the restaurant, so we went there instead of his place. He pulled out a wine list when we got to the room and asked me to select a bottle.

"I gotta drive home..."

"Stay the night?"

"Ok."

"How much?"

He had already paid for 4 hours. "Another $300."

"Sounds good." Thank God, I hate having to negotiate. He gave me the cash and the wine list. White Zinfandel. I'm not a big wine drinker, and didn't want to select the most expensive when I had just made $700.

After peeing and checking on the goods, I came back in to find the governor watching Jersey Shore. "Really?"

"Don't get me started."

"Why not?" Now this may seem cheesy when written down, but corny flirting action always does the trick. People will laugh at the silly stuff, but secretly love you for it.

I took off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed just as Jwoww was going after The Situation with an open fist. As I started to consider a career in reality television, possibly as the lead in my own show about nights such as this, I felt hands on my shoulders and my mind immediately switched over to baby kittens dancing on clouds. Getting a massage after a couple glasses of wine is a delight everyone should indulge in. Fortunately for a call boy, it's an occasional perk.

I let him pull me onto the bed and unbutton my shirt before flipping me over and straddling my back. He worked my shoulders, went down my arms, back up to dig his thumbs into the back of my neck and then worked his way down my sides before coming back up my spine to return to my shoulders. His hands were soft, but manly, and he knew just where to put the right amount of pressure. Rough on my neck, a little lighter below it, tough on my shoulders and light on my ass...which was just annoying seeing as I am extremely ticklish. Unless you are licking it, which is what he did next. He was better at massaging, but it was ten minutes of not needing to do much so I was pleased.

There's the wine. I gulped half a glass while laying on the bed and pulled him down to kiss me before moving on.

Next was his back, which I rubbed extensively after watching him undress. He had clean feet, so I rubbed those and focused on his legs while noting tension that indicated an erection. When he started to rub himself against the bed, I turned him over and oh, he's huge. Score! I dove right in, excited for a change of measurements. I licked it up and down after sucking for a few minutes, massaging his balls and rubbing his inner thighs the whole time. He had his hands on my head and I was legitimately turned on. It was so thick. I kept choking on it, so I'd move to his balls for a minute and try again. I got used to it.

He never brought up penetration (not sure I could have done it without being passed out anyway) so we blew each other in between making out, massaging each other's bodies, and watching a bunch of idiots fist pump (I never watched the show before that night, are they actors? I'm not sure people could be that outwardly stupid....Nevermind.) I fell asleep after a final glass of wine, proud of myself for not getting hammered.

I left around 8 the next morning and he assured me he would be calling again. When I got home and counted my money and DVR'd Jersey Shore, I found myself looking forward to it.

2010-07-17T01:25:00.000-05:00

What was that about blogging once a week? I believe I said I will write each week, which I have been doing, just not here. I can say it's been a crazy summer and be telling the truth. About a week after my previous drunken post, I woke up in the ICU all pumped with sedatives and decked out in tubes and a neck brace. I guess I fell or hit my head at the Adam Lambert concert. Maybe it had something to do with those 12 shots. Oops.

Work has been the busiest I've ever seen it. I am making a lot of money so I can't bring myself to complain. Let's just say if it weren't for that fact that the management would have chased me out a while ago. I simply can not work for junkies, or be around them for more than a few minutes. I will demand jail time before a required rehab stint.

With money from wine sales comes money from blowjobs. I always appreciate it when clients are solely interesting in giving (both cash and fellatio) because it makes me feel more fortunate for my predicament. I don't take clients that are customers from the restaurant, which has been happening more than one would expect. Am I starting to reek of call boy? I had a new customer last month ask me if I'd meet him after my shift, to which I politely declined. I didn't want to blow my cover, because who knows what management is up to at this point, but I have no room to judge, so I passed it off as if he was simply asking me on a date. One of my co-workers pointed that out, saying she would have been appalled and gotten him kicked out. Jesus, bitch. Have someone walk you to your car and take it as an excuse to smile that night.

I made an exception to the no-tricks-at-work rule this week. A very good-looking man (perhaps this is what persuaded me,) was being chatty with me inbetween a discussion he was having with a business partner. Or lover, who knows. He was asking what school I go to, what my plans are for the holiday, and actually seemed interested. This caught me off guard, since I usually respond to my customers questions regarding my personal life with bullshit lines such as, "Well, once I finish my Phd I am going to take time off and spend a year in Australia." I don't know why I say these things. It breaks up the routine, I suppose. Businessman left a generous tip, and I was walking towards the kitchen when he walked back in through the front door.

"Did you forget anything, sir?" I smiled and put some menus back on the hostess stand, unsure of where she was floating around at.

"Wanted to say thanks again," he flashed a pearly grin and held out his hand. I shook it, and he stared a moment before walking away. It's so badass when people manage to give a sexy stare without doing it for too long and looking creepy.

He left another twenty in my hand along with a note. Let's hang out. I'll take care of ya. I ask again, do I simply carry the essence of a male prostitute? This stuff does not just happen to people other than Vivian. And she had a vagina...along with Richard Gere.

He also wrote his number in the note so I waited a couple of days to call him. If I am already presenting myself as a hooker, I might as well work on not looking like a desperate hooker. This empty time frame allowed me to gaze up from The Ghost Writer and imagine my life going in a brand new direction come autumn. Would I be able to ditch college and the restaurant and take off to New York City with my new client? He'd put me up in a Manhattan high-rise and only call to alert of dinners and business trips and to see how my staff was treating me. I'd mingle with the elite and immerse myself in a crowd of artists, birthing my persona as a performer and independent model of street art. As I would start to make a name for myself, suspicions regarding my personal life would arise and people would begin to talk. I'd come clean, my lover would be exposed and I would find out he was actually the governor and one year later I'd have a bestseller and a spot on The View.

I'm sober, if you were wondering. And my date with the governor is later at 7.

2010-06-04T03:33:00.000-05:00

Just popping in to say hello. Is anyone out there? I am spinning after a wonderful night at the club. Partially on the dance floor, partly in the back of the bar smoking weed and shooting lemon drops. The weather is perfection and everyone had good energy. I didn't see a fight break out, though if there was one I would have been too drunk to notice. Happy vibes regardless of my ignorant inebriation.

I stressed in the daylight so I was practically chasing nightfall since morning. What is going to happen next? Have I just been wasting my time? I'm 19 and a child, you say, so this blog is laughable. Are you even reading it? Is anyone?

The guy from the comedy club is right. My arm hair is pretty out of control.

2010-05-26T00:41:00.000-05:00

There's this young man from the westside who I run into occasionally. His name is Will, or something. It's usually when I make my rounds at the gay clubs, but tonight it was at the diner that I go to when it feels as though potatoes are really the only thing I can depend on.

He came to sit with me while my friend Z was in the bathroom. I asked him how life has been and he might as well have just said boring because that's all I got out of it. When I started to wonder if Z had passed out, another young man approached our booth and asked if we like to party.

"Got what I need for the night. Thanks, pal." I dug into my hash browns that had just arrived.

"My dude over there made seven figures last year." I look to the table. A man on the verge of his forties was seated with a guy half his age. "We're having a hot tub party and he wants you guys to come." The idiot across from me looks overly flattered. "Are you guys gay?"

"Sometimes." The waitress forgot my milkshake.

The dude goes off about something while I am trying not to blackout before finishing my meal. I come to to hear Will say, "Well, I am an escort!"

"Do you know any girls that could come over with you?"

"Well-"

"Will, stop talking." I put down my fork. "We are already running late for a gang bang. Maybe another time."

The kid said something rude and stormed away.

"What the fuck?" Will's pitch went up a notch.

"I'm not down with human trafficking. And you are not an escort."

"I just had a client last night."

"You suck dick when you're tight on cash and screwed your teacher from high school a few times. Your story would bore a room full of homos. Plus, you still have your day job." Will rambled about something else for a minute while I asked the waitress for my milkshake and Z finally returned. "What the fuck were you doing?"

"I met someone!"

I braced myself for this story after Will took off and I got my strawberry goodness. I then wondered if I qualify for an escort. Like Will, I have a second source of income and really only have an occasional schedule setup with clients. I don't think it's possible to make a living off of the job in my area, and I'm not sure I would want to. Well, hm...

2010-05-23T11:20:00.001-05:00

I'm thinking of taking a trip to New York City. I just went to Daytona and should be saving money but being on the move is much more inspiring than staying holed up here. I am not sure what kind of inspiration I am looking for, I just know that I am bored.

There is a Republican that seems to be interested in your dear blogger. He's gay. I know, what a concept, right? He admires Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck for their "fairness." Interesting, though I wonder what's fair about supporting someone who doesn't believe you should have the right to marry who you want. He's also a Palin fan, which I don't even understand anymore. Anyway, he's very nice but I don't think it's going to go anywhere. I am not insanely attracted to him and am not sure I am ready to come home to a penis every night. I mean, a world without boobies?

I'd be nailing a guy and, forgetting the anatomical structure of a male, I'd reach around for a breast and in a state of confusion, start patting around like I was feeling under a table for an 0ld piece of gum. "Where is your-Oh, right. (flop) We're finished here."

Hours of porn viewing may have attributed to my inability to take joy in a gay relationship. If the guy's penis isn't up to my par with my own and above, it's not going in my mouth. Would you rather suck on a popsicle the size of your pinky finger or Peter North's member? Exactly. I'm just saying, a mouthful allows for more creativity. And if you're not willing to suck it, the chances of a healthy relationship with a gay guy are slim. At least from what I've gathered.

I'm probably more capable of taking on a gay partner than I think. If the dude is entertaining and witty without being one-dimensional it could probably totally work out. A lot of men I come across are just rather, well, boring. I'm looking for a lover that could pique my interest for more than fifteen minutes...without paying for it.

Perhaps I should start fucking Mel.

2010-05-12T15:54:00.000-05:00

Did I make it a new year's resolution to write more? Apparently not. I need to make it a point to, because it always makes me feel good to write. Not sure why this is, but how about a mid-year goal to write more often? Twice a week? Eh, may not happen. Let's start with once. I will pop by here once a week to entertain an audience that is sitting somewhere in the future, waiting to be delighted by my wit.

I've read many blogs where I couldn't stop thinking, "Wow, this person really enjoys themselves." It is easy to become narcissistic when talking about oneself regularly. Isn't that narcissism to begin with? Not necessarily, but I am already unsure about my abilities as a writer, so trying to avoid coming across as pompous adds an extra challenge in trying to motivate myself.

The subject of my blog makes it tricky in trying to promote it. I'll leave comments on other blogs, partly in an attempt to lure traffic, but I often wonder if I am offending anyone by merely providing a link to my blog. I talk about sex rather unhibitedly (what fun is it otherwise?) and I accept that if people open the page and see that my posts aren't their cup of tea then they will simply close out. However, I'm not sure everyone else will look at it the same way. Not a concern, just a thought.

Two finals tomorrow and my first year of college is complete. What's next? Who fucking knows. For now, a blog post.

2010-03-26T13:16:00.000-05:00

"What do you mean you don't know what you are majoring in?"

"Is undecided more clear?"

I've been getting this question a lot this month. A lot of my classmates are getting ready to part ways with dear city college and I guess I am expected to do the same. What happened to the two-year deal? Isn't that still popular? I don't need state college in order to get a buzz. I'm going to pitch a bumper sticker: NOBODY PARTIES HARDER THAN COMMUNITY COLLEGE. Or something along those lines. Anyway, I'm not rushing things. Maybe I'll even take time off.

Speaking of blackouts, spring break starts after my class at 4 today. I called off at the restaurant and am following Mel, Gordon, and our friend T down to Daytona Beach. I've been saving most of my tips and all of my paychecks since school started so I don't care about the money I'm spending. I've never done the whole spring break thing either so I'm curious to see how crazy it actually gets. I'd also like to get some work in and round up a new batch of clients. Getting a gym membership is one of the best investments I've ever made, my body looks amazing.

2010-03-12T03:19:00.001-06:00

When your intimate life is solely comprised of one night stands, you meet an array of sexual beings that never fail to surprise you. A girl comes along with so much vigor and uninvented confidence that you can't help but wonder if she is playing the same game as you are. You also can't refrain from spending an hour with your tongue on her quim and savoring each of her moans as if it would be the last time you heard a woman cum.

We'll call her Tiffany. I met Tiffany at a bar in Abercrombie and we started to dance after Mel went to find Gordon the cook. I am not much of a dancer; I enjoy moving as I listen to the different sounds coming off the track, but that's the extent of where it goes. When you have a partner such as Tiffany, it is a different situation entirely. I placed my hand on her waist as it swayed and laid another on her lower back as she wrapped her fingers around my neck and leaned back into the air while throwing a leg to wrap my waist. Her hair was down and starting to soak from the clogged air of the room. I would lean in closer, following her as she moved towards the floor and then back up to let her body loosen with the chorus. Again, I am not a dancer, but this girl made me the center of the floor. We danced for hours, grabbed Ketel One's before last call, and once outside, I didn't need to ask her to come home. She wrapped an arm around me and let me lead down the sidewalk back to the apartment.

We didn't waste much time. Danny was entertaining in the living room and if I knew her name I might have introduced them, but I didn't and quite frankly don't see the point in introducing my roommates to my one-night stands. Unless of course we all decide to drink afterward. I didn't turn the lights on in my bedroom, I took her hand and led her to the bed and laid her down gently while biting on her neck. It's nice to have a balance with sensitivity. For example, I'll look into your eyes and kiss you softly while taking a tug at your hair. She was on the same page as me and ran a hand through my hair while playing with my belt. I sat up, removed my shirt, and watched as she undid my pants. I went back to kissing her while kicking them down my legs and off my feet as she continued to keep a hand on my crotch and played with my balls. I like the sensation of being naked on top of somebody that is only going to be clothed for a short period of time. It gives them a chance to adapt to my body while I am eagerly exploring their tolerances to my mouth. I moaned as she wet her hand and returned it to my sack and just as I was about to pull her forward so I can remove her top, she grabbed my shoulders, threw me to the side, and quickly straddled me while I watched her remove her tank top to reveal she had no bra. How I missed that at the club makes me consider that I have been spending too much time around men.

She pulled off her jeans and, again surprising me, no underwear. I made a promise to myself to focus on more girls this year as I pulled Tiffany's chest onto mine and shoved my tongue down her throat. Her cunt was rubbing against my cock and the juices running down my shaft nearly impelled me to penetrate her immediately, but I was intent on tasting first. I repeated her move of tossing me aside and licked down her belly, up again, nibbled on her breasts and then replaced my teeth with my hands and massaged her nipples while making my way to her clit. I licked downwards before bringing my tongue back up to suck on her spot. She arched her back and grabbed my hair, pushing my head farther into her. I let my tongue slip inside and linger, feeling her become more aroused. I lost track of time and came up for air to see that I had spent nearly an hour assaulting her with my mouth. She looked up at me and I let out a mild laugh before she pulled me down to kiss her. I moved to my side and continued to kiss her; holding her face and stroking her hair. After a few minutes, I got up from the bed and went across the room to take a condom from my dressed. I unwrapped it and walked back to the bed, but before I could rejoin Tiffany, she stopped me from putting it on and moved her head towards my cock. Laying on her stomach now, she stroked me a few times and then put me in her mouth. I put a hand on her head while the other held the awaiting condom. She wasn't a porn star about the blowjob, which is how you know when a girl doesn't give a shit about putting on a show, she just wants you to feel good. One of her hands massaged my balls while the other stroked my cock as she continued to suck it.

I was getting close, a rarity for me when getting blown, so I pulled out of her mouth and rolled the condom on. She turned over and moved further back on the bed, touching herself and staring at me. I pushed her hand out of the way and rubbed her clit with my thumb and felt her become wet again. Grabbing her ankles, I put myself inside of her and listened to her moan. As I patiently pushed myself further, I brought her foot to my mouth and started sucking on her toes. I licked them one by one before putting them all in my mouth and gently sucking while gradually penetrating her faster and harder. She started to moan more aggressively so I spread her legs away from me and leaned down to kiss her neck. I'd find a spot to suck on, lick up to her ear and put my tongue there. After getting the area wet, I'd lightly blow air into her air. She grabbed my ass, which really gets me going, and wrapped her legs around my lower back. I went into harder, deeper, and watched as her body bounced and she stared into me. Her sounds were subtle, but enough to let you know that the intensity was there. She ran her hands up and down my back, encouraged me to keep going, to stay in that spot. She would grab my neck, pull on my hair, find her way to my balls and rub them right at the base near my scrotum. We were sweating, sighing deeply and continued to go anything but slower. I was about to collapse when I felt her vaginal walls tighten and her nails dig into my back. She moaned loudly enough to avoid a screaming pitch, and her hips started to gyrate against mine. I continued to thrust into her until I came inside, feeling myself soften as we breathed heavily on top one another. We stayed like that for a few moments, hugging each other and feeling our bodies calm down.

I kissed her again and then stood up to pull the covers back. She rotated her body to lay on the bed vertically and got under them. I got in next to her, the taste of her skin still on my lips, the scent of her lingering in the room. I'm not a cuddler, but I wanted more of her. I pulled her close and she placed a hand behind her to rest on my upper leg. She laid her head into my neck, and within seconds I was asleep.

2010-03-06T06:50:00.002-06:00

I'm not a fan of predictable situations, except for one. When I spend the night at my parent's house, I can be assured that chaos will be present. Mel is screwing a cook from the restaurant, Danny was out trying to be interesting and I was in no mood to go out or be alone last night. So I drove to mother's and while her husband was at a benefit, we grilled salmon and watched "Observe and Report." Which is hysterical, if you were wondering.

Once step-dad returned, we sat in the kitchen and socialized. Mom poured wine and they asked about school, the apartment, any new happenings in my love life. I stuck to talking about college, since I didn't think mentioning my john from that morning qualified as a development in my social life. The topic of what I plan to major in came up, which reminded me that I should probably think about that. My grades are surprisingly good and I could transfer to a university next year. Again, some thinking to do.

We wrapped up and went to bed, but within an hour I got a phone call from my little sister. This was around 12:20am. She asked advice on what to do since she was too drunk to make curfew.

"Why did you drink if you have to come home? You know mom is going to drive you nuts all night."

"THE PLAN WAS TO DRINK A LOT FOR 40 MINUTES THEN SOBER UP FOR A HALF HOUR AND THEN COME HOME." I type in caps in order to evince how loud she was speaking.

"There is no such thing as sobering up in half an hour. How drunk are you?"

"I MEAN NOT REALLY I HAD 9 SHOTS OF RASPBERRY SOMETHING."

"9 shots means you are going to be pretty fucked up."

"IT WAS LIKE 35 PROOF. OK, NO BIG DEAL." She said boldly, as if finalizing a business deal.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'LL HAVE SOMEONE DRIVE ME TO DAD'S."

"Keep me posted."

I dozed for approximately 90 minutes until Jason Derulo woke me up again.

"What?"

"Hi, this is Kimmy. Your sister is puking and wanted me to call you."

"Aren't you bringing her to our dad's?"

"She wants to stop puking first."

"My mom is going to be calling soon."

"Should I call her?"

"No, I'll take care of it. Put her on."

(nauseous moans)

"I gonna..wait...until I feel..better."

"Really, you're puking already? You're THAT girl?"

"Er..."

"Ok, I'll tell mom you are too drunk to drive home and that you are going to dad's."

"than....oh no." Click.

If only it were that simple. Mom demanded a phone call from sister immediately or else she would call the parents of her friends and then the police for underage drinking. I tried to explain to her the repercussions and character flaws that being that mom creates but she wasn't having it. I tried to convince her to let it go, but then step-dad woke up and let's just say his idea of parenting was less free-spirited than the practices my parents used. He has a strong influence on my mother, so me trying to convince her to let it go just wasn't going to happen. As dear and loving as my mother has always been, it is just not her nature to be strict. So when she tries to be, it comes across as very annoying. Her daughter is celebrating senior year, no use in trying to tighten the reins now. Next year she'll be upside down over a keg stand.

I wanted to stay awake and witness the action that was bound to take place after mom arranged for a friend to drive sister home, but I was scheduled for the lunch shift and wanted to wake up early to study. I don't think much happened, because when I woke up and went to kiss my sister and make sure she didn't drown in a pool of vomit, I saw that she was wearing all of her clothes, including her jacket. If an argument had taken place, surely she would have bothered to change into her pajamas while our mother lectured her. Ah well, I'll text her after work for an update.

Sleep tight, my little alco.

2010-03-03T23:38:00.001-06:00

Reason #43 to love being a prostitute: The only time you deal with a power trip is when you are asked to dominate the person.

Reason #375 to hate being a waiter: Dealing with morons on power trips is inevitable.

I forgot to take the bags from the smaller garbage bins to the giant garbage bin. I am attempting a greener lifestyle. Why should a plastic bag containing two pieces of paper be thrown away? We aren't talking about the garbage from the kitchen that would have caused the building to reek of chicken carcass and ranch soaked cornbread. You are upset over me trying to extend the value of an object that ornaments every tree downtown. Notwithstanding, I apologized. So cool it with leaving notes that I am forced to read while trying to start a pre-shift buzz. I got the point.

On the other hand, I had a client tonight who was very appreciative of my services. Which included, almost exclusively, him servicing me. Normally this is a nice change of pace for me, but when I put on my pants and walked to my car, I immediately felt as though the fabric rubbing against the head of my cock was made of sandpaper. I'm flattered that the guy was paying me to lay on a bed and moan, but I think I am going to start e-mailing my clients lists of helpful how-to websites so they learn to control their fucking teeth. I didn't feel them immediately, so he's not completely hopeless. It was more of a discomfort that I would feel every few minutes when he started jacking me off. Maybe he just needed to wet his mouth first; down some Evian, perhaps. Whatever, all I know is that the top of my head is now red and dry and it's pissing me off.

2010-03-03T00:53:00.001-06:00

I have deserted my small corner of the interweb. In terms of what this blog is supposed to cover, I haven't had a reason to write here. I mentioned in my last entry that I was becoming bored with being an escort. As it turns out, more so than I thought. I took a break from the tricks and decided to focus on my life. My real life. I studied, I worked, I partied. I acted like an 18 year old. Well, one of the ones that don't suck cock for cash.

Why do I psych myself out with my "side" job? I enjoyed it at one point, why do I find myself conflicted with it now? Am I in it for the thrills or the cash? Do I really enjoy it? Are the Scientologists responsible for the 2012 uproar? I suppose it's a good thing I am taking a philosophy class this semester.

It also pains me to open up here, despite my low readership. Of course it is much more fun to write with confidence and come home from a job feeling sexy and self-assured. It's pretty boring to sit here and reflect on thoughts that involve questioning what I enjoy in life. Sex. Money. What's the big deal?

I had my first client in months tonight. I'm getting back into it. I guess I'll have opportunities to figure out all these questions.

2009-10-27T00:32:00.001-05:00

Oh, where have I been? Studying, waiting tables, pretending to study a little more, and drinking.

Danny came through for something other than reminding me who not to hang out with on campus. He got his two roomies some fake ID's. That's right, little 18-year-old me has been hitting the 21 plus clubs like a real, live grownup. Actually, the people in those clubs, including myself, are far from what I'd classify as a "grownup," but I'm having a shit ton of fun.

I think I mentioned that the apartment we moved into is close to downtown. Well, within walking distance from our home is a smaller version of the city. It's a 2-mile strip with a couple retail stores, restaurants, coffee houses, and nightclubs. Most clubbers come to this vicinity (we shall call it Abercrombie,) rather than downtown, actually. It's safer too, but in my opinion that just makes it less exciting.

Having a lot of fun. Thought about swearing off the tricks, becoming bored with what was supposed to be my "adventure." Ended up doing my first over-nighter last week, $400. Prostitute tip of the week: charge extra for snorers.

Advice for those that pay for sex

2009-09-28T17:13:00.001-05:00

Please stop saying things along the lines of...

"So what's your real name?"

"Are you really into this or is this part of your show?"

"You don't really like me, you just want my money."

"Want to hang out after I pay you?"

...Enough said.

2009-09-26T19:45:00.001-05:00

So I moved into the apartment with Mel and Danny and surprisingly, things are going really good. Danny has mellowed out a bit during his two weeks of independence and so far hasn't brought up the idea of inviting his college friends over. Why a 21-year-old that dropped out of college freshman year has so many friends still in college is beyond me. We've been having fun, though, and school hasn't been going TOO bad for me.

I can be quite all over the place with schoolwork. I put off studying until I have to read 6 chapters in 3 days for an exam. A week later I am prepared to take a test that isn't scheduled for another month. I should get on more of a schedule. I wouldn't want to let the whole learning experience slip by me.

Mel asked why I wouldn't bring clients to the apartment for in-calls. I love how nonchalant she is about my secret lifestyle, but how is that even a question? 1. Having two loud, drunk roommates ten feet outside my bedroom door probably isn't the best idea when trying to relax a nervous 45-year-old closet case. 2. I know a lot of escorts don't have a problem with it, but I really don't want clients knowing where I live. I haven't had any "scary" experiences yet, but I don't live alone and the security isn't always present here so I'm not taking any risks. Besides, I love any excuse for turning tricks in a hotel room. Much more glamorous.

So happy to be off work tonight. Should be studying, but my inbox holds too many opportunities for a more exciting evening.

2009-09-25T15:31:00.001-05:00

I don't deserve a blog. It turns out I now have one follower and I am sure I am letting him down by not posting anything since an admiration note for Gaga. So let's catch up.

Honestly, between college, the food service industry, and moving in my new apartment I haven't had much time to suck dick. I did a semi-regular (he'll e-mail whenever he realizes he ISN'T above paying for sex) last week and got $100 to blow him for precisely 4 minutes and 12 seconds. Talk about beating the recession.

Last night I did something I have previously expressed regret for. I hooked up with a gay dude I wasn't attracted to...for free. We talked once in high school and I remember that he talked himself up as pretty hot. Note: Shit-talk is almost always code for ugly, limp, and/or boring. Not only was he quite overweight and kind of annoying, but the equipment was less than half of what he made it out to be. I think I forgot I was doing it for free because I let him cuddle and make out with me most of the time, which are two activities I usually avoid in and out of the bedroom. I let him try to fuck me but it was really thick and I wasn't the least bit horned up so I told him it was way too big and to get off of me. He was nice about it, since I called his dick big. He then came and I decided to do the same if he agreed to suck on my balls while I jacked.

I felt really stupid all night, why do I always allow myself to sleep with men I find repulsive? Is it bad manners to run out the door as soon as you realize your online booty call isn't the stud from their profile picture? For those of you wondering, no, it isn't. Stop sleeping with ugly people. It's bad for the soul.

And I'm not sure why, but on the drive home, it comforted me immensely that I have this blog to write in. Shall I now start entries with, Dear Diary?

Mel was listening to Loveline with Dr. Drew and apparently I have an intimacy disorder. "Does not become close to people, becomes bored easily, and acts out in frequent sexual activity," or something like that. I never really believed in things like disorders, but, hm...

2009-09-06T13:59:00.001-05:00

2009-09-05T13:58:00.003-05:00

I think somebody on campus recognized me from Craigslist. I don't usually put my picture in the actual ad, but sometimes it is just so much easier. I've also been on Manhunt in the past...

Anyway, I was walking from my car to the main atrium and a kid was sitting on a bench at the edge of the parking lot. He was texting and simultaneously drinking a frappucino when I apparently caught his eye and he looked up. I didn't notice at first, but you know how when somebody is staring at you for more than the appropriate 3 seconds and you can feel their eyes burning into you? It was like that, except the 80 degree sun made it all the more uncomfortable. I shot a quick side glance to let him know he is being obvious, so he continued with his text and started slurping the frap more rapidly.

I didn't think anything of it until after class, when I stopped by the school's cafe to grab a pineapple juice. There stood Death Stare, right past the kind cashier lady, beaming his eyes into me. This is when I started to panic. I have never dealt with a stalker outside of a roleplay situation and was not sure I can handle it. I turned around and acted like I was searching for a muffin when I noticed he had walked away. I paid for my juice and got the hell outta there.

On the way back to the parking lot, I walked rather briskly and kept my senses on alert. I didn't want to be attacked period, but a surprise attack would just be embarrassing. As I was passing the quad, I saw Death Stare sitting with a young man that was quite obviously a homosexual. At first, I was excited to see how diverse community college was becoming, but I kept focused on the possibility of a gang rape. I'm not a small dude and can probably take two guys wearing sweater vests, but the outcome of fights are so unpredictable so I rather avoid them altogether.

I stopped in my tracks and stared right back at him, just to let him know I will no longer be taking his shit. He smiled and the homo nodded. They looked at each other and giggled. I understand I was looking good that day, Mel took me to H&M and this was most likely a chance encounter with horny young gays (or even more likely, a hazing session) but I had a gut feeling that these two knew something they didn't need to know.

Maybe I should take this as a sign that I need a break from the hustle life. Or even better, a permanent leave of absence from college.

2009-08-31T00:55:00.000-05:00

I've been busy and I'm not sure how I feel about it. My parents and other working members of society are probably very proud of me, but after a week of working and attending college I am fucking bored. I'm taking four classes, two of which are online, and I took a job at Mel's restaurant serving tables. I've been "training (aka: bitch-working)" all week so I got to do one lucky waitor's job while he collected the tips. He made decent cash, so hopefully starting Tuesday I will be as well.

It is somewhat nice to be busy, and it's not completely discomforting to feel like I'm doing what I am supposed to with my life, but I'm not sure what exactly I am accomplishing. Is life about needing to accomplish something everyday? I don't know, but I feel more excited when I walk out of a hotel lobby with messy hair at 3am than I do after turning in a response to "The Yellow Wallpaper" which, by the way, totally freaked me out.

This online learning is pretty bad ass. I appreciate that my prime hours are being respected and accommodated to. Unlike the psych class I need to be at in 7 hours. Fuck it, I'm logging on Craigslist.

2009-08-25T17:53:00.000-05:00

Took a long weekend and went to a waterpark. Mel insisted we "cut loose" before she starts school and her new job. My sister and her friends were up there, which got a bit awkward when I kept bringing people upstairs. Only one of them was male and we didn't have sex, surprisingly.

I did have a lot of fun. I laughed most of the time which felt really good. Have you ever gone a long time without doing something as simple as laughing and didn't even realize until it happened? It was very nice.

It wasn't too much fun carrying my drunk sister up to her hotel room, but definitely amusing to watch her flail down a water slide bltized out of her mind. I blame myself, Mel and I weren't getting carded and kept buying rounds for the girls.

Mel, Danny and I move into that place by the city on the 14th. I also start school tomorrow, so I need to make a run to the bookstore.

2009-08-20T02:23:00.003-05:00

The men I worked with tonight fit under the "old guy" cliche that keeps the public grossed out by prostitution. They were polite and friendly, but definitely are the reason some hookers really hate their job.

The first one was in a hotel downtown. After he stopped talking about how his wife keeps catching him cheat, I started telling him about my life as an escort in London and how much nicer it is to work under an agency. Oh, I should probably mention that I tell all of my clients that I am visiting from out of state and due to my father's job as a military officer, I travel abroad quite a lot. I also occasionally lie about my age, just to make my false backgrounds more interesting. My current "hometown" is New Orleans, which I just moved back to after working in London for 2 years.

He didn't seem interested in hearing about the relationship I have with my madam, so I let him take hold of the conversational reins again. "It's surprising that you're so young and didn't even ask my age. The younger guys never want to hook up with older."

I laughed. "I try to be pretty professional, you can't be picky as an escort."

He looked puzzled. "Oh, you charge?"

Huh? "Well...yes. That's usually how it works."

"I had no idea, you didn't mention that."

"Yes I did, you clarified that $100 would work."

"You didn't have a dollar sign, I thought you meant you'd be hear in an hour."

Oh wow, this was a first. "That's why my ad said "seeking generous..."

"Oh!" He laughed, a little. "I thought you were just looking for older."

What a moron. Still a funny situation, I suppose. We talked a few more minutes about the awkwardness of it all, and how it was a first for both of us. I was about to leave, when he walked over to fetch his wallet and pulled out $45. "I feel bad you drove all this way, do you want to play around, just briefly?"

Why not? I sucked him for a minute before he took control and starting reciprocating. He did that for about 15 minutes, then I showered and headed out.

Went to see another older guy (less creepy) that wanted a "straight boy" to come simulate intercourse the way he would with a woman. "Show me how you like to fuck your chicks" was the specific request. He asked me to only use positions that I like to use on girls. He wanted to be pushed to his knees and verbally dominated the second I walked through the door. I walked in, dropped trou and immediately grabbed his head and shoved him down to face my cock. Talking dirty came naturally, it turns out that I have quite the knack for role play. We then humped for about 20-30 minutes, then he got back on his knees and sucked my balls until I eventually finished on his shoulder. Weird.

While enjoying my third shower of the day, I got to listen to continous praises on my roleplaying abilities. "You're really good at it. I'll definitely sleep well tonight."

All in a night's work.

2009-08-19T19:36:00.000-05:00

This is the part I like about the job, actually getting excited. Going through e-mails, booking times, getting ready, looking nice and driving around the city. I'm hoping to get a few clients in tonight, it's one of those moods. Maybe I'm suddenly excited because I was in a shitty mood before? Either way, I'd like to have some fun tonight.

Here's to hoping I don't get knocked down and regretful after 12.

2009-08-18T17:00:00.001-05:00

Had a client this morning, younger. I was very surprised, he couldn't be older than 25. 1) He asked me to be up before noon. I mean, really? 2) He seemed genuinely interested in me (or just the experience of hiring an escort,) and not at all repulsed by my lack of abdominal muscles. He said it was nice to see a "real dude." I guess dudes that take care of themselves aren't real. But of course I didn't say that.

After I got over the initial shock of being awake at 9am, I asked if he would like anything to drink. I was at his hotel room downtown so I was banking on some champagne. He looked a little surprised that I wanted to drink so early, but opened the mini-bar anyway and turned on some Lady Gaga. I was really starting to like this guy.

He didn't initiate sex for the first 20 minutes, which would usually suit me fine, but I was really digging him. He told me about his job and how his bachelor's degree saved him 10-15 years of climbing some bullshit corporate ladder. He talked about his hometown in the south, and that he is considering a move to the northeast. I advised him not to bother. I don't want to imagine somebody so good-looking having to bundle up in a sweater and pants 1/4 of the year.

I sometimes forget that it's my job to act interested in what a client says, because so many of them are solely into sex. With this guy, I hardly needed to act. Hearing about his job was kind of boring, but I loved observing him. The way his back stayed straight and how he moved his hands the whole time he talked. The suttle laughter, and infrequent eye contact. Is this what being turned on is?

He finished the glass of champagne, and moved in to kiss me. It wasn't creepy like I expect it to be. He put a hand on the side of my head first and played with my hair. He brought his head in closer and instead of kissing my mouth, he went for my neck. A lot of clients will do this, but it's very sloppy and always a major buzz kill, kind of like a rape. But his kiss was gentle, soft, as if he was trying to make it more enjoyable for me than for him. Boner.

He did that for a minute or so, obviously not wanting to bore me, and started kissing me. I won't go on record, but it may have been the most enjoyable kiss of my sexual career, male or female. He wasn't overbearing or awkward and would only occasionally slip some tongue, which really gets me going. Needless to say, I let him fuck me.

I stayed for an extra hour, free of charge. I also told him to please call if he'd like to get together "off the clock" before he heads home. This is why I will never be a professional.

2009-08-16T23:19:00.000-05:00

I googled: "Should I allow comments on my blog?" and the first result said "A Blog Without Comments Is Not a Blog." So you may now comment on any entry, past, current, and future...if you are even reading this.

I'm not sure why I didn't allow them to begin with. I think I enjoy the mystery of not knowing how many people are reading. Not that every reader will leave a comment, but knowing it isn't an option makes me think I am averaging 400 readers daily. Ha, not yet, right?

I'm thinking of jumping on the bandwagon and enrolling in community college. I read an article in the paper and enrollment is at a recent high, due to the recession. Junior university is a great investment, however, I have a hunch it may be too similar to high school. I'm just saying, if I go and see even one "30 Days" dvd, I'm outta there. If I'm assured that it is free of cheesy educational programming, maybe a few lit classes will entertain me.

Dad keeps offering to send me away to school, but I think he forgot that I was too preoccupied to apply myself the last four years. Running away to state college on his tab does sound nice, but in the meantime, I need to shower. I got an e-mail asking if I am willing to have my ass rimmed for 2 hours straight, with no reciprocation. Willing? Include cocktails and I'll knock off 5%.

2009-08-16T00:49:00.001-05:00

We looked at four buildings, two of them seem reasonable enough. A two-bedroom seems like a better idea, but Mel wants her space and I am not rooming with Danny. Boring stories I can ignore. 3am conversations with Chinese men via World of Warcraft I can not. He wouldn't shut up today, and even tried to haggle with one of the landlords. Then he went on about the living room space in every apartment. I hope he doesn't expect to throw bi-weekly dinner parties with the art school snobs. Dinner is nice, acting like you're 30 isn't. I don't want to drink wine and talk about shit I don't know shit about for 2 hours. More importantly, I don't want to drink wine. On holidays, I do enjoy a good Pinot with grandma's casserole. On regular Friday nights, I want a cocktail. Hard, straight, burning liquor. Dinner parties at 20, what a joke.

Do I sound immature? Fuck off, I'm embracing my youth.

I did enjoy the closing of the day's events at Cheesecake Factory. I didn't get carded, so I had a few vodka-cranberries with my Ahi Tuna. I'm not sure if Cheesecake is four-star, but it definitely makes me feel upscale. Then again, so does Olive Garden. Maybe I should switch to something more full-time, and start dining downtown...or pick out better clients.

2009-08-13T18:29:00.001-05:00

Grabbed some lunch at Whole Foods with Mel. Halfway through my veggie pizza, Dan showed up. I don't mind him too much, he just talks about boring things. I'd elaborate, but I don't listen long enough to catch any substantial notes.

Mel is going to college, after all. When high school ended for her (she graduated 2008) she was dead set on skipping undergrad and throwing herself into the workforce. The job at the crafts store didn't work out, nor did the one at the clothing, cell phone, and most recently, Disney store, so I guess she enrolled in junior college and is going to host at a restaurant.

Danny wants to find an apartment. I suggested to Mel that it's time we move out of our parents' houses. The three of us are going apartment-hunting on Saturday.

2009-08-12T14:07:00.005-05:00

I was in the self-checkout line at the grocery store and a woman standing behind me tapped my shoulder and asked what school I go to. Caught off guard, I decided to throw her a bone.

"I start grad school at Case Western in the fall."

She looked at me intensively, apparently counting my pores. After a minute, I smiled and continued forward in line. A few moments later, I was scanning my hummus when she tapped me again. Shit, what am I studying? I turned to see her bearing a warm, calm smile.

"You don't need more school, sweetie. Take time off and do something fun."

I knew I looked ragged (I just finished with a client,) but Jesus, I am still a teenager, are the creases in my face developing that quick?

I laughed and grabbed my receipt. "Maybe I will, actually."

"Good for you."

I left the grocery store, feeling enlightened. I couldn't wait to call the Case admissions office and tell them I was blowing off my master's, and moving to Sydney. I can start dancing, or enroll in a marine biology program. The possibilities seemed endless, and my mind could barely catch up with the ideas I had for the next 4-6 years.

When I got into the car, my phone buzzed. I opened it to find a text message asking if recession-friendly Wednesday was still going on. I then remembered that not only were my Phd plans non-existant, but I wasn't even in college. I wonder if Miss Cleo would have given the same advice if I told her I am blowing off undergrad to instead blow men for cash.

2009-08-12T00:57:00.004-05:00

I hooked up with a man last night...for free.

I don't know why I let different urges lead me back to these mistakes. I call them mistakes. Sleeping with someone you are not attracted to, just for the hell of it, is a mistake. When they're an old guy that creeps you out, anyway.

I should have charged. It is true: once you start having sex for money, you wonder why you bother doing it for free.

After my last blog I spent the morning online looking for a hook-up. Why? Probably because I was insanely horny. But I feel there is a reason I keep doing this that I can't pinpoint. And I am not referring to my suspected sex addiction. Am I trying to assure myself I am into guys? Force myself to be into them? If I am gay, why do I feel gross and regretful almost immediately after? Or, usually, during. When I sleep with women, it is always with a clear mind. Meaning, I am not straddling her thinking, "Holy shit, am I really doing this?" I enjoy myself. I don't go home to brush my teeth and start gagging. I rinse with mouthwash, make a drink, and spend the better part of the evening with a smile on my face. When I return from a trick, or a session with a middle-aged homosexual that asked me to do poppers, I try to make myself puke. And believe me, it is not a difficult feat.

I enjoy the work. I really do. So I'm not sure why emotions like to make their way into the workplace every few weeks. Have they discovered a form of male PMS I am not aware of?

Maybe this gay for pay nonsense is the real deal. Perhaps I just sleep with the wrong men. That time I ate Thai food and fooled around with a 24-year-old vegetarian, I had no regrets. It felt like a normal situation: getting dinner with a guy close to my age and having some fun afterwards. Granted, he never called me back, but that's really the only thing that bummed me out. I didn't gag when I brushed my teeth that night.

2009-08-11T05:38:00.003-05:00

Didn't want to sleep last night, stayed up to read instead. Well, tried to read, came online after 10 minutes. Ended up finding a client around 3. Think he can be a regular, it was semi-enjoyable. I would have let him give it harder if he had alcohol available. I'm getting used to the discomfort that comes with being new to anal sex, I just wish a man would take more pride in his dates and offer some refreshments. Oh, to be a woman.

I still need to lose weight, I'm starting to think I am a certified fat-ass. A little extra is manageable (and easy to hide while on all fours) but being considered a fat person is out of the question. For a prostitute anyway. Perhaps I'll continue to skip sleep and head to the gym.

Had breakfast with Mel after the client. I love it when my friends are awake when I am. When they're sleeping, I'm fucking. When I'm sleeping, they're working. I guess the latter's are one in the same for me.