Are all escorts cynical mercenaries?

A CHRISTMAS CAROL 2013

Dear Charles John Huffam Dickens, are you ready for a 21st century morality tale?

I’ve been meaning to put pen to paper for some time, spurred on by both an incident that occurred in December, and some rather disparaging, often deeply prejudiced views many hold to those working in the adult entertainment business.

So lets get the nasty out of the way first. I spend some of my time on social networking sites, more often than not geared to those of my gender, both girls and admirers.  Escorts are generally viewed as low life, selfish, self centred, cynical and essentially amoral.

I think this view is often preceded by the idea of  ‘I wish I could earn £90 an hour’. Guess what …. so do I !!!!  I am sure there are lots of adult workers who live very affluent lifestyles from their careers – let me assure you NONE of them live in Leeds lol.  I earn substantially under the national average income – I work seven days a week, most of which is spent waiting ‘on call’. I can assure you it’s hard mental battle. I wouldn’t actually wish it on anyone.   Ever had to wait in an airport for eight hours and got nowhere? Hello my life. Every penny I earn, I can tell you I EARN – but you would need a week in my heels (I’m afraid I can’t insure you for any falls) to understand that. I did some maths, last week I earned £2.89 per hour, this £2.09

I should also add, when clients moan or attempt to haggle over price – imagine if all escorts were £10, £20 – where does that leave our precious institution of marriage? Escorts should be a treat. We are not a commodity, we are not bread or milk, heat or shelter – we are treats, lovely treats, naughty treats, unexpected experiences – but always treats.

So, my Christmas Carol.  Often on these social networking sites there is an assumption that I would wish to meet you (for free), and rejection of that leads to some unpleasant attitudes. I am sure there are some girls (men in dresses, rolls eyes) who need your affirmation. Not this one I’m afraid. Love it yes, need it no. So my time on these sites tends to be keeping in touch with some lovely friends, and being badgered by random strangers for sexual meets. I reject all those approaches, making me something of a pariah in that corner of the web. Thus, though I advertised on some of those sites, most men drooled over my pictures, and kicked and screamed at the thought of paying for my company, time and effort. I had very few clients from these sites, perhaps a couple a year who’d succumbed to temptation (or realised that the most beautiful, and AVAILABLE transsexuals in the world have always been, and will always be escorts)

So last December via one of these sites that I received a mail inquiring about my availability.  A gentleman was visiting the city for an afternoon appointment and decided he would like to say hello. Lovely, all the formalities out the way, and the following week we met at lunchtime.  Like all guests he received my 100% divine attention, and we had a fine time 🙂  Only half way through, he had a moment.  He drifted deep inside his thoughts. I could see the change, and attempted to catch him by politely asking “if anything was the matter?”.  He explained he had a flashing feeling of guilt thinking about his wife.  Ok, unusual, but not unexpected. I understand that, it’s actually a lovely and very natural human thought.  I gave him a long hug, told him not to worry, that lots of men had feelings towards trans girls, there was no crime in that, nor in tasting the fruits of life 🙂  If two weeks in Corfu is an affair, then I am a day out at Alton Towers – there is a huge difference.  We hugged, kissed, the moment passed, and we returned to genuinely rewarding time for the remainder of his stay.

At the end as we made our way downstairs he thanked my greatly, and then said something that cut me to the bone.

[b]“Thank you for a lovely time.  I know it doesn’t seem much, but I’ve been saving for months to come and see you”[/b] [b]BANG[/b]. All those guys on all those sites with their alpha sense of entitlement and belief that I am going to be their freebie playmate because they ask, because they are such a hit with women, because they assume I need them.  And here was this lovely gentleman, who came across me one one of these sites, and realised I am a treat, not a commodity, nor a right, and had subsequently made an effort to enjoy my company. I think we can all agree, that is respectful.

I wished him well at his appointment with a peck on his cheek, closed the door, and burst into tears.  And I mean floods and floods of tears.  I made it up the stairs, still sobbing.  Heavens  that had hit a nerve.  Some moments, some sentences capture far more than their apparent innocent value. All that pain of struggling to make a living. All that prejudice I had been subjected to because my moral contract is that I will not be anyone’s little experiment without recompense (what is sex without love? That’s right, it’s the pleasure you pay for).

[b]“I know it doesn’t seem much, but I’ve been saving for months to come and see you”[/b]

It was beautiful. A truly beautiful gesture. To be honest I didn’t feel worthy.

And then I was struck by horror.  I know I am a treat, and a good one I hope, however I couldn’t stop my mind racing to the idea ‘what if his guilt returned on Christmas Day?’  What if he thought that he had been stupidly selfish with what had clearly been an important sum of money?  What if those thoughts swam around his mind on 25th as he looked at his wife?  Did I want to be that ghost at the table?

Barely able to focus on my phone through the tears I sent him a text

“Thank you for a lovely time. Could you call back please?”

“What for” he replied

“I have something for you” I replied “A little gift”

“Ok” he answers “I’ll pop in after my appointment”

Later that afternoon he knocked on my door again. I opened it and ushered him into the hallway.  I smiled, raised my closed hand from behind my back, and gently placed half the money he had given me earlier that day back into his coat pocked.

“Buy your wife something extra” I said with a peck on the cheek, “I hope you find something lovely for her …. oh, and Merry Christmas”. A final kiss.  The turn of a key.  And gone.

Are all escorts mercenaries?  Ha ha. I laugh. I couldn’t afford to get most of my family presents this year, times have been hard.  But I feel good about myself, and that is a priceless gift for everyone

Are all escorts cynical mercenaries?