Perversions of the Truth

In this world there are little white lies. What we say about ourselves on a daily basis is often a version of the truth, a particular way in which we see ourselves or want to be seen. Often the little white lies are better for business than the full and immediate honest answer. Yet, even if the honest answer was given most people who step through our doors will accept anything, but most often regard a good portion of what we say as lies, and better business tactics. This still doesn't stop them from coming, time after time, they will come and sit, for the pure and simple reason that in the outside world they have their own perversions of the truth.

In the real world people may say that the only real way to get to know someone is either in the bathroom or the bedroom. I know a lot of peoples secrets, they trust us, they are paying us, but ultimately they trust us because they give up some of their deepest desires and allow us to help them achieve what they need most...a connection, a willing body and open ears, they come to us because they don't want to be judged.

There is a fine line. Something we all draw in the sand of each day that we get up for work and then we tightrope walk it daily. Today I'm an actress when they assume that's what a theatre degree is only for...tomorrow I'm an old pro that's been doing this kind of work for longer than my client suspects...on Thursday I may be 23 years old, on Friday I'm 29.

It all depends on what the client wants, what you want them to know and how to use the information they give you to your advantage. It means a sale, yes, you are getting money for making out as if you're the only 29 year old actress that is the best of the best at whatever sexual act they want you to perform. It excites them and even though there is always the looming question of whether or not you're telling lies, you know full well that they are not being completely honest in all the things they tell you and their not being completely honest with their wives, first of all on the fact that they see prostitutes and secondly about what they pay us to do.

Often people come to act out a fantasy, they need someone willing to perform the little things that maybe their significant other finds appalling, or an act that they've never been able to ask their wife to perform, either out of embarrassment or shame.

Every person in here is a perverted version of their true self. Some ask for a ten minute quickie just to relieve the stress from the day, others come in for the kinky. I've done quite a few kinky acts, whether it's light submission and dominance play or advanced nipple play.

Recently there was a client that when in the bar seemed to be what you may call a proper business man, penny loafers, an ironed polo shirt and pressed slacks. The usual attire of the recently retired or the vacationing professional. He engages me in conversation, (and there's always something you can relate to with someone. They may say something like oh yeah, I just passed through Sacramento, then you say I know all about Sacramento, I grew up in California, I've been there on vacation)...and the conversation begins.

He wasn't a talker, the conversation wasn't long before he asked to see my room, I take him back and negotiate a reasonable price and time for what he's asking.

The party begins...he wants to masturbate while he stares at my ass, it's simple enough, so I'm bent over on all fours and he's standing as the foot of the bed huffing and puffing. He strokes himself in odd uneven jerks and asks me every so often to look at his cock.

I say something like, "oh...you're cock looks so hard, how does that hard cock feel?"

He responds with, "mmmm...so goooood....can I smell your ass and pussy, I want to smell it...may I? May I? Please tell me I can?"

I nod, and smile, "I want you to smell them, how do they smell....? Does that make your nice hard cock feel good?"

At this point he's overjoyed, shifting his weight from side to side like an excited child at a candy store, he strokes faster and wants me to marvel at his hard cock again, he punctuates each stroke with a smile and continues to comment on how pretty my face is, and how precious I look, I'm a nice girl he says.

"Stroke it faster!" I demand. His face lights up to hear the pretty girl next door type demanding him to go deeper into his perversion. At some point he begins to say something about how sick this all is, that it makes him so hard, it's sick, he reiterates. I smile even bigger and tell him to go faster and with wide eyes I tell him how hard he looks how good it looks for him to do what he's doing. This only makes him smile more.

The party ends. He thanks me profusely, he's enjoyed himself thoroughly and wants to know if I'll be here the next time he's in town. Once back in the bar the conversation goes back to normal, we talk about vacations, our favorite lakes to visit. "I'm going to Disneyland next week!" he says. I think about how I was just there on my own vacation.



I think about myself in Disneyland riding Pirates of the Caribbean, laughing in line for the Jungle Boat Cruise and eating ice cream, no one around me the wiser about how I afforded the inflated ticket price.

It all seems like a divine comedy. Something vast and never ending, filled with little white lies, acted out by the many versions of our perverted selves.

What I was paid for is not something that gets me off, that's not the point. If I had a boyfriend in real life that was into that sort of thing, then by all means I'd do it for him because I understand that people need to splurge on their fantasies sometimes, and most of all to each his own. I'm not actually getting off on the act, I'm playing along, because what does thrill me is the fact that he's getting so much out of it. He's so happy and thrilled about the whole performance, and that's what gives me the satisfaction, that I've done a stellar job, enough for him to want to come back as repeat business. I like to see people smile, and if that's what it takes, so be it.