Belle's Blog

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-26T16:40:00.001-05:00

Well another Christmas has come and gone. My kids were spoiled as per the usual. And I missed celebrating Christmas with my Nana, as per the usual. It is tough to get through the holidays when you miss having someone special in your life. So I cried, and I laughed and I cried some more but I got through it as I always do.

My daughter was in an accident a few weeks ago. She was hurt but it could have been much more serious. The accident, the phone call I recieved from the officer telling me to go to the emergency room, the sight of her laying there bloody and broken made me see Christmas in a much different light this year. I was reminded just how blessed I am to have my children. Nothing else really matters. I will ache for those I love who are no longer in my life but I will focus on the ones who still are. They are my future, they will keep me going through hard times.

I hope this Christmas all of you reading found some peace, took some time out from the commercialism of Christmas to reflect on how blessed you are for all of the things you do have insteading of yearning for what you do not. Merry Christmas.

xo Belle

Feminists, give it up already!

2010-12-22T06:56:00.001-05:00

With the courts battling the specifics of prostitution; what should be legal, what should not be, I find the most interesting news coverage coming from the feminists and their cohorts who insist that legalizing any form of prostitution is degrading to women. Have you ever taken a close look at these women? I have to wonder how long it has been since any of them have been laid.

Now before you jump down my throat for saying that, take a look at my stats on my website. I am not Barbie nor do I pretend to be. I just wonder what gives these women the right to stand up in court and speak on my behalf about something they clearly know nothing about. I am tired of society telling me what I do is immoral and degrading.

I am not naieve enough to believe this will ever change. Prostitution will always exist, feminists will always exist. I just find it so frustrating to listen to them and imagine all the women of the world nodding their heads in agreement as most of their husbands snicker behind them thinking "if you only knew". No, it's not for everyone and yes, there is a very seedy side to prostitution, I won't argue that fact. Does that make it okay to not give sex-trade workers a safe place to practice? It's been hundreds of years people, women exchanging sex-for-money will never go away! Make it legal, make testing more accessible, make it clean.

I am an escort by choice. I have a full-time well paying job outside of Belle and I am not the exception to the rule. I do this because I enjoy it. Yes, the money is a bonus, I will not argue the fact but it is not a means to an end for me nor for many other sex-trade workers. I am just so tired of listening to whiney, overweight, sex deprived women tell me that what I do is wrong.

I meet with ,men who make me feel better about myself and show me more respect than most partners I have had in my personal life. Why? Because I ask for the respect. We as sex workers have a choice. If we are not comfortable with a client or his wishes, we say so. We can leave at any time, we can refuse at any time. What we do and what we do not do is our choice and ours alone to make. The only difference between our relationships with men as sex-trade workers is that we get paid for it and we do it with complete strangers. But let's face it. Have most people not had sex with a stranger? ||||||Do

Lesson #2: Like it or not, kids grow up

2010-12-15T07:48:00.000-05:00

Had I written this post 8 months ago I’m sure it would ring a different tune. As they say, hind sight is 20/20.

Long story short, kid snuck out in the middle of the night and I busted her. What followed was a severe grounding.....from everything! Cell phone, computer, extra-curricular sports and of course, the boyfriend who was the reason for the late-night escapade. Naturally she didn’t like that. What I didn’t expect was that she would not come home after school the next day. In fact, she informed me by text that she would never be coming home.

That text was followed by numerous others, accusing me of providing an unfit home for her to live in. Of course, this text came to me from the $350 cell phone I had just bought her the month prior. She claimed to have visited the right people and have been informed of her rights, that she was 16 and able to leave of her own accord. I did not respond as well as I did the first time she experienced alcohol. In fact, I totally bombed at being rational and mature. I demanded the house key and the cell phone and drove right then to pick them up from her. I have never been so angry at my child. Never did I think a child could do something so wrong to ever make me feel the way I did.

The days that followed were hell. She requested her things. Her things? My position was that I bought and paid for everything she left behind, therefore what things were hers? If I had my way, I would have given her nothing. My boyfriend at the time talked me into giving her the basics so the basics is what she got. Not the $300 in clothes she got for Christmas but the clothes she would never have been caught dead in public with. None-the-less, she had clothes. I provided her with the bare necessities. She asked me to drop them off, I informed her they were in bags at the curb

After meeting with her boyfriend’s parents the night prior and them being willing to take her in I made it clear they would not get any help from me, that she had a perfectly good home to be in. For them to allow her to live with them made me sick. I was not going to make this easy....for them or for her.

That week brought not one but two visits from the local police department to try and gain possession of her things. By this time I was just sick. The first time I allowed her to leave with hair products and things but made it clear that the TV, the bed and the remaining clothing was property of my home, not my daughter. Needless to say she was pissed. The second visit by the police I lost the politeness I had the previous visit. I made it clear that without a warrant they were not entering my home, something they told me I had to allow the first visit. A quick call to my lawyer made me aware of my rights. She left in tears, empty handed. As angry as I was, seeing her cry like that tore me up inside. I knew I was doing right. I knew I had to be strong and stand my ground. I had to make this tough on her if only to give her a glimpse of what the adult world is like. But the Mom in me, seeing her baby girl hurting and not reaching out to her was the toughest challenge I have had as of yet, as a parent. And she drove away.

She left behind her siblings, confused and torn, hurting just as I was. I had to be okay. I had to show them that we will be okay. And so it was. My baby gone. This was not how it was supposed to be, but as I have learned, very little in life ever is.The following eight months were spent being angry, even hateful to being hurt, back to being angry and then eventually, accepting our new relationship. It is hard to relate to your baby on an adult level. To back away from mothering and learning to being a friend. To give advice when asked and shut-up otherwise. I learned a lot about myself through this time of her being gone. Mistakes I had made, regrets I had. They are tough to face. But I did.

She came home recently and while the circumstances that brought her home are not the most favourable, she is here and she is safe. I am not so sure she learned all that I had hoped for her during her time on her own but I do think it opened her eyes some to just how much I love her, how important family is and how scary it can be when you turn your back on both.

1st Lesson learned: I WILL be the woman with 40 cats

2010-12-15T07:47:00.000-05:00

1st Lesson learned: I WILL be the woman with 40 cats

I took a chance, I will give myself that...and I gave it all I had. Something that started out as a casual relationship quickly turned into something with prospects. And so I let Belle go. And not once did I look back. I dropped my emails, dropped the boards, dropped all that came with her. I had to know what it was like. I had to know if what lied out there for me was what I had envisioned those many nights in bed, married and unhappy. What if I left? Would I be able to love? Would I be able to be loved? And the questions I asked myself as I would put my Belle Face on. Who am I without her? Is it the same, not being her? What’s it like to have all that she has, without the situational differences that separate us two? I needed to know and so I let go.

Dating at 35 is much different than dating at 18. Things have really changed in 17 years. Ok, maybe things haven’t changed. I suppose dating as a teen today is quite similar as it was back then, but dating as an adult, a single parent is a much different experience. When I was a teen, I wore my heart on my sleeve. Sure it got broke a few times but as weeks passed by, it mended as a young heart does. By age 35 I learned just how fragile the heart really is. And after being broken time and time again not only does it take longer to mend but it becomes much harder to reach that place buried deep down inside. I learned to protect myself from being hurt, perhaps a little too well.

Time. I had all the time in the world as a teen to devote to puppy love. That was a sure sign of a successful relationship....the more time you spent together the more in love you were. Every day began with making plans, confirming plans and following through with those plans. And the next day, you made more plans for the next day, and you followed through with them. For a single mom at 35, dating means making plans for a week away, changing those plans twice through the week and more often than not, those plans would fall through as the day came. There is just not enough time. But I did give every spare minute of what little time I had. It just wasn’t enough.

Parenting. I hadn’t realized just how strong my views on parenting were until dating someone who also has children. No right or wrong here, just different parenting styles and unless you are on the same page when it comes to how you raise your children, putting them all in the same room together does not mix. Trying to not speak when it was not my place, trying to stand ground on certain beliefs without being the heavy. Trying to win in a no-win situation is a battle of its own. To put several children together of different families with different sets of rules and expect them to get along was a ridiculous idea. No, it was an insane idea! But again, I had to give it my all, and I did.

Honesty. I have always believed that honesty was the best policy. If I have nothing left to offer, I would always give my word, the truth. I lived many years in a marriage full of deceit and lies. I refused to live that life ever again. And so, as we grew closer I sat him down and we talked about Belle. Crazy, I know. But in my heart of hearts I believed this would pave the way for a healthy relationship. And I believed that for a man to truly love me he must accept me for who I am and Belle is a very big part of who I have become. The conversation was awkward, more for him than me. I made it clear I was not ashamed of my past, in fact, quite contrary to that I was rather proud. I did not get into specifics but all in all he now knew all he needed to know about Belle. Needless to say it didn’t go over so well. Actually, he took it very well, assured me that it didn’t change the way he felt about me and that he could handle it. Ten months later it was clear he couldn’t....but I cannot fault him for that. Question is, can anyone accept that of his woman, his wife? Can a man be expected to accept such a past and let it go, to have it never come between his relationship with the woman he loves? I don’t suppose so.
And for those reasons, I have tried, tested and proven true to my previous post that yes, I WILL be the woman with 40 cats.

But I am okay with that now. I now know what I must sacrifice not to become that woman and it’s not a sacrifice I am willing to make.

What a journey that was!

2010-12-15T07:45:00.001-05:00

I sat alone, the house was dark and I didn't know where to turn. So much has gone on in my life and while taking the good with the bad, tonight the darkness left the only thought..... now what? I've never been normal, as society would see fit as normal. I have always been pretty much a loner, keeping my deepest, dearest thoughts to myself. My head is a place where I let no one in. I sometimes find solace as I visit there, othertimes utter confusion. But it is my place, my place alone. Tonight the silence was just killing me, I had to reach out. But to who? Surely not to those I spend my life shutting out. They just don't get who I am. They just don't understand. And so I broke the still of the night by that sound I have missed so much....tap, tap, tap. Belle is blogging again.....

Throwing in the towel.....

2010-12-15T07:43:00.000-05:00

I will try to sound intellectual as I write this. I will try to sound cool and calm. I will pretend that I am a hip understanding mom of a hormonal 15 yr old daughter. I will tell you I said all the right things. I will do all of these things in hopes that all of you know I am full of shit and totally freaking out right now.
I get home from work 6 hours early tonight to prepare for a long day in Toronto tomorrow with my girls. I need a good nights sleep. My teen is up at her computer, no surprise. I tell her I'm glad I am home early to send her to bed but know it's unlikely because she spent all damn day sleeping since coming home from a girlfriend's house at 11am. She sits on the chair next to me as I fire up my laptop. This seating arrangement is never good. When a teen leaves the computer to sit next to you, it's serious. And then she says.....

"I wasn't sure if I was going to tell you this but....."

One sentence. If I had one thought I had one thousand before she carried on. Sex? Drugs? Sex? Smoking? Drinking? Sex? My heart raced, I typed my password into the box to unlock my laptop and no matter how hard I tried, could not find it in me to look at her. "You're a lesbian?" I said jokingly, trying to keep the air light. Please say yes, I thought. I can handle a gay daughter. Hell, I'd pat her on the back if that were the case. Unfortunately I was her age not so long ago. (Hold back the laughter, I'm not in a joking mood right now!)

She spent last night drinking in the rain, sitting on a blanket in a backyard while her girlfriend's parents slept. First I was angry at the parents. Why the f*** isn't that shit locked up with teenagers in the house? Then I was glad it wasn't me being the ignorant parent sound asleep while someone else's daughter was getting drunk in my home. She said something about 3 shots of straight vodka, a shot of rum and a glass of white wine. My stomach tuned on the inside but I just sat there clicking links on my Google page looking rather unphased by what she was telling me. Then she got to the best part of the story....she puked....and puked.....and puked! Then came the promise to never drink again. I remember uttering those same words....just a few weeks ago.

I told her I was glad she chose to do it at a place where adults were around in case she needed them as opposed to walking the streets in a drunken stupor. I told her I was her age once, I knew this was coming. I told her vodka was the worst to drink straight, that her blurry vision and headache was called a hangover and that it was God's punishment for being so damn stupid. And I told her I was glad she puked and then took back the sympathy I gave her earlier about being all bruised up. I thought the bruises were from an intense cheerleading practice earlier in the day, she informed me that she remembered falling down in the bathroom, bedroom, living room and front porch. I seriously considered adding a bruise or two myself, but I didn't show it.

First and formost I would like to thank Belle who gave me the strength to pretend I am something I am not. Without her I would not have known how to appear calm in stressful situations. Without her I would not have known how to smile when I wanted to cry, whisper when I wanted to scream, hold a steady hand when my entire being was shaken to the core.

Thank you to the fellow nominees I find myself in company with. I am not so sure I deserved the oscar for "best supporting actress" any more than the rest of you so I accept it on behalf of all mothers out there who have survived parenthood. One last comment before I leave the stage....to those parents out there that let their kids live to see their 16th birthday........HOW THE F*** DID YOU DO IT?????

I am going to be honest here. Yes, I know she is 15. yes, I know teens do this sort of thing. Yes, I was 15 once too. But no, I was not prepared for it. I thought I was. I've played it out in my mind. But not any more prepared for this than I will be the day it turns to drugs or sex. I am so not cut out for this job. I didn't sign up for this shit and I'm not as fucking strong as everyone seems to think I am. And dammit.....where is her fucking father right now? She is ok. She is sound asleep in her bed. i know, I just checked on her. And there lay my baby. Am I crazy for wanting her to stay my baby? I hear other parents talk about this with their own children. They laugh, they somehow find it funny. I am truly sick over it and can't stop myself from crying. I am not ready for this. She is not ready. I am not ready.

I'm Baaaaaaack!

2010-12-15T07:42:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been some time since I have sat on my love seat, a timmies in hand in the middle of the night and posted to my blog. It's been too long in fact. Where to begin......
First and foremost the biggest change this year has been me leaving the escorting industry. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is, final. It wasn't a tough decision really, I knew it was time. Not that I wasn't having a good time, not that I wasn't welcome but that I found myself ready for the next step. I wasn't sure what that was, I still am not so sure but I am ready for whatever that may be. In all honesty, keeping my life as Belle discreet was becoming impossible. My children are growing older and with that comes the fact that they are becoming more aware of a life outside of themselves. Explanations were difficult, time was limited and they have now reached an age where Mom needs to be at home with them. And what a wonderful place to be.
March was an exciting month with the airing of the documentary I participated in with DOCTV. A blog entry will be following this post soon giving all the details so I won't go into it here save to say I do not see an acting career in my future, I think I will stick to my writing.
I left my husband. I know, I've said that before. But this time it was and is....final. More posts on that to follow as well. Let's just say it was a good thing I did not have my blog to post to during the first few months of this transition. Now, about 8 months later, I am able to write with some objectivity. Not always, I still have my moments.

A new part of my life will enter my blog following this post.....dating. Ugh. Just reading that takes me through some dreadful memories. Good times, not so good times. Needless to say it is not quite the experience I thought it would be so far. I'm assuming it gets better....right? Be ready for some more "Belle is venting, Duck!" posts, as well as my "Oath to thy self" post. Interesting reads I can assure you.

I will end this by saying how truly grateful I am to all of you for your support and emails while my blog was offline. Even though I write simply to get things off my chest, knowing that others are reading, that someone cares what I have to say and moreso, that someone misses sharing my experiences and reading the things I write here means so much to me. I have missed the banter we shared here and hope we can pick up where we left off.

xo Belle

Friendships with an SP?

2010-12-15T07:41:00.000-05:00

Friendship with an SP. The most complicated of relationships or what???? I have a select few in my personal life that I have chosen to share my Belle life with, for obvious reasons. I have just ended a friendship with one of the select few and am so pissed, I have to vent.
Over the brief course of our friendship, he had made comments about us being together sexually. Something that has never happened between us. I made it clear, in the early stages, that I needed someone to talk to openly with, share my life in a way that friends do….without being expected to have sex.
And what do you know. From silly little advances to constant hounding, sex became a frequent request of his no matter how many times I turned him down. Over and over again I made it clear, I just want to be friends. Is that so much to ask of the opposite sex? Are all men so damn driven by their penises that any relationship with the opposite sex has to involve the act itself?
He gave me promises of how it would not affect our friendship. I told him I knew otherwise. He told me how he could adhere to my rules, how we would keep it strictly sexual. I told him I prefer to have sex with people who don’t tell me their real names. He begged me to do it, I begged him to stop. It was like a little boy hounding his mommy for candy in the checkout aisle. And when I finally ended it, there was the temper tantrum. Full blown, lay-on-the-floor, curled-in-the-fetal-position, wailing temper tantrum. First it was the guilt trip “obviously our friendship meant nothing to you”. Then it was the “Remember this when you are in dire straits and have no one to call” as though I could not survive without him. And lastly, the “It ended because you don’t respect me and my opinions” Again, another guilt trip.
Our last conversation went something like this:
She said: “Honestly, I just want to be friends, is that so much to ask?”He said, “Well, when you talk about sex with strangers and the things you do as Belle, it is hard not to get turned on”.She said, “Fine, then no discussion of sex ever again, if that is what it will take” (as she rolled her eyes thinking how much of an ass he really is, that his whole purpose was to get laid, that he truly believed she was easy and would fuck anything)He said, “Really…so then we really have nothing left to talk about considering your life is 90% sex”She said, “You just said it all right there, that really hurt.”

Instantly he was deleted. Deleted from my email, deleted from my cell contact, deleted from my life. Sex most certainly has its place in my life, there is no doubt. But it doesn’t define me. And I think it is time in my life to start building lasting, meaningful relationships with people in my personal life. People that will see me for me. I may not be able to share all of my life with most people but I do know I am worthy of being more to someone than their sexual entertainment.

So that is that. Now, do you really think it to be possible that an SP have a strictly platonic relationship with a man? Is it so inconceivable to think that a sex crazed, passionate, intense woman (who just so happens to get paid for every orgasm she has) also has other needs in her life that she seeks to be met through other relationships? Or are men sexual creatures unable, even if willing, to have a non-sexually based relationship with a woman. Period?

WTF am I doing?

2010-12-15T07:40:00.000-05:00

The playing field, 16 years later. Same players, different age? Different players altogether? Or is it a whole new game? Do I even know how to play anymore? The guy who asked for my number? Yeah Him. I gave him my number. Why? Because I could. Not because I thought he was the one. Not because I thought he'd sweep me off my feet or rock my world for a night. Just because I could. Because he asked and it is the natural thing a normal single woman would do. No. A single woman would have given him her home phone number. I gave him my cell. He smiled as thoughthe had some privileged information. I smiled because he had no idea that anyone with a computer had access to it as well.

My ex and I had an agreement. He did what he did, I did what I did. The rule was that none of it was to intervene with our life at home. No phone calls, no guests. Our home was sacred. At home we were a family. My view has not changed, even with him gone. My home is still sacred, we here are still a family. I will not allow any one to intervene. So, cell phone it is.

I am not a phone talker. Even as Belle, I choose not to talk on the phone. Belle brings forth a multitude of reasoning for this but for the most part; I simply don't like to spend much time on the phone. The next day, it rings. Belle doesn't answer her phone and by the same reaction, I don't either. I watch it ring. The screen lit up, it vibrates on the arm of my chair. And for some reason I panic. So I let my voicemail take over. I hear the tune play telling me I have a message. I picked it up with my sweaty palm, dialed my code and put it to my ear.

Now many thoughts go through my head as I listen to "You have 1 unheard message. Press 1 to hear your message". In that 2.5 seconds I wonder what he has said? I wonder if he has invited me out for coffee or if he jumped right to dinner. I wonder if he has invited me to his home, out for drinks or if he just called to say hi. Really I am just wondering what the f*** I am doing.

His voice is strong and confident. I like that in a man. Not just in my man, but any man. "Hi *****, it's *****. Just calling to say hi, sorry I missed you. I'll be home for most of the afternoon if you would like to give me a call back and if not, I will see you at work. Have a good day." Harmless. No pressure. No expectations. It seems safe to call him back. Do I call him back? Is it rude not to? Do I wait an hour or call right away? Is it presumptuous to call back right away? This is so stupid. I have no intention of dating him. Hell, I don't even have any intention of sleeping with him. If I am putting myself to the test and using him as my guinea pig then I must call him back or I have failed my own test. I can do this.

So, lying in his incredibly soft bed that night, :rolleyes: I stare at the ceiling. He is talking about some mind blowing experience he just had and I again find myself asking myself, “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING?” This isn’t someone who will be leaving an envelope on the nightstand never expecting me to call again. This isn’t someone who knows the rules. This is someone from out there. A place where people date, get to know one another, share each other’s thoughts and dreams. This is someone who, very clearly, is open to having sex on the first “get together” (I refuse to use the term “date”) but yet is very likely to ask for something more from me than I am willing to give. Not to mention I will have to see this person most every day for the rest of my working life. I ask myself again, “WTF am I doing?”

I could segregate this entry, making several posts out of the 9 hours we spent together and perhaps I will in time as I grapple with the consequences of my actions. Yes, in this single world, there are consequences. It doesn’t work like Belle’s world out there. I realized that when I had the condom between my lips ready to apply it without using my hands and I look up to see this peculiar look on his face. Knowing I should have spent a little more time fooling around with the wrapper acting as though I had just a little less experience considering that I, to him, am a newly separated woman who had been married for 16 years and has four children. Odds are I haven’t used a condom in quite some time. Note to self……tone it down a notch….or 10.

So really......WTF am I doing?

Breaking Co-Dependancy

2010-12-15T07:39:00.000-05:00

While I am at peace with the end of my marriage I find myself having to face many fears. Things in my life that I had relied on my husband to take care of. While I learned to pump my own gas last year there are many things I have shied away from. The BBQ. I have a fear of fire. You will see how most of my fears stem from this fear. I worry there will be a propane leak and the thing will blow so I went to my best buddy for a BBQ lesson. He showed me how to turn it on and off. Then how to change the tank. Then how to take it apart and clean it. Lastly, how to cook on it.

Next lesson: The weed whacker. It's loud, the noise terrifies me. I picture the string catcihg hold of a kids mcdonald's toy burried beneath the grass and come flying up seriously injuring someone. I tried it for a few seconds and decided I didn't lke it. He finished the job for me.
Light bulbs. Of all stupid things to be afraid of! I hate changing light bulbs. I have security lighting outside my house. All the bulbs needed to be changed. Those bulbs they specify "Do not touch bulb". HTF do you change the bulb wthout touching it? Now I know.

While being giving handy-woman lessons I cleared my shed of 2 useless weed whackers and tosed them in front of my house. The scoundrels are always out on weekends. Good guess on my part. 10 minutes later, one was gone. I parked my ass at the curb a good 30 minutes in hopes someone would take me home with them. I was always told "What's one man's trash is another man's treasure". Apparently the other weed whacker had more to offer than I did as a guy drove up, asked if it was for free and took it, leaving me behind. I dragged my sorry ass back into the house to think up some dinner ideas.

Next weekend: Painting the shed
Clean out the shed
Fix broken shed window

I hope it rains. :rolleyes:

Sitting on the fence

2010-12-15T07:36:00.000-05:00

Sitting on the fence gives one a beautiful view. You can see the meadows in the valley, the beautiful wildflowers swaying with the wind. You can witness the innocence of children as they chase butterflies through the fields knowing that they don’t truly want to catch one as the fun is in the chase. The colors of the flowers, the beauty of nature, the smells of the grass after a summer rain…it is all in front of you while you sit upon the fence.

I have been sitting on the fence a very long time. I love to see what lies ahead, glimpse beyond the wooden structure to see all that the world has to offer. I sit here and dream of stepping down, feeling the grass beneath my bare feet. I dream of writing a book and then another. I dream of falling in love, of being loved. I dream of travelling and skiing. I dream of what it would be like to chase the butterflies with those children. I dream of a life full of trust and respect and happiness.

I look behind me, to the other side of the fence. My life as it was. It is a swamp. Swampy waters, stingy and unkempt. I can smell the stagnant water, just sitting there. For years and years, the hurt, the lies, the hateful stares just left there to rot at my soul. It is dark and murky. Left behind when I climbed atop my fence is a lifetime of self-worthlessness, but as I sit here I can still smell it, still feel its cold waters against my skin.

I want to join the children chasing butterflies in the meadow. Would I be disturbing them in their game? Would I be imposing on their innocence by bringing to them my uncertainty that so long a time of sitting on the fence has given me? What I am asking is if my desire to seek out the world would be fair to the children if they seem to be happy playing as I watch them from my sturdy perch?.

From where I sit, I cannot fall but neither can I know what it is to run in the meadow. I am content here and I really have nothing to lose by keeping my feet firmly planted but I also know I have nothing to gain either. I have left the murky waters behind but have yet to let the grass touch my feet. It is not for fear that I may fall but that I may disturb the children playing. It seems so selfish to want something for me, to consider going into the meadow and disturbing their happy innocent world. As parents, how do we decide when it is okay to do things for ourselves when those decisions will have such a huge impact on the children?

Belle is my fence. I waded through the murky waters and found what I needed to lift me out to dry land. I have used Belle to give me a glimpse into a world I never knew was out there. A world that could be mine. I have learned what it is like to have friends, to have someone call when they haven’t heard from me in a while. I have learned what it is like to have someone care for me, worry for me and be happy for me. I have felt what it is like to have a man want me. I have learned to love my body and not feel ashamed to be naked in front of him. I have learned to smile, I have learned to cry. Ok, the latter is a work in progress. But I have learned there is more out there. I can dream. I never dreamed before. I now have dreams. Most importantly, I have learned who I am and who I want to be. My fence has served its purpose. Belle saved me when I needed saving. And now I want more.

Is it fair to want more? Not to say that I don’t deserve more as I know I do. I am at a place in my life where I know I deserve to have all I can dream of. But by moving forward, by making changes in my life, I change the children’s lives too. Is it fair to disrupt their life for my own happiness? The problem is, I can’t be sure that my moving forward is a step forward for them as well. They are happy, their world is protected. I just don’t know how long I can go on sitting on the fence and smiling when I yearn so badly to move on.

I know, more mumbo jumbo as I think out loud again. :rolleyes: I’ve got slivers in my ass, anyone have a pair of tweezers I can borrow till I get this shit figured out?

I don't need saving, thanks anyways.

2010-12-15T07:34:00.002-05:00

I have encountered many personalities since I have been in this business. I hate to lump clients into any sort of stereotypical group but many seem to fit into a category of sorts. Some lonely, some in need of control, some passive, some sex craved, some adventurous, some clueless and then you get the "knights in shining armor". The men that want to whisk me away, save me from this lifestyle, show me how a woman should really be treated. :rolleyes:

I would never knock any gentleman that visits with an escort assuming their intentions are harmless. We all have our reasons for participating, whatever they may be. But let me say this just one more time......I don't need saving! I do what I do because I choose to, not because I have to. I have a full time job that supports by family. I don't need to do this. I don't hand my money off to a pimp, I don't do drugs and I don't need someone telling me how I am only fooling myself. You can have your opinions but please keep them to yourself. I am not asking anyone to understand me or my life choices, just to accept them.

This business is so much less complicated than the outside world. This is my getaway. This is where I can be whoever I want to be, live out a fantasy that many could only dream of. This is where I can let go, have no inhibitions and be accepted for whatever I am willing to bring to the table. I ask no more than that from you and in return you ask no more of me. There is no pressure here. No expectations here. No BS here. It is what it is and most accept it for being just that.

In my personal life I must deal with being judged. In my personal life I must live up to people's expectations. In my personal life I must adhere to what and who society dictates I must be. Belle is my getaway. She is carefree, fun and adventurous. Why would I need saving from that? I agree that some ladies may find themselves in this business as a means to an end. And they may need saving. And they may not. But please don't ever partonize a woman in this business by doubting her purpose. It's demeaning and (IMHO) your advice is unwelcome. I am sorry to use my blog as a means to send out a message to one particular individual but I know he is reading and I hope my point has been made.

What's missing?

2010-12-15T07:34:00.001-05:00

Think about all experiences you have had with an SP. Aside from the obvious, what, if anything, do you find to be missing from the experience? Is there something you wish was a part of your encounters or something you experienced with an SP that you wish was more par for the course? I have to say that I enjoy music and wished that was a more common element to the experience. While I wouldn't consider showing up with a CD player, the radio being on from time to time would be nice. Not only do I find music to help relax and put both parties at ease it also helps the mood a little. I don't mean soft romantic music so much as any music in general, it seems to promote a natural reaction to move. Not that moving is ever a problem of course.....you get where I am going with this.

So outside of the act itself, what would you like to be a more common part of your experience? Sharing a bottle of wine? A soak in the hot tub? Once, just once, where a driver isn't beeping his horn 60 minutes on the dot? :P

Do you ask for directions?

2010-12-15T07:33:00.001-05:00

I'm not talking any sort of direction you may find on a map either, unless you find it in a book written by Dr. Ruth. When being intimate with a partner, do you encourage instruction from him or her? Would the answer vary depending on if it was an SP or a lover? I have been asked by many clients to tell them what I enjoy and to direct them per say. I am wondering if this sort of direction offends a man (or woman), making them feel incompetent in the bedroom. I am not referring to things you would like to try or ways to spice things up, I just mean simple things like harder or softer, fast or slow....the manner in which foreplay and sex are played out.

I consider myself to be good at reading people which is a big part of this business from an SP's perspective. When I am meeting with a client that is on the shy side I know he needs me to take initiative and I know he is unlikely to express how he best enjoys a sexual enounter. From here I feel him out, so to speak. And it is not too often a client has left me not having reached his goal. But what if a woman was to ask you to move a little slower or to pay a little more attention to something other that what you are focussing your attention on? Would that turn you off? Would it turn you on?

A mindless business venture....

2010-12-15T07:30:00.000-05:00

With another holiday around the corner I found myself shopping for a Father’s Day gift from my kids for their dad. They are all excited, having spent the past week at school making their cute little cards for dad. You know the cards, the ones that say things like, “My dad’s favorite drink is beer and he is happiest when I am sleeping”. Those school cards that are most certain to embarrass any parent. They love Father’s Day and of course, it is routine that we go shopping for a gift for him. Walking around the stores, not sure what the kids had in mind, I found myself listening to other shoppers. Do you dads know just how many kids out there can’t stand their fathers? I could not believe how many times I heard someone say “I haven’t seen him in years, what the hell do I buy the SOB?” or something of the like. It is hard enough to buy something for that special someone, someone you actually like. Having to buy a gift just because the date on the calendar say you have to, is even harder. Then it hit me…..we need a store for this particular type of shopper!

Imagine this. You walk into the store and the greeter asks you who you hate today. You tell him it’s your mother-in law’s birthday and that your wife sent you out to pick up a gift. He directs you to Aisle 1, apparently MIL’s are the most hated to be given the first aisle. You decide to wander the store, its concept too inviting not to as there are a lot of people you don’t like but must still shop for. You pass the “cheating husbands” aisle, the “spoiled brats who have sucked the life right out of you” aisle and then you see it….the “drunken uncle you only see at family reunions” aisle, a quick reminder that your reunion is coming up. Wouldn’t your wife be so proud of you to have come home with not only what she asked you to pick up but what you knew she was going to ask you to pick up next week?

There is even a card station with a big sign above it, “For the people you love to hate, a card for every shitty occasion your spouse drags you to”. Let’s face it, no matter how much you try to hide it, when someone doesn’t like you, you know it. So instead of giving your boss a card that reads “congrats on your retirement” why not give him a card that says what you really want to say, “It took me 17 years to be able to say Fuck You, but it was worth the wait! So glad to see you go”. Yes, I think I am on to something here, the possibilities are endless! Only problem is….store policy would have to be that all sales are final. Could you imagine the hassles at the customer non-service desk? Mind you, a huge line up at the returns desk would be great for business!

Angry sex

2010-12-15T07:21:00.001-05:00

He was so unprepared. We exchanged several emails prior to our first meet. He wanted to know a little more about me as I did of him. I pointed out the obvious, my lack of flesh in the bust. It’s something I like to bring to a client’s attention prior to meeting so as to prevent him from being disappointed. He wasn’t concerned. We talked about my blog, the things I write about why I enjoy my time as an escort. He asked about my typical clients and how I pass judgment as to who I will and will not see. I expressed my concern for fetish requests or clients who ask for a certain service I do not provide. I am always quite open when a prospective client emails me.

This is the time to be honest and upfront, on both our parts. I told him I am not an aggressive PSE, preferring the more passionate intimate experience. It is why I do what I do for that is what I am looking for and what had led me to Belle in the first place. I did my best to give him an accurate expectation of what our time together would be like.

The morning of. I woke up to find my kids had destroyed the roses I had brought home with me from the funeral home after my grandmother had passed away. I was devastated. The one thing I have specifically told them was of limits. Mom was now officially in a “back the hell away” kind of mood. I sat at my laptop with my timmies and simmered over it for 3 hours. Trying to turn the day around I decided to take the kids out for a walk down the parkway. We loaded into the car and took the ten minute drive to the falls. My teenager decides this is the moment to test who is in control. She refuses to get out of the car. I raise my voice. She again refuses. I point the finger, raise the voice and make it very clear it’s do or die. She chose not to do. BIG MISTAKE!
I don’t know what really happened next but I do remember a few foul words leaving my pursed lips. I ordered the other kids back into the car and all the way home I shouted out my teenage daughter’s summer plans. Housework and lots of it. No computer, no cell phone, no dances, no……..I was a raging lunatic. The nerve of her, I kept telling myself. How dare she? Stomping my feet up the driveway and into my house I just couldn’t calm myself down. I think it was then that I realized I had lost all control.

I demanded that my teenager head to the basement where the laundry awaits her. Then I hopped into the shower. I grabbed my loufa and scrubbed so damn hard I could feel the layers of skin slough off till I was red all over. And still, over and over in my head was the constant replaying of my teenager’s words “You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do!”…..and the anger just grew. Even worse, I sent her down to do laundry without thinking of the need for hot water as I showered. The rush of cold water just pissed me off more. I shut off the tap, grabbed a towel and half dried off, headed to my room. Slamming drawers, I found my black lace knee highs and black and white summer dress I planned on wearing. This is where my excitement usually begins, as I dress for the appointment, anticipating the time we will share. But not today. Today it was just a nuisance. Today I would have to play the sweet pleasant Belle he likely expects because of those damn emails I had sent him. For once, I was really hoping he was an asshole.

I didn’t even bother with the usual fuss over my hair. I gave it a quick tussle, running my fingers through to rid a few knots. Good enough. I stormed through the house grabbing my keys and smokes and headed for the door. The first stop light I put on my powder, the second light my eye liner and the third light, my lipstick. I arrived in the parking lot before I was finished my smoke. He would have to wait. After all, I was 4 minutes early. I banged on the door, not the usual “da dada da da” rap I introduce my arrival with either. Bang, bang, bang…the fuck you ordered is here dammit.

He opened the door and I walked in, mumbling the usual nuances as I threw my purse on the night stand. I didn’t check for the donation or scan the room for anything out of the ordinary as I usually do when first meeting a client. I pushed him onto the bed, straddled him with my legs and pressed my lips against him so damn hard I doubt he could breathe. I decided I wasn’t in the passionate intimate mood I had him prepared for. I wasn’t in the room 2 minutes and I had his pants down to his knees. Giving him the deepest most aggressive blow job I have ever given, I ripped my dress off myself taking only a short break to hop up and grab my purse. He seemed at a loss for words. I looked up at him once and gave myself a bit of a chuckle as he seemed kinda scared. I didn’t care. You asked for me, you got me. He didn’t dare make a move, I was clearly in control. At least someone understood that.

Covered up, I rode him like I doubt he has ever been ridden before. I screamed, I grunted and even blurted out a few obscenities from time to time. I told him what I wanted him to do, and he did it without hesitation. When I got tired, I made him work. Fuck me and you damn well better make it good and hard! And he did. He sweat, I sweat. For one full hour we said nothing that did not involve a sexual demand. I came, he came, and I came again. When I was done, I was done. There was no cuddling under the sheets after, no holding hands or deep conversation. I hopped in the shower, cold water only and cooled my body down. I grabbed the towel, walked still dripping into the room to get dressed. He still lay there on the bed, not saying anything….well, nothing that made much sense anyways. I picked up the handful of twenties and stuffed them in my purse, gave him a quick kiss and was out the door. It hadn’t hit me till half way through the drive home that I just totally fucked this guy. I used him to vent my frustrations; get rid of my anger and all without a care in the world what he thought about that. And I loved it! It really is all about me, I’m such a bitch.

The Rollercoaster

2010-12-15T07:19:00.000-05:00

8AM: It’s a long way up. I get on the ride, everyone is locked in and it begins. The slow steep incline. I’m barely moving, I hear the chains rattling as my car aims for the sky. There is an uncertainty in my mind. I’m either going to love this ride or hate it.

I’ve just gone to bed a few short hours ago and it seems I haven’t slept a wink. I hate mornings. The kids are fighting, the best way to wake me in the worst of moods. I left some unfinished business last night when I went to bed. 7 shots of tequila to end the evening left me not caring much for justifying my only evening out in a very long time. I am regretting leaving the situation to deal with now, as I am not in any more of a mood for it now than I was a before I went to bed. I need a smoke and then I will contemplate what kind of a day I am going to make this.

11AM: I’ve hit the top of the incline, now it’s the plummet. It took a while to get up here yet the drop takes but a fraction of a second. There is no way to prepare, it just hits me like a tonne of bricks. I want to puke; I’m surely not going to live through this.

I’ve had two Timmies, can’t count how many smokes and I’m feeling alright. No hangover, unrightfully so. But not complaining. I’m missing my nana, but I push the thought away. The sun is shining; I should make my way outside sometime soon. Don’t want it to be another wasted day in front of my computer. Then again, maybe one more day in my pajamas won’t hurt, it’s not like anyone is going to notice. Will there ever be someone to notice? That’s exactly what I need, someone to stop by and say “Hey, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon, get your shit together girl!” Today I’m glad there is no one. Pajamas it is, I’ll pick myself up tomorrow.

3PM: Going up, way up. Hitting that upside down loop that leaves butterflies in my stomach. This is the part of the ride that keeps me coming back for more. The rollercoaster is so worth it, knowing this part. Loop after loop at full speed, no gravity, nothing holding me back. Everything whizzes by and all I can feel is the fresh air against my face and butterflies. I love the butterflies.
I don’t know what has gotten into me. Perhaps it is the long awaited sun after a cold and gloomy winter, perhaps it’s the alignment of the stars or maybe, just maybe I am coming into my sexuality, appreciating my womanhood and opening up to the possibilities of a whole new life for myself. Whatever it is, it is wonderful and beautiful and almost overwhelming. I imagine happiness, it is so close to me, so profound that it becomes something I can almost touch. It has a shape, it has presence. I can imagine the life I want, not as in to dream of it but I can see it, close my eyes and live it. It is here and I am there, it is so complete.

8PM:. I come out of the loop, my heart racing. My palms are sweaty, my hair tasseled. It’s time to get off. I begin to feel grounded, like an addict coming down from the high. I close my eyes. My car slows down and comes to a stop. I look like hell, they can tell there were many ups and downs. But that’s what the ride is all about. What’s a rollercoaster without the ups and downs? It wouldn’t be a coaster if it had one but not the other. That’s the thrill of the ride. The ups mean nothing without the downs. And same goes the other way.

It’s surreal at first, to be racing through the clouds just a moment ago, then having to place my feet on the ground. But it is this very ground that reminds me who I am. It reminds me why I got on in the first place. It’s the not knowing what to expect. We spend so much time trying to plan our lives so that everything is just so but is that what we really want? Do we really want to know what lies ahead for us? Do we not set ourselves up for disappointment by expecting something and not having it not be there for us?

Everyone sees me now, I must stand tall and not waver. I must walk off as I walked on, strong and confident. They are looking at me, summing up how their experience will be as they await their turn on the ride and I cannot disappoint. I smile. It was one hell of a ride and they can be sure I’ll be back again tomorrow. It may not be the same ride, but as long as it has the ups to go with the downs, I’ll keep showing up.

Found my way back.....

2010-12-15T07:17:00.001-05:00

I owe you all an apology for not being around much lately. You’ve all been so supportive and I leave you after all you have done for me. Truth is, I’ve had nothing pleasant to say and I was raised with the saying, “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all”. I have been on this emotional rollercoaster and scared to death of where I would end up if and when I ever got off. Funny thing is, I thought if I just keep myself busy, everything will go away…it has worked so well for most things in my life. But this just won’t go away so I have found myself learning something about me. I am human. I can be hurt, no matter how hard I try to protect myself from everyone that could hurt me and that I can’t keep running because eventually it will catch up with me, which it has.

So I am at the bottom, that rock bottom place I was so scared be. There is no denying it, that’s where I am. I can sugar coat it any way I like, telling you I will be okay and this too shall pass but the reality is I’d only be fooling myself. I am naked, staring into the mirror seeing someone I don’t even know. Have you ever been there? To not know who is looking back at you? I see someone old and tired and scared. In an instant, everything I thought I knew about myself was gone.

I am going about my life and I am doing okay, don’t get me wrong. But when I am alone, when it’s just me and my thoughts I am just that, very alone. And then I ask myself how it is that I have never let anyone in so I protect myself from being hurt yet I am hurting so badly and wished I had just one person beside me that I gave my trust to. The good thing to come out of this will hopefully be the realization that I can’t, or should I say don’t have to do this alone.
This is the first time in my life that someone has called to see if I am okay. The first time I have had someone say to me “I’m here just to listen, even if it’s to only hear you cry”. I didn’t realize just how much I have needed that, no matter how vulnerable it made me feel.

I won’t let life keep me down, my nana would never have wanted that for me. But I’m not pushing myself too hard to pick myself up either. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you, I’m still here and promise to not be such a stranger. I think it’s time I stop feeling sorry for myself and be thankful to have what I do, not mourn for what I don’t. Now if I could just figure out how?

Best sex is no-sex

2010-12-15T07:16:00.000-05:00

The best sex is no sex. No really! Don’t stop reading; you have to follow me here. This isn’t some advertisement for anti-sex activists (please don’t tell me there is such a thing) just hear me out. You know how much I love sex. I love sex in many, many forms. But have you ever thought about just how erotic NOT having sex could be? Imagine…..

A couple starts a hot steamy love affair. They meet weekly at the hideaway hotel, pulling up the driveway in separate cars, racing to beat the other to the door; their clothes have barely hit the floor as the door closes behind them. It’s forbidden, this meeting. They cannot commit but to this once-a-week rendezvous. This is all they think of during the week, how many more sleeps ‘till Tuesday. They wake up with the thought of the other, memories flashing back to the shower they shared, a quick wash up before heading home to their separate lives when their passion takes over and yet another interlude takes place. Water showering them as they thrust their soapy bodies against one another. They have no time, they know they must leave but cannot find it in them to separate. Just once more…

This goes on for a month or two. They play it casual when their paths cross outside of Tuesday nights. There’s a look from the corner of his eye, a smile from the corner of her mouth. They cave to the temptation of kissing as they pass in the hallway during a retirement party for a co-worker. It’s oh so forbidden. They sit in the boardroom and listen as presentations are being made. One foot crosses over to his and she rubs his leg with her toes. Their eyes meet, they can’t wait for Tuesday.

Something happens, something that brings her to end their Tuesday nights. He is devastated; it hurts her even more so. She lusts for him, her desire is unbearable yet it must not be. It can not be. And it hurts. He wants her. He needs her. He tries to reassure her. She wants to say yes, she wants him to say they will be okay but she knows otherwise. It just cannot be. She dreams of their first time, his kiss so intoxicating. She closes her eyes and sees him, looking down at him as he takes hold of her face telling her he needs to look at her. She watches him as he cums. This is what she sees when she goes to bed at night. He lays there and thinks of the very same things. They connected in a way that neither had shared with anyone else. It was so damn good, yet so damn wrong. But it felt so damn right.

They meet in the lunch room and it is hard. Hard not to see the look from the corner of his eye. Hard not to see the smile from the corner of her mouth. Hard not to brush against one another as they pass in the hallway. He calls her in the night; she rolls over to answer the phone. His voice makes her smile. He says all the right things she doesn’t want to hear. But she is glad he says them. She wants him too, she says. She misses him too, she says. And there they are, both undressed and finding themselves reliving their most sacred Tuesday nights. She hangs up and wishes it could be. He hangs up and says it must be.

And so they find themselves one day, alone with a few moments to pass. There is nothing to be said but that one kiss they shared that said it all. It said “I want you”, “No, it just can’t be”. It said “I need to feel you, naked with me” and it said “You can dream of being naked with me” and it said “We will never be done” and at last, “No, it never will be”. But that kiss, that kiss they share during brief forbidden moments alone are the most intense and erotic kisses she has ever known. They never know when their next moment will be so they hold on to each as though it were to be their last. Every touch, every glance, every smile and every kiss, they hold onto as though it were their last.

And he tries, every moment they have alone. He uses his eyes to seduce her, the touch of his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, the warmth of his breath on her neck to arouse her. She grabs his cock in her hand through his jeans to be sure she still has the same effect on him. He is always hard, always ready, always wanting her as she is lusting for him.

The sex was amazing, phenomenal, wild and sensual. Yet the no-sex, the wanting and the knowing of what she is missing, her memories of Tuesday nights that fill her heart with more desire and passion, and that she can feel all of this in just one kiss that makes no-sex even greater, something so much bigger than sex. It’s the knowing what the sex is like together, the always wondering when the next sex will be or even if the next sex will be, the temptation and the need for one another that keeps that passion so alive. Passion runs the risk of dying with sex. Even with only Tuesday nights, one Tuesday it just may be one too many Tuesdays and that passion fades. That could never happen with no-sex. Never.

Chemistry 101

2010-12-15T07:15:00.000-05:00

I was never much for chemistry in school, hell; I was never one for school. I was too busy learning about life through living it. I learned the importance of chemistry. I may not have learned what happens when you put a flame to ammonium dichromate but I have learned what happens when you mix the chemistry of a man with the chemistry of a woman. But is that what it’s all about? Chemistry?

I am a sensual lover and find myself most aroused by someone of the like. And sensual is just that, being aroused by my senses. It is not just the feel of his fingers against my skin but the way his breathing changes when he reaches my thighs. It’s not just the heavy pant of his warm breath on my neck, but the taste of a bead of his sweat…he is physically reacting to his intense desire for me. That is arousing. He enters me and while it feels so splendid, it’s when I pull myself up to his chest and inhale his scent that I become most captivated. So, am I attracted to him because of his biological make-up and we’re just meant to be because chemistry says we mix well together or is it a conscious decision to be with him because of how he looks, the way he makes me laugh or the way he treats me?

I took my questions to the internet, trying to figure out just why we are attracted to certain people. Why does sex feel so different depending on the partner? Why do some things excite me with one and turn me off with another? What makes me decide the sex mood I am in, my mood prior to the prospect or is it his chemistry mixed with mine that promotes the urgency for sex?

I remember a time, lying in bed and feeling so aroused having my hand under my cheek on the pillow. We had been holding hands for hours, sitting in his father’s car listening to music the entire evening. We kissed and we caressed but it didn’t go any further than that. And as I lay in bed I could smell him in the palm of my hand. I felt aroused, calm, and safe. It gave me butterflies. I would not move my hand from my cheek; I wanted to drift off with my last conscious breath being of him. As I look back, I think we had some actual chemistry. His scent excited me yet calmed me. I instantly reacted to it without having prior thought of him. It was not until I lay my hand under my cheek that I instantly felt that rush.

But if that is the case and it’s really all about chemistry, then where does our personal preference come into play? I came upon one site that posed this example: You ask a woman everything she wants in a man and she will respond. “Honest, loyal, tall, dark haired, funny, blue eyes and loves movies”, then you put him in front of her and she says “He’s nice and all but we just didn’t click.. But yet he is everything she is looking for. Maybe it really is all about chemistry. Maybe I really don’t have as much control as I thought I did.

Another site I came across spelled out the chemistry part for me. Apparently I over produce PEA (phenyl ethylamine), Dopamine and nor epinephrine, a moderate amount of oxytocin and my body doesn’t even know how to produce endorphins let alone vasopressin. PEA is adrenaline; it keeps your heart racing and gives you that “infatuation” response. That, I know I am addicted to, that immediate rush when a man touches me, the excitement when you first have sex with someone. Oxytocin initiates the “cuddling”, it’s the sexual arousal brought on by a lover’s voice or even a sexual fantasy. It’s a calming hormone promoting the cuddling before, during and after sex. Endorphins prompt the “attachment” need, they calm and reassure with attachment. Yuck.

The last one I have to mention is actually a warning to all men and should be heeded. If your spouse ever tries to tell you that you are due for your yearly shot of vasopressin, run! This is a monogamy hormone. Take a shot of vasopressin and have sex, within 24 hours that mate will be the only one you will ever want again. Well, apparently it works that way for moles but it is a naturally producing hormone in humans. I wonder if this would be a good defense in family court.

So, what do you think? I used to think how I chose my partners was based solely on choice, a rational (ok not always) informed (ok, not always) conscious (yes, always….I think) decision. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe I should just have sex whenever I feel like it instead of trying to think it through. After all, I apparently have no control. Science is fact, I should trust science, it has been tried, tested and is fact. My ‘thinking things through’ on the other hand……..

Am I the woman with 40 cats?

2010-12-15T07:10:00.000-05:00

Someone recently told me that I am cold, that if I keep living my life the way I am I will wind up being an old woman with 40 cats. Of course, this was coming from a married man who thought he’d be the one to break down my wall. I chuckled at first, till I got home and thought about it. One or two aren’t bad, but do I really want 40?

I have been out of this loop since I was 18. I was barely in the loop when I got out of it. Things were different when I was 18. I was young and I had no fear. I wanted to be in love, I wanted to get married and have a family. I did all of those things. Do I really want to start over?
How does the dating game play out when you’re a responsible adult, with kids and a job? It’s not so simple anymore, there’s more to it than when you’re 18. I got to thinking about when my nana passes away. I try not to because we are blessed to still have her with us but I am scared. I don’t have a man to cry to, a man to come home and fall apart with, a man to hold me during the funeral, to pass me more Kleenex. That scares me, the fact that I can’t fall apart. I have to be strong for my kids and I have no one to be strong for me. I know I will be okay, I just wish I didn’t feel like I always have to be okay.

So….where to start? Do I find an attractive man, ask him for coffee, then he invites me for dinner then I wait 3 days for him to ask me out again? Do I hold out on sex for 1 week, 1 month? Do I wait for an attractive man to approach me? Are men attracted to or put off by an aggressive woman? Am I even ready for this?

I’ve put my pen to paper to sort out exactly what I am looking for in a man and what I would expect out of a relationship. I figure if I am going to do this, I’m going to do it right. I have to know what I’m looking for. No more, no less. These are standards I have no room for compromising.

I want a man. A man who is handy around the house, not afraid to get his hands dirty, not afraid to work hard. One who wants to spend a Saturday afternoon sanding floors or pulling weeds. Not because I asked him to but because he wants to. Because he sees it needs to be done or sees me doing it and wants to be by my side, working together.

He has to be employed. Not just recently employed either. I want security. I don’t mean it want his money either but I want to know I will never have to support his lazy ass. I need to know that he is self-sufficient, able to be reliable, accountable to himself. I don’t care what position he holds or where he works, just that he is able to hold a job. Not too much to ask for, I don’t think.
He has to be close with his family. His parents, his siblings, his children if he has any. He has to be able to appreciate the importance of those relationships and value them. This shows his respect and ability to love someone other than himself.

He has to enjoy biking, walking, reading, camping, Disney, Habs games and Geocaching. I don’t want a gym freak, the guy who lives to build some bulk but someone who doesn’t shy from living a healthy active lifestyle. He has to love the outdoors and not whine about the heat and mosquitoes.

He has to have a mind of his own. Agree with me when he agrees but not for the sake of making me happy. My worst pet peeve is a man who won’t stand up for himself. While I don’t want a control freak either, I think there is a happy medium where he’s not afraid to get into it with me but also knows when to walk away because I’m too pissed to discuss it rationally. Ok, that may be asking a bit too much. I suppose I could work on not being so stubborn. Maybe.
He must love to drive. No explanation needed there.

A man who can cuddle yet still be strong and make me feel safe. He must be tall with arms that I can wrap myself in. They’re good for watching movies or running to when life sucks.
He must have a good friend base. We will need our time apart. Ladies nights out, guys nights out. I don’t think it’s healthy otherwise. I’m not the jealous type, nor can he be. Again, a happy medium. Too obsessive and I will run.

One thing I needed in my marriage and never got, was “thank you”. The sacrifices I made, the support I gave when most women would have thrown in the towel…..and never a “thank you”. I need to know that I am appreciated, I need to know I am needed. Most importantly, I need to know that I make a difference in his life. He needs to tell me that from time to time.
Emotion. A fine line here. I have no use for a blubbering idiot who cries at Kodak commercials. I have no use for a guy who says he loves me after the second date. I want a strong, masculine man who isn’t afraid to communicate his emotions or his thoughts. If he’s pissed, he damn well better say so. If he had a bad day and wants to be left alone, so be it….just say so! I don’t want to pull teeth trying to figure him out. Be honest and straight forward, no games. Mental stability is a given.

He must love kids, this is top priority. While I don’t believe in introducing a man to my kids for many, many months after we have been dating, I need to know that when I am ready to take that step, he is ready to accept them. Patience, understanding, patience and being a kid at heart himself, will go a long way.

Am I seriously considering this? Am I seriously contemplating moving on? This thought scares the living hell out of me! I know I am not ready today, probably won’t be for some time yet but just thinking about the possibility is way out of my comfort zone. I had best grab a drink and get a grip, before I get too carried away with this nonsense.

Maybe I'll just buy a puppy, easier to train. :rolleyes:

A Stranger's Smile

2010-12-15T07:08:00.000-05:00

I was driving around today in the rain, my mind in total chaos as I often find it to be when I have a minute to myself. I was thinking about my nana, an issue that has me concerned at work, my kids who seem to be needing more of me than I have to give lately and was a little down when I came to the end of a side street having to make a right hand turn onto a busy street. There was a pedestrian coming down the sidewalk and seeing the traffic I had to pull into, figured I would come to a stop before the sidewalk so he had plenty of room to cross in front of me.

This guy, having all the room he needed and plenty of time to cross decided to wait on the corner for me to make my turn. I gave him the wave to acknowledge that I see him there and to tell him to cross as it was 3:30 and the school traffic down this street would leave me sitting a few minutes at the corner before I got the chance to pull into my lane. He simply smiled and waved me on.

We did the awkward, “No, you go” “No, you go” thing a few times over and he just sat there smiling as he waved me on so I edged forward. It was the funniest thing. I had expected him to just walk around my van after I pulled up but he just stood there smiling at me. I’d smile back, check out the traffic, see that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, then look back at him. And he just smiled. We did this for a good 3 or 4 minutes before I got the chance to pull away. I would have been happy to sit there an hour, smiling back and forth. That smile made my day. We truly need more people in this world to smile. Not just to smile because they got a promotion, or smile because it’s pay day or smile because they got something they wanted but to smile for no reason at all.

I realized that lately, I don’t smile enough. I have put so much pressure on myself, let the world’s trouble lie on my shoulders and have chosen to let that get me down when I could be smiling, making someone else’s day as this guy had made mine. It was no effort on his part and he likely has no idea that he turned my day around but that is the most beautiful part of it all. It was just a smile….that made me smile.

Mastercard moments

2010-12-15T07:07:00.000-05:00

For everything else.....there's Mastercard! Who doesn't love those "Priceless" commercials? The tallying up of costs charged to the credit card, yet the memorable expreience being priceless. Ever have a Mastercard moment? Recently had an email sent to you about a Mastercard moment? I had a rough morning today but managed to find humor in it all as I thought of it as a Mastercard Moment. Share yours here too!

1 broken bedroom window..... $225.001 shredded window screen..... $15.001 winter jacket torn by the glass..... $80.00
The first time your kid runs away from home.....priceless!

(The second and third time today weren't so priceless :rolleyes:)

The dreaded night

2010-12-15T07:06:00.000-05:00

I am exhausted as I drag myself off to bed, eagerly anticipating the sleep I am so desperate for. I love my bed, its king sized mattress, down filled comforter and pillows make going to bed a welcoming event after a long day. I swarm myself inside, assuming the usual position of being on my stomach, cradling a king-sized pillow under my left side, left leg half-cocked, right arm tucked under my right side. It is so still outside the window at my head, I hear nothing. I close my eyes….and it begins.

‘Easter is next weekend isn’t it? What do I get the kids? I can’t believe I have yet to do any shopping. A TV for my daughter, maybe I’ll stop by the EBay store tomorrow. My son needs a bike, so does my daughter that wants a TV. Both were stolen last summer, do I spend the money knowing they are still not disciplined enough to keep them stored at the side of the house? The trampoline is falling apart, new netting needed at the very least but the frame has been welded a couple of times….maybe a whole new set?

Easter ’97, walked a few blocks (with my oldest) to Nana’s to wish her a Happy Easter. A brand new bike sitting in the kitchen. She was so excited. How sweet that was, I could not have afforded it, neither could Nana but she did it anyways. I am gong to miss her. No, I can’t go there, I need sleep tonight.

Work tomorrow, where did my two days off go? Wait a minute, is it Friday or Saturday? Whew, still have one more day off. One more day to catch up on laundry. A movie tomorrow night, Horton Hears a Who. I need to spend as much time as I can with the kids. Am I spending enough time with them? Too much time with one and not enough with the others? I got upset with them today over a messy house; I used to be a good mom. But I took them out this morning for breakfast and a tour of the Maple Farm, good moms do those things. We’re going to be okay. If I could only understand my son, if only my love was enough to make him okay. Are we going to be okay? Doctor’s appointment for him Monday morning, thankfully a cancellation came through. More tests, how will he be this time? Will I be leaving with a handful of prescriptions? Will he get the help he needs? Bleach his plunger in the morning; it’s been a week or so. Who would have ever thought Asperger’s? What kind of a name is that anyways? I need sleep……’

And that is my routine….night after night after night. I try the satellite radio, I try turning off my TV. I try the most boring infomercials, I try my Ipod. I try reading, I try a bath. If I have enough energy I even try my pocket rocket, sometimes I have to turn myself down as I’m just not in the mood. The night is so frustrating for me. The daytime seems better, I feel comforted by the sounds of life happening around me. I can sleep when I know people are at work, the neighbor is walking his dog and my kids are in school. The night is terrifying.

I dread the phone call. I know it’s coming and for some reason I fear it more in the still of the night. I dread my thoughts, I can’t turn them off. I lay there and think…and think and think. My thoughts are racing from my grocery list to re-evaluating my pension plan contribution to memories that just come to me out of the blue. There is no escaping my thoughts and I feel like I am driving myself crazy. I just need to sleep. Off to the kitchen; take the dreaded pill that I despise having to take, wishing I had taken it hours ago when I first lay my head down. I grab a glass of water and head to my computer until sleep is inevitable. I’m not going back to the still of the night until I know I will drift off into it. Which is about……now.

The Dream

2010-12-15T07:04:00.000-05:00

I had a dream, the kind of dream where you wake in a total euphoria. The kind of dream that seems so real you can still feel every breath, hear every whisper, taste everything there was to taste as though you are experiencing it first hand. In fact, the feeling so alive; so vivid; so fresh that I could not have imagined having tasted, smelled or heard such beautiful things prior to my dream. It was at the very least, an inspiration.

I don’t know what brought me here, in fact I am not quite sure just where I am but somehow the location seemed irrelevant as did the events surrounding the start of this moment. I am left with the impression that we were led here by sexual desire and that desire alone. Not what one would think of as love affair but simply a sexual experience. We were here to have sex, plain and simple. There was to be no intimacy or obligatory “spending the night over” drama. Just good unplanned sex; plain, simple and good. The opportunity arose and here we were.

I looked into his eyes, perhaps waiting for his approval. It was a moment that if it were to ever happen, now would be that time or it was never meant to be. We sat across from one another in a silent gaze, sharing equally in a defining moment of what would possibly transpire. It was brief, as short as the time it takes one to blink yet so vivid in my memory. In that blink of an eye we shared a conversation in which neither of us spoke.

I told him I wanted to feel his touch and that I was ready, that I would not regret going past this moment. He told me that he too, was ready. He said he was nervous but he knew this is what he wanted, he would not regret going past this moment. We knew it would come to this. We knew that one day we would be ready to experience one another in a way that we had only fantasized about in the past. And in this moment I think we both feared what would become of our lives after this blink yet feared even more what would become of us if we didn’t go there. And then he smiled. I leaned in and closed my eyes.

I never saw his face yet when I closed my eyes I knew I knew him and felt that he knew me too. Not just my name but who I am. I couldn’t relate my connection to him but he somehow made me feel safe. I got the sense that he was not alone, that he had a partner in his life. Perhaps that would explain his fear of going past the blink of an eye. Selfish on my part as I feared for what his life would be after this, and yet what he feared gave me security. As an afterthought, I am quite bothered by this, morally. But alas, there we were. Our lips had met; this was the point of no return. It was no use to worry the consequences of this kiss. It was done in the blink of an eye so with that thought I let any insecurities, any questions or doubt I may have had go.
The kiss. I had never felt anything like it. Nothing in my life has come close to the feeling that that kiss has left with me. Not my first kiss in sixth grade. Not the kiss from my high school sweetheart at our first school dance. Not the kiss I had on my wedding day. There was no emotional attachment to this kiss, no feelings of love or yearning to spend my life with the one who gave this kiss to me. It was a kiss of acceptance; a kiss from someone who knew me for me; someone who did not judge me nor criticize my thoughts; someone that although I could not know of his name, I knew that he knew everything about me. And yet even still, he wanted me. I don’t know how I got all of that from just one kiss, or how it could seem so real and leave me with such an impression. It was so soft, so passionate and yet emotionlessly safe. One would think that would leave a person empty yet I was left feeling so complete.

I don’t remember opening my eyes from that kiss until after we had both reached a most amazing orgasm. Trying to bring back every detail to my consciousness I can still feel his firm hands pressed against my ever-so-small breasts as I leant down to kiss him, grinding my hips into his groin. I can see myself leaning back in extreme pleasure, feeling my legs begin to quiver as I came, and then laying my head in his neck as I recovered. That first kiss was but a fraction of my dream and the sex that had followed that kiss remains just as vivid in my mind. Yet it was his lips against mine; that blink of an eye; his acceptance and sexual desire for me, and mine for him in that very moment that has left me feeling totally and completely euphoric. It wasn’t real and perhaps that was why it was so amazing. The fantasy of something that could never be, or could it?

Buff Belle; The Gym Thread

2010-12-15T07:03:00.000-05:00

No, not Belle in the Buff. I'm changing my tune just a little bit and have decided to do something I have never done before. I'm hitting the gym! My workout regimen actually began in late November. After spending several months pitying myself I decided I needed to make some serious changes in my life. It all must start with taking better care of me and I owe this to Mrs. L, who has been actively hitting the gym for some time now. She was my inspiration, so thanks so much for the boost I needed!

I was hesitant to bring it up here to all of you. First of all, I fear failure. Then I realized I am my own worst critic. Letting you down is nothing compared to how hard I am on myself when I let myself down. Then there's the obligatory "You look great!" that people feel compelled to say when they know someone is dieting or working out. It's nice and all, but in all honesty it's seldom sincere. So while I want to share my progress and anything related to this new lifestyle with you, please, please, PLEASE don't ever feel obligated to give a compliment for the sake of pacifying me. K, 'nough of that. (Whoa, poor English or what????)

So, late November and I took advantage of a two week free pass to a gym to check things out. Two things were on my "must-haves" list. A sauna and a whirlpool. Both were a go. So from there, I headed to the weight room. I have never lifted weights before nor have I stepped foot on a treadmill or any cardio machine for that matter. This room was intimidating for me. 15 treadmills, 15 crosstrainers, 10 bikes (5 of them in a very odd position), 4 Stairmasters, too many weight stations to counts and a huge free-weight area. Mats for stretching, studios for aerobics classes, a gym for ball sports, handball/squash courts....I could go on and on. This place is huge! With a little research I am sure you could come up with which gym it is I am using but for my personal space I do hope you understand my wish to leave the name anonymous. All in all I was very pleased, although incredibly intimidated.

Over the two week trial membership I slipped in and out ever couple of days just to become acquainted with the place. The sauna and I immediately hit it off. I spent much of the time in there contemplating if I really had the discipline to stick with it. The membership isn't cheap....perhaps that's the push I need. I don't mind spending money when it's put to good use but I won't spend it frivolously. If I pay the membership I will be forced to go and to get started, I need to be forced to do it.

On December 15th I decided to do it. I set up an appointment with a personal trainer (he comes with my membership, isn't that sooooo cool?) for the following Friday morning. His only instruction was to show up in the appropriate dress and be ready on time. So Friday morning came and I was there, on time wearing my habs pajama pants, my habs socks, my habs t-shirt and runners. 'C’mon guys, it's all I had! I don't suppose my red leather skirt and jacket would have been any better! Ok, perhaps it would have been 'cause I was clearly did not get the dress code memo that everyone else apparently got. As he rambled on about a few basic safety tips I was taking mental notes for my shopping list. Tights, shorts, tank tops, ankle socks, sports bras, hip hugging cotton pants. Got it.

Ok, back to my training. He asked just how much experience I had with a gym. I laughed and told him I have had a gym membership for 2 years but never seemed to make it past the hot tub and sauna...so we started from scratch. He got me acquainted with six basic machines. No free weights, thank God! This gym uses a computer system that tracks the weight you lift on each machine and also logs all of your cardio activity. I really liked that feature. I punch in my access code on each machine and it tells me my seat/weight settings, range of motion and details of my previous workout. Something to keep me motivated, I sure need that! Then he tells me he will get weekly reports on my progress. This is where the fear of failure comes in. I didn't like that idea at all but it holds me accountable and that's exactly what I need.

I knew the remaining 2 weeks of December would be a slow start with the holidays and my work schedule but I made sure I visited 3 times a week. It takes me about 1/2 hr to complete my weight stations and then I added 30 minutes of cardio on the treadmill. I can do this. My initial total weight lift per day was set at 3300 pounds. It sounded like a lot to me but it wasn't at all, pretty basic stuff really. By the end of December I was doubling it. So far so good.
It is now January 15th and my average weight lift per day is 13,000 pounds. Since January 1st I have lifted 143,700 pounds! I made the first day of the New Year the start of my commitment to the gym. I have only missed two days since then. But it is early and it is still new, I am hoping the novelty doesn't wear off as it does for most people. Getting there is the hardest part for me; once I am there I am okay. I am committed and I AM going to do this....with your help of course!

I have ventured out a little in the gym. While I have yet to partake in any fitness classes, I now alternate the treadmill with the elliptical and the Stairmaster. Just today I finally did my shopping. I am officially rigged up for this gig! I did buy a sports band for my Ipod early on, I just can't workout without the music and besides....everyone has one! I will still show up in my Habs pj's once in awhile if it means the difference between me going or not going that day. But I now have sports bras. I learned over the past month that underwire and sweat do not mix, ouch!
So, I will apologize in advance for me whining here about my bad days and I thank you in advance for any support or advice you may have to offer.....please feel free to do so! Oh and one more thing......I simply refuse to give up my smoking!

Showcase Series: The Secret Life of a Call Girl, Belle De Jour

2010-12-15T07:02:00.000-05:00

I had agreed to pick up an extra shift at work tonight, and then at the last minute realized it had been quite some time since I have had a date with my bed. Sure I sleep in it often but to have an evening to just lie in bed all night and watch TV is a chance that comes to me few and far between, so I jumped at it. A quick call to work and I was in my pj’s snuggled under my down-filled comforter with the remote in my hand.

It sounds like quite an uneventful evening and it most certainly started off that way. I drifted off shortly after feeling my feet warm up and was quite disappointed when I awoke, thinking I had slept the night away and missed the opportunity to just hang out in bed. Thankfully it was only midnight so I started channel surfing.

I caught the second half of “Flip this house”, A&E being my most favorite channel. Next was “Most Haunted”. I’ve caught this show a few times; working the grave shift allows me to be familiar with infomercials and from time to time a good haunting story. This one was filmed in an old lighthouse, I didn’t catch the location. Quite creepy some of the phenomenon going on and it’s right up my viewing alley. Then, there she was.

Belle. My pseudo-character. I wrote here about Showcase TV filming a series based on Belle de Jour’s books, “The Secret Life of a Call Girl”. I was overly excited to finally catch episode #5 and 6# tonight! I cannot tell you how peculiar it was to be watching a show based on something so close to my personal life. I suppose when the documentary I participated in finally airs on CTV I may find it even more so but this is the closest I had come to seeing my life portrayed on TV, right in front of my eyes. Something that I could relate so personally to, it was a very odd but exhilarating feeling just the same.

In this particular series, Belle is very much like me. Small breasted, not the most perfectly chiseled body and very down to earth. I found Belle’s book portrayed her more as a sex fiend, a porn star type escort who thrives on the rougher more physically arousing sex. I was happy to see that the Showcase series had toned down her personality to be more the girl-next-door, someone I could relate to a little better.

These two episodes I could have written myself. I have shared the very same experiences. Belle experienced what a bad review was like, a threesome, what a difficult client was like, taking a break and missing Belle’s life and even more compelling…..what it is like to have your closest friend find out you get paid for sex. It covered many aspects of the business as we practice it here; the agency, the visits to the clinic, the competition. the phone calls at all hours of the day and night. It was something I was so glad I finally got a chance to see and was much more real to me than the impression I got from the books I had read.

While the on-screen Belle does not have the family life balance that I do, she has her own set of struggles juggling her personal life with that of Belle’s. It was quite entertaining to see it scripted and played out as it was. I’d suggest to any of you channel surfers out there to keep an eye for the series. They are in half-hour segment aired on Showcase; I will leave a link at the bottom of this page for airing dates if anyone is interested.
http://www.showcase.ca/ontv/titledetails.aspx?titleid=113104

People watching at the mall

2010-12-15T07:00:00.000-05:00

So, I find myself with a few spare hours to kill. What's a woman to do but shop? I know I make it sound like it's my thing, but really, it's not. And shopping when you're in a bad mood doesn't make it any more enjoyable. BUT, Christmas is coming and it must be done. So, I go to the mall here in the Falls. It's the worst place to shop but it's close and I don't feel like pulling out my Nuvi and taking directions from my cyber friend Emily. I find the perfect parking space. For most, this space would be closest to the front doors. For me, it's the spot that is close to no other cars and a place that when I am ready to leave I can pull right out of....no reversing for me.
It's 9:30 and I begin making the 20 minute trek from the back of the parking lot to the doors.

Ok, maybe not that long of a trek but when the snow is blowing it sure as hell felt like that. I make it through the doors and brush off my head as I stomp my feet. I look up to see that all the stores still have their metal gates across them. WTF??? It's one week before Christmas and the mall isn't open yet? But the cars out there, what the hell are all those people doing? I soon found out....they are mall walkers!

Now this is a concept I just don't get. Older people, dressed in their athletic gear and non-marking gym runners walk around the mall with their mall-walking buddies. On a good day I might think that is kinda cute. Today, I just think it's rather dumb. Now our mall layout is not like those big city malls one may be accustomed to. We have a centre court and a few hallways branching off of it. You cannot walk around in one big circle here. You can walk down a short hallway, then back up to centre court, then pick another hallway. That's it. And what is there to see at 9:45am when there is nothing open? I'm thinking I must be missing something here. So after I make my rounds to be sure there is not one store open that I can browse for 15 minutes, I decide to follow these freaks.

I now understand what the term "window shopping" means. This is what these people do. I wished I had been there when they began their walk, I'm assuming they did their stretches prior to such a workout. I caught up with them outside Coles book store . They had stopped to see the sign the associate was putting in the window. But they didn't really even stop. You know when you're drivng around like us lazy people do and you come to a red light. You see that jogger stopped on the sidewalk doing his little "run in place" routine till the light changes? Well, that's what mall walkers do as well. Damn they take this shit serious.

I listened to conversations about preparing Christmas dinner and the fancy way this one older lady ties her ribbons on all of the gifts she wraps. One man talked about his ill wife and seemed quite happy that she is getting along better 'these days'. There was general chatter about the weather outside and the storm about to blow in tomorrow. Nothing too exciting. I tried to figure out who was leading this cult as they seemed to know where they were going but they appeared more to be like a flock of birds that soar in sequence, like they have some pre-mapped mall route etched in their brains. Maybe it's like a human GPS. "In three metres take a right down Northern Reflections Lane", I can hear Emily say as I chuckle to myself. About 15 minutes of this and I was beat. Finally, I slipped into Radio Shack as the gates were opened, hopefully no one noticed my mockery.

After two hours of shopping I returned home. I layed out the gift wrap, the tags, the ribbon and the gifts I had just bought. I need to wrap these things before my kids get home. I decided to try the ribbon-tying technique I heard mentioned on my mall walk. Be dammed if I could not figure the fricken thing out! It sounded so simple but I am no Martha Stewart. So, next Saturday I plan to meet the mall walkers, with some ribbon in my hand at 9:45 and find this woman who can tie pretty bows. When I approach her and say "I was stalking you in the mall last Saturday eavestrophing on your conversation and I heard you mention tying gift bows....." I wonder who will be considered the freak then?

Christmas Traditions

2010-12-15T06:59:00.000-05:00

Christmas Traditions
Last year at about this time, I had posted about how much I was dreading Christmas day. It’s not like me, it’s my most favorite time of year. But with the rift in my family this year, as well as last, Christmas has been difficult. The only difference is that this year I will be a little more mature about it. Have I mentioned that I am so stubborn I would bite my nose to spite my face? Well, I am. Last year I broke the family tradition by spending the day at home away from my family. It broke my heart as I watched my kids, knowing just how much they wanted to go to Nana’s house for the traditional breakfast and gift-giving Christmas morning. But I would not back down. I was pissed off and I had a point to make. There was no way we were going and that was it!
I’ve had time to think about things since then. I still refuse to befriend my mother or my sister and I know there is no way I will ever back down from my stand on that issue. But I also realize that this is very likely the last Christmas we will have with my Great-Nana. With all of your prayers and support that you gave for my Nana, which had such a positive outcome I didn’t feel it appropriate to mention that a few weeks ago my Great-Nana was diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately your prayers won’t be as helpful with her and we all know that. She is 95 and her time has come. The good part is that she is okay with it. She has declined any treatment save for Tylenol 3’s to make her more comfortable at night. So this Christmas will be a happy/sad holiday for the family but one I will not deny my kids this year.
So, Christmas morning I will wake up next to the tree as the kids excitedly tear apart their stockings. We’ll open our gifts at home and I will prepare the bird for dinner. Then, in our pj’s we will head to my Nana’s where all of my aunts, uncles, cousins (first, second and thirds) as well as my sister and brother will meet. We have one rule….no opening of gifts until everyone has eaten breakfast. It’s always a great spread of eggs, Canadian bacon and toast with plenty of eggnog, orange juice and tea. Then, it’s a mad house as the gifts (which usually tower the tree) are opened. It takes us until about noon and then we will leave.

The gift I’m most excited about this year? A surprise for my great-nana. The family has opened up a bank account and been depositing money to cover her private care in a nursing home. The first year will cost approximately $500/month until the government financing kicks in. To date we have raised almost $4000.00 and she has no idea. We are all quite excited to give her the good news as she is very eager to move into the home.

Then, it will be Christmas dinner at home. I have invited Homer in hopes that he is too busy to drive up here but even if he shows up I’m sure it will still be a perfect Christmas! Anyways, enough rambling about me….what are your plans? Any family traditions you would like to share?

Play by the rules! Another long Belle rant.

2010-12-15T06:58:00.000-05:00

Trust. Let me ask you, how many people do you truly trust? Do you limit that trust to your family or do you extend it to your network of friends? Do you ask that one earn your trust or do you give it to them freely until they prove your trust unworthy? We, as humans like to think that we are good people and because of that like to give the same assumption to those around us. But have you ever regretted giving your trust to someone?

I used to be an open book. I wore my heart on my sleeve so to speak. If someone needed me, I was there. And if I needed someone I did not hesitate to seek their help. I wanted to believe that, like me, those I chose to give my trust to, deserved that trust. It took one heartache after another before I gave this any thought. It wasn’t long before I felt I could trust no one.
I began to believe that if I did not rely on someone, if I did not open myself up to them, they could not hurt me. I did not want to be hurt again and so I built a wall. Many of do this I think, to protect ourselves. It’s human nature not to expose ourselves to unwarranted pain. It can be a very good thing to carefully select those you decide to let in. I took it to the extreme and closed myself off to everyone around me.

When Belle became a part of my life I saw it as an opportunity to unlock a part of me that I have kept hidden for so long, yet am able to still keep myself safe emotionally. I could release that passion I had for so long deprived myself of feeling. More importantly, I could allow myself to feel the touch of a man and let it warm me. It had been so long. But there were boundaries and I needed that. It is a game and with every game there is an objective and rules of play. Each round is different and the players may change but the rules and the objective remain the same.
But, as with any game you play some do not play by the rules. They cheat to get ahead. What are the consequences you are to give to those who cheat? Do you not let them play anymore and forfeit the game? I played this game and I gave a player my trust. He cheated, he broke the rules and now I am so upset with myself having let it get that far. He wanted to make his own rules and this is what I don’t get.

You open the game of Monopoly. You lay the board on the table, set up the players, designate the banker, read the rules, be sure everyone understands them and then you roll the dice. Now, you don’t make up the rules as you go along….that is why they come with rules. Belle is no different. Form day one to today; two years later, my rules have not changed. When you pass go, you collect two hundred dollars. If you roll a three, you move three spaces. If you land on “go to jail” you go to jail. These are rules. I am no different.

My rules. My rate is my rate. Don’t try to bargain with me, I am not for sale. See me once, see me one thousand times, my rate is my rate. One hour is one hour. I will stay for my hour; I want to stay for that hour. It is the agreement we have made and I will hold to my agreement. But one hour is not 1.5 hours. Please don’t make me point this out to you. My name is Belle. No matter how many times you ask me, it will always be Belle. I do not ask you where you work or where you live. It clearly states in the rules that asking such questions is inappropriate. Keep in mind we are playing by the same rules. And the biggest rule that seems to be misunderstood……you ARE paying for my time. This means that, no matter what takes place during the time we have agreed upon….my rate is my rate. Dressed or undressed, eating dinner or romantically entwined in one another’s arms….my time is my time. If you would get upset, upon my arrival that I demanded more money that what was agreed upon then you could imagine how I feel when you ask more of me that what we had agreed upon.

I had recently told a player I would no longer play the game with him, we forfeited and it ended just like that. The two years of play was fun but once he bent the rules I was done. It started with the name. I gave him my name. I trusted him with that information. I soon came to realize he had a connection to my family and used that to his advantage. In fact, he even tried to bribe me knowing that I would do almost anything to protect my family form what I choose to do as Belle. He began to demand unpaid time together even going so far as to show up at my place of work. I would not give. I refused to see him again. So, he did as he threatened to do and went to a family member.

I feared this day would happen. The day that Belle’s world would come head to head with my personal world. I don’t deserve pity, I asked for it. Why? Because I let my guard down and trusted someone. You cannot be betrayed if you do not give someone your trust. I had it coming and damn it did come. I won’t hide behind Belle and be ashamed. When approached by this family member I was honest and upfront. That was over one month ago, I am coming to terms with it now. It hurt, not that this player owed me anything as I owned him nothing either. But he made his own rules and cheated to get ahead. I have no use for those who cheat.

The silent rules that apply in this business, they are there to protect everyone. When you pay a lady for her time, respect what she is giving you and please don’t ask for anything more than that. It makes for awkward moments when she must reiterate the fact that “It is what it is”. No matter the fun you have together or the connection you may feel with her… it is still a game and there are rules. Play by them and the game will go on. Break them and….. well, you know the saying….a woman scorned……

Belle the Handywoman!

2010-12-15T06:56:00.000-05:00

Finally, I make my way back to my site. It seems so long since I have posted but between my day job, Belle and being a mom I sometimes get a little too busy to post as often as I would like. I’ve actually been working on another house project. No, my kitchen is not finished yet but this one couldn’t wait. My teen daughter needed a bedroom rehab so I took on the task. This one, I am happy to say turned out much better than my kitchen. I’m even happier to say that it’s finished, after 3 weeks of sanding and staining floor, repainting the walls and trim and a few coats of Varathane as a nice finish on the hardwood floors. So, here’s how it all went.
The first step was to paint the walls. I regret not taking any pictures of the room prior to painting. The walls were a little girl’s pink and the trim a light sky blue. Not appropriate for a 14 year old any more! Here is the only pic I could find of the paint color prior to painting:

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/9/52/67/0/67520951912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

The second step was to sand down the floors. I had bought the house 2.5 years ago and removed the carpeting shortly after. They were dull having never been finished. Here’s what the floor looked like prior to sanding:

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/9/71/75/0/75710951912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/58/70/53/0/53705851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

I’ve never attempted refinishing a hardwood floor so I relied heavily on Google and Home Depot. These next two pics are after 2 days of sanding:

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/88/49/78/0/78498851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/9/52/55/0/55520951912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

Now it was time to stain. The floors looked so fresh being sanded I really wasn’t sure if I wanted to go through with the staining. Because of the color scheme of the furniture and curtains I knew I had to though. Here are two pics staining the first coat and the latter two being after the second coat of stain was applied.

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/98/56/30/0/30569851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/78/92/50/0/50927851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]
[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/88/54/60/0/60548851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/88/45/99/0/99458851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

Next was the urethane. I read that Varathane was best so that is what I used. I also decided to go with oil based. Actually, no. My plan was water based because I was in a rush to have this finished for my daughter’s birthday but Home Depot told me because I had used an oil based stain to go with oil based urethane. In all honesty it didn’t have the strong odour I expected but I did keep it well ventilated. After sanding between coats one and two then applying the third coat, this is how it turned out!

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/78/92/30/0/30927851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/88/8/90/0/90088851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/9/52/75/0/75520951912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/88/80/74/0/74808851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

Last but not least was the final coat on the trim, hanging the curtains and setting up the new bed. There’s still some trim work to do, paint and nail the quarter round to fill the gaps along the baseboards, screw in the brown outlet covers and from what see in the pics (didn’t notice till just now) is that the curtain rod needs to be hung a little higher. OK, so it’s not TOTALLY finished yet, but this is the closest I have come to completing a DIY project. Here’s the final outcome:

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/98/37/18/0/18379851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/68/53/63/0/63536851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4272/9/51/68/52/35/0/35526851912_0_ALB.jpg[/img]

Anthem Etiquette

2010-12-15T06:55:00.000-05:00

Laugh as you may, this story is sad but true. Last night I went to the Habs game in Buffalo. As is custom for me anytime I visit HSBC I like to have dinner there. I’m assuming because of Thanksgiving and being Black Friday is was extremely packed so the time it took to order my meal, have my meal served and wait for the waitress with the bill took quite some time. I rushed to get out for a quick cigarette and make a stop at the ladies room before the game started.

Just as I removed my pants and placed my rear end on the seat, the Canadian Anthem began to play. I was always raised to stop EVERYTHING when an anthem is playing so I was in a sort of dilemma. I didn’t have to go REAL bad; I mean it is our anthem and all. I listened for a second; no one else in the ladies room seemed to be doing their thing. Are they holding it or am I in here alone? I had no idea what to do……so I stood up. Yes, in a stall with my pants around my ankles I stood with my hands at my side. :/

I sat again when it was finished being sung, then he American Anthem began to play. :rolleyes: Now I just sort of chuckled as I stood again, it felt so disrespectful to be doing such a thing during a patriotic moment. So my question is…….What is the proper etiquette during an anthem….sit or stand?

Black Friday

2010-12-15T06:54:00.000-05:00

For someone who doesn’t like to shop, I’ve been doing an awful lot of it lately. First I would like to say Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends, I hope you enjoyed your turkey and more importantly, time with your friends and family. A big thank you goes out to you as well, from all of us Canadians who took advantage of your ‘Black Friday’ shopping specials! Yes, I braved the crowds but it was sooooo worth it!

I have heard the horror stories but still chose not to heed the warnings of three-hour-long border delays and parking issues. Mind you, if it wasn’t for the fact that I was holding two tickets t the Montreal Canadiens game in Buffalo I wouldn’t have even considered crossing the border. I’ll do most anything to see my Habs play!

So, with sitter lined up, kids home from school and pizza on the table I headed for the peace bridge at 4:30pm. By 4:50 I was on U.S terrain. What about the three hour delay? I must have been in the right place at the right time. I suppose I’ll run into it on the way home. And now it was a bee-line to the Walden Galleria mall in Buffalo. 15 minutes later and I was locking my van, walking into Steve and Barry’s. What happened to the parking lot chaos that was supposed to greet me at Buffalo’s largest mall? It must have been a case of being in the right place at the right time, again.

Now don’t get me wrong, the mall was very busy. But I knew exactly what I was looking for, even mapped it all out before I left home so I knew exactly where the stores were that I needed to shop at. Best Buy and Hollister, that’s it. Since I had entered the mall through Steve and Barry’s I decided to look around there first. Twenty minutes later I checked out of there with three jackets and headed for Best Buy. It only took me ten minutes in there to learn that what I was looking for as advertised in their online flyer was sold in the first five minutes of the store opening. It came as no surprise but it didn’t hurt to try.

Now Hollister. My daughter really wanted a tote from there for school. It’s the cool thong, everyone has one. Funny thing is, they don’t sell them anywhere within n hours drive of Niagara, trust me, I’ve looked! So, apparently all Canadian parents of teens shop at the Walden Galleria for school bags. Or, just those of us that are real suckers. Fighting the mob of teens I managed to grab the tote, plus a pair of sweat pants and a tee that I will give my daughter for Christmas and was out of the store in twenty minutes. Not bad. My job was done, now to get back to my van. Dodging in and out of the crowd I was almost there when I saw it. The Disney Store! I cannot walk past this place without at least taking a little peek. It would be an insult to the Mouse. Besides, everything in the store was 25%-50% off!

Of course, a little peek would never do. My son asked Santa for a skateboard and it just so happened there was a really cool ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ skateboard as well as the helmet and skate pads, so I scooped them up. I grabbed a Mickey stocking for myself, a few sweaters for the kids and was out of there in yet again, twenty minutes. Five more minutes to get to my van. It took me less than 1.5 hours to hit 4 stores and spend $200 yet I came out unscathed and psyched for the hockey game.

Traffic was good, found a perfect spot in the parking garage, (which was definitely a case of being in the right place at the right time ‘cause that just never happens!) hid all of my shopping bags under the seats then fixed my Habs ball cap, straightened out my Habs jersey, zipped up my Habs jacket (yes, I braved the bustling American shopping mall, on a Sabre’s home game night wearing my full blown Habs attire, bringing only one negative comment from an American shopper in the Disney Store who requested the clerk charge me double), then walked into the arena.

The game was great; although we didn’t come through on top tonight it was still a fun game to watch. After filling up on my usual beef on weck and a few wings, it was time to head home. At 10:30 I hit the bridge, at 10:37 I was back on Canadian soil headed home. What happened to the three hour bridge delay? Must have been my lucky day as I seemed to be in the right place, at the right time, all day.

Seems that Homer gave the day up to help out at HSBC arena last night. I’ve posted a few pics of the game, 2 of which are the result of giving Homer access to the jumbo-tron screens!

I love Fall!

2010-12-15T06:53:00.001-05:00

I love touring the escarpment as the leaves are changing colors, the vibrant reds and oranges lighting up a most beautiful scenic route through the falls. While some see fall as the end to summer, I choose to see it as a fresh start, a new season that with it will hopefully come new beginnings. I went for a walk around my neighborhood a couple of days ago and realized that I don't have to head to the river to see such beautiful surroundings as I have it in my very own backyard. While I love the way the trees look as the leaves begin changing colors, I think they look just as beautiful on the ground and the bare trees, in their own way are just as beautiful. I just had to share these with you, hope you enjoy!

[img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/16/81/31/0/31811658812_0_SM.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/36/97/76/0/76973658812_0_SM.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/26/39/93/0/93392658812_0_SM.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/36/66/67/0/67663658812_0_SM.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/36/81/59/0/59813658812_0_SM.jpg[/img] [img]http://images.kodakgallery.com/photos4223/8/58/26/66/99/0/99662658812_0_SM.jpg[/img]

Another rant.....shopping....ugh!

2010-12-15T06:51:00.000-05:00

Have I mentioned before just how much I despise shopping? Probably not, so now you know. Yes, I am a woman who does not like to shop. Imagine. I'm not sure why that is though. Maybe it is the fact that I have worked in the customer service industry my entire working career and have just had it with people. Yes, maybe that has something to do with it. From being cut off on Lundy's Lane on the way to the store, to having the mall entrance door closed in my face because people are not polite enough to look behind them anymore, to rude sales people who kiss your ass until you buy from them, I despise shopping.

My teen has a birthday coming up this week. I have decide to paint her room (pink is not cool when you’re 14) and buy her a new bed (a mattress on the floor isn’t cool either). Now don’t go thinking I’m a cruel mom who makes her daughter sleep on the floor. She did have a metal frame for that bed, had a pillow fight with her girlfriend 6 months ago and broke the wheels of the metal frame which badly scratched the hardwood floors…..and then I made her sleep on the floor! :P

So, being just hours away from her birthday I realized I couldn’t put off shopping any longer and ventured out into the sea of rude, money-driven people to find out if I could get a good deal on a bed. My first stop would have been Sleep Country if I didn’t have a problem with them two years ago. I wanted a head and footboard for my bed. I walked into their store and after browsing a few minutes I saw a beautiful pewter set I wanted. The only one they had was the one on display. Perfect, I’ll take it. It was just under $800.

They asked me to come back later that day and they would have it taken apart and waiting for me. Fair enough. Later that day I returned, drove it home and set it up. The rails were ok but they did not fit the kingsize head and footboard. I returned to the store, exchanged for proper rails and went home to try again. Wrong screws. Not a big deal right? Wrong. Three months later they finally reimbursed me the entire purchase as the bed was discontinued and the screws (factory ordered) went missing. Go figure. No, I still do not have a head or footboard for my bed. Anyways……

I drove to The Sleep Factory where I purchased a metal futon bunkbed 2 weeks ago for my other daughter for her birthday. I walked in and the same woman I had dealt with 2 weeks ago was taking care of a couple that were looking at day beds. Aside from them I was the only one in the store. I walked around for a few minutes waiting for her to greet me, which she did not. They were chatting at the front of the store so I moved to the rear, checking out a few frames and looking for a captain’s bed, which I did not see. Some 20 minutes later the couple leaves and she asks if she can help me. No “hello” or “good afternoon”, just “What can I help you with?” I told her I was looking for a captain’s bed, preferably with a bookcase headboard in a dark finish and she pointed to a captain’s bed at the front of the store.

It was a maple color and would take 2-4 weeks for delivery, I told her I was looking for something in a darker finish and that I cold take home with me today. She then showed me another captain’s bed, still in a maple finish but told me it will darken with age. Gotta love sales people. :rolleyes: But this one I could take home today. I told her it was still too light. Then, and only after I told her I planned on checking out another furniture store to see if they had something closer to what I was looking for, did she roll her eyes, then show me another captain’s bed, in a darker finish which was considerably cheaper than the other two. Now that just pissed me off. It was a decent bed and would have served its purpose but there was no way I was giving this woman dime. You did NOT just roll your eyes at me, did you?

First, she did not recognize me from just 2 weeks earlier when I spent 45 minutes with her buying a $600 bed. Then she couldn’t even be bothered to greet me. Then, after clearly stating what I was looking for she showed me everything I did not want, then rolled her eyes when I said I was going to continue looking elsewhere till I found what I was looking for, then….showed me what I was looking for as a last resort! When I made it clear I was not buying from her, she turned and walked away…not even a “good-bye”!

So, back out in the parking lot having a smoke I found myself in a position that I hate being in. I’d have to stick my tail between my legs and head to Sleep Country as it is the only other furniture store I know of in Niagara Falls. So off I went although not very happy about it. Walking in the door I took a quick look around but did not see a captain’s bed. Lots of metal frames and mattresses but no wooden beds to be seen. To their credit I was greeted right away and once again I explained what I was looking for.

The sales guy then tells me they are not a furniture store. Hmmm. :/ Ok, so you are not a furniture store, but you sell beds and I am looking for a bed. Well, we don’t sell bedroom furniture he tells me. Ok, wait a minute. I was here 2 years ago and bought a bed frame complete with rails, headboard and footboard. And as I look around this store I see about 30 beds set up. To me, that is bedroom furniture. No, he says, it’s not. Apparently metal does not count as furniture. Now I’m confused. Why are wood products considered furniture and metal is not? He explains that the store name is Sleep Country, specifying that that the name implies mattresses as their specialty and not bedroom furniture. I said “No, it implies sleep….and I don’t know about you but I associate sleep with a bed….except in my daughter’s case where she is sleeping on the floor, which obviously you are going to do nothing to help me out with!”
This, my friends, is why I despise shopping. I hate playing games with people. I don’t want to browse a store, window shop and dicker around with prices. I know what I want so I ask for it. What is so hard about being told either “Yes, here is what you are looking for” or “No, sorry but we do not carry that”?

Now, tomorrow I have to contact Bell. You know, the phone directory people? Yes, well….after I got home from my frustrating trip to the “non-bedroom-furniture” store I opened up the yellow pages and did a search under “F”. Under the heading ‘“Furniture-Retail’ was Sleep Country. Must have been a misprint. :rolleyes:

Remember the first cola you ever drank?

2010-12-15T06:50:00.000-05:00

In the past few weeks I have spent a wonderful amout of time visiting with my nana and my great-nana. All too often I hear family members talk about a loved one that had passed away, wishing they had spent more time with them. While I have always been close with my nana's....I'm holding on extra tight to the time we have left to share our lives. It is amazing the things I have learned about my great-nana's life. Born the year the Titanic sank, she has seen most of what I have only read in history books. Hearing the stories first hand is incredible. But what is more amazing to me are the simple recollections she has of her youth. Don't ask her about yesterday, but her memory of 50-70 years ago is astounding.

In 1945 while family was visiting from out of town, my great-nana, her aunt and uncle and their company were spending a lovely Sunday afternoon walking along the boardwalk in Crystal Beach. She remembers how hot it was, how beautiful everyone was dressed having just come from church and how excited she was to have company visiting from out of town. They stopped at a market booth where her uncle bought everyone a bottle of cola. She remembers how sweet it was. Being from a poor family, she had seldom tasted anything artificially sweet let alone to imagine ever being able to affort a bottle of cola. That was something rich people drank. She kept her bottle for years after but it wasn't until she was nearly 50 that she had ever bought a bottle of her own. Can you imagine?

Even better is this one. Being from a poor family living on a tobacco farm near Delhi Ontario, my great-nana was sent to live with an aunt for a few years as her mother could not afford to raise her at the time. My nana would help with the farm and was taught how to cook and press laundry. Once a week her aunt would head into town to buy groceries and necessities for the farm. When my nana turned 11 (1923) she was invited to join her aunt for the trip. It was the first time my nana had seen the city. They shopped all morning at the market then sat at a bench that ran alongside the market where my nana had her first restaurant meal. She said she could remember feeling so grown-up and made sure to use her manners and ettiquette that her aunt had taught her. Even more amazing was that the total bill for two full course meals was 25 cents. You can't even use a public phone for 25 cents anymore!

Then, this afternoon as I stopped by to pick up a pot of homemade chicken soup she made for me we began talking about strip clubs of all things! Her second husband was the owner of a Chevrolet car dealership and was given an expense paid trip to Montreal for business which he took my nana along. Details were sketchy but somehow, a business dinner had been arranged at a strip club. Prim and proper, my nana had to sit awkwardly through a meal while above-the-waist naked women danced about. This led to talking about marriages today and how they lack the romance and courtship of her time. She fondly remembered a movie she watched when she was quite young. It was about a beautiful woman who desperately needed money and so when her husband was at work, she would escort. How odd that any story she has told me of her youth I could not relate to yet this movie I have seen and the story I know quite well. That movie, Belle De Jour sits under my matress. I didn't consider it wise to inform her about a documentary on the subject that will be aired soon. :rolleyes:

It is wonderful to hear of a time well before my years, to be able to appreciate her life and what her eyes have seen. What amazes me more about her is that she accepts change so well. She is not bitter for things she did not have but ever so thankful for the things that she does have. She still writes letters most every day, still crochets her hankerchiefs and knits all of us grown kids slippers for Christmas. I am so blessed to have these moments with her and just had to share some of it with you. Thanks for listening.

Do you ever feel used as a hobbyist?

2010-12-15T06:49:00.000-05:00

There are some aspects of escorting I feel safe talking with all of you about. The positives, of course. I know it sounds so cliche but I thrived on the attention, the compliments and the rush of feeling wanted by a man. Of course, I enjoyed the money as well but that goes without saying. But the negative, the down side isn't so fun to write about. Yet it is what it is. Ponder this:
I had spent much of my "off" time emailing back and forth with potential clients before actually meeting with them. I wanted to be sure that I could provide the experience that they were looking for and would be completely honest with them if I felt they would be disappointed in my services. First, I would cover the physical things. My small breasts and slighlty larger than average thighs and waist. It would be humiliating for me to arrive at a door and be turned away because my image was not as expected. Next would be services. "No, I do not provide dom/sub/fetish/roleplay" etc. It is not to say I have an issue with those services, they are just something I had chosen not to provide. If that is what a potential client was looking for I would offer to suggest a lady that may be able to help. I think by doing this I built up a certain amount of credibility in the industry. I was honest, even if I did not have anything to gain financially by that honesty. The money was nice, but my reputation meant more.
So, by doing the above I had seldom experienced a "call" that made me uncomfortable. In the two years I had escorted, only on three occasions was I put in an unassuming situation. All three times were calls through the agency. Their screening process, not mine. Still, three was three too many. Aside from those three visits, I left each and every appointment feeling satisfied. Perhaps not sexually, but I was not being paid to "get off" myself. I was being paid to be something, an illusion, a fantasy, a companion....an escort. I was to give these men passion, something that for many clients had become something they lacked in their personal lives. Intimacy, the soft caress of a woman, the passionate kiss that took them to another place. A place where ther were no deadlines, no expectations, no pressures. Just that moment. That was what I was paid to do. So, that being said, I should feel good about giving my clients what they paid me for, no? Not always.
The one-timers, the clients that had visited me for an hour and then I never saw again, for them this is not an issue. For the regular clients, the repeaters, the ones that chose to see me on several occasions I quite often battled with my own guilt. Many of these men are lonely. Married or not, they, like me became attached to the fantasy. The intimacy soon becomes real, somewhere crossing over from that fastasy. For me I can honestly say I have never viewed any client as anything more that what it is. I have never envisioned myself forming a personal sexual relationship with any client. But I know it is different for most of the men I had met. I had rules. My time must be paid for. At no time would I visit with a client and not be paid for that time. I never offered multiple rates, discounts on late-night visits or "frequent f***" points for repeat clients. My rate was not to be bargained for. Whether it be dinner, a movie or time spent naked on a bed....my rate was my rate. It made things less complicated as I despised having to discuss the impersonal monetary transaction.
On the reverse side, some clients would ask for more. There was nothing more frustrating in the escorting business than being asked out for dinner and me having to remind the clients that the usual rate would apply. I made the mistake once, accepting a four hour "dinner" appointment then at the end of the evening being paid less that my usual one hour rate. Sure I could have caused a scene but the reality was that it was not dicussed prior to the "date". That was my mistake and even though I assumed it was obvious I expected to be paid for the four hours, he on the other hand thought I was there simply because I enjoyed his company.
Now, before you jump all over me for this let me say that I have made some very true and dear personal friendships from clients I met through this business. Some of them have been clients, others I have met at events but had never been paid to befriend them. And these few friends, I go for coffee with, sometimes meet for dinners, even head out to a hockey game with once in a while. I am not a cold-hearted bitch who simply uses people for money. But in saying that, I am a business woman who ( in my own opinion) ran a viable business and was well paid for doing so. Bottom line, it is a business. If I had begun visiting with my regular clients on my own time I would have lost a big portion of my income. Some clients, after seeing me regularly for quite some time, chose to stop seeing me because they were becoming too personally involved. And there were some clients I decided to no longer "date" because I could see they were ( again, in my opinion) too emotionally involved.
One thing I had always wondered though, was if these clients have ever felt they were being taken advantage of. I tried to dance around this issue any time a client ever brought it up. Yes, the reality is that I am here, naked in a room with you, because you are paying me to do so. But what makes a good escort (among other things) is the ability to not have the encounter feel like a cold business transaction. Some of that ability, to some degree, requires being able to put on a good front. But to do so, hour after hour for any extended period of time must involve a certain amount of sincerity. I would never ask a client to borrow money, nor would I ever discuss my finacial situation. I never wanted a client to feel that I looked at him as my personal ATM, quite honestly because I never thought of them that way. But.....I did always expect to be paid for the time I spent with them.

With the table turned I suppose I could pose this question to other service providers in the industry. Do any of you feel you are being used for sex? Sounds like a silly question....of course we are. But I was seldom ever made to feel that way by a client. I have always felt comfortable to do what I was comfortable with and stand up for the things I was not. And I found that my clients respected my decisions. I never felt forced to engage in any activity (aside from the odd "non-condom" users I would walk out on) that I was not a willing participant of. That is the difference between the fantasy life of an escort and the reality of marriage.

Married 14 years. I am sure some of you can relate to this. Perhaps I am speaking to the wrong population as I am sure a high percentage of my readers are male, but I will carry on with my point anyways. Why is it that I can sleep with multiple strangers and not feel any pressure to perform in a certain manner yet in my marriage sex was a duty? Many times I would send out the clear message that I wasn't feeling well or just simpy not interested yet when I would roll over in the opposite direction it was just taken as an invitation to help one's self? The times that I would just lay there thinking, "Is he for real?" or "Don't try to romanticize it, I'm not going to get off so would you already!" It had come to the point that I despised sex. I would refuse it just to piss him off, yet it never stopped him. He was not agressive, nor did I ever become so. It was just a duty. Sad that I felt that way with my husband and not with my clients. Don't get me wrong, there were times, few and far between that I was just horny and wanted sex....but it was never met with any hesitation on his part. Not surprising, I know.

So, has a service provider ever made you feel she is using you for money? Do you ever feel you are being used by your partner for sex? Is it wrong to feel that way or is it just how life is and we must put up with it? I know, long winded but I'm a little under the weather tonight and couldnt sleep. Any thoughts?

World Poker Tour, Fallsview Casino

2010-12-15T06:47:00.000-05:00

Any poker fans out there? If so, I am sure you are aware of the WPT North American Poker Championship that Fallsview Casino held last week. Being a poker fan myself, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to check out a few of my favorite players in action. 504 players and a $10,000 ticket all in the hopes of being the one to take home the 1.3 million dollar prize.
The final table was exciting. At times long and drawn out but exciting none-the-less considering the cameras, the media and once it was down to heads-up…the cold cash prize sitting on the table. Most of the big guys, those favored to win the tourney were knocked out quite early leaving only Barry Greenstein the only familiar face at the final table. Hopeful spectators stood in line outside the Grand Ballroom, lining up early in the afternoon in hopes of being given 1/100 WPT numbered poker chips which was not only a souvenir but your ticket to be a part of the taping for the WPT final table.
Barry Greenstein paced the hallway, his book “Ace on the River” in hand. This book Barry carries with him to all final tables he plays at. If a player busts him out, he signs the book on the spot and gives it to the player that busted him. It’s Barry’s trademark. He’s a seasoned player, hard to compare him with the two 19 year old players he is up against in the final 6 TV table. He looked calm, stopping to greet the spectators and sign a few autographs. He showed a great deal of class and maturity, whereas his counterparts did not make an appearance until the cameras were rolling. I had to remind myself that those kids playing against him…..they plan on living the dream with the money that is at stake. But Barry…..he donates 100% of his net tournament winnings to children’s charities. He truly loves the game, not the money.
At 3 pm the numbers were being called to seat the spectators, it took almost an hour before everyone was seated. Inside, the set-up was really cool. The final table, surrounded by cameras, multiple TV screens showing promo ads for WPT and Fallsview Casino, 4 widescreen TV’s for spectator views of the action, camera crew everywhere not to mention casino staff and security. Spectators were seated 6 rows deep (the first 2 rows of each side reserved for friends and family of the players) on three sides of the table, the rear view (behind the dealer) being reserved for media.
The camera crew spent the first 20 minutes filming audience applause for editing purposes and then getting acquainted with those in the reserved seating, knowing where to shoot when players are at a showdown. To the right of the table was the cheering squad for Jonathan Little who I was rooting for myself. 19 years old, his face still showing the pimples of puberty but his persona at the table is comparable to the pros. If he’s nervous he doesn’t show it. He’s inexperienced at this level of play but you would have no idea. He’s emotionless at the table and the players have nothing to go on if they are relying on expression to tell his game. Not only that, but he’s from Florida which put him at the top of my fav’s list for this game.
The centre section, facing the table dead on was clearly a Dave Cloutier fan section. A Canadian from Brampton, this was his first WPT tourney and being the closest in geographic nature to Niagara he had the most supporters to cheer him on (although I have to say that in my experience with them for the 12+ hours of taping they were the most annoying, rude, obnoxious people there). I just couldn’t find it in me to root for him even though he was the only Canadian remaining.
To the left of the table sat the friends, family and fans of Scott Clements. He is another of my favorites aside from the fact he is married to a bimbo blonde and has a cocky “found money” attitude. He’s cute though and fun to watch. I was hoping heads-up would be between him and Jonathan and to my liking, so it was. The remaining three players had their fans disbursed throughout the sections, their fan base just a little more low key.
Just past 4pm the Casino shift manager Jason March announced “Shuffle up and deal” and the game had begun. The expected announcer for WPT was not there for some reason and the CSM was left to announce the hands and plays the players made. Behind the dealer and to the right was the stage set for the WPT commentators Mike Sexton and Vincent Van Patten. You can tell Mike is both a poker player and a TV persona as he sat behind the desk staring into the camera for hours on end. Had anyone not known any better you would have sworn he was taken directly from the wax museum atop Clifton Hill and placed there. He moved once or twice during the break to visit the men’s room, other than that he didn’t blink. You could hear him commentating into the camera during play but he was quite stoic.
Vincent did not seem impressed by the slow-playing of the final table. He looked tired and seemed to be having some back trouble although by hour 8 most people in the room seemed to have the same problem. There was another young player, Kofi Farkye at the final table. I was upset he made the money landing 5th place with $218,000, here’s the story with this guy…..
All these poker players are always asked, “What handle do/did you play under when participating in online play?” Kofi, when asked this by CardPlayer staff during an interview declined to answer. Odd considering most players are more than happy to disclose their online usernames. Turns out, while playing the final table event the day prior to the final six taping, it came out that Kofi used to play under the name “redsoxsox” on Pokerstars. Jeff Garza, who was playing at the final table with Kofi recognizes the name as he is a Pokerstars player as well. Turns out Jeff had played an online tourney with “redsoxsox” and noticed what appeared to be some collusion between him and another player. A second $100 buy-in tourney, Jeff noticed the same two players doing the same thing so he reported it to Pokerstars. An investigation led to “redsoxsox” being banned for life, his many online tournament wins in 2006 likely a result of crooked play. Ironic that both anonymous players ended up playing against one another at this final table! Unfortunately Jeff did not get the revenge he was looking for and did not make he final table of 6 for the WPT taping.
I believe it was about 11pm before Barry was knocked out by Dave Cloutier. He autographed his book for Dave, shook hads with the remaining players and quietly left the set. A man of class, without a doubt. Finally, after 3 hours of slow playing their hands Dave was busted out and at about 1:30am we were heads up. The game was paused while the Director and Shift Managers for Fallsview Casino did the taped money presentation, brining just over 1.3 million dollars in 3 briefcases to the table. The money was dumped, the bracelet and trophy placed alongside the neatly wrapped 100 dollar bills and the game was back in action with Clements owning double the chip stack over Little.
On the 14th hand of heads-up play (271 hands total and breaking the record for most WPT final table hand count) Little raised to $180,000 from the button. Clements called. The flop came, both players checked. On the turn Clements checked, Little bet $250,00 which was met by a raise from Clements to $550,000 at which point Little called all-in. Everyone stood, who was it going to be? Clements showed trip five’s and ithout a card to better Little’s hand the WPT title went to Scott Clements. It was a great game, something I thought really neat to be a part of.

Afterwards there were several interviews and then out came the champagne toast with the Casino CSM’s and WPT Producers. Quite a thrill to be there but I have to say, I couldn’t wait to get home in my bed. I think it’s time to quit my job and become a poker player. Let’s face it, no one gets rich working on an hourly wage! I could just imagine what the commentators would have to say about Belle, the escort. The mom of four, still at it, hustling men for money at the poker tables.:rolleyes: Boy would they have a field day with that one.

The one thing this tournament was lacking was entertainment. They need some comic relief in there to break the tension. I think though, if I made it to one of these gigs that I could provide a little more excitement and bring something to the tables that these guys just don’t have……Belle appeal. :cool: It may not be able to be aired on the Family Channel but it just may liven the crowd up a bit, perhaps even get a little "rise" out of Jonathan Little!

So, you ask what's up with the changes?

2010-12-15T06:46:00.000-05:00

I know, it's a lot of effort for some to view my blog. First registering, then confirming the email and so forth. I know it's a real pain in the ass and I really didn't want to have it this way but I had no other choice. Why? Here goes:

When I first started using the review boards, I realized quickly what a great tool they were to openly discuss the business. Not just the act of sex but everything that comes with the encounter itself. Even more so, I realized just how much people wanted an outlet to discuss their thoughts as well. Over the first year of escorting I would spend alot of my time posting about my experiences, how I related to them and just what I got back from the business. This communication soon led to the start of my blog.

I needed to feel open and be honest about what the industry is like, from an Sp's perspective. I was always being asked about why I chose to do what I do, what the protocols are and basically my thoughts on most everything an SP would encounter. My blog began with the thoughts of having an open place to discuss these things. People wanted my opinion, I needed someone to care about what I thought. From there my blog grew into something even more personal.
A year later and I was opening up the other side of Belle. My life. Being a mother, holding another full-time job, my vacations, my life....it all soon became a part of my blog. I didn't intend for it to be that way, but through its natural course that is what it had become. Then, others started sharing their lives too. Their fears, their insecurities, their desires, their thoughts and opinions. It soon became a conversation. Not me, talking to you but us, sharing our lives. You accepted me for my decisions in life, you praised me for the hard times I have oversome and picked me up when times had me down. My blog has been here for me, to have a place to go when I feel no one is there to listen. I write here and I know I will be heard, if even by one set of ears. Most of you have no idea who I am but Belle. I like that anonymity. I can write what I feel and you are here to listen.

Unfortunately, some found their way to my blog that didn't want to hear what I had to say. If they were people I didn't know, whose opinions didn't matter to me it would have been okay. Unfortunately it was family and for the past 2 months have made things a little difficult for me. I felt railroaded, finding myself being questioned about Belle and the things I/She has written here. I missed the anonymity. You never judged me by the things I write. They are as they are, words floating about this cyberworld being written from someone about as lost as any other soul trying to find their way. Before long it was demeaning emails and hurtful insults. I hid, because I felt I had to hide. I stopped posting. I stopped escorting. I stopped the emails. I stopped smiling.
It wasn't long before I began feeling alone. I don't get close to people, even when I know peope are there for me. I don't open up to others, hell....I don't even open up to myself! I have never allowed myself to question life. Who am I? Where do I want to be in life? What are my goals? My blog has evolved into a place for me to contemplate life, to open up and feel safe doing so. I've never had that and I really missed not having that the past few months.

So, that being said, here I am. I decided I am not going to hide anymore. This is me. I'm not always nice nor am I always going to say things that everyone wants to hear. But my blog isn't for them, or even you. It is for me. Thanks for hanging around, keeping the posts going, coming back from time to time to see what's up and taking the time to register and log-in to view my blog. I know these features won't stop those I don't want coming around from coming around but by having to register an email adress I am hoping it will make them think twice. Thanks again.

Belle

F*Cups

2010-12-15T06:45:00.000-05:00

F*Cups????
No, I don’t mean F*ck ups but F*Cups, as in breast size. Think you can go from “A”cups to “F”cups by eating cookies? Maybe not, but the Japanese seem to think so. They are marketing a box of cookies that apparently contains the natural breast enlarging herb Pueraria Mirifica. Supposedly, by eating just two a day will make your breasts bigger! Of course, they don’t mention how many days you need to eat them to gain a voluptuous chest but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to give them a try since they are only 68.8 calories per cookie. Yes, I have my very own box of these ( a sweet, touching gift from a dear friend) so I figured I would do some reading up on them, as I munched down a few.

The first few internet sites I came across made me feel quite lucky to own my very own box of F*Cups since it seems most people are screaming for them and frustrated that they cannot get their hands on a box outside of Japan. I started thinking of a marketing plan, maybe I could make a lot of money importing these cookies then selling them on ebay! Then I decided having my very own set of “F” cups are priceless, I should keep my secret source all to myself, who knows the smuggling practices that were put into operation just to get these fine cookies to my Canadian doorstep.

The next few sites were all about mocking this seemingly obvious scam. How dare they? Who is to say these things don’t work as they promise? I figured the skeptics are likely the same “A” cup people who cannot get a box of their own. If they had the same importer/smuggler that I have a connection with, I’m sure they’d have gluttonized (not sure if that’s a word but it seemed to fit) their box by now. Me, I think these things can’t be rushed. So I savour every bite as I carry on with my internet research, gloating in the fact that these people are just jealous.
Next I read about these people that call themselves things like Doctors, Herbologists and Pharmaceutists who claim there is no way a cookie, with any ingredient could possibly increase a woman’s bust size. Well, is that so, oh smart people with lots of letters after your names? Well, did it ever occur to you that this “Pueraria Mirifica happens to be found in Thailand and Mayanmar, places you’ve probably never heard of? And besides, Mirifica means miracle and science just doesn’t explain miracles, now does it? Now I did find the website of one doctor by the name of Dr. Garry Gordon who has done on-the-ground research right in Thailand studying this herb and he supports their claim to a voluptuous cookie bosom so I think he is more credible than the other skeptical so-called doctors with lots of letter after their names!

It just goes to show you, my friends that the internet is a powerful tool in researching something you need definitive answers for. I could have simply laughed at the box and it away and then posted on some anonymous board about just how silly this ploy is……but I did my research. Just goes to show you…..don’t believe everything you read!

I need your prayers tonight

2010-12-15T06:43:00.002-05:00

I have had a cold for the past week and a half. No, I'm not asking for prayers to heal a stubborn cough. This morning I woke with a coughing spell and tried to sit up to get my breath. As I was doing so I coughed and heard a "crunch" sound. Since then I haven't been able to move my neck. Not having any motivation to try and fight it, I wasted most the day away in bed aside from a couple hot baths. Finally, kids home and fed I decided to walk to the hospital (I hate driving when I'm at my best, certainly not going to happen in the shape I am in).
I get there and the waiting room is packed. I'm tired, the long walk (okay, only 25 mins but when each step is a cautious one to not disturb my neck it's a long walk) had me in a tense mood and to top it off, as I am waiting to be checked in, I look to my right and there is my mother. She doesn't live in Niagara so I know for her to be here there is something likely wrong with a family member. I turn to look down the hallway and there is my grandmother. I have never seen her look so old.
My Nana. My hero, my idol. And here she was fighting for her breath looking so terribly ill. It broke my heart. I stepped out of line and sat with her in the waiting room. Her doctor had sent her here to be admitted, her emphysema has taken over and she can no longer breathe for herself without a terrible struggle. Her food won't stay down, her heart is tired and she sat there trembling. We had known this was coming, just 2 months ago we were here with her having many tests done and nothing coming back positive. She looked so frail, my nana has never appeared this way. I was angered that not only is the most wonderful giving person on this earth struggling just to breathe but that my family is so damn ignorant to not have called me to tell me she was this ill.

I despise my mother for doing the unforgiveable to me and for that I know we will never again have a relationship with one another. But I can be in the same room with her, be civil and put aside our differences at a time like this. To think that she would be so selfish to not have called me, or atleast have another family member call me, was sickening. It is hard to believe that just one short year ago our family was so close. I miss that.

My apologies for rambling, tonight you are shoulder to lean on. I am waiting for my sitter, then I will be back at my Nana's side. Please send your prayers and best wishes her way. This world will lose its most brightest light if we lose my Nana. Thanks for listening.

Am I psychic...or just psychotic?

2010-12-15T06:43:00.001-05:00

Ever have a premonition? Something you "Saw" happen before it actually happened? I can't say I have, but I can't shake this feeling I have had all day. It started sometime this afternoon and it is now just past 4am and I just can''t shake it. I can't pinpoint exactly what my gut is telling me but it's a horrible doom-like feeling, like something really terrible is going to happen. I've never felt something like this before and if I didn't feel it prior to 9/11 then I would have to say I'm leaning more towards psychotic.

While I would love to hear you all say no to the following question, that I am just being silly so as to ease my stomach I am wondering if anyone out there has ever had a true premonition or psychic experience? While we're on the topic, what about seeing ghosts or any other similar phenomenon? Just curious to hear of your experiences or thoughts on the subject.

The evolution theory.....I now believe!

2010-12-15T06:37:00.000-05:00

I am not one to argue the age old question "where did we come from", but I do like this theory. I have been reading a book, a quite interesting read infact. A little off topic to my post but from where I found my ancestors so I must talk about the book a minute. "The world without us" by Alan Weisman. Based on not so much his theory but substantiated facts given to him by ecologists, scientists, biologists, paleontologists and even rabbis about what our world would be like if humans were wiped from the earth. In this equation, one primatologist Jane Goodall had been studying chimpanzees, more specifically, bonobos.

What caught my attention and heralded my latest discovery of where I came from was learning that bonobos are not aggressive in nature. Like chimps, they are territorial yet with bonobos, they are not known to kill within their primative colonies. They have a peaceful nature and here's what caught my attention: a predilection for playful sex with multiple partners! Not only that, but they do not form lasting relationships with their sexual partners.....now I know who's my daddy! Their DNA is closer to a human's than it is to a gorilla, their gentetic make-up is 98% the same as us homo-sapiens. Oh, did I mention that the females are considered to have the higher social status? Must be my ancestors!

I had to "google" bonobos and learn more of my ancestry and found that we also share a preference for tribadism. Never heard it referred to as this before but if you want to know what I am talking about, you will have to google the term for yourself! Thankfully though we have evolved from the bonobos practice of incest, I suppose every family history has it's own set of skeletons. Go figure. I am reading a book about life after we have come and gone and I end up learning about my ancestry long before we even existed!

Okay, I don't really believe I am a direct decendent of the bonobo but I can honestly say I have never seriously considered the evolution theory until reading this book. Sure it's grand to think that we were put on this earth as part of some wonderous plan by some unearthly God. It's a beautiful story; the heavens, the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve. Much more a promising thought than "we evolved from apes". But what if it were as simple as that? What if? Things that make you go hmmm.

Do we EVER learn?

2010-12-15T06:34:00.000-05:00

It's a crossroads, I know. I've been here for some time now but it's deciding which path that makes the journey so long. I never take the easy road, I like the challenge but this time, maybe the reward at the end of the challenge isn't worth the fight. Maybe I am fighting for something I can never have. Maybe I just need to let go. The reward looks good, it makes sense and I know what it can give me in my life. The other path.....I can't see where it leads. I don't know what the reward is, or even if there is one. Yet maybe, if I just take a few steps, it will get easier. It's the maybe part that scares the hell out of me. I am not one to take chances, but this time I think the sure path has me at a road block and I am being given no choice but to walk the road less travelled. I will do it, not because I want to but because I have no other choice. I am just hoping I make it to the other side.

Confused? Me too. Bare with me. The program you have been watching will return to its regularly scheduled programming soon. ;)

The kids are off!

2010-12-15T06:30:00.002-05:00

I should be happy right? I mean, this is the day all parents look forward to. No pitter patter of little feet under you while you're trying to clean the house. No squeaky voices demanding something to eat, something to drink, something...anything to take your attention away from whatever it is you are trying to do so they can have your undivided attention. Yes, I should be savouring the moment I hear the school bus squeal to a stop and watch as the Power Ranger and Tinkerbelle backpacks disappear behind the closing school bus doors. I should, but I just can't.
I was up until 5am this morning. Not because I had to work. No, I got off early to be able to get a good nights sleep. Go figure. I am now a mother of a highschool child. It didn't take long for her to take me back to a time when I entered highschool myself. The jitters, the upset stomach, the nerves of the first day all caught up with her. I did my best to prepare her for the transition. The past week we spent two days at the school travelling from class to class, checking out the gym, the library, the cafeteria and testing the lock combination for her locker about one hundred times. The routine was set and I know it did give her some ease. Until last night at about 11pm when she felt sick.

I remembered that feeling, she is so alike her mother. Worrying about how to wear her hair, if she will know anyone in her classes, who to hang with at lunch. She even called her girlfriends to ask if anyone was using the same type binders I had bought her! We parents may call it trivial but I know to her it is the difference between eating in the cafeteria with all the cool kids or packing a brown bag lunch to eat underneath the back stairwell. My heart hurt for her because I knew there was nothing I could do to comfort her. Like me, she does not accept change well and the fear of the unknown can seem overwhelming.

I wanted to drive her in this morning. I knew it wasn't an option she would consider but I put the offer out there anyways. I am the mommy, she is my baby. I just wanted to hold her hand, walk her from class to class and sit with her at lunch so she didn't feel alone. No matter how big and tough our teens pretend to be, they are still kids and the world can be a big scary place for them to be....and a big scary place for us to send them.

I had to make the trip to all three schools today to let the principals know about our Disney vacation next week. Sure, I could have made phone calls but being the mom that I am I had to go check things out on the first day. If I didn't, I would have missed the grade 11 "kid" in the front office registering for classes who was riddled in tatts, his front bangs draped across his forehead and over his left eye which he annoyingly fiddled with the entire 10 minutes it took him to register. I would have also missed the group of teens handing out on the sidewalk, couples arm in arm kissing, smoking and cursing. To think when I was that age it looked so cool. Cute highschool girls in their much-too-short uniform skirts talking like truckers as a cloud of smoke circles around them. And I had to drive away, leaving my daughter to a whole new world. It is in the next four years she spends here that she will grow into a young woman and I cannot be there to protect her. It is so hard to let her go.

I was glad I made her school my first stop. Walking into the smaller elementary schools I felt more at ease. Smaller hallways, locks on the entrance doors and teachers roaming the hallways being fully aware of me as I walked up to the office door. My kids are safe here. They are led by their teachers to the gym, the library and the playground. I may not be there to hold their hand but atleast someone is. I caught a glimpse of my five year old as her class was walking away in the opposite direction. She did not see me, but I got to see that she was happy walking alongside her best friend. She is okay, so I am okay. I will hold on to that feeling for today as I anxiously await my teen whose bus will be pulling up any minute. I hope to see a smile as she runs up the driveway to tell me of all the things that went good for her today. I can only hope.

Sexual deprivation....beware!

2007-11-15T00:35:00.000-05:00

I've finally figured it out! It's not depression I am going through, nor a bout of simply feeling sorry for myself. No, what I am experiencing is sex withdrawl. Yes, apparently it is running rampid in the Niagara Region as people just aren't getting enough of it. It's most commonly seen in clients when thier favorite SP takes a hiatus, my case being quite rare in that I am the SP suffering sexual withdrawl symptoms. I've heard about this disease and it's quite traumatic.

Several clients of mine have come to me displaying the same characteristics in the past. Sleeplessness, mental cloudiness, irritability, restlessness all being primary but severe cases are accompanied with headaches (from constantly dwelling on the sex you're not having), unusual dreams of motels in obscure locations, obsessive/compulsive sexual thoughts involving most everyone around you and from time to time a case will present itself as Tourettes where sexual innuendoes are voiced inappropriately or even worse....one begins to act on those sexual compulsions like grabbing a stranger and thrusting oneself upon them. (As a side note....if this ever happens to you and the woman throwing herself at you is a 5'7" red head just oblige her....she's ill and has no control over her actions).

So, what is one to do who suffers from this condition? Is there a cure, even a home remedy to supress the symptoms? I used to dread turning 30. The thought of being "thirty-something" terified the hell out of me. When I was twenty-something, thirty was old! But I can honestly say I did not have this sexual appetiete then that I do now. I would listen often to gents who dabble in the hobby from time to time. Most are unable to frequent the company of an escort as often as they would like be it for reasons of money, family or time and quite often would say that the duration between visits are so hard because the hobby is addicting. I now understand what they meant. It's not much different from my perpective either. Giving up sex AND smoking was a little too much to ask of myself so one of them has to give. Smoking is bad for my health, sex on the other hand.......

back to school...and other random musings

2007-11-15T00:29:00.000-05:00

Have any of you realized that there is just 1 week left before kids hit the books? Or have you all realized it and I am the only one that is pulling her head out of her ass wondering where the summer went? This week was crazy getting my kids ready. Books, pencils, erasers, calculators (yes a requirement now, remember the days of sneaking them into class? Gawd that made me sound old ) and for my 13 year old......her high school uniform. I tell ya, working for a living sucks.... as does the pay.

It didn't take long to remind myself of what it is like to bargain shop, cut coupons and plan ahead for costly occasions and school is no exception! Not that I have ever been one to spend money frivilously, but it was kinda nice to not spend the better part of my days balancing a chequebook. If something was needed, I bought it...that day. No crunching the numbers by giving up the Gilette triple blade razors and going with disposables so the kids could eat pizza once a week for the month. While I will never forget my days of welfare and food banks, I will also never forget my days of spur of the moment shopping...... just because I could. All in all I will always be thankful for things I never had and things I have no more. It's what keeps me driven, keeps me grounded and gives balance to my life. What am I saying......working for a living sucks, no matter how I look at it!

So, the oldest of mine has to adjust to the Catholic uniform thing now. Stop right there, this is my daughter okay? She's not impressed by the shirt being tucked in nor the polishable black shoes that are mandatory. 2 hours were spent in the school clothing shop. She whined, I smiled. Why is it us mother's take such pleasure in our teenager's pain? Oh yes, now I remember. Perhaps because any time we give them crap about something we hear the same old "I don't care" routine. I am pleased to see there is something that she cares about. Whine away oh hormonal one, whine away.

My house is still a disaster. Well, my kitchen anyways. It's been two months and I can't get hold of my electrician. There is not another step I can take without having the wiring completed. Although I took matters in my own hands because I was sick of trying to maneuver around the room. I have two doorways in the kitchen, one I needed to close off to make the kitchen more functional. Promises were made to get it done many months ago and it's still not done so I fixed the problem myself. No, I don't know how to build a wall but I bought a sheet of drywall and put it over the doorway to cover it up and put my fridge in front of it for now. Atleast I can access all of my cabinets now without a ladder and entering my kitchen no longer runs the risk of a slab of granite shanking your side. It's only been almost 6 moths I've been working on this damn room!

Work is good, it's my place for mental relief. I need to work 8 hours just to keep my sanity some days. I don't have to think about anything really and that is a blessing. The worst time for me is as I'm laying in bed. I think too much and end up waking more tired than when I layed down. So long as my plan to never sleep and work 22 hours of the day holds up I should be just fine. Any other suggestions? Between doctors, kids, school, smoking and the Homers of the world I really do feel at times that I am losing my mind. Surely I will have to sleep sometime.

I have a few entries coming up, notably the fact that Belle is now 2 and also an interesting commentary about another blog I recently stumbled across. It seems I am not the only blogger out there just trying to get through the journey unscathed. Her writing was quite interesting and hopefully I will get to posting about it in the next day or two. As for right now, I am off to bed. Not to sleep, no, that seldom happens. I will undress, slip under my duvet, group my kingsized down-filled pillow into my stomach and I will think. I will tell myself to stop it, that I need to sleep but without a doubt, and hour from the time I lay my head I will still be there fighting to get some shuteye. Once I do drift off I will have some outrageous dream (surely due to the random thoughts before drifting off) then wake up unsettled. And so it goes.

Meaningless sex

2007-11-15T00:26:00.000-05:00

I have been venturing out with my writing, extending my possibilities to include some freelancing. While doing research for an article I came across a very interesting website dedicated to erotic writers. In the forum section the question was raised, “What are your thoughts on meaningless sex?”

Well, needless to say I had a few opinions on the topic. As I read through the replies, keeping in mind that this is an aspiring writer’s website I was appalled at the close-minded responses! The imagination of one’s mind is limitless, so why is it that time and time again when it comes to topics like this that are so intimate and personal, can writers not seem to delve a little deeper without becoming so defensive to answer in a tone that may step outside of what would be expected? Is that not what makes a great writer? To write so passionately that your readers are drawn into your world, where they feel a part of each letter you have typed? How are you able to do this if you cannot believe in what you write?

This, I suppose, is why I do not care for love stories. Quite frankly, they are boring and they certainly are not any more a part of reality than would be a story of two strangers meeting in a hotel room and having the most passionate sexual relationship. Okay, the latter may be a reality for some of us. But for some reason the typical love story that sells is all about beaches, blue skies, rose petals on the bed sheets and an “I love you” after sex. Anyways, back to the question of meaningless sex. Here are a few responses I read:

"Acting on the belief that sex is meaningless or that sex is just sex just might wreck your life, give you a life crisis you don't want, impact your life in ways you might not want, or just ruin you life."

"I understand the principle of meaningless sex but I'm not absolutely sure it can be applied universally without any pre-conditions."

"If I don't feel something for the person I'm not going to have sex with them. For the people that need attention get a dog and have some respect for yourself."

"Don't do it. It will leave you feeling even more lonely and empty."

"I cannot agree that for women there can be 'meaningless sex'. Even a hooker has some emotional involvement."

This one was the best:

"Sex with some one other than my husband? Trusting some one enough to get naked in front of them? Fumbling though foreplay wondering how hard is too hard for this particular cock? Wondering weather some of my little tricks are a bit too exotic and whether he's going to think I'm a slut because I know so much? Putting up with a lover that doesn't know what I want? NO THANKS!"

Of course, there were a few that did seem to “get it”. One even made a very valid point that if it was meaningless we wouldn’t bother to do it, therefore to some degree all sex has meaning. I suppose meaningless may be the wrong word to explain the type of sexual encounters in escorting but let me ask you…..“What does meaningless sex mean to you? Is it possible? Do you hold any emotional attachment to your casual sex partners, paid or not?”

Simple question: You or them?

2007-11-15T00:24:00.000-05:00

I need some advice here. I know you have all found yourself in my shoes at least once in your lifetime so there is no excuse to not respond to this post! Here's the situation. Belle, while living a legal lifestyle has chosen a lifestyle that is frowned upon in society. I made a conscious decision 2 years ago to not hide escorting from those in my personal life. With that being said I will point out that I never made it a point to openly discuss with friends or family my decision to become an escort, but when questioned about my activities I never denied it nor did I try to explain it away by pleading that it was my only option at the time. In doing so, I have lost alot that has meant alot. Not only the respect of my family, but any relationship I had with them prior to their knowledge of Belle.

In return for what I lost, I gained self respect. I have talked alot about this so I wont go into any further deatil about how wonderful escorting has been to my life in a very personal way. With my marriage falling apart my fear was that my experiences as Belle would lead to a battle in the courts about my parenting skills, hence my abrupt retirement. My kids are my life and I need to protect them as I always have and always will. I have been assured by my lawyer that I could face no legal recourse for escorting and could not face losing my children based solely on that circumstance. I did not find his words to be any more comforting though. In November when my mother and sister were made aware of Belle, they called the authorities. It was never brought up to me, the topic was never discussed. FACS made their rounds and determined my kids were very well adjusted children. I provide a safe home, warm clothing and all other necessities as expected of any parent. I did not fear their evaluation as I have never doubted myself as a mother. I screw up, yes. But I always do my best for them.

So my question is this. What if your SO, your mother, your co-workers, your neighbors, your friends discovered what you dabble in from time to time. I think I know the answer, and there is no right or wrong answer but I am wondering if I took my "I am woman hear me roar" routine a little too far. Is it wrong that I stand by my decision to be an escort? Did I get too caught up in this new person I have found within myself and give up more that what I should have been willing to give up?

Where do we draw the line between standing up for what we believe in, even when it hurts those closest to us? Do we protect them, or ourselves? I am not saying that each of you that are married should be running to your spouses and confessing your activities. Sometimes the truth isn't the best policy. I am just saying, have you not had times in your life when you went against the grain because it was something you need to do for yourself even though it would be met with some conflict in your life? Just looking for some thoughts out there is all.

A woman's thread

2007-11-15T00:22:00.000-05:00

Now being made aware of my morality I began to panic a few weeks ago when my left breast became tender to the touch. I left it until Monday when I finally boked an apointment with my family doctor. He didn't seem too concerned but set up a mammogram and ultrasound appointment just to check things out. I'm sure things are fine, likely a pulled muscle but I have to tell you about the visit for the mammogram.

I spent the 20 minutes in the waiting room kind of chuckling at the thought of a nurse trying to find enough breats tissue to compress in the boob vice. My name is called and I am shown the changing area where I was handed a gown. Dressed appropriately the technician leads me into the room and asks me to remove the gown. She likely expected me to be nervous so as she was preparing the films she talked me through the process. Little does she know I am more than comfortable being naked in the presence of another woman.

I told her she was about to face a challenge as I was giving her little to work with. "No worries" she responds, again probably trying to make me feel less self conscious. So. I am standing at the machiene. For those of you that have never had the pleasure of breast screening, you remain standing, the technician places your breast on a metal plate and uses her foot to control a pedal that lowers the upper plate onto the top of your breast, compressing the tissue to be xrayed.

I walk up to the plate and all I am able to rest on the plate is a perky nipple. It was kinda funny actually, I had to ask her if I should pull it a little or what she neded me to do. "Just relax and I will position you" she says. "Ok, if you insist" I thought. So there I stood while she fondled my breast. Ok, she was doing her job but it felt like fondling to me. In fact, I found this process so amusing I tried to drag it on as long as I could. She had me bending over slighly, lowering my shoulder as she stood at my side grabbing tissue from what felt like my collar bone area just to get some flesh on the plate. Pulling tightly she managed to get enough skin to press between the plates as she stepped on the pedal to begin the compression. Although I think she cheated. She was pulling so damn hard I am sure much of that flesh was borrowed from my cheeks.

She walked away to take the picture just as I was looking down to see my nipple squashed against the upper plastic plate. I wouldn't say the experience was totally enjoyable but it did turn me on a little. I mean, I have never been into bondage or S&M by any means but what's the harm in a little resistance? It would have been much more enjoyable had I another woman knelt down below me to counteract the nipple stimulation but even without, it was something I did not expect to find arousing. Problem now is, I think I lost a size from the time I walked into the office. Any more of those and I will have to change my name to Bill.Now on Thursday I get to have my breasts fondled yet again during my ultrasound. Rumour has it it is a much more intimate setting and the technician brings her own heated KY Jelly! Wonder if I'm allowed to bring my pocket rocket? Yes, this is what my life has come to since leaving escorting. Any bets on how long my retirement will last? Likely not any longer than this smoking BS. When I start to fantasize about medical imaging equipment I think I need to draw the line!

Family Reunion

2007-08-05T10:54:00.000-04:00

Family Reunion
It’s a tradition in our family, as it is in many to hold a reunion every couple of years. New marriages, babies, little girls becoming young ladies, little boys becoming young men. And in our family it is all centered around my Great-Grandmother. My hero, my idol and my biggest supporter, I just love her so much. It so happens that this year’s family reunion falls on her 95th birthday this coming Saturday.
I’ve been to every reunion our family has held. It’s full of water games for the kids and a very competitive horseshoe game between the adults. Plenty to eat and even more to drink, we spend the entire day catching up on what’s been happening our lives. Our family is a big one and we have always been very close. I take my kids to my Grandmother’s to visit with her and my Great-Grandmother as often as possible and we are always spoiled with homemade cakes, pies and cookies washed down with a cold glass of milk.
My Great-Nana will spend hours telling stories about what is going on in the family. Her mind is healthier than the rest of our younger brood. She knows who is marrying who, the name of our third cousins new born, the towns in which each of our extended families have moved to. The mail that is delivered each day is full of cards and letters from friends whom she used to live next to when in Arizona 50+ years ago. She writes a letter every day, sometimes I am the lucky one to hear from her.
I named my baby after her and although the name means “Uncertain, bitter” it certainly does not hold true for either. I named my daughter after her because of everything my Great-Nana stands for in my life. She takes life in stride and rolls with the punches. She has been through the good and the bad in her lifetime but has never let the pitfalls bring her down. She gives that unconditional love we all yearn for. Truly an amazing woman, I am so blessed to have my children grow to know her and have her in their lives. So this reunion is extra special for me and my kids. It is another year to be thankful for the wonderful family that all began with my Great-Nana.
So why am I dreading it? Because our family just isn’t what it used to be. I could blame it on Belle but I refuse to. Because I think no matter how others perceive my life to have been as Belle, their judgment of me…who I am, should not be clouded by Belle’s activities. Something some people in my family cannot accept. My mother and sister became aware of Belle’s lifestyle just before Christmas last year. They made their disapproval quite apparent when they called the government agency to check on my kids. I haven’t spoken to them since. It gets a little more complicated than that and maybe someday I can explain it better but suffice to say that they considered me a bad mother because I chose to provide escort services for money. I won’t say I chose to be an escort because really, I don’t think that defines who someone is but something someone does. Looking at it from that perspective I don’t see how I have changed entirely as a person, that escorting had suddenly made me an unfit parent when for 14 years both my mother and my sister prided me for how well I have always taken care of my kids. I despise ignorance.
I haven’t discussed this issue with my Nana or my Great-Nana because even though I know they are aware of Belle…..they don’t care. They may be concerned for me and not fully understand, but they would never turn their backs on me. It’s that unconditional love we all yearn for. We don’t need to talk about it because it would never affect our relationship with each other. I still love them and they still love me.
But being at this upcoming family reunion I know there will be tension. I spent an hour on the phone last week with a cousin of mine. We seldom talk until family events like these and we need to work out the details. Why is it there is always someone who loves to gossip in every family? You know the ones. They are the first to spread the news that so and so have split up, Uncle Jimmy got fired cause of his drinking, Aunt Janet’s boy is in rehab……there is always one and my family is no exception. Well, I finally got the scoop. Of course, without surprise it was all about me. Yes, my entire family knows about Belle. I was the talk of the family at the Christmas dinner I missed out on last year, and the conversation still seems to flow as freshly now as it did then. And this is what I have to face when I show up on Saturday with a gift for my Great-Nana and 4 kids in tow.
It’s not supposed to be like this, you know? It is so frustrating because I want to scream to the world about just how good I feel about my life and all of the good things Belle has brought to my life but I know I would never be understood. To “them” I am just another street walker lowering myself to the sexual demands of a lower class society to make a quick buck. “It’s not like that” I want to say but I know it would fall on deaf ears.
The funny thing is, I still don’t regret it….even with everything I have lost, I have still gained so much more. I know you say “family is everything” and it is, I am with you on that thought. But family should be above this sort of thing. My brother is a drunk and a drug addict. I love him and will support him when he needs me. I don’t have to approve of his lifestyle. That is what family is about.
So I thought about Saturday and just how I should play it all out. I could show up with my head held high, smile and pretend that everything is okay. I could swim with the kids and sit next to my Great-Nana listening to her tell stories of who is who. Maybe even play a game or two of horse shoes….or I could…..

Show up with the 6inch thigh high heeled boots, leather mini skirt and leopard print tank top and bright red lipstick. I have even contemplated how the conversation would go with my cousin when I first arrive. Talk about phoney people looking for good gossip, she is one of them. Just which personality I should play is the question:

Cousin: Why are you late? Kids slowing you down lately or what?
Belle: Sorry, I had a 3 hr at the KW and had to run home and wash the dribble off my face. Then I had to take the condoms and PR out of my purse to make room for the birthday card. Got here as quick as I could.
Me: Yeah, little Johhny had a scrape and couldn’t find a band-aid. What a great set-up, looks like you’ve been busy!
Cousin: Yeah, well anything for Great-Nana. Wait till you see the beautiful gift I made for her, she’ll love it!
Belle: I’ve been so busy with John’s the past week I didn’t have time to make anything but I stopped in at the liquidation place on the corner where I stand every night and picked her up a foot massager. Only cost me a BJ, and you know me, love a bargain!
Me: How thoughtful of you, Nana loves gifts from the heart. With work and kids I wished I had the time for that but the kids did make her a beautiful card and we picked some flowers for her out in the yard this morning. So, how has the Hubby been?
Cousin: Never see him, he’s been working so hard to pay off the new car but as long as he’s bringing home the money I won’t complain! How about you and…..oh, sorry. How are the kids with all of that anyways?
Belle: I dunno, they seem ok but I never ask them. Hard enough dealing with feeding them let alone dealing with their feelings and shit. FACS says they are ok so I guess they must be. I still have em, for now anyways. Wow, look at Jenny’s new beau. He looks rich, excuse me while I go introduce my services……
Me: They are doing great thanks. Getting big, enjoying the summer and dreading going back to school. Is that Jenny’s new husband? She looks so happy with him! Excuse me while I go introduce my serv…….myself.

Oh the fun I could have! But alas, for the sake of my kids and the family that I do respect I will behave…but boy do I miss Belle! Wish me luck, I’ll let you know how it goes

Don't put off the dentist!

2007-08-05T10:53:00.000-04:00

If you are anything like me, you get a reminder call from the dentist's office and cancel the appointment stating some business meeting that has you out of town or your dog goes in for surgery that day or some other crazy damned excuse to stop them from calling for the next month or so. After putting it off for almost a year I gathered up my nerve to finally go in for my cleaning. Don't get me wrong, my dentist is the most wonderful dentist any nervous patient could ask for but my teeth are so sensitive that just a simple cleaning requires me to have my mouth frozen. Now between visiting with clients (just imagine an SP walking in your room with her mouth frozen) and work, going 4 hours with a frozen mouth just doesn't fit well in my schedule. Ok, it's a poor excuse but it proved a costly lesson recently.

In March I finally made it into the hygenist's chair. It was a complete work up with x-rays and that thing where they prod your gums and call out numbers. Just what do they call that anyways? I have known for some time now that I have a problem with bone loss and this is always an issue when I go for these visits. Numbers of 10 and 11 when healthy numbers for the gums are 2's and 3's. I know, this may sound silly...I wished I knew how to explain it better. Anyways, the hygenist finished her cleaning and told me the Dr. would be in in just a minute to talk with me. Nothing seemed outside of the norm until he walked in and as he started to take a look around my mouth the hygenist commented to him something about the "buccal mucosa". He said he had noticed that and spent the next few minutes quietly scraping around the insides of my cheeks and gum line.

After doing so he sat up and asked if I have any odd habits. Cheek biting? Chewing on objects?. No to both. Chronic gum chewing? Yes. He explained that I had a "small white patch" on the inside of my left cheek. Likely it was nothing but he wanted to send me to an oral surgeon to have it looked at. He didn't seem too concerned so I wasn't either, although the weeks of waiting to get into the doctor was a little frustrating. Finally the day came and I found myself sitting in the office of the oral surgeon having a biopsy taken of what he referred to as a "rather large lesion". Now I was nervous. A white patch I could handle. A lesion I dould not although he assured me it was just clinical talk.

One week later and I am called into his office to discuss the results of my biopsy. "What you have is termed squamous cell carcinoma". I had no idea what squamous cell meant but I knew carcinoma meant cancer. That's all I heard that day really. He talked a bit about my smoking and gum chewing habits and then tried to explain how carcinoma works within the body. I just focused on what to do next. You would think it would be immediate treatment but no, it was a matter of doing some testing before treatment would be given. First he explained that I would need an exploratory done to see just how far, if at all the cancer has spread, This would involve an endoscopy. A very simple procedure placing a camera down my throat. This could be done while I was awake but the chicken shit I am, I opted to have it done while I was asleep. Some of you may know me to be calm and relaxed by nature but when it comes to these things I say knock me out because I become a nervous wreck.

So, 2 weeks later I was put out and the camera was rolling. From there I only remember waking up and feeling ill to my stomach. I was given some gravol and was a little groggy still when the doctor came in. He asked what my plans were for the rest of the evening. I was scared then, knowing that I was supposed to be released by 1pm and at home to meet my kids when they got home from school. Then he asked me about work and my schedule for the next few days. When I asked him why he asked my permission to put me out again as he had found a few lesions on the back of my throat he wanted to biopsy and at the same time remove the lesion on my cheek. I cried. Then I asked for my purse so I could call my kids father and be sure he would take care of the kids until I got home and help out through the weekend. That settled and I was back in having the lesion removed.

Everything went very well and once I was awake and steady I was told to go home and wait for the new biopsy results to come in, likely about 10 days. It was hard for me after I was at home. It's the wait that was the hardest. And me......I keep to myself when I am upset. I can't talk about it, but I had no problem crying myself through it. I don't want mean for that to sound sad because it really wasn't that sad. It was healthy for me to cry as it is not something I do often and it showed that I was dealing with something for once instead of just brushing it under the carpet pretending it wasn't happening as I do most things in my life. But I still had to deal with it on my own. I only had to wait 7 days.

Surprisingly when the biopsy results came in they were more promising than the first. I have a condition called Lichenoid Mucositis. It's causes are many including gum chewing and smoking. It produces lesions of varying description but the good news is that seldom do these lesions evolve into squamous cell carcinomas. More good news was that it appears the lesion he removed from my cheek was complete and surrounded by healthy cells. This condition is incurable but may come and go over the years. It will involve another surgery to remove and biopsy a few more lesions that have spread to my right cheek as well as the 2 on my throat. It will also require me to make continuous visits to be aware of any new lesions but it was very promising to learn that my primary condition is not oral cancer as originally thought. For that I am very thankful. I have been doing my best to stick to my doctors recomendations. Cut down on the smoking, chew fruit flavored gum as cinnamon and spearmint can cause somewhat of an allergic reaction to this condition and keep myself as stress free as possible. Lighten my schedule and keep smiling. That part is not a problem for me. I will always find a reason to smile.

So, the moral of this very long story? Don't put off the dentist! He may have some scary sounding tools in that room of his that can put you off, but cavities may not be the only thing he notices that you wouldn't otherwise. Thee lesions, they are small and they are under the skin. They don't hurt, I can't feel them at all. If it wasn't for my regular cleaning, I would have had no idea. The odd thing is that this condition is very common so when your dentist office calls to reminding you of your upcoming appointment, tell them you will be there...work can afford to wait, you cannot.

What happened to my house?

2007-08-05T10:52:00.002-04:00

I have been quite busy since announcing my retirement as Belle and just this weekend have finally had the chance to sit and relax. Sounds like a good thing right? No, definately not! My question is....what the hell happened to my house while Belle was off doing her thing? I don't mean just basic housekeeping issues....I mean everything is falling apart! Paint on the outside brick is in need of a new coat not to mention all of my basebards inside could use one too. My rails on my kingsized bed have collapsed (how I wish it was from being to rough), my carpet in my room is in desperate need of replacing. My kitchen is still half done which didn't really bother me till now since I have no choice but to sit at home and look at it.

My chimney is missing the animal guard at the top and my flue needs to be repaired. I have a leak in my basement....coming from the ceiling. When the f*&% did that happen? The contractors that started to work on my house forgot they removed a duct where they made a cutout in my wall so I have no heat/air being sent to my upstairs. My shut off valve on the bathroom sink is leaking...which may explain the water in the basement. I don't have any flowers in my garden...how did I forget to plant flowers? The kids trampoline is missing half the springs, I found 2 when I cut the grass. The pool was green, wasn't it just 2 days ago I put chlorine in it? How did I not notice everything falling apart around me?

I never realized just how busy I kept myself until I stopped being so busy. I think I prefer being busy! Now I have to keep busy because being busy kept me from seeing things I should have been doing if I wasn't so busy. The countdown to Disney officially begins today, I need a vacation! 48 days to go. I am giving myself 48 days to get my house back in order because the last thing I want to do when coming home from the house of mouse is be busy or even think about the things I should be doing to keep busy. But for right now.....I think I'll just go to bed.:rolleyes:

The Beauty of Rain

2007-08-05T10:52:00.001-04:00

The beauty of rain. I do love to hear the rain coming down against the windows, watching the droplets make their indirect paths down to the pane and out of sight. Or the sound of a car being driven past my home as I listen to the thrust of the water being splashed up the side walls and getting hurled to the sidewalk. I love to listen as the wind picks up and I can hear the trees swaying outside, the rain landing on the leaves oftentimes with a force strong enough to send them free falling to the ground. The rain is so peaceful and beautiful but not only for what it looks or sounds like outside but for the moments it creates in my home.

The rain starts outside and my life stops inside. It is as though the rain stops time to allow for precious moments to be had. I grab a blanket, a soft cuddly one and round up my kids in the living room. The summer weather tends to send everyone in their opposite ways. One child may visit a friend’s house down the street, another in the pool in the back yard, one riding a bike around the neighborhood while another takes a time out to watch Much Music videos in the cool air conditioning. It is seldom we have those bonding moments that we are able to share in the winter. It is a wonderful thing, to see my kids spread out in the summer; developing friendships with kids and gaining a bit of independence. But I still look forward to rainy days like today.

We put on a movie and do nothing at all. It is times like these that I want to hold on to as my kids grow. They talk about life, their lives through their eyes and it opens me up to just how simple things really are for them. “Can’t you just tell work that your kids want you to stay home Mommy?”, my five year old asked. “Ah, if life we like that sweetheart”. Yes, life is very simple to them. “Mom, can we have breakfast for supper tonight?”. “Well, breakfast is for the morning honey, don’t ya think”. “Well, why do we have to eat Mickey waffles only in the morning?”. “Good question, why do we? Mickey waffles for supper it is!”. I live for days like today.

We are so quick to moan when it rains. The plans that get cancelled, the errands we had to run but it’s just too wet out. We want to weed the garden, swim in the pool, go for a walk….many things, and they are good things…..but isn’t it nice when mother nature just turns around and says to us “Today is a time out day”? I love being outside alone with my thoughts working about the yard or watching the kids play but I love these moments too. We get too busy sometimes and it’s nice to just lay under that cozy blanket watching a movie about some fantasy land you can only see by using your imagination and having the tiniest arms and baby hands wrapped around you. Thinking about nothing except the fact that you are having breakfast for dinner and wondering if you have marshmallows to toss in their hot chocolate just to see the smiles of surprise on their faces. I hope it rains tomorrow.

Parents of teens: Please read!

2007-08-05T10:50:00.000-04:00

Teens today are no smarter than the teens of yesterday. And protecting them isn’t any easier. I’m learning this as I attempt to successfully raise a teenage daughter. The wonderful age of the internet. I love it not only for its ease of use in this business but for keeping in contact with friends, school projects when time to get to a library is limited and searching out a business website or product I may be interested in. It has its uses, if one, it’s one thousand of them. The world wide web keeps our world connected but the other day it could have torn me apart.

I am writing this to all parents of teenage children. I thought I was doing everything right. My daughter’s computer next to mine in the dining room. In passing I would always peer over her shoulder to see who she is talking to. I have talked at great length with her the danger of internet predators. We have watched T.V. programmes about the issue and just how serious it is. I have preached, prodded and thankfully prayed that she be safe. Someone was listening to my prayer.

I saw her chatting on a Sunday afternoon and walked over to see who she was chatting with. There was a conversation screen on the monitor, someone complaining about a baby cousin’s birthday party he had to go to. He had asked my daughter if she wanted to help him out, she thought he was joking and replied “No Thanks LOL”. I asked who it was she was talking to as these kids all use silly handles and there was no display picture to view. She said it was her “EX”. Assuming it was the boy she had “dated” recently whom had been to our house for a few dinners and played some fooseball I suggested she go along and help him out. They agreed to meet outside a Tim Horton’s and I had arranged to have her father drive her as I was on my way out.

After dropping her off he was headed to the park with our other children when he realized the name she gave in the car did not ring a bell so he turned around to question her about it. As he was pulling in he noticed a guy get out of his car in the parking lot, light a smoke and walk around the building. Her dad walked up to her and questioned about who she was meeting. Knowing she was caught she admitted she had never met him before but had talked a lot to him online. Naturally her dad flipped out giving her a lecture about meeting someone this way and what she could have possibly been getting herself into. He made a scene which embarrassed her but justifiably so.

When I came home later that evening her father told me what happened. I have a chat program installed on her computer where I can view her chat conversations so I checked it out. Even after the lecture her father gave her she still sent this person an email apologizing for leaving and gave a false description of what she was wearing so that if he had in fact been there he would not think it was her that was being taken away by her raging father. He replied saying he had left before she arrived but that they would get together soon.

Now, it could very well have been a 13 year old kid….but it could well have been the 40 yr old man having a smoke who drove away without even gong into the store. What a scary thought to think that you have done all the right things and put that trust in your children to make the right decisions then they go off and do something so foolish. It was a reality check that teens are no different now than when we were there. They still know it all, can take care of themselves and have parents that just don’t know what it’s like to be 13. In fact…..I am so out of touch with what it’s like to be 13 that I now have my 13 year old doing laundry, yard work, painting…any work I can find for her to do the entire summer. I have made her replace her computer for a book she must have read by the time school let’s in and the phone replaced by a pen and paper for her to journal her wonderful summer spent at home with mom. I sense some great bonding time up and coming. :rolleyes:

Parents…..please be nosey. Read their emails, know who they are talking to, question where they are going when they leave the house. It’s not an invasion of their privacy, it’s our job as parents. I would rather have my daughter around to hate me than not have her around at all.

My Life Series: Divorce

2007-08-05T10:49:00.000-04:00

I grew up, like hundreds of thousands of other kids in a broken home. I don’t remember much of life before the divorce. I don’t remember family vacations, Christmases, birthday parties or any event that a child growing up in a stable home would have memories of. I feel robbed of so much and am still, even as an adult very bitter for what I lost.

I was 13 when my parents split. I knew things were not good but I never remember things being bad save for coming down stairs several years prior and seeing my father’s belongings packed and stacked in a hallway. There was no fighting, but I knew things were not right. My parents did not hug nor kiss. They didn’t exchange “I love you’s” when they left the house or hung up the phone. I was lucky to not have had to witness violence or abuse in my childhood home but it was what I did not witness that has made moving on in my life a difficult thing to do.
I didn’t see love.

I am sure my parents loved each other, but they never showed it. My father is a quiet man. He accepts things as they are and keeps his thoughts and emotions to himself as most men do. I know he loves me, but I cannot recall him ever saying it. My mom….well she had her moments. I am sure with the divorce she was lost, something I can relate to now being a divorcee myself. She drank a lot, or should I say a lot more than she did prior to my father leaving. But I cannot fault her for that. Not the best way to handle things but perhaps her defense mechanism to protect her from the pain of having her world being turned upside down.

At 13, I saw her as a drunk. A self absorbed woman who spent too much time waddling in her own self pity to notice that her three children were suffering her pain too. At 32, I see a woman who felt abandoned, alone and likely scared to death having to raise 3 children who were now from a broken home. She had become a statistic. No one likes to be reduced to a number.

I chose to live with my father. At 14 my dad went to court and was granted custody of me. I always felt, and still do to this day a special bond with my dad. He never said much, yet in his silence he said everything. He worried for me yet never pressured me. He let me screw up and accepted the hell I put him through to allow me to learn from my mistakes…..and I made many from them. But because the sacrifices he made for me, I am who I am today.

Now, I look at my four children and I hurt for them. I know kids are resilient, I know they will learn to adjust and I know that this has become the norm for many children. My anger comes from the fact that it shouldn’t be so. My kids shouldn’t have to learn to adjust. They shouldn’t have to be resilient. They shouldn’t be reduced to a number. I don’t know what my parents went through prior to their divorce but I do know that their marriage was not given up on easily. And I know my marriage is much the same. I tried, Lord knows I tried to keep a happy healthy home for my children. But I had to break that cycle.

I realized just how much my marriage was that of my parents. No hugs, no kisses. No “I love you’s”, no sleeping in the same bed. There may have been love there on some level but to my children it must have seemed loveless. I did not want my three girls to think this is what a marriage was about. I didn’t want them to settle for less but to have belief in the dream.

What I wonder now is if I will ever stop mourning that loss. Will I ever be okay with the fact that my marriage failed? I know I did all I could and I also know that no matter how much I loved him or he loved me it just simply wasn’t enough and that walking away was the best thing I could have done. I don’t regret the decision but will I ever stop wishing it could have been different?

John235....

2007-08-05T10:44:00.000-04:00

A few reflections since announcing my departure from the business. This first one was an odd irony I encountered at an industry party a few days ago. I was excited to be there to see the many faces I have met if only briefly, through escorting. I wanted the chance to say thanks, share a laugh or two and part ways knowing all was said that I wanted to be said. And for the most part, it was a most pleasant day.

Typically at these events it starts off with one drink and ends up with me likely being naked. It is me, my carefree Belle self. It is business, advertising of who I am and what I stand for as Belle. It is a time to give my appreciation for those that have trusted me as an independent escort, a time for me to lose my inhibitions and let my hair down. This party was a little different. There was no advertising, in fact there was no drinking and no getting naked….on my part anyways. While I wasn’t feeling that well the day of, I wanted to just sit back and reflect on the positive changes this business has brought to my life.

All faces were welcoming to see until one prior client approached me to give me his door fee for the party as I had volunteered to do the collecting. I looked up to see the face of the man who just so happened to be my very first client as an escort. Perhaps you remember the blog entry I made dedicated to that very experience. It was not a pleasant one, in fact it was just the opposite. Let me tell you the history of this guy, a brief recap of my first appointment to now.
My first call with the agency I joined and I was warned by the owner that he can be aggressive and to hold my ground. I was scared. Scared to be doing this for the first time, scared to possibly encounter a situation I have feared all my life….having to stand up for myself. I walked in and quickly realized the type of experience he was looking for I was not willing to be a part of. He demanded that I ask permission to touch him and to not do anything until he told me so.

He told me to stand in front of him and let him undress me with my hands behind my back. I was nervous, I didn’t know what to do so at first I went along with his little game. He talked about this being my first call, the agency told him prior to booking me. He made me beg to kiss him, then to take his lead and move from his lips down his body. I was going along with this until he asked to call me his “submissive bitch” and requested he use nipple clamps on me. I flatly refused and a conversation ensued about how I need to please the client. I left that room with a small victory. I said no, something I had never done before….but I also allowed things to happen that I was not comfortable with and for that I was disappointed in myself. My first week held a few of these encounters, moments that I walked out being disappointed in myself.

A few days later I was sent to see him again. I did not realize it until he answered the door. To my amazement, I took the call and I walked in there with a much stronger “don’t f*** with me” attitude. He tried the same things again, the submissive role play, the name calling, the nipple clamps and I denied him all of the above. I left early and told my driver I refuse to see him again. He did not like taking no for an answer, told me to never smoke within hours of seeing him and so on. I decided then, that I am who I am. I will have my boundaries and I will not step outside of them for anyone no matter the money being offered. I am proud to say that the conviction I made that night stayed with me for the remaining 20 months in the business.

A few months after being independent of an agency, I get a voice mail. The voice I will never forget. It was him and he had the nerve to give me a different name and request to see me. I was so mad that he would have the nerve to be so ignorant. He knew I would refuse to see him and I did, of course. Next was an industry party where he showed up. He just sat there, the table behind mine and stared. We never spoke but I was unnerved by his presence. One year later, due to driver issues for a month or so I joined an agency part time until I settled the issues. My first night I get 3 calls as soon as I book on. As I finish the second call I hop in with the driver and light a cigarette. The driver asks that I put it out and tells me I have another call and the guy asked I do not smoke prior. My guard went up and I just knew it was him.

The guy goes by the name John235 on the review boards but he also introduces himself as “John from ****” referring to another review board. I asked the driver to call the dispatcher and ask what name he gave when he booked. Sure enough it was him! I explained to the driver my experience with him and once she realized who he was she knew he was also banned from 2 agencies for his aggressiveness with women. He was denied my call and told he was banned from the agency. Lo and behold, I get a private message from him. For the first time ever, I am going to share those messages publicly. The final messages went as follows:

Originally Posted by John235 Bell I was your first call with (agency name edited) I have seen you maybe 4 times or so We have always had a good call and i am not aware of ever having any problem I tried to book you Saturday through (agency name edited) and when time was getting late they told me you said you had a problem with me and that you would not see me and that i am now band from (them) What is that all about? I am very respected and have many ladies you can check for reference ***** and **** did a call with me @ (agency and ladies names edited) as well as many others. I have always respected you and regard my reputation with the agencies. I have never had a problem with any ladies ever and I always treat everyone with respect. I had a problem with (agency owner name edited) many years ago at (agency name edited) that was going back maybe 8 or more years and it was a (agency owner) issue not a lady issue. Please talk to me so I can resolve this.You can email me at (email edited)[/color]

My response:

On the contrary, I am aware of many problems you have had with the agencies. (Agency name edited) had you banned, most of the girls refused to see you there. My first call with you I was very uncomfortable with you and I made you aware of that. You asked to call me "Your submissive little bitch" and then requested we used nipple clamps. I said no to both. You then proceeded to tell me I had to ask your permission to do anything to you. You then complained of my smoking...first visit...fair enough as you didn't know any better.

I saw you the next week through (agency name edited) and was terrified but being new with the business I stayed. You complained of my smoking...knowing I am a smoker. No reason to complain this time! When I got out of that call I asked (agency owners names edited) to not send me to you again. You called me as an indy and used a different name to see you as you knew I would turn you away. That was very disrespectful and ignorant!

I am at a point in this business that I do not have to put myself in situations that I am uncomfortable in. You feel the need to be powerful and in control of a woman. I find that demeaning and will not put myself in that environment again. I would apologize if I felt I did something wrong but standing up for myself does not constitute an apology.
Belle

He was not happy. His response:

BDSM ________________________________________Belle
I am quite surprised at your response. You are in a profession that most people do not understand. When a person with out knowledge is asked about your profession they say that women are forced into it or are drug users they are degraded ect. Having been with you and having read what you have written on your site and on blogs you understand this industries and the men who see women better then most anyone. I have been involved in this for a very long time. So I speak from experience that you are unique and among the best in the industry.
When it comes to BDSM there is a whole culture and a industry of it’s own. It is not degrading to women those women who are involved in roles weather submissive, dominate or switch do so with respect and are proud of how they feel about there role. When a sub be it a man or a women partakes in this culture they do so with an understanding of them self and it is not degrading. Those in dominate roles as master get the power of master from the sub in fact it is the sub who is in control as they give the power in an exchange to the master. In this practice this is how the safty is maintained and those of us go to great lengths to insure safe words and an understanding of this.

In our meetings I have expressed that I respect your comfort and I have never asked you to do anything you feel uncomfortable with. I am sorry that you might not have experience or knowledge of BDSM and that just by my asking you got scared or misunderstood my intentions. But I believe that if you think about the times we meet you will recall that I did express that I explained this concept and that I never ask you to do this if you are not comfortable. In fact you expressed that you are not comfortable with this and I did not press it.

I have learned that it is best to do this with women who understand this culture and when I desire this I will do it with women like (escort name edited) who are very comfortable with this. Or I will go to places in Toronto the specialize in this.

To have me banned do to your misunderstanding I feel is not correct I would ask that you speak to (escorts names edited) and the owners of (agency name edited) and have my name cleared. I have never asked anyone to do anything they are not comfortable with and respect the women I am with. BDSM is not a control over women thing it is a culture of it’s own and women who partake do so of there own desire the power they allow the masters they are with comes form them and the masters respect this. Safe guide lines are always followed. I am sorry for any misunderstanding

Please think about this and consider clearing my name.

Ummm, excuse me? My misunderstanding? No misunderstanding. I have nothing against BDSM, I simply choose not to be part of it. And the point is, that is my decision. To repeatedly ask to see me (I am assuming because he sensed my insecurity and that he felt he could wear me down) knowing I was not comfortable with what he was in to shows his lack of respect for women in this industry. What I have a problem with is guys like this that take advantage of new girls trying to spring upon them requests for services that are certainly not par for the course. It is wrong. These things should be discussed and mutually agreed upon prior to meeting with someone. Of course with my big mouth I could not let this one go. Unfortunately I do not have a copy of the pm I sent him responding to the above but I know I told him everything as I have written here.

It disgusted me that he considers himself an expert in BDSM yet does not seek those services from escorts that specialize in that that service….even worse that he seeks out unassuming ladies in hopes that his control over them is not a “role play” but that he truly does have that control over her. It simply makes me sick. His final message to me was a half-hearted apology.

So, back to the party. This to me was his final stage of the game. In his twisted mind I think it is part of his fantasy. To be my first call and intimidate me the way he knew he could. To call for me again, and yet again to remind me of who he is, it was like his attempt of keeping that fear of him in me. To call for me at the second agency on my first night with them, to play out in his head the irony of my first call with him being my very first appointment. To show up at the party, the final party I will be attending when no one even knows who this guy is, to walk up to me and hand me his door fee with a big grin on his face….it seemed all part of a game. He just paced the parking lot, not talking to anyone, just paced and paced. Only, I didn’t fear him. In fact, I looked at him as a sick pathetic soul. A loser. A low life.

I told others at the party who he was. I wanted him alienated but unfortunately I didn’t get the word out fast enough. He ended up seeing a girl but thankfully she had more confidence in herself than I did when I saw him. She walked out after 20 minutes refusing to have anything to do with him and expressed her concern for his aggressiveness. I later find out he used another name to get into the party. He knew he was not welcome, he knew he was banned. He showed up anyways. Because of that, because of his lack of respect for women and the industry I have no problem exposing him here. Behaviour like this may be harmless to some but to a woman in the industry it is creepy and creepy is not what it should be about.

I won this game, but I don’t want to play it ever again. It is one of few things I will not miss about this business. The weeding out, the nervousness when meeting someone, the being asked to do things I am uncomfortable with doing. Yes, it may be part of the business and I understand that. But like any business, there is a down side. John235 is the downside.

The time has come

2007-08-05T10:43:00.000-04:00

Well, as I have said before…”Here for a good time, not a long time”. Good times were had and now it is time for me to move on. I think we should name this week the week of the dearly departed. Seeing such wonderful ladies announce their departure from this business, I realize that my time too has come. But I am leaving with no regrets, lessons learned, friends gained and a renewed sense of who I am and where I am headed in life. For that I will be forever grateful to all of you.

I created Belle in August 2005. She became someone I had always wanted to be. Confident, sexual, carefree, spontaneous and adventurous. I wanted her to take me places I have never seen, allow me to do things I have never done. I wanted her to take me away from reality and give me the fantasy all women dream of. I wanted to feel desired, cared for, wanted as a woman. I wanted to feel passion, be a part of that passion, give into that passion. I wanted an escape, a glimpse into the world beyond my own.

While Belle gave me everything I was looking for, she also gave me so much more. Things that not only did I not expect, but did not know I was looking for. She opened my eyes to what the world has to offer me. I now have an inner strength to face the world instead of cowering to its wrath. All in all, I found me. Now it’s time to see just what I can do out there.
I’m not one for long goodbyes so just let me say thanks for the ones that took the time to get to know me and open your lives up to me. I won’t mention any names, you all know who you are. I will often look back and smile at the memories you have given me. No regrets, just smiles and lots of them.

For those of you that have followed my rambling blog, thank you for listening. In the next few days my website will be no longer of use other than the main page being my blog which I hope I will still be writing years from now. My contact info, schedule, pictures and all forums will become a thing of my past, a very memorable one. I can’t tell you how much fun it has been to banter back and forth about the business, life and love. I hope some of you stick around to see where this next phase takes me.

I posted a contest of sorts a couple of months ago on my website. I asked for anyone reading to submit a perfect date scenario. My intent was to experience something I am not ready for in my personal life yet so desperately need to be a part of. Just one evening, no money exchange. The kind of date you would plan the night you propose to your loved one. I am excited to live out that “date” and have decided that that evening will be my last experience as Belle. What a perfect way to end this leg of my journey.

So, that being said, while an official date has not been set I can be sure in saying that Friday, July 13th will be my final day. Thanks again, kisses to all of you!

xoxo Belle

Wanted......

2007-08-05T10:42:00.000-04:00

Wanted.

An attractive man but one who does not spend 10 minutes grooming himself to look better than me after hours of grooming. Must be manly but with a sensitive side. Meaning, he can cry during “City of Angels” but not when he stubbs his toe. He must tell me the things I want to hear if he really means it and never tell me when he doesn’t. I don’t expect him to promise me the world but a planet or two would be nice. He must love to drive and put up with me in the passenger seat while I yell at him to slow down…with a smile the entire time. He must keep country playing on the car radio and only listen to his favorite music in the garage where I will send him when he gets on my nerves. Likely twice daily.

He must love to cook and BBQ in the summer and never expect me to do either. He must be self sufficient and have a job that works around my schedule. He must know when to say nice comforting things yet also know when to shut the fuck up. He must not require a lot of effort to make happy and be confident enough to know I want him yet not over confident where he becomes an arrogant prick. Combs in the back pocket are a no-no. He must not snore, unless I fall asleep before he does. In fact, he must massage me to sleep every night before he even thinks of resting his weary eyes. Hey, this IS my ad you know!

He must enjoy long walks. Not at the beach necessarily but hikes through forests looking for Tupperware containers filled with other people’s junk. He must not fear anything but my wrath. Spiders and snakes must be his friends, friends that he never brings home. Heck even human friends he must never bring home unless I really like them and he plans on sharing our bed with them. He MUST love the Habs. He can have a hobby or two of his own, including escorts as long as he invites me and I approve of his pick of the litter.

He must never come home in a drunken stupor unless I have been with him the entire evening. If there is a night he doesn’t come home he must pick up his belongings at the curbside prior to 8am. He must not beg to have a dog, or any pet for that matter. If he wants to take care of something…..hell….that’s what I am here for! He must never be upset when I spend money and understand that he is not allowed to spend any because I spent it all. He must never come home without a Timmy’s for me. On hot summer days a Mint Chocolate Iced Cappuccino will suffice. He must give me sex when I want it and not ask for it when I don’t. He must not look at another woman unless I comment on how hot she is first. And lastly, he must be able to read my mind.

Apply within.

Did I do that?

2007-08-05T10:41:00.000-04:00

I am going to write this blog knowing full well that I will lose all dignity but I am at a stage in the game where I feel comfortable enough to laugh and say “Ah well”. So here goes. Last night…..I peed the bed! Yes, I woke in the night, in the middle of a nightmare to realize the toilet I dreamt I was sitting on was really my bed. Although I woke just a moment later than I would have rathered, it was late enough to officially count myself as a bed wetter. I am hoping at least some of you can relate to this or I am going to be really embarrassed.

This is where I realized that I take my role as an escort too seriously. That, and the fact that I am aging and this is what I have to look forward to down the road. The nightmare. I was at an industry party. It wasn’t a public place kind of meet and greet, more like a house party for us few that hang out. There were no scheduled appointments, it was just to be a night of simply drinking and chatting it up. Surprisingly, I got a little intoxicated and felt the need to remove some clothing. Things were getting heated, the guys and the ladies feeling frisky and lacking any inhibitions. Piece by piece the clothes were coming off. I was so horny, going back to my previous blog about just wanting to get laid. I was being a tease, working up the room. Hands were exploring and just as the guy I was drooling over was about to place his hand between my thighs I realized I didn’t shave before leaving the house!

Total horror took over. OMG, this guy is going to feel stubble! I was so embarrassed and quickly closed my legs together and ran to the washroom. I tore apart the medicine cabinet, the vanity, the linen closet…every nook and cranny of this lavatory in hopes of finding a razor. He was knocking on the door asking if I was okay. I was so humiliated I told him I had drank too much and was feeling ill. But I was horny and I wasn’t about to leave without being satisfied. Talk about being all about me!

I asked him to bring me my purse and when he did, I shut the door and opened up my purse to find my tweezers. One by one I sat there, wincing in pain until I was smooth as a baby’s bottom. Barely able to move I made my way to the toilet prior to leaving the washroom. This is when I woke up. Now the timing was good…and very bad! I only dribbled and had I waited any longer, well….no need to go any further with that. BUT…I went through the pain of tweezing my most intimate areas and I didn’t get to reap my reward! I woke up wet, for more reasons than I care to think about and horny as hell at 3am. Of course I did what any horny woman would do. I ran the tub and masturbated. The first time took no effort as I was practically there. It was the second one that satisfied me before heading back to bed.

Lesson learned? Hair dye before bed is a no-no. From now on I will dye my hair in the morning so I can be horny as hell and not have to take care of it myself! Don’t be scared the next time you see me if I have green hair and a pocket rocket in hand. Just keep me busy cause if I fall asleep you will see just how wet I can really get! Omg, what has my blog come to?

Ever just want to F***?

2007-08-05T10:40:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wanted sex so bad that it physically hurt? I mean that torturous “I have to have it now” feeling? I know I talk so much about me being all about passion and sensuality only because as an SP, that is the only clientele I wish to spend time with. But I AM human, I AM a woman and lately…..I just want to get f****d. It sounds so crude I can’t even type it but I really do just want to have it all about sex and how many times I can get off, how many times he can get off and how many ways we can figure how to get there. God am I ever going to regret this post after I’ve had some sleep!

I worked tonight not only putting in my eight hours but did two hours of overtime….and I spent the entire time thinking about sex. It may sound normal for some of you but it’s not the norm for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex…..but I don’t normally fantasize about it like I have all night. I imagined one of my customers naked, not even giving up his first name. He just pushed me down to the floor, ripped my clothes off and gave it to me like I really wanted him to. I’m sure he knew I was thinking something, I could tell the look in my eyes made him nervous. Poor guy, if he only knew!

I imagined cornering one of my coworkers who seems so sweet and innocent up against a wall. I grabbed her hands, pinned them above her head and just started kissing her in the break room. I could feel her resist me, a feeble attempt to convince herself she did not like it. But as the kiss lingered I could feel her hands go limp under mine, her lips loosened up and she gave in to her curiosity of what it would feel like to kiss a woman. This thought kept me wet most of the evening.

I imagined the men who have given me my fantasies since I have been escorting. The men that have tried new things with me, who I have tried new things with. And then I relived them while my customers bitched at me all night. I don’t think they appreciated my smile back to them. It took everything I had to not touch myself.

My breaks came and I rushed to the ladies room. I was soaked each time and could not wait to taste myself. I never got myself off, just sat there and played for a minute or two before joining my fellow associates. Sex was everywhere I looked. Men, women, couples….I pictured myself having sex with them all. Well, maybe not all as there were a few that just did not do it for me. But I was so damn horny that almost everyone was a target of my desire. I was having sex on the staircase, outside on the picnic tables where I would have my cigarette, in the ladies room on the huge countertop with the mirror reflecting all things I could not see. I was so horny, it hurt.
Now it’s not like I haven’t been getting any, I have. And it’s been good. I have left feeling satisfied only to have that ache return moments later. It’s fun, but it’s frustrating. I wished I could just grab a man that I want badly and just do it. No questions, no rationalizing, no objections. We just F***. Just because we felt like it. Hell, even if he doesn’t feel like it, we do it cause I feel like it! Damn that sounds so selfish but hey, it’s my blog and I can be selfish when I want to be!

Ok, I’m going to bed with my pocket rocket now to see what else I can fantasize about. And hopefully I fall asleep right after. I know I’ll only have about ten minutes before that sex freak overcomes me again. And when I wake up, the first thing I am going to do is delete this post!

The Voice in the Woods

2007-08-05T10:38:00.000-04:00

Today was the first time in a long time that I actually felt like I wanted someone in my life. It should have been a great feeling I would have thought; to not want to be alone. I found a peaceful place to read a book while I was geocaching last week so I went back to revisit today, just for a casual stroll. I was a little too antsy to bring a book as my mind has been racing with all that has been going on in my life as of late. A mindset not ideal for delving into a complicated plot. So I just walked.

This is my happy place, the great outdoors. I feel connected and a sense of well-being overcomes me as I take in the sunlight that creeps through the tree cover above. It has always been my place to be alone, to clear my mind, to connect with who I am. I have never an intrusion here, so I was left feeling a little betrayed by my thoughts today. I felt solemn as I walked alone. I appreciated the silence but wished I had someone to share that same appreciation for the silence. This is my place dammit, my feel good place. My place where my life is not to be intruded upon. Yes, I felt betrayed by those thoughts.

We live in a world where society dictates who we should be, how we should act, what we should think. Society tells us we need love in our lives, that we cannot be happy alone. Society dictates what constitutes the norm and God forbid we live our lives outside of its expectations. Society says we should cry when times are tough, we should reach out when we feel alone. I say “Fuck society” and I venture outdoors. I like taking time out alone when I am feeling overwhelmed. When I am grumpy or angry or those days that I hate the world and feel lost, I need to be alone. I need to walk, to connect myself with the basics, with the roots of where we all come from. I find my happy place alone in nature, needing to surround myself with trees, water and silence. What I don’t need here is some nagging voice telling me there should be someone walking alongside me.

If I want to take the path to the right, I take it. I don’t want to compromise with anyone. I don’t want to justify why I want to veer to the right. I just do it because I feel like doing it. If I see a nice spot to just sit and think, I sit and think. I don’t want to explain what I am thinking about nor do I care to have my thoughts interrupted by someone else’s breathing beside me. I just want to think, by myself, about nothing or maybe about everything. Who cares? It’s my happy place and I can do here what I want to! So why the hell am I being interrupted by this annoying squeaky voice telling me I should be sharing this moment with someone? Who the fuck let society in here dammit?

There is nothing sane in here. Nothing makes sense. I don’t think like society expects me to, I don’t act like society expects me to, I am not who society expects me to be. But that is the beauty of my happy place. I don’t have to be! So why the hell did society follow me in here? I am not a conformist (in case any of you have not noticed). I refuse to accept that I need someone in my life to hold my hand. And most times I believe it, most times. But today really bothered me none the less. I feel strong for the first time in my life. I feel confident and in control. I own myself, nobody else has title on me. And no one, including that damn nagging voice, has any right to tell me I should live my life otherwise.

You likely know of the saying “That which does not destroy us makes us stronger”. It was a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche. What you may not know is that he wrote another aphorism. "The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself". I love that quote and can relate to what he is saying. Of course, he was mentally ill and institutionalized at the time of his death.:rolleyes:

Masturbation

2007-05-05T19:03:00.000-04:00

I have to say that I think masturbation is under rated and does not get the respect that the act deserves. We joke about having to please ourselves when there is no other option available but to be honest, some of my most pleasurable sexual moments have been when I have pleased myself. This is all about the greatness of masturbation:

I can make love with any man I so choose. I can hear Nicholas cage whisper in my ear, telling me he lusts for my body to be pressed against his. I can throw a coworker on the lunch room table in the middle of the day and engage in wild passionate sex all the while knowing this would never be a reality.

I can say what I want to who I want and not risk a damn thing by doing it. There is no rejection while masturbating. I am the screenwriter, the producer, the director and the actor. It’s my show, anything goes. If I want to be the star, I’m the star. If I want to be the supporting actress, then I am it. If I want to be the one who gets seduced by the sexiest man of my dreams then I let him seduce me.

Masturbation is my chance to explore sexual fantasies, things I do not find myself wanting to do in reality but just to close my eyes and experience how I imagine them to be. To be touched in just the right way, to be kissed like I have never been kissed before. There is nothing that can go wrong when it is just me, my body and my imagination. I let my imagination take me to places I would never go with another. It’s that chance to be uninhibited, to have an audience watch you perform, to be the desire of another that you know would never be.

But then, I can recreate my most erotic encounters through masturbation. Those times when I never wanted that moment to end. You know the way you feel just prior to orgasm where you don’t want it to end? I can keep myself there in that moment, hold it there in my mind and focus on just how wonderful it feels. I am in control, keeping myself from going over the edge.
Dangling there, I keep myself in that moment. Yes, masturbation is a wonderful thing.

My place of preference for masturbation is the bath. I love to lay there immersed in hot water, bubbles covering my body. I close my eyes and clear my mind of everything weighing me down. I can sometimes relax myself so well that I have fallen asleep. It’s just prior to that sleep state that I find I most able to enjoy a moment of self arousal. It’s hot and sweaty, I am relaxed and find that here, my mind is more open to sexual stimulation.

Sometimes I just like to get myself off to help me sleep. Then it’s not a matter of being relaxed and sensual but quick and to the point. It’s imagining a stranger coming out of no where, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them to the floor. There is no foreplay, no whispering in my ear. He wants me, I want him. Straight to the points he lays me on the floor next to my jeans and gives it to me. We are both rushed, our lives awaiting our return. It’s all about the destination. Who cares how we get there, as long as we do. It’s intense and it’s quick. Those times can be just as sweet as any other.

Another bonus to masturbation….I get what I want, how I want it. There is no tending to another’s needs, catering to the mood they are in. It’s perfect each and every time. I do exactly what I want to do, he does exactly what I want him to do. I can imagine him being in a state no other woman has brought him to. I am his one, his only, his best. He has never had it as good as I am giving it to him. Yes, I am the star. C’mon now, we have all gotten ourselves off to this one at one time or another!

Masturbation truly is a wonderful thing. Don’t cheapen its significance by getting off just because there isn’t another heartbeat in the room. Make it an experience to remember. Live out your fantasies. Have sex with your neighbor, your boss, the hottie at the gym. Have sex any where you want, any way you want it and with whom ever you want to. Keep those most amazing sexual experiences alive by reliving them over and over again. Feel again the kiss, the moment your bodies connect, the aching pulse as you prepare to release. Yes, sex with another is great but masturbation should not be left in its wake. And the bet part is that when you drift off to sleep after masturbation….you’re not fighting anyone for the covers!

My Life Series: Drugs

2007-05-05T19:02:00.000-04:00

I can still taste the drip. Slowly from the back of my nose it makes its way down my throat. It has such a sour taste yet its feel is so sweet. It is the assurance that the ultimate high is to come. This is the moment I live for. The moment when I feel reality drift away. I find myself in a place where I am untouchable. No one can hurt me here. For the next hour, two if it’s a good line, I am ruler of my world. Those things people say about me, they don’t hurt. Those hurtful things I say about myself, they don’t hurt me here.

No, this is my place. Here, I can talk to anyone without fearing I will say something wrong. I am alive here and more importantly, I feel worthy to be alive here. When that drip begins its travel, I begin to dream of all I want to be and believe it may happen one day. I imagine being a stewardess for a large airline. I picture myself giving the emergency preparedness speech. I have always wanted to do that. “Please note the exits at the rear (point) mid (point) and front (point) sections of the aircraft….” Yes, I would dream that was me.

Sometimes I am a teacher. 30 little faces looking up at me, soaking up every word I speak to them. I would imagine field trips, showing them the world. Teaching them how to make friends, not to bully and try to explain why there are three ways to spell “two, to and too”. Other times I am just somebody. I could never figure out who that somebody was but I just wanted to make my mark, change someone’s life, make a difference in the world even if in some small way.
But as I come down I realize I am not a stewardess nor a teacher but a coke head. I’m not changing any lives, just ruining my own. No field trips, just the field I sleep in. Bullies are everywhere, it’s a dog eat dog world out here. And the worst part is, the only exit I have is that line, the sour drip, the burning in my nose.

The above was my life for thankfully, a very short time. I knew it wasn’t me. I knew it wasn’t who I wanted to be. My friends were all addicts. I'd look around me and see parents stoned in front of their children. I would see people living off the food bank because their last bill had to be used for snorting. I knew that would have been me had I continued down that path. But I don’t regret that time in my life as it drove me to feel the way I did stoned….sober. I got that glimpse of being carefree. I could feel what it was like to be confident. I had the sense to know I could get that feeling from living life. I didn't know how, but I knew it was out there. And I am there now, without the cocaine. I think I knew one day I could do it. I wouldn’t have fought so hard for a better life otherwise.

I think we are so quick to say that life is out of our control but I know as I look back on my life I realize that most of my ups and downs were a result of choices I made. I controlled my life, even when I thought I had none. I chose to snort. I chose to stop. We chose to live the lives we live.
I hope I am not naive in thinking that drugs are not as prevalent with teens as they were back then. Wow, I talk like back then was so long ago but really just a short 15 years ago. But it seems kids dabble in drugs a little later in their teens as opposed to us kids who were smoking pot at 12. For my sanity’s sake, raising a teenage daughter, I really hope that’s the case.

My Life Series: Depression, The End

2007-05-05T19:01:00.000-04:00

I wont go into great detail here but it is something I must talk about it. I don't believe my intention was to end it all, or I am sure I would have done it. I just wanted to sleep, a very long time. After being released I kept refilling my prescriptions even though I was not taking them. Then one night I took them all. I remember being in a police cruiser, the back of it, kicking and screaming. My landlord had called them. This was different, this visit to the hospital. I wasn't admitted to Pshychiatry but to ICU. I woke up to my family in the room and wondered what was going on. What scared me was I could not feel my legs. I had lost feeling from my mid section down. This led to 13 months of therapy before I could stand on my own two feet again. But that was my road to recovery. Quite frankly it scared the shit out of me.

I never went back to the Morris wing. I wanted a better life. I took the scenic route, but I got there. I learned what I could handle and what I could not. I learned my triggers and most importantly, I learned what depression was. I don't think depression ever goes away. I know that I do not handle stress like most do because of my experience with depression. My fear of living that life again is so great that now, I can't feel. My mind doesn't let me go there. If something hurts, I turn it off. No, I don't deal with things that way but I am surviving...and doing so happily so it works for me.

Then I met my husband and I quickly learned to respect my father for all that I put him through. My husband was a victim of circumstance and a shitty childhood that he could not let go. The depression he suffered not only ruined his life but our marriage. No, I will not shun my part in the marriage breakdown but ultimately it was my inability to cater to his depression that did it. One thing we must learn as a society dealing with those suffering from depression is that we cannot enable them. It's either shit, or get off the pot. My husband would do neither so I got off the pot. Or is it, I shit? Either or, I had to leave. He would not help himself, no motivation to live a better life. Because of that he held me back from my life. I had to live his disability and I could do it no longer. I'm still here for him and I still press him to get help but I don't live his life anymore. He gets suicidal, I tell him to do it. Cold? No, not at all. He is looking for attention as I was all those years. I now tell him to get help or don't come crying to me....literally.

Depression is a horrible disease. It's not like a broken bone that is guaranteed to heal in six weeks. We need to talk about it and help those who suffer from it. But we also need to force them to deal with life. Not with hospitals, not with drugs but with a motivation for a better life. It may not kill them in the literal sense but it WILL kill their spirit, and who wants to live without a spirit? It can be beat and there is so much to life after depression. But I also know it will always be a part of me. Depression was my first introduction to myself. It made me aware of who I am and I think was the start of the journey I am on today. It is a marker in my life of a place I never want to go again. It keeps things in perspective for me and I need that.

If you know of someone suffering with depression, befriend them. Be there for them, hug them and lend your ear to them. But don’t be afraid to tell them to shit or get off the pot. Sometimes it’s the push they need to get on with life. As a side note, I have no qualification to professionally give that advice. I just know that I could have been spared a lot of BS many years ago had I had someone there to give me a dose of my own medicine. But then again, I never would have learned how to do a wheelie in a wheel chair either. :P

My life series: Depression Part 2

2007-05-05T19:00:00.000-04:00

It was pretty routine, breakfast, meds, lunch, meds, dinner, meds. Day in, day out for 8 months. I opened up a little in that time but not to the staff. It was the patients I was most drawn to…surprisingly many of them just slightly older than myself. They understood what a bad day meant. They didn’t push me to talk. If I wanted to sleep, they let me sleep. But we did talk and I know now just how much I needed their companionship.

There was an older guy in there. His name was Charlie and he was very musically inclined. He’d sing and strum his guitar in the evenings as we all sat in the smoke room. I taped him one day just before I was released. I still have that tape to this day. I will never forget his voice. Then there was the married couple, both of them drug addicts. They came and went throughout my eight months stay. It was them who taught me how to play euchre, a game that became a daily routine…again in the smoke room. They both overdosed together about 10 years later. It could not have been a more perfect ending for them though, they lived and breathed one another in life and I’m sure they are together in death.

Then there was a guy I eventually fell in lust with. I’ve never spoken of him before but he was my crutch for a very long time. His name was Kipp and he lived for red socks. Yes, it was his way of keeping sane. Apparently his social worker once told him, “Go to your room and find something there to live for and think of that item on the days you feel unbearably suicidal”. He chose red socks.

There was a divorced woman whom I grew quite close to. Alcohol and depression were her sentence. I went to school with her youngest daughter. Long story short….she later married my father. There was a young messed up teen Amy. Her sentence was a life sentence. Bad hit of acid and she never came out of the “trip”. Didn’t know her name and always stole my toothbrush. Sad story, hers was. That was and will be her life for ever. Thankfully mine has a happy ending.

It was a different life in there, being isolated from the world. It was safe, no one could hurt me there. If I was feeling things I didn’t want to feel I would tell my doctor and he’d double up my meds. I had control, even when I really didn’t have any. Atleast, I felt like I had control. Months passed me by, months of white walls, waking up in the night to the screams of a new admission. Then I met Crystal. Don’t let the name fool you. On the birth certificate the name really read : “Daniel”. The biggest issue there? Which washroom should it use. Staff agreed that either/or was appropriate. Crystal was the “freak” of the group. You’d think Bob was but no, he was harmless entertainment. Crystal was just plain…..ok, not fair for me to judge.

Crystal would do my nails, fix my hair and tell me wild crazy stories of life on the streets. Crystal was known for “cutting”. Overdosing on Secanol and using a razor blade to slice his/her body. I’ll never forget walking into the washroom to see blood all over the tiled floor, Crystal slumped over the toilet. Scheduled for a sex change, he/she was in the midst of gender transformation. Very confused, very lost but somehow made me feel so much better about myself.

Then there was Jennifer, who is still my best (and only) true friend from my early years. She and I shared very much a similar childhood so we could relate to one another. Our paths have crossed several times over the years and we still talk atleast monthly. She saved me from myself. I’m not too sure how, but I know she did and I will be forever grateful to her for that. Ok, a little off topic.

I don’t think, even after eight months of being institutionalized I fully understood depression. I knew I hated life, I knew I hated myself but I also knew I’d never have the balls to end it. I was finally released and thought I could put the experience behind me. What I did not think about was what I had to deal with when I went home. Now I was the freak. Of course, the only one in my circle of friends who was certifiably crazy. The gossip of the neighbour hood, the gossip of school and now I found myself totally alienated. I had never thought about what I was missing while I was on the inside. The reality hit me that my life was about to change, and not for the better.

I tried going back to school. Aside from my boyfriend who still held my hand in public, no one would speak to me. I heard them whisper when I walked past them. Friends I had known for years totally alienated me. I never felt so alone. So, it was back to the cemetery. Day, night, next day, next night. I would nap there in the sun. I would eat my lunch there. I was obsessed and quite obviously out of control. My father had me re-admitted after three months of dealing with his rebellious teenager.

Same people, give or take a few. But this stay was not a vacation like the last one. What scared me most was I was comfortable being there. It had become my comfort zone. Again, no one could hurt me there and I didn’t have to feel. Feeling sorry for myself, I spiraled down….way down. Now I was depressed. I cried all day and became quite physically ill. I did become educated though in pharmaceuticals. It was a drug store, a live in drug store. This time there was no therapy. It was all about meds, but they worked. I was numb.

I was eventually allowed day passes. I could walk around the hospital grounds, visit the coffe shop and slowly integrate myself into society. I had a tutor from school who would visit me twice a week to keep me abreast on my studies. Although, I really didn’t care. Long story short….for the next 2.5 years I spent about 6 months in total out of hospital. I was dependant. I needed those white walls to survive. Each time I left, I returned more messed up. Then I tried to end it all.

My life series: Intro

2007-05-05T18:59:00.000-04:00

My life series. I am going to venture out a little with my blog. A big part of my writing is for you to get to know me as something more than just an escort. For me to hopefully shed some positive light on escorting by opening up my life for you to see through my eyes. To better understand why I do what I do and how important these experiences are for me. As I reflect on where I was, where I am now and where I hope to be in life I realize that this journey for me started long before escorting. I am just now starting to correlate life events, moments in my time and how they have directly or indirectly paved this road I am traveling. I have given you a bit of insight into the friends and the loves in my life that have profoundly influenced me but have never really painted the whole picture.

Life. We all must deal with general issues in life. These things are not specific to you or I, there is no one that is exempt from these things. Life throws at us issues that we, as a society must face all of the time. I have made a pact with myself to not let these events take over my life. I am learning to own my life, accept my faults in life and in return I find I am gaining control of my life. I have never felt in control before. I have always played the victim, the one that cries “Oh poor me”. The one to always make the claim that no matter where I seem to be, that imaginary black cloud follows.

I have looked real deep lately to see what I do not like about myself. Things that I know I need to change if I am to better my place in life. Things that limit me from going after my dreams or that have impacted my life in a negative way to where it has hindered me from moving forward. Things that can be fixed without surgery of course. And I found that everything I want to change, from the way I think to the way I feel and act, I can relate to a life event or life issue that has made me that way. So I figure, if I can work through or at least better understand my part in those events, perhaps I can move past them and become a better, happier and more grounded person for it.

I will title each blog entry relating to these issues, “Life Series.....(topic)” so that if you are not interested in reading these entries you can skip over the posts. They certainly won’t have the sexual erotica that has come to be expected of my usual writings. Please don’t feel the need to read them, discuss them or give them a second thought. It’s simply a “me” process, moving forward one baby step at a time. If anything, I hope it inspires some of you to do something of the same. If you’re unhappy, don’t accept it….change it. Make a conscious effort to give yourself a better life. Take control, we all deserve that much.

These entries certainly will not replace my usual writing by any means. I need to reflect on Belle’s experiences just as much as I need to reflect on my personal experiences. I hope in my writing, you will find a way to relate at times to the things I am trying to say and if anything, simply continue to respect that there is no right or wrong. I write about my life through my eyes and as most of you have already become aware…..my eyes tend to be a little clouded over at times.

Belle

My Life Series: Depression Part 1

2007-05-05T18:54:00.000-04:00

My life series: Depression Part 1

Have you ever been treated for depression? Have you ever had a loved one who has been treated for depression? I think most of you can answer yes to either/or. Depression is finally being talked about. It is being recognized for what it is….a disability. It disables your thinking, your ability to function at times. It damn near killed me as a teen and played a very large part in the breakdown of my marriage. Because it has played a major role in my life, it is something I feel worthy to dedicate a blog entry to.

I was sound asleep in my bed. No, it wasn’t even my bed but it was the bed I slept in for about a year. My father had custody of me, we lived in a motel. It sounds horrible but really, it was alright. We had a kitchenette, it was close to where my younger siblings lived and very near to my friends and school. So I was sleeping, when I heard my father come in fairly late. I was 14 at the time, my first year of high school.

My father was a fire truck chaser. Some of you may have had Dads like this, or are those kind of dads. The ones who listen faithfully to that police radio (although I don’t think this is as easy as it was back then). He’d listen to police chases and when he happened to catch an address for a fire near-by we’d hop in the car and go. It must have been not too long after I drifted off when he came into my room. He mumbled something about a shooting, a 14 year old in our town. I went back to sleep without computing much of what he said.

The next day I caught the bus to school. I skipped first class as I always did and walked to the coffee shop around the corner. I waited for my boyfriend who had a second period spare. There were a group of kids mingling around the doors, some crying and others just looking devastated. The story was that a very good friend of ours and his buddy were playing with a BB gun that our friend was given that night as a birthday gift from his father. The gun accidentally discharged and shot him in the chest. He died instantly. His life ended that night and at that moment I wished mine had too.

I didn’t know what was happening to me. I spent weeks visiting his grave site. I’d read to him, we always wrote poetry together. Times were much different then. From morning to night I would visit with him, I just couldn’t let him go. I had never dealt with death before. I certainly wasn’t doing it now. I’d go to school once or twice a week but I wasn’t really there. Then I lost it. I was in the girl’s washroom. I started to cry and I could not stop. I don’t remember this moment but was told I just began screaming.

The school nurse came in, an ambulance was called and when I arrived at the hospital my father was there. I was admitted to the psychiatric unit for depression. My dad stayed with me for a few hours. I really didn’t know why I was there, but at the time I really didn’t know what had happened at the school. I had totally blacked out. I chalk it up to a mental overload. My mind just shut down, I could not take any more. It sounds crazy, I mean what kind of stress can a 14yr old have? No bills, no car, no pressure. All I know is at the time life didn’t feel so black and white.

So that night I found myself sleeping (a drugged sleep this time) in yet again, a bed that wasn’t mine but became my place of rest for the next eight months. This is when I learned what depression was all about. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. A doctor visited me every day to order a new set of medications that were to make life more bearable. But the reality was that I was in some horrible place with people much worse off than I have ever been, even at my lowest point. I was surrounded by alcoholics, drug addicts and even a guy named Bob who swore he was Christ. I did have some fun with him. No, not that kind of fun…. sex with God? I could never!

The next eight months was a lot of group therapy and one on one counseling with a social worker. She was so phony, I saw right through her. It was pointless for me to be there but I did learn a lot about life in a short amount of time. I was a phase three which meant I was not allowed my own clothing. Nor was I allowed a razor or any electrical item with a cord. They called it the “suicide watch”. My fun was limited to hiding in closets and under beds when it was time for my 15 minute check-ins by the nursing staff. The rest of my time was spent in the smoking room. Yes, a smoking room dedicated to us on the Morris wing only. Could you imagine 30 psychotics going through nicotine withdrawls? I’m sure it was in their best interests.
My father would visit me every day, as did my boyfriend. What a dating experience that was! Bet noone could ever top that one. But, he stuck by me.

We never talked about why I was in there really. He was just there and it was comforting that he was. Most times I was stoned. It was easier to keep me drugged then to actually work through the issues that brought me there I suppose. I was stubborn. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to get better. I just wanted to wallow in my own self pity just a while longer. So that I did.

Documentary Filming

2007-05-05T18:51:00.000-04:00

I have to say that filming this documentary was a bit intimidating as I had no idea what to expect. I was excited to share my story yet feared the consequences of doing so. I will explain in a little more detail why I let the excitement override the fear. Many of you have asked how I could risk everything in my life for the sake of 15 minutes of fame. I don’t see it that way, perhaps I should.

I decided last minute not to film in my home. I know, many thought it was a bad idea to start with but that is not why I opted against. A few things were sprung at me the day or two prior to filming that made using my home impossible, my kitchen renovations being part of that. So, I booked a room for two nights at my favorite hotel and called Carolyn, the co-producer and asked that we move locations. Not a problem she assured me, and we were set.

I was heading out of the room, about to grab a quick cigarette to calm my nerves when I ran into the co-producer Carolyn Schmidt walking towards our hotel room door. She greeted me with a smile and a friendly hug as we walked into the room to await the crew with their equipment. Not being comfortable with idle chit chat until I took in some nicotine, I excused myself for some fresh air while Carolyn scanned the room for an idea of how to set things up. That’s when the butterflies hit. I had felt pretty calm up to this point. I suppose keeping myself so busy prior to filming didn’t leave much time for freaking out. I was making up for it now.
I stood outside the back door entrance to the hotel while I watched the crew unload their van, chuckling somewhat at the fact that I knew who they were yet to them I was just some woman out in the rain giving way to her filthy habit. I mistook the audio controller for the producer, apologized, then introduced myself to the real producer Mr. Duncan. We chatted for the next few minutes while I puffed the last of my butt and we headed for the room.

Inside, the crew were taking apart beds, positioning lights and adjusting the cameras. It was an awkward feeling to know this work was being done for me and the story I was about to tell. Don’t get me wrong, it was exciting to be a part of, just a little intimidating. I am used to giving what is expected of me but for once I found myself unsure of what was expected.
Mr. Duncan invited me to the lounge for a coffee while the team finished up so we spent that time talking about his experience in the business, his travels and his work. It was quite amazing to learn of his life and his view of the film business. The crew was ready so we headed up to the room. A table area was set up with flowers that I had brought with me, a gift from a good friend. Tropical “Birds of Paradise” in bright orange blooms contrasted with the most beautiful pink roses. A perfect touch that complimented the background quite nicely I thought.

I sat in the hot seat and was fitted with the Mardi Gras mask I had brought with me. Anonymity was key but I preferred to do it in a playful way as we felt that shadowing or pixelling would appear seedy and untrustworthy; an image I did not want to portray. I was explained the process, prepped on where to keep my eyes and to just talk as though there were no cameras, no lights and no film crew tuning in on my every word. I thought it would be easier said than done but once the conversation got flowing it really did seem quite natural. Eventually the camera disappeared, the lights dimmed and it felt like I was talking to an old friend.

As for the questions that were directed at me, they weren’t things I had to think about. They were all about my blogs, my views on the industry and the way I choose to run my business. There were a few challenging questions that I hadn’t ever given much thought to but I think I was true to myself in my answers. That is all I wanted to do. Be honest, be real and tell society that we’re really not bad people. Escorting is not dirty. It is not seedy and in my opinion it is not immoral. I am proud of what I do and I think I made that point quite clear.
We discussed how I made the decision to escort as well as my first date. That one was difficult for me as I did not want to talk about the negative side to what I do but I suppose it’s not a true picture if we did not address both sides of the coin. I was asked about my clients, who are they and what their story is. Not anyone in particular but simply as a whole, the type of clients that choose to see me.

Next we moved on to a few blog entries, making it obvious that they had done their homework. The blogs they were most interested in was “Choice, not circumstance”, “GFE/Emotion”, “What am I worth?”, “Exploiting to succeed”, “Society and sex” and “Why escorting?”. I won’t go into where these discussions led as I’m sure if you have read my blog you know the opinions I have about these aspects of the business.

We spent some time elaborating on other issues that actually gave me some great blog ideas. The friendships I have made, how I would handle my daughter expressing her decision to escort and what I plan to do with my life when Belle decides to retire. I had expected to leave the filming crew having answered all of their questions but I did not expect to leave with questions I didn’t have the answer to. It just proved to me that I still have a lot of things to learn yet. Not about escorting, but about me and my life. Questions are good, without them I would have all the answers. Having all the answers would make my journey complete and I’m not so sure I’m ready for that quite yet.

When I walked out of that interview I felt proud. I hope I do not sound arrogant in saying so. Aside from knowing I am a wonderful mother to my children, I have not felt that sense of pride in myself. I have come along way since I first posted to the review boards introducing myself 20 months ago. I have opened my eyes to what the world has to offer me. I am learning to understand the need to let people in and I am giving myself the ok to be selfish at times, to do what I need to do for me to be happy.

It doesn’t matter to me what happens from here as far as the documentary goes. They may air it, they may not. They may edit 99% of the rambling I did. I may be outted and lose my job. I may be recognized from time to time when I am out and about. Again, I don’t fear that. I am trusting my inner sense that there is something out there waiting for me. Something bigger and better than I had ever imagined. I hope it is to realize my dream to write but whatever it is I early anticipate it.

Or…my life will fall apart and I will find myself living in my van down by the river humming the song “I’ve had my moments”. If that is to be the case then I hope I don’t run into someone as cold as me who refuses to reach into their pockets for spare change. Either way, I know I’ll be smiling, that’s more than what most can say about their lives.

The documentary will be airing on CTV primetime in about six months. I will leave the link to DocTV below for anyone interested in their previous work or to learn more about Co-Producer Carolyn Schmidt and Producer Robert (Bob) Duncan.

[url]www.doctv.com[/url]

I am Da Man...again

2007-05-05T18:50:00.000-04:00

I am Da Man! Now the last time I wrote with this title it was about a very erotic experience for me. Unfortunately, this time has nothing to do with being naked but the experience itself gave me quite a laugh.

Ever watch a man while he is working around the house? All us women know how it starts off. Typically it’s weeks of pleading and begging to get the project done. He keeps putting it off until the week prior to that big event you are hosting in your home when he finally decides to pick up the hammer. That was me. Begging and pleading with myself to put all things on hold to get my kitchen done. Finally, just over a week to work with before I have the documentary crew coming to my home I decide to gut my kitchen. I am Da Man.

I pick up the hammer and start with my kitchen cabinets. My home is of older contsruction, my cabinets made of a tin and wood combination. The hammer wasn’t working so it was a short trip to the basement work bench and I returned with a crow bar. It was a great start and I managed to loosen the cabinets from the wall but could not get them damn things free! I went back to the basement and returned with a second crow bar. I am Da Man.

2 crowbars in hand, I use one as the lever, one as the destructor. When neither/nor worked I reached for the hammer. Board after board my cabinets came crashing to the floor. It wasn’t without a glitch here and there though. One of the base cabinets tore apart my wall, the curse to having plaster walls. A few times I swung the hammer a little too hard to add to the holes in the wall. A few times I may have uttered a few foul words. I finally decided that the walls must come down too. I am Da Man.

Cabinets down, dust in the air, it was time to remove my tin drawers. This is where I learned to appreciate the profoundness of foul language! Yes, I swore like a trucker. I also found myself talking to the damn things. “C’mon you sonnabitch, you’re coming down whether you like it or not!” Whether you like it or not? Did I really think the cabinets had a preference? Then I started to get personal with them. While prying them apart with the crowbar and swinging aimlessly with the hammer I was screaming at them! “Listen you b*****, you’re not going to get the best of me. I WILL get you off my frigging floor and before you know it you will be sitting at the curb side with the rest of ‘em. NOW-STOP PISSING-ME-OFF!” Yes, apparently they have a stubborn side and were chuckling at the sight of me. I took offense to this. I am Da Man.

Four hours in and finally my walls had nothing attached to them. It took me another two to take down the walls themselves. That’s when I stepped on the nail. Read the above paragraph, multiply by ten, add ex’s steel toed work boots to my feet. Now the floor. I know the tile guy said to use a skill saw and cut 6inch sections through the 2 layers of vinyl flooring then lift it up but no, I must do things the hard way. Peel away the vinyl, use the crowbar for the plywood, peel away the vinyl…and of course that last damn layer of plywood just didn’t want to lift. I was kicking, pounding, cursing. Took a break to turn my music up then cursed some more. 3/4 of the way through I had had enough. 2 cuts on my hand, a hole through my heel and a splitting headache I reached in the fridge for something to drink before I plopped myself on the couch. A beer. I have never had beer in my house. Can you believe that? I have never sat down and had a beer in my own home! But since there was a few cans left from the last house tour, I brought them home and put them in my fridge. I must have known I’d have a moment like this. I opened up the can, put my feet up on the coffee table and as I was looking at the oversized, well worn steel-toed work boots on my feet I thought to myself, “I am Da Man!”

If you will excuse me now, I am about to have a shower and head to the nail salon to get a well deserved manicure and pedicure. I need to wash “Da Man” in me away and reclaim my womanhood. :rolleyes:

Where did my "Get up and go" go?

2007-05-05T18:48:00.000-04:00

I have always considered myself to be quite driven. I have ambition, love a challenge and certainly do not shy away from a little dirty work. I can survive on very little sleep, assuming I am to be personally rewarded by the project at hand. It was always my dream to own my own home, a goal that took me many years to reach.

I have lived on my own since I was 14. I went from living in the woods (my father kicked me out and rightfully so) to rooming at the YWCA while I participated in a “workfare for welfare” program. My first apartment was rented when I was sixteen, paid for by a jackpot winning at bingo. I moved several times, from low income geared housing to my first real apartment that I paid for with real hard earned money at 19. Those five years of being on my own is where my dreaming started.

I loved having a place to call my own. It belonged to me, it was mine. I could paint it any color, I could rearrange my furniture three times a week. I could burn my pretty scented candles, I could invite friends over for coffee. I was a grown up and it was fun to play house. As I matured through those years I began to dream of more, as we all do. I wanted a house I could call my home. I wanted grass to cut, a fire pit in the back yard. I wanted a barbeque and a front porch. I wanted two stories, a huge yard and yes, the white picket fence. It was a dream for me but things had not changed much for me financially. It was pay cheque to pay cheque just to make the basic ends meet. But it never stopped me from dreaming to one day be a home owner.

At 22, I finally bought my own house. Still no money to do much with it, but I owned it. I spent 8 years in that home. I didn’t do all that I wanted to do, but I did realize that grass cutting wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. My home I am in now, I bought almost 2 years ago, just before I started in this business. It was a steal of a deal. You know what that means. It was a fixer-upper…a money pit. Kitchen needs to be redone. House has not seen fresh paint in about 50 years, lime green was everywhere. Kitchen was wallpapered with tin cabinets throughout. Unfinished basement full of mold, unsafe outdated wiring, over run 60x234 lot and driveway that was worse than driving through the outback.

But….it has five natural bedrooms, a full kitchen with separate dining room, a fire place, a full basement. A large lot with potential for a beautiful deck and hot tub. It has 1800 square feet of everything I always dreamed of owning, just in need of a little TLC. The difference between this house and my old one? I now have the money to fix it up but where the hell did my drive go? I don’t know where to start, so I started everywhere. Started stripping off the tile in the bathroom until I decided the bedroom needed some work. Started stripping off the paneling on my bedroom walls to leave that and paint the upper bedrooms. One coat there and it was down to the living room with a fresh coat of mustard yellow. Then the kitchen. Oh my lord. My poor kitchen.

I bought new cherrywood kitchen cabinets and granite countertops last November. Finally, just this week, I opened the boxes and began assembling them. I got bored so I stopped that to put the second coat of paint upstairs. Back to the cabinets and as of last night…they are done! Yes, I finally finished something I started! So, I needed to get a “pass through” cut out of my kitchen/dining room wall. The original plan has a bar top of sorts to be put in here with a few stools on the dining room side to be used as a breakfast nook. Problem is….I reformatted my computer and in doing so, lost the kitchen plans. So I hired a contractor and told him to “just figure it out”. He started riping down my wall to prepare for the cutout and somehow in the meantime convinced me to put in new porcelain tile flooring before the cabinets. So we started lifting up the floor.

Then the contractor tried screwing me over so I fired him. Now I am left with nine days to fix a broken up wall, lay new plywood in my kitchen, lay 165 square feet of porcelain tile, install 18 cabinets that are currently not-so-strategically placed throughout my main floor, tear up and remove the boxes and bubble wrap that have taken over my home, paint each room that remains half painted and instead of being productive I’m having a smoke, drinking my Timmies saying “Fuck it!”. Not the most mature approach but considering my only other option right now is laying on the floor crying in the fetal position I figure I’m doing all right! All I wanted was to cut grass damn it!

I am looking for a "date!"

2007-04-08T17:54:00.000-04:00

Here is something new. It sounds a little off the wall but I am going to propose the idea anyways. Before I go into details I want to explain that this is not a “just for fun” post. It is something I have spent a long time thinking about and I am serious about it. You all hobby for a reason. There is something you are looking for, something you want to get out of the experience. I am no different. I have been so lucky to experience things I never thought were possible. I sat down a few weeks ago and asked myself what a perfect evening would be like for me.

If I were to book someone for four hours, what would make that four hours perfect for me? Then, after making up my “perfect date” list I asked myself how I could make this come to be. Something I am sure you have all done yourselves. Your answer is likely to call a lady or an agency, discuss your desires and play it out. So, I am going to do something similar, but you are going to do my homework for me. Here goes:

I want a perfect date. Someone like me, who shares the same desires. Let me make this point clear. Not someone who wants to give me what I desire, but someone who has the same desire. I want this person to be about passion and intimacy but be grounded enough to know it has nothing to do with emotion. This experience is to be about two sensual lovers, deeply connected for the evening. An evening like you would plan the night you intend to propose….without the proposal of course! Bring a ring and I will kill you!

I am looking for someone who feels they are exactly what I am looking for, someone that thinks they can give me my fantasy. It must be with someone who can completely let themselves go, give up their entire being to me as I will to him. This is strictly to be a mutually consenting evening, no money will be exchanged between us. It will be a one time thing and will not go any further than being a great memory for both of us. I will spend a lot of time deciding just who I think would best suit me for this “date” and it will likely take place in July, plenty of time for the both of us to make our schedules meet. If you think you might be interested, you must reply to this post! Be creative, be honest and have fun with it! Here are the rules: (and I reserve the right to add to this list at any time….because I am a woman and that’s just how we are!)

1) You must have submitted a reply to this post to be considered. I want to know as much about you (as you are willing to share) and what you would be expecting out of this evening together. Those details can of course be sent to me in an email, but to be fair you have to make your interest known in this thread.

2) I will provide the room and the beverages.

3) All things considered, this will still be a business arrangement (aside from the fact that there will be no monies involved). Therefore, all rules apply. Respect, hygiene, boundaries, intoxication etc.

4) No skill testing question to be answered, but a testing of skills may be requested! (Just kidding!)

5) Please don’t respond if you are just out to get a few free hours with a woman. This isn’t about you…it really is all about me this time! I’m a Leo, and I can be quite demanding, so be sure you are up to the challenge. This is not about sex. It is more about creating an illusion of something that will never be. Being part of something that isn’t, but feels as though it is. I want this to be intense, passionate and erotic. If that doesn’t make sense to you, then please do not respond.

6) As for specifics for the “date”, I’m not going to provide any. Because if you are the perfect “date” for me you will know what to do to make this the most memorable evening for me, for us.

7) You must be willing to allow me to write about our evening together (completely anonymously of course) either in my blog or in my book. I am hoping to achieve something very personal by doing this and hoping even more so that it will be so amazing that I want to share it with others.

8) I will announce my decision on May 31st. That gives both of us plenty of time to plan for the “date”.

9) I require an email address for any of you that may be interested. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them, I can guarantee that I will have many for you!

10) If you know me, if you have taken the time to not only read my blogs but to read in between the lines of what I write, then you will have no problem understanding what I am looking for. I hope to make this fun, for all of us! Let me see those resumes!

xoxo Belle

The business side of Belle....

2007-03-29T09:41:00.000-04:00

A little bit of honesty here in how I choose to run my business. Please notice how I say “how I choose”. I am not going to say this is the norm, that all ladies in the industry choose to do business as I do. But for me, who I am and what I am comfortable with it can only work the way I do things. So, to set the record straight and not leave any room for surprises, here are a few “Please do and please don’ts”.

1) Do email to say “Hi”. Introduce yourself, say how you found my name. Tell me why you would like to see me, or comment on if we have met before. Anything, just be casual and respectful.

2) Don’t let your first email correspondence with me (or any correspondence for that matter) be vulgar and request intimate service details. I can tell you right now I will not respond. And when I don’t respond, I hope you are angered. You tainted my day, I hope to taint yours.

3) Do call when you have your hotel and room info. If I do not answer, which I can almost guarantee I won’t, please leave a voice mail. Don’t be afraid of the beep! Some say they will not get a room unless I answer my phone as they are afraid of getting stood up. Then I say, please don’t see me because I cannot guarantee to answer my phone so why waste my time or yours? How is it you can trust me enough to see me but not enough to show up when I say I will be there? I have worked hard for my good reputation in this business. I sure didn’t get it by not showing up!

4) Don’t expect me to chat about sex prior to meeting you, or after for that matter. Yes, I enjoy sex. But it is not my life and does not impress me at all that it seems it is all you can relate to me with. I don’t answer my phone for this very reason. I have no will to sit and chat about the things we will do together when we get together. If you have a certain request or an honest question then email it to me and please do so respectfully. I have no problem with that but there is a certain way to handle these things, me listening to you breathing heavily into the phone as you get yourself off is not my thing. Leave that part to me…when we meet.

5) Do your research. I have utilized every avenue possible to make it clear of what an experience with me may be like. I have my website, my blog, 4 review boards and 2 emails. The information is out there for you to use to decide if you think you may enjoy spending time with me or not. I am bluntly honest about my description and my boundaries. Take a little time to find these things out so you are not let down when I show up without the whips and chains.

6) Don’t expect me to do coffee, breakfast, lunch, dinner or walks in the park with you prior to or after meeting. My time is very limited. I justify my time away from my family and home duties by getting paid for that time. I have a full time job outside of escorting, 4 children at home and one with a disability. My life is busy and demanding. I do not have room in my life for dating nor do I have the want in my life to date. Please do not be offended when I turn these requests down, I don’t have time to do these things with friends in my personal life let alone Belle’s life.

7) Do call to set up an appointment if you have no access to email and it is a last resort. But please be specific and understand that discretion is very important to me. So if you do not leave a time to call you back, a number to call you at, your name and specify exactly what it is you are looking for I will not return your call. I will not return a call if I do not know who to ask for. I will not return a call (even if the number is on my display screen) unless you give me express permission to do so. A simple “Hi, Belle, call me” will not do. Tell me what day and time your were hoping to see me. I will not discuss services whatsoever. I will simply discuss my schedule briefly. And as my voicemail states, it may take awhile to get back to you. I may have appointments throughout the day or family obligations. My cell is strictly for business. When I am unable to take business calls my phone is off and usually sitting on my desk at home which can sometimes be most of the day.

8) Don’t expect me to take same day appointments. This is seldom possible for me. I do not sit around my house waiting for business to come in. I get many emails asking me if I am available on Friday for example. I respond with a yes and the times I am available. The gents says he is thinking about 2 pm but will let me know. Then Friday comes, he calls me at 1 to say he has a room. He is then upset with me because I told him I was available but did not answer my phone at 1. Please keep in mind, if you inquire about a day and time and I respond that I am available, that means that at the time I responded I was available. That does not mean that 2 days later that time is still available. I do not put times aside because someone has inquired about them. I will post a note in my calendar for that time but if I get a concrete booking and have not heard back from you I will take the latter. Come the day prior, if you and I have not confirmed the appointment, I will assume there is no appointment.

9) Do know that I love what I do. I have a lot of fun and so can you if you just please respect my wishes. While neither of us cares to look at this as a financial arrangement, a cold business transaction the reality is that it is business. If we can get this stuff out of the way and have a mutual understanding prior to meeting, it will make our time together less awkward and much more enjoyable for the both of us.

10) Don’t be offended by what I have written. I hope that by saying here the things that need to be said it will avoid awkward one on one moments for both of us. Please understand that I do my best to be relaxed going into an appointment. It is very hard for me to do that when you answer the door and start drilling me about what I will and will not do, my rates, or mention having coffee after. It is putting me in a very awkward position. I don’t like to have to say, “Sorry Hun but I have another appointment after this one”, or “Sorry, but my kids have soccer practice” or simply “Sorry, but I’ve had a real crappy day and just want a Timmies and a smoke” ….any more than you would like to hear it.

As of late, these issues are becoming increasingly difficult to deal with. I know my blog is a big part of why this is such an issue. I have opened myself up to all of you in a way that most ladies in the industry do not. I do that, in the form of a blog because that is the only way I am comfortable doing so. I need to share with you the things that I do. I love opening up for discussion the many facets of this business, of life in general, that many want to talk about. But that part of me is separate from my business. I take time out of my personal life to discuss these things but I have to keep that side of me separate from the business side of me. I hope you can appreciate and respect where I am coming from.

Me and strip clubs...then and now

2007-03-26T23:18:00.000-04:00

Strip clubs. I had never been to a strip club prior to escorting. Since then I cannot count the number of visits. Sometimes it has been a meet and greet that has brought me there, other times I have visited while on business. Belle has made herself quite familiar at the Penthouse, almost like a second home. She knows many of the girls by name and even has her select favorites. She has been on stage with bills in her mouth, she has been in the back room to share a dance or two. Yes, Belle has the strip club lingo down pretty good.

Belle’s first night at a strip club was nothing short of sexual torture. Much worse than being bound and teased. Ropes define what can and cannot be done. But a beautiful woman tantalizing you with her long legs, supple breasts and hair flowing across your chest all the while knowing you must have restraint is the real torture. You have to rely on self discipline, it’s a rule and Belle thinks rules are made to be broken

I thought before going into my latest experience, I’d post an entry I made on a review board. I took some time to search NERBS to find this post, I wrote it just after Belle’s first experience in a strip club, at a Nerbs Meet and Greet Event.

Belle wrote on March 24, 2006: (omitting names originally used)

Ok, so I know I'm not a pro at this sort of thing so guys, help me out on this one.I walk into the club with a true gentleman and good friend and there before me are these beautiful women scantily clad. Handsome men all around, some familiar while there are others there that i'd like to get to know better. I give my round of hellos and hugs. Nervous as hell I see my sweetheart with the most amazing hands that make me melt so I pull up a seat. With my drink ordered I see this most sexy woman who makes me wet just by her sweet smile. And now the heat turns up. My palms get sweaty. The lights are flashing, erotic ladies working the stage, clothes flying....it's all a blur.

Before I know it I'm laying on the stage with a bill between my pursed lips, another down my shirt, another just slightly peeping out of my pants. I am soooo nervous but no fear as Kaylee is laying next to me with this beautiful naked woman caressing her inch by inch with her tongue.My turn, as Kaylee leaves me alone on stage!!!!! My heart races as my shirt makes it's way to my neck. The wetness of her tongue I can feel against my waist, Ohhh how I wanted to touch her soft sweet smelling body!!! She makes her way to my breasts, gently plays with them, her tongue so soft just the way I like to be caressed. Her breasts sway over my lips and I fight so hard to be still and not return her sweet kisses. Her lips on mine and I have totally forgotten I am on stage. The music stops, she whispers a soft "Thank you" and there I am left half nude on stage and embarrassment sets in!

I quickly make my way back to my seat, never so eager to light up that cigarette nor down a drink the way I did! I did it! My first time ever being on stage! I enjoyed it so much that when offered a second round on stage I jumped at the chance! I am no longer a strip club virgin now that I have experienced both the back room lap dance and the stage...or so I thought! Next thing I remember it's dark. I'm on a couch/seat in a dimly lit room sitting next to a very handsome gent. This same beautiful woman is dancing. Her hips swaying to the music. She is so sensual and I am in awe. After my begging eyes give away my extreme desire to caress her soft skin she tells me to please go ahead.

Her curves just so, the way her bum so nicely meets her legs. It's really hot in those rooms!!!! My shirt is off, then my bra and somehow my pants are just below my hips. No need to tell you just how wet I am at this point but to say I am very aroused by this experience. I am given the opportunity to taste her sweet body with my tongue, her arms, her legs, her supple breasts. I do believe my hands were everywhere, not too sure just where I wanted to rest them. Her legs, then between mine then to the nicely erect appendage I found beside me! So sensual, so erotic and so very, very hot!!!

The music stops and we kiss a sweet thank you kiss. I am dressed, sitting back in my seat, smoking that cigarette I so rightly deserve after being treated to nicely and I think to myself.......wow!!!!So here I sit at home in front of my computer, alone in this unstable state of mind very, VERY sexually frustrated wondering WHY DID THEY DO THIS TO ME?????? I feel soooo sorry for the gentleman I am seeing tomorrow afternoon and if he is reading this.....I can guarantee there will be no relaxing massages this time!!!!!! So my question is........you guys LIKE doing this to yourselves???? I am going CRAZY!!!! Good thing is I have a new toy that needs breaking in. No wonder they call them strip teases! These places should not be legal! Just driving home in such a mental state is worse than being intoxicated.

So, here is my plea that I will be taking to our government.......For the sanity and sexual gratification of all "Private Club" members I feel it should be mandatory that all entertainers must finish what they started!!!!!!! Off to bed I go................and not alone (unless inanimate rubber objects don't count as companions).

As I read that I go back to that time when Belle was still a separate identity. She was a name, a part of me but a part that I didn’t connect with. I kept her at a distance….quite frankly because she scared the hell out of me!

It’s now a year later. It’s a short time really, one year. But I have come a long way in that one year. And maybe comparing strip club experiences is an odd way to determine how much one has grown interpersonally but here is what I write on my most recent visit to a strip club:

Writing of March 24, 2007:

It’s another Meet and Greet event. I could meet up with everyone at PE 55 where the event is to start out but the problem is that it would require me driving out of Niagara Falls. So I decided to hit the Penthouse in hopes that the party would carry on there. I sit in my van and prepare myself for entering the strip club alone. What if no one is there? I know the clubs do not like women entering alone so I join a group of couples walking through the door. I get in and the place is packed.

I head to the bar to grab a beer as I scan the crowd for a familiar face…that was not one of a dancer. No one. Not one person could I recognize. I had just paid $5.00 to get in and another $5.75 for my beer, I might as well hang out for a bit. I headed to the other side of the club in a last ditch effort to find a friend, an acquaintance, hell…a co worker…just someone to sit with so I didn’t stand out. So there I sat, a lone stool pushed up against a wall, just me and my beer. I was nervous at first, not wanting the club to be upset that I was a lone woman there. They look at me as a threat. Not that I look like a dancer by any means but a single woman is likely to scan the club for men and take business away from the ladies.

I finished my beer and ordered another from the waitress. I was becoming frustrated with the young ones in perv row. Getting all excited, their little willies forcing them to jump up and down, they are now blocking my view and pissing me off. I see a table in front of the stage clear out so I make my move. A beer and a half, a perfect seat for viewing and I’m now feeling much more comfortable. I think it was at this moment that Belle left the building.

The next 3 hours were spent either up on stage or in the back room. While my favorite dancer Portia was not there, I made a few new friends. Caitlyn and Jordyn took very good care of me while on stage. Their routine together was oh so sweet but so much better when they performed for me. Soft lips and perfect bodies, what more could I have asked for.

I never met anyone there, I spent the night alone but it was an amazing moment for me. It was me, not Belle. I had nobody to impress. No need to put on a show or be something I am not as no one knew me there. So while I’d like to say it was Belle as this is usually her thing….the truth is Belle was no where in sight that night. It was me and I had a most amazing, hot, erotic time.

Yes, I still left the club at closing time sexually frustrated but I also took with me a confidence that without Belle I would not have known I had. I have accepted myself as I am. I have become comfortable just being me and not having to use Belle as an excuse to be sexually aggressive or adventurous. When I got home I wanted to research my post about my first strip club experience and the irony is that my first visit to a strip club was one year to the very day that I went to the same strip club alone.

Just one year I went from the shy girl who would not go on stage alone, who was so embarrassed to be in such a place in fear that someone would recognize me to being a woman on stage, alone and hoping I would run in to someone I knew to share the experience with. It was different being there alone. I had to find a woman that would watch my purse each time I went on stage, I had to specify to the waitress that I would be right back, not to take my beer (I learned this after the first 2 she took from me). I had to explain to the doormen that approached me 2 ½ hours after I sat down why I was there alone and give them my ID.

A different experience than any other but one that has ended an inner conflict I’ve had for some time. This life I am living, Belle and her adventures…they are all a part of me. My wants in life, my needs in life. We don’t have to be so separate. What I have done as Belle I have wanted to do as me but never had the environment where I felt safe to do it. I can only hope that when Belle has finished with this business I have learned how to step out of my safe zone without the need to hide behind another identity, another persona, another life. I can only hope. But one thing is for sure….I’ll never give up strip clubs, alone or with friends!

My life vs. a non-escort's life

2007-03-24T03:35:00.000-04:00

I have been thinking lately about how society as a whole views escorting and have come to realize that the life I live as an escort really is not that much different from how most young single women live their lives. So let’s break down my day and you tell me how different my life really is from most other 32 year old single women.

1) I wake up, drive to Timmies for my morning tea, return home and light a cigarette while I wait for my computer to boot. Hmmm, Ok, maybe most women make their own tea. That doesn’t make me a bad person, maybe just a lazy one.

2) I check my emails. Ok, most of my emails are men asking me to have sex with them where as most young single women wish most of their emails were from men asking to have sex with them. That doesn’t make me a bad person, just a lucky one.

3) I shower and shave, give my hair a toss and put a little color on my lips. Most single women shower, shave, moisturize, blow dry and curl their hair, apply 3 layers of makeup, douse in perfume, and dress provocatively in the hopes of getting laid. I dress down and know I am getting laid. This doesn’t make me a bad person, it just reiterates the fact that I am as above: Lazy and lucky!

4) I get plenty of sex, so when I visit the gym I do so to relax in the hot tub. Most single women go to the gym in hopes of finding sex, their idea of relaxing is the cigarette they get to smoke after the act if they are successful. That doesn’t make me a bad person, just a relaxed one….and my exercise comes with much more pleasure than a treadmill could ever provide! And as for the cigarette….I sometimes even get to smoke DURING the act, another “lucky” stroke for me!

5) I make sure my purse has condoms in it before I leave the house when I know that sex is of high probability. I would like to think that most young single women do this too. That doesn’t make me a bad person, but a safe and smart one. And my condoms are flavored which shows I have more taste than most young single women!

6) I go to work five days a week. Yes, a real job outside of my escorting. Hmmm, again it sounds like something most young single women do. Maybe not only am I an escort…but I am “real” too! Is it possible that I am very much like most young single women? Surely not….. I am an escort ….I must be a bad person. Let’s carry on.

7) I go out to hang with friends, have a beer or two and a few laughs. Ok, so most of those friends I have slept with. Most young single women…. they do not speak to men they have had sex with in their past. Think about it. How many young single women do you know that have sex with men, end that sexual relationship with them then hang out together? I don't involve emotion which allows me to avoid awkward "after-sex" moments. Not expectations afterwards=no awkward "after-sex" moments. That doesn’t make me a bad person, just a mature one perhaps.

8) I go to strip clubs. In my defense….I hear this is a growing phenomenon with young single women! (Just go with me on this one, ok?) Does that make me a bad person? I would prefer to think of it as a sexually confident person who can appreciate the art of a woman’s body. Ok, and perhaps a little risqué, not that there is anything wrong with that!

9) I don’t have relationships with the men I sleep with. Do many single young women do this anymore? I think casual sex is becoming more the norm. And for the ones that do have relationships……why? So you can get all emotional? So jealousy can set in and you wonder every time he runs late if he is sleeping with someone else? To tell your life story, having to explain who you are, where you come from and where you’re headed in life all for him to decide he doesn’t approve of you and your choices in life. Me, I have nothing to explain. The men I see…..they know all that they need to know about me, before they even meet me! If they don’t accept me, they have made that decision without me even knowing it! No relationship=no pressure. Does this make me a bad person? No, just an emotionally guarded but sexually satisfied one.

10) I get paid for sex. Most single young women obviously do not. This seems to be the big issue. First of all, every woman who is having sex, is getting paid for it, just indirectly. Do you think if you walked up to a young single woman and asked her to have sex with you she would say yes? Likely not. You would have to ask her out for dinner at least once, a few drinks, the movies, a walk on the beach, candlelight, a few more drinks…..all those things you really don’t care to do not to mention it’s time consuming. My arrangement as an escort just speeds up the process. The same amount of money involved but we cut the bullshit. That does not make me a bad person but one that values her time and her self worth…..and doesn’t care much for beaches.

So, as I see it I am lazy and not big on beaches. But I am also a lucky, relaxed, more lucky, safe, smart, real, mature, sexually confident, risqué, emotionally guarded, sexually satisfied young woman who values her time and self worth. Can most young single women say they are all of the above? I really hope they can. I may not always be as I have described but I can say that the last thing I am is a bad person.

Now if I could just convince 6,525,170,264 people (the world’s population as of July 2006 according to https://www.cia.gov/cia/publications/fa … nt/xx.html) just how much I am like them my mission will be accomplished. Excuse me while I brush up on my Arabic, thank God I speak Greek so well. Russian will be most difficult for me though, I think I may need a translator!

Montreal: Bricks and Bouquets

2007-03-20T09:25:00.000-04:00

Bricks and Bouquets. Most newspapers have a section like this. It’s giving thanks where thanks is due and giving the finger where the finger is due. So here’s my thanks and my fingers.

Bouquet to the Montreal taxi driver Peter who drove from his home in Laval back to the airport to deliver my purse to me (with all money) that I left in his cab when he dropped me off. Had it not been for you I never would have made my flight.

Brick to the strip club doorman in Montreal (who never held the door) and insisted that it is customary to tip the doorman. Hope you had fun on your hands and knees looking for the loonie that was flipped to you, be thankful that was all that was flipped to you.

Bouquet to the Montreal Canadiens; they not only played an awesome game but also spent so much time after practice to stop and sign autographs. They made my first trip to Montreal a most memorable one. Also a bouquet to the fan club forum members who told me where to find my team!

Brick to myself for not taking the time to learn more French before visiting a French speaking province, especially after the time I spend cursing those in Canada who do not take the time to learn English yet expect me to be able to understand them.

Bouquet to the restaurants, Bell Centre staff , hotel employees and most everyone I encountered in Montreal for being bi-lingual. You made up for my ignorance.

Brick to whom ever gave me this damn cold that slowed me down while I was away!

Bouquet to the company I shared for being so understanding and taking great care of me.

No more bricks but here are a few more Bouquets:

Bouquet to Tim Horton’s for being on every street corner in Montreal.

Bouquet to the memorabilia shop at the Bell Center, you satisfied my shopping cravings. Thanks for doing your best to find a sharpie for me for autographs. While we came up short handed your efforts were appreciated.

Bouquet to Westjet. Our flight was delayed by 2 hours but you managed to get us on an earlier flight that was boarding as we arrived. I would have missed the chance to meet my Habs without your help!

And a final Bouquet to the city of Montreal, a beautiful city to visit. While it was a short one I was able to take in the beauty of your buildings and capture the atmosphere of a city with an olde town feel. I can’t wait to do it again.

Brazilian waxing...it's just WRONG!

2007-03-20T09:23:00.000-04:00

Brazilian waxing. Sounds exotic doesn’t it? Well I am here to tell you there is not a damn thing exotic about it! In fact, I don’t even see anything Brazilian about it! For those of you out there that do not know what a Brazilian wax is I’ll spell it out for you. P-A-I-N. No pretty way to spell it out. It is having your hair ripped out by its roots in your most private of places, from the very front, to the very back.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Ya know, women really get the shit end of the stick. We’re teens and we hit the cramps that come with womanhood. Every single month (and for most women, 30-40 years of this) we put up with bloating and the muscle spasms that would send most men to the ground in the fetal position. Then our chest decides it’s going to grow these lumps. They don’t happen overnight and if you have luck like me these growing pains come the same time as the cramps every month. I really got the shit end of the stick here as I got the chest pains but the damn lumps never came!

Then we voluntarily decide to have an eight pound body live within our own. We now suffer back pain and nausea like no man could endure not to mention the pain of our internal organs being rearranged to make room. Then we spend many excruciatingly painful hours getting these eight pound beings out of our bodies. Not only do we do this once but for some of us, over and over again! Then we nurse these babies, which brings about a whole new set of stomach pains, not to mention more chest pains. I’d like to say we escape all of that with no scarring but no, we get that too. If we happen to be spared the scarring we still walk away with a detailed road map of our journey.

Then you men tell us that when our beaten bodies finally make it to bed, we are not smooth enough! So this is where I am at tonight…the wax.I hate shaving, I hate trying to keep up with shaving and I hate paying $15 for four “triple blade” razor blades every couple of weeks. Rumor has it that the “Brazilian” is the way to go so I thought I might as well give it a try. It may just be a small price to pay to avoid the daily shave. Well it ain’t no small price to pay! (Yes I’m aware that is not proper grammar but give me a break, my pussy is swollen and it’s not from great sex!)

I walk in… the spa I am visiting for the first time is the home of a very sweet woman. It’s nine pm, her last appointment of the day. She then informs met that the construction crew on the second floor has been told not to interrupt. I am about to be bare-assed naked in the middle of a living room and a simple staircase is the only thing that separates me from a crew of men hammering on the floor above me. You would think I would be comfortable with that, after all I never have so much as a sheet between complete strangers and myself but that is Belle and this is me.

She asks me to strip from the waist down and lay on my back on the massage bed she has prepared for me. I felt like being at the doctor’s office with the same paper they use running the length of the bed. Sanitary at least. We chat as I watch her stir the pink wax and slap it on my pussy with a popsicle stick. A sheet of something (looks like paper, but just what is it they use?) is then placed over top of the wax. She presses hard and runs her fingers up and down this sheet to be sure the wax has blended well. Then one, two three and RRRIP! My eyes must have bugged out of my head. My knees curled up to my chest and every muscle from my thighs to my chest convulsed. I looked down and there was a 3cm by 3cm strip gone. Do you know just how many 3cm by 3cm strips this took? I didn’t have the patience to count but it was a lot! RRRIP after RRRIP after RRRIP for 20 minutes. My entire body was in a sweat, so much so that when she asked me to roll over and stick my ass in the air, the paper sheet I was laying on had stuck to my back like toilet paper on stubble. Which was a good thing as it gave me a few minutes to look for my eye balls on the floor while she cleaned off my back.

I am telling you, the shit us women endure just to make you men happy damn well better not go unappreciated. So the next time you find yourself in bed with a woman who has a nice smooth pussy, please recognize what she goes through to get that way. Oh, and to the ladies out there….a little piece of advice. Shoppers Drug Mart sells an aloe gel to use for minor skin abrasions, sun burns, chafing etc. Don’t use this crap after waxing, it has an antiseptic that stings like a son of a bitch! I’m off to pamper my swollen but smooth as a baby’s bottom pussy now….

My escorting resume

2007-03-20T09:22:00.000-04:00

To Whom ever may be considering hiring an escort:

My name is Belle and I am looking for a position within your company, or some company to be in a position with me. I prefer Doggy Style but Missionary pleases me just the same. I have 16 years of sexual experience. From August 2005-February 2006 I worked for an established escort agency in Niagara where I worked my ass off to build a good reputation. From February 2006 to present I have worked independently, still working my ass off, but with no middle man having his hands in my cookie (jar).

I am looking for an employer that would offer quick advancement and I am not above sleeping my way to the top. In fact, I prefer to start on top but if I must work my way up then please put me in a lower entry level to start. I can be a slow learner if I am enjoying my lesson but if required I can work well under pressure too. It just so happens that my best work is done when direct pressure is applied in just the right places.

My qualifications are extensive. Last year I obtained my masters in BBBJ. I also hold multiple degrees in M.S.O.G. I took my training further by acquiring a few personal interest courses which includes D.A.T.Y, (both shipping and receiving) as well as L.F.K and D.F.K. I am only qualified for CFS and have no intention on removing the C from my title. I realize it may better my resume to partake in C.I.M but with my other studies I just don’t see that happening. I received my masters in Duets just last week from the School of C & D, excellent instructors there I might add. While studying a broad I also picked up the Greek language and speak it fluently. My credentials include the first ever S.P.O.T.Y award for Niagara Region in 2006, a title I wear proudly. Oh…..and I don’t like pearls but I specialize in G.F.E.

I am intellectual and am able to hold excellent conversation, even with my mouth full. While I do not swallow I can spit like a ball player. I am always on time and I never punch out early, even if my job is done. I clean up after any messes made, even if I am not the one to make them. I work well in a group setting, especially with naked women who don’t mind a little hard work as I will guarantee they will be satisfied with the result of their labor. I do not believe in misrepresentation so I will not pretend to be a nurse or a secretary or anything else I am not for that matter.

I realize how important repeat business is for you. I like dealing with hard clients and the challenge of keeping them coming and coming and coming again. For insurance purposes I cum fully protected and will not do business otherwise. I am willing to provide a list of references upon request but would prefer to prove myself to you with a physical demonstration of all of my skills I possess. I do believe hands on training is a must and am willing to undergo any physical training you may feel necessary. I have worked alone for many years and while I have never let myself down I believe in team spirit…. the power of sex in numbers.

Thank you for taking the time to review my resume. I hope we can meet in person to fuck and even if I don’t get the job hopefully I walk away having had a great orgasm. While I am a company person, when it comes down to it it’s all about me!

Give me the gloves and no one gets hurt!

2007-03-20T09:20:00.000-04:00

I have become one of them. You know, those people that really piss you off when you are shopping. I hate to say it but those old ladies finally got to me! This is totally out of context for my blog but I have to vent. I’m in Value Village. Yes, my favorite shopping place…. until today when I realized that at 10 am the place is full of white hair, glasses wearing old bitties pushing 4 wheeled go carts. These ladies are nuts.

I’m coming down the aisle, the very narrow isle and assuming that sweet ole’ grandma is going to move her buggy for me. I politely sit there a minute and see she has no intention of doing so. I politely say “excuse me”, she pretends not to hear me. I know when someone is pretending not to hear me, my kids do it to me all of the time!So I wiggle my buggy into the clothing racks on my side of the aisle and fight the old lady blouses that keep getting caught on my buggy. I give her a dirty look, give her buggy a deliberate push and carry on. I could not believe how pissed off this made me. I have a grandmother, and my 94 yr old great-grandmother (God bless her) is still with us. They would never think of being so rude to someone!

So, I find some clothes for my kids and a pair of boy’s gloves for my son. Walmart seems to think it’s 80 degrees out now and have put away all of their winter clothing so as Murphy’s Law would have it, my son lost a glove. It was a great find, damn I love Value Village.So, I find a few pairs of jeans I would like to try on. I park my buggy outside my change room door and head in with my jeans. I don’t like any of them but it’s no surprise there as I never do. I walk out….and my buggy is gone! No big deal under normal circumstances but I want those gloves! I am pissed and I’m on a mission. I start storming through the aisles checking out every white haired, glasses wearing buggy pushing 70 year old I can find. Up one aisle, down the next and up the next. Sure enough, by the old bitty shoe section I see it. The blue finger of a glove sticking through the bars on the bottom of the buggy. Yes, an old lady was too damn lazy to walk 20 feet to get her own friggin buggy so she took mine.

I shopped for 45 minutes to find those damn gloves and I want them! I think old people are getting away with too much these days. Someone cuts us off and we’re pissed…till we see the white hair and glasses barely peering over the dash. Why don’t we ever pull up beside them, stop our cars and confront these reckless people. “Excuse me old man, but you just friggin cut me off, anything you’d like to say to me? And don’t pretend you can’t fucking hear me damnit!”

Ok, a little extreme maybe but hey….it’s my post and I can vent if I want to! So, back to the glove. I walk up to her and I politely (yes, I am keeping my cool here) explain that I think she may have accidentally taken my buggy while I was changing. Yes, you got it. The bitch ignored me! So, while she was trying on an old bitty pair of shoes I started digging through her cart and grabbed the gloves as well as the 3 other pieces of clothing I placed in there. Well….you’d think I just robbed the woman! She starts yelling at me to get out of her buggy. I try to explain at first but then I say to hell with it. Not only did I grab the clothes I had put in there but I grabbed a sweater that she put in there too! I walked away snickering to myself at the thought of her checking out at the register and wondering what happened to her multicolored striped sweater. I hid the sweater in the kids section then checked out.

I sat in my van, lit a smoke and laughed hysterically. At what I am not so sure. Because I took her sweater? Because I hid her sweater? Because I am such a freaking idiot? Either way it gave me a good laugh. Some days I just don’t feel like being nice.

Belle

The couple call Part 2

2007-03-20T09:18:00.000-04:00

I had started writing this some time ago. It was originally going to be about a couple I had seen for the first time. Now, having just recently seeing them for a second time I realized that the story gets much better the second time around. No introductions that need to be made. No wondering what each of them enjoys or what their comfort level is. We really clicked the first time we met. There was no awkwardness, no one felt out of place. We all belonged together, naked in that bed. It was natural, an added bonus to have an experience like that.

Our first meet was set up by the lady. She wanted to surprise her husband by giving him his fantasy of walking into the room to find his wife naked in bed with another woman. Who was I not to play along? We spent a few minutes getting to know each other before he was to arrive. We kissed and I knew right then we would have a great time. It wasn’t long before we were naked under the sheets perfecting a most passionate kiss.

We hear the key in the door and the fun begins. He walks in and stops at the foot of the bed. A grin takes over his face, he appears impressed with the conniving ways of his wife. We say a quick hello and I return my lips to the wet ones of the beautiful woman lying beside me. The sheets are drawn, our legs brushing up against each other as we press our bodies close together. I can’t keep my hands from stroking her soft skin. As we kiss I listen to him undressing. I could hear him pull his pants from his legs. He lays them down and I can feel him crawling up from the foot of the bed.

All he does is touch her and she lets out a moan. His hands over her body I then I feel the warm wetness of his tongue directly on my clit. No warning, no working his way to me. He was just there, out of nowhere, tasting me. Our time together that night was nothing short of erotic. Lots of he’s, she’s and me’s followed. She and I pleasing him, him and her were pleasing me. She and I pleasing each other, he and her letting me watch their love making. It was a wonderful night for me, so how could our second time be any better?

An email from him. He wants to surprise his wife this time. They would be spending the evening at a strip club, then returning to the room. The plan…..to have me waiting in the jacuzzi tub upon their return. We met in the afternoon for me to get the room key and the plan was in motion. I spent the whole day thinking about what was to come. I arrived a half hour before they were expected to. I undressed, hid my clothes then drew a nice hot bath. I poured myself a glass of wine and slid myself into the tub.

Right on time, I hear them at the door. The unsuspecting wife makes her way into the bedroom area and I hear them mumble. He asks her to come near him to see something. As she steps closer he opens the French style windows to show her his gift, me! She shrieks and has a puzzled look on her face at first. I imagine with the drinks consumed prior to returning to the hotel her first thought was a dead body in the tub. She looks again and shrieks a much more delighted squeal. Yes, she was definitely surprised and seemingly happy with her gift.

A minute for them to undress and they were lying next to me in the bath. We talk about the planning of the surprise and he tells her how much he loves her. That is what is so amazing about this couple. Their love is so strong it truly is an honor to be asked to share in their most private moments. Her and I kiss, caress and quickly decide this must move to the bed immediately.There was no need to work into the mood as we were all wet and ready before things even got started. She rested her body over mine as we settled in for a very erotic kiss. You know, that kind of kiss you just do not want to end. We make sure he has a great view of this and spend a fair amount of time smiling, pausing to look at each other then back to the kiss.

He takes my thighs into his arms, wraps around them and quickly realizes how wet I am. He takes his time tasting me, nice and slow hitting all the right places in just the right way. My body is sweaty after soaking in the tub so long and makes for smooth gliding as she slides her body against mine.

She works her tongue down from my lips, chasing the beads of sweat that roll from the nape of my neck. I apologize for tasting sweaty but she does not seem to mind. With my eyes closed I focus on their tongues working hard to please me. It amazes me that they have asked me to join them for their pleasure yet they spend so much time pleasing me. He stands up and walks around the bed where I eagerly take him into my mouth as he bends over my body to caress my waist and thighs with his hands. Her moist tongue against my clit, it’s almost unbearable for me.

Then the most amazing sensation I have ever experienced. She kneels at my side on the bed and lowers her pussy to mine. She spreads her lips, I spread mine and her clit presses against mine. Instantly I felt this strong muscle spasm, so strong it hurt but felt so damn good at the same time. I ached so badly to cum like this. I have thought about this very moment many times before but never have I had sex with a woman in such an intense way. She is upright on the bed, I am stretched out flat. Our clits rubbing, our juices mixing together and I watch as she presses harder and harder into my pussy.Her rhythm picks up faster and faster as she lets out desperate moans. My arm wrapped around her thigh, my hand on her perfectly rounded bum, I grab hold and return her thrusts. I can’t hold it, I can’t wait for her. I felt so selfish but she simply drove me crazy. Harder, faster, harder and I was there. It was one of those mind blowing orgasms and it lasted several minutes. I could feel it in my stomach and down to my toes. I could feel my body tremor, if I could only have her feel what I felt that very moment.

With me fully satisfied I felt guilty to have been so selfish. But it ended the most perfect way. I lay next to them on the bed and watched them make love. It is one thing to watch a man and a woman have sex. Yes it’s very erotic but to watch a husband and wife make love takes that experience to another level. The way they look at each other, it was not just sex I was watching, it was love and it was so beautiful! We spent the last few minutes in the most amazing embrace, she on one side of me, he on the other. Their hands gently caressing my stomach as my hands made their way up and down their backs. I watched them look at each other and listened to them declare their love for one another. I envy what they share, their passion and their trust. I don’t live with many regrets in my life but I do regret not fighting for that in my marriage. Yet while that thought saddens me a little, it also solidifies what I want in my life. It’s something we all yearn for, we all want, we all need. And when I am ready for it I sure hope I find it. Love. Unconditional, no holds barred, take me as I am kind of love.

Belle

Phone sex boy

2007-03-20T09:13:00.000-04:00

Ok, if you do not remember the Phone Sex Guy, then you have to go back to that blog entry in November and read it before you read this one. Mr. Morals, Mr. Old Fashioned, Mr. So Damn Hot He Drives Me F**** Crazy! He is also Mr. Untouchable. A friend from a different world than this, a friend from my world. You know, my world of laundry and occupation, PTA meetings and coupon cutting. That world where having sex any where but a bed is to be considered dirty, something bad girls do. I think I have established that I am not a bad girl…….haven’t I? Hmmmm. Anyways…..

He called me up out of the blue the other day. It just so happens we are both off work right now and he was wondering if we may grab a movie one night this week. We set it up for last night. He sends me an email in the afternoon asking if he would be safe with me. Poor 'noble' man seems to think I am some savage beast. I assure him I can be a lady when I need to be. I send the reply then chuckle to myself. “Can I?”

So, this is what us women go through when we get ready to meet you men. Each scenario comes with its own set of rules. This night calls for dress down, but not too down. Enough makeup to hide the slight, or not so slight imperfections but not too much where it says “come get me”. No perfume as we all know it is a lure to get you to come closer. Hair must look natural. I can’t appear to have spent any time on it. Showered and shaved. Ok, one can dream…I know it’s a waste of my time thinking he may get that close but hey…..

Nails are done. I’m dressed in a casual but attractive knit sweater and long flared jeans. Winter boots/slight heel. Hair is semi-pulled back, a light coloring on my face. Matching under garments (ok, I can fantasize too!). Condoms, check. Wait a minute. Wrong world. Take them out of purse. Dream some more and put them back in. Grab my smokes and I am off. Damn, I feel giddy like a school girl. Only difference is a school girl has a chance at getting some. I’m giddy over knowing I’m not! Why can’t I be like most normal women?

I get to the theatre and park my car. Light up a smoke and walk to the doors. He’s nowhere to been seen and I stand there like I probably did a dozen times or more some 17 years ago waiting for a tall slender boy with blonde hair who had me thinking I knew what love was all about. Now, 17 years later as I ponder that thought I wished I was still so naïve. He comes walking out to me, we say our hellos and in we go. The movie was great. A Nicholas Cage flick, I am so in love with him! Cage, not the Phone Sex Boy that is.

I hadn’t realized it, but Phone Sex Boy (see, I can write like Belle De Jour) points out that I have a death grip on the popcorn. I promised to be a lady, to behave myself and control my sexual aggressiveness….the popcorn suffered. But my hands were still, something very difficult with Mr. Cage on the screen and Mr. Untouchable beside me. Thankfully the movie was great and it kept me mentally stimulated for the time I sat there.

Movie over, we head to the parking lot which we are parked at opposite ends of. He walks me to my car and I drive him to his. We sit there chatting about life, as we always do. The conversation turns to sex, as it always does. Sound familiar? If not, then you didn’t read my Phone Sex blog like I told you to! He knows just how I ache to be with him. This has been going on between him and me for almost two years now. He finds it funny; I just don’t see the humor. He asks why I have this thing for him, what’s the fascination? I still can’t answer that really, but maybe it is because I know I am protected with him. I want something only because I know I cannot have it. Maybe it’s because he plays hard to get, or in his case impossible to get. I know we will never have sex, it’s not about that at all for me. I just want to feel him touch me. And even more so, to kiss me. Not that hard, crazy ‘we have to have sex now’ kind of kiss, but that soft slow passionate ‘I just need to feel your lips on mine’ kind of kiss.

Somehow the conversation turns to masturbation. I may have been the one to bring that up. Yes, I do believe it was me. Hey, I was in agony there, truly regretting my choice to wear the knit sweater! He tells me he has never watched a woman masturbate. Bingo! I have now found a way in. Masturbation, just like phone sex, is safe. It’s still within the boundaries and does not pose the risk of either of us getting into something we are not ready for. My hand wanders down my thighs as I hum along to the country tune on the radio. I turn my head and ask him if he is okay with where this is going. He smiles and nods his head. “I AM still a man you know!” Whew. I was thinking he might be gay. (Not that there is anything wrong with that!)

I soon learn to regret wearing my slightly tight jeans as well. While I enjoyed writhing my clit against the crotch seam, it made for awkward positioning when trying to masturbate in tight quarters. It’s funny, I haven’t done this sort of thing in many, many years. You know, the school girl movies/sex in the car thing. It was kind of exciting to do what teenagers do. Worrying about that car driving by, employees peering in the windows. Not that the latter would have been a problem as the windows were steamed over before long. He laid my seat back for me and asked if I minded that he watch. Little did he know I was doing this for him, not me. Yes, it felt good but it wouldn’t have felt as good if I didn’t know that he was watching something, being a part of something sexually that he had never been a part of before. Another cherry of his I took.

He raised my sweater and rested it higher on my chest to get a better view. I closed my eyes and let my mind imagine what he was thinking. Any red blooded male would be somewhat turned on by watching a woman masturbate. He was definitely a red blooded male. I’d look at him every once in awhile and just smile. He commented several times about how difficult it was for him to watch, to hold back and not participate. I told him it wouldn’t be so exciting if it was easy. He did offer his hand. He placed it on my knee and began lightly running it up and down my thigh. I finally felt his touch. I didn’t realize how much I needed to feel that, just to know that he did want me even though he could never have me.

His hand worked its way to the opening of my jeans. He held it open for me for a while as I took my time working myself up. Against his better judgment I’m sure, his fingers caressed my skin. I could have cum right then. The nights I have been in bed imagining his fingers taking the place of mine. I removed my hand as his took over. I turned to him again to be sure he wanted this to happen. He smiled so I took it as a yes. I spread my legs for him to work his fingers into me, to feel how wet he makes me. My eyes closed, I let him take me to that place he has unknowingly taken me many times before.

I imagined how I would feel to him. I imagined the battle he was going through. His body telling him he wanted me like I wanted him. His mind telling him to hold back, to stick to what he believes in. And in all of that he is trying to rationalize his boundaries. Just how far can they be pushed? Where does he draw the line and this game of ours is no longer in his comfort zone? I let him take the lead, this is all about him and where he wants it to go.He goes from being soft and cautious to deliberate. He wants me to cum for him and I am ready to give him that. Faster, his hand rubs my clit. He has found the spot, the way I like to be rubbed just so. My hips thrust into his hand over and over. He slides his fingers down and into my wetness. I can’t hold back any longer as I finally release, feeling my muscles tighten around his fingers. He enjoys feeling how wet I am for a few minutes before he removes his hand. I light a smoke and thank him. He leans back on his seat with a bewildered look on his face. I think he’s not too sure how to take me. He's seen Belle’s world. Something far from what is normal for him. He believes sex should always take place in a bed. The things I could teach him! But then, he knows me as most of you do not. Quiet, reserved and shy. He seems confused yet curious about the two. As I am smoking my cigarette I notice just how hard that made him. I reach over to feel him as I look at him to be sure he’s okay with it. He doesn’t resist so I don’t stop.I spent an hour just rubbing him. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t say much either. Every few minutes he’d tell me how hard this was for him and then apologize for not being able to let it go any further. I tell him not to. I find it even more alluring that he does not cave in, not that I would allow it to happen anyways. I respect him too much to cross that line and take advantage of his weakness. He does unbutton his jeans for me. I leaned his seat back for him. I see it in his face, him fighting to not bend the boundaries. I ask him if he is okay to just lay back and relax, to trust that I won’t do anything but what I am doing right then. He lets me take over, closes his eyes and visits that place I was just an hour ago.Again, like the phone sex it sounds so mechanical. There was no kissing, and while I wanted him to kiss me so badly I knew that wouldn’t have been safe for me. There was no sex as he knew that wouldn’t have been safe for him. But again we connected in a way that we got what we needed from each other without going outside of those boundaries. I don’t think anything else beyond what we have experienced together would be as satisfying, physically or emotionally. I never got that kiss but maybe that’s the best part, the fantasizing about what that kiss would be like without ever going there with him.

To share a relationship like this with a friend is something on a whole different realm that what I have ever had before. Don’t we all want that in some way? To be able to explore our passions, yet keep our limits? To see just how far we can push them yet trust each other enough to stop before things have gone too far. Some friends are great coffee partners. Some friends are great f*** buddies and some friends are great to talk to. Then you have friends like Phone Sex Boy who are just great. Great to hang out with, great to sit in the theatre with and great to push your limits with. We spent four hours in that parking lot.

Again, we spent a lot of that time in silence but that silence said everything. It’s not always about what is said but what goes unsaid. It’s those times in silence with him that I learn more about me. I like to give to him these experiences for his personal satisfaction but I know I am the one who walks away more satisfied.

Belle

I've had my moments

2007-03-20T09:10:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I was on my way to St. Catharines and a song came on the radio. I had never heard it before but the lyrics have played over in my head. It is about a man walking across a bridge, he’s ready to end his life. He is followed by a homeless man so he reaches into his pocket to give him the change that he won’t be using anyways. The homeless man says to him “Looking at me you wouldn’t know it but I’ve had my moments. I haven’t always been this way. Moments like when my son was born, the plane ride coming home from the war…I’ve had my moments.” It is a beautiful song and for some reason it touched me. (It’s called “Moments” by Emerson Drive).

I went to the Seneca Casino a couple of nights ago to spend the night. As you know, I do not like to drive so I was dropped off at the Canadian side of the border and walked with my shoulder bag and my laptop across the bridge. It was about 6pm, just beginning to get dark. I passed through customs and headed for the casino, only a ten minute walk or so. Just up the street I passed a black man. I looked at him and nodded as I walked past and he stopped. He said “excuse me ma’am, no need to be afraid of a black man.” I wasn’t sure what to say but apologized for appearing to be afraid of him.

We stood there on the sidewalk, a few feet from each other as he told me of how he stopped a woman up the street to say ‘Hello’ and she cursed him, calling him ignorant names. I then apologized for her behavior as well. We talked a minute about race and society as he fidgeted with a manila envelope he was carrying. He told me he was a 50 year old man and that he was not a bum. He told me about his family, talked a little about God and then began to explain the welfare system in New York.

I thought of this song that for some reason stuck in my head the first time I had heard it. The words were so profound, and as this man was telling me his story I swear I could hear it playing. I’d hate to sound like ‘one of those people’ but it was like a sign telling me to help this man. He told me how welfare could not give him money without a mailing address and proof that he paid to live there. He then told me that the YMCA had a program for the homeless and that they rent rooms out at the rate of $14 per night, and they would allow him to use their address to collect welfare.

Ok, I know where this is going and what he was asking me. And he could have been shooting me a line of crap, but my instincts told me he was sincere. And while he was talking to me I was uncomfortable. Not so much of him, for some reason I did not fear my safety with him. But then society came in to play. I thought, if I am to give him money I will have to put my laptop on the ground. Someone might steal it. I then have to open up my shoulder bag where I would find my purse. I would have to kneel on the ground to go through my bag and this would leave me vulnerable to anyone who would consider taking advantage of me. I am in heeled boots, I cannot run. I left my cell phone at home, I have no way to call for help.

I told this man that I did not have any money with me, just my credit card, and I walked away. And it was then that I realized jut how ignorant society has made me. Yes, this man could have just run off to the closest liquor store for a cheap bottle of booze, but he could have run to the YMCA for a warm place to sleep too. I felt so ashamed for walking away from him. I walked away with $800 American in my wallet and I did not give this man a dime. I am angry that I worried about my laptop being stolen and did not concern myself with where this man was going to sleep that night. I tell myself that if I had a car and someone else with me I would have driven him to the Y and given him the money for a few nights stay but that doesn’t matter. I still turned on him and walked away.

How cold have we become? How did it come to be that we are so selfish, so fearful to trust others? I know it’s scary out there, but to turn away from someone who has nothing when I have so much makes me feel ill. I am disappointed with myself. Me, of all people, who fights everyday to stop people from judging me and I sat there with judgment in my own eyes. I will never know if he was kept warm that night or if he shivered in a park somewhere alone. I cannot help feeling that I could have helped him but was too damned selfish to do so.

I will not be able to make it up to him. I cannot take back the fact that I walked away. But after I got home I thought a lot about what I could do. Not to make myself feel better, not to redeem myself in any way but to help someone else who might show up on the doors of the YMCA and be told they need $14 to stay warm. I want to visit the Y, the next time I can get there and offer to donate $300 just for this purpose, to use at their discretion. I am sure many abuse the system, It an unfortunate reality. But if the Y feels someone is down on luck and truly need a place to sleep, a warm blanket to cover them for the night that they could take it out of my donation. I am not too sure if they would do this, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.I don’t want to walk away again. It is so disheartening that we live in the world that we do today. People are hungry and cold and we keep on walking. It’s wrong, it’s just so damn wrong.

Belle

I can dance! Ok, not really, but....

2007-03-20T09:07:00.000-04:00

If you remember, I wrote a blog back in November about Lee Anne Womack’s song, “I hope you dance”. It’s about not being bitter, not taking the easy road and not being scared to live. That has been my fault in life. Being afraid to take chances, afraid to make mistakes and afraid to live. I listen to that song almost every day. It is a reminder of who I am striving to be. The good news is….I’m getting there.

I experienced something in my travels recently, something I have never felt free enough to do. I danced. Yes, for hours I danced. No humility, no holding back. I danced song after song after song and I had never felt that free in my life. Ok, to the eye of someone with rhythm it might not have been considered dancing, but for me it was just that.Not a big deal for most of you I am sure, but monumental for me. I have never danced before. Ok, I danced to “Stairway to heaven” at my high school sweetheart’s prom (who didn’t dance to that song at some time in their life?), and I danced to my wedding song (which I stumbled through somehow). That is twice that I have danced in my 32.5 years. To humiliate myself in front of others, why would I?

I had even taken a few salsa lessons in the past year after a trip to the Dominican, which gave me the desire to finally learn how to dance. Eight lessons later I was told that I am….how did he put it? ...... “Unteachable”. Yes, a dance instructor told me after eight private lessons that I am unteachable. Is that even a word? Yes, he still took my money and no, I don’t blame him as it’s true….I have two left feet. I cannot lead, I cannot follow…I simply cannot dance.But this night was different. Yes, I still looked like an ass because I can’t dance, don’t get me wrong, but I did it anyway. The music was just right, the people in the bar were all having a great time and I just couldn’t sit there and watch this time. I think the best part was that I wasn’t even intoxicated.

It was just me, taking one more step down this road I’ve been traveling. Letting go and doing something I have so desperately wanted to do. And once I got started, I couldn’t stop. I don’t think that I have ever been happier with me, just as I am, as I was that night.Just imagine that feeling. I wish I could explain it to you, to have you feel how I felt right then. That one thing that has terrified you all of your life, and you overcome it. Imagine how that would feel. The feeling of accomplishment, the sense of, “Oh my God, I just did it, and it felt so damn good!” I wasn’t embarrassed when I ran up to complete strangers and joined in their dance with them.

I wasn’t embarrassed when I saw the shy woman in the crowd and pulled her up to dance with me. I wasn’t embarrassed to request they play ‘Oh Canada’ for me, and then teach everyone how to sing it! I wasn’t embarrassed that I was soaked in sweat because I just couldn’t stop, dancing to every song hour after hour. I should have been, but the greatest thing is…I wasn’t!

I have spent my adult life worrying about what other people thought of me, but for some reason this night I just let it go. I didn’t care what they thought. For once it wasn’t about them, it was about me. I hope all of you get to feel that one day, if you haven’t already. I know it was just dancing, but what it stood for was so much more. All of this, everything you read about in my blog, it’s all about taking me to where I want to be, who I want to be, who I know I am, to somewhere within. That’s what all of this stands for.I am finally learning to be true to myself. And times like this that I can just let go of everything negative and be there in that moment…..I know I’m finally headed in the right direction.

I’m on the right path and I can’t wait to see where it takes me. I look forward to tomorrow because I know there is something new, something exciting, just something out there waiting for me. It’s great to feel that hope for something again. It’s been a long time.

Belle

5,000 visitors in 6 weeks!

2007-02-12T14:00:00.000-05:00

Wow, yesterday I topped 5,000 visitors to my blog since Christmas! I am not too sure exactly when I added my visitor counter to my blog but if my memory serves me correctly I believe it was during the Christmas holidays or shortly thereafter. That is 5,000 times I have shared my story with nearly complete strangers. That is 5,000 times I have proudly shared my escorting experience. And 5,000 times I have asked of others to see me as more than just what I do but who I am.

Isn’t that what we’re all after in life though? To be seen not as our titles but as who we are? I know that was a key factor in becoming an escort. I was a mom, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend…but who was I? I felt I had lost myself somewhere between the diaper isle at the grocers and the employee swipe in counter at work. I have now just begun to find myself. I have found a way to look deep inside for answers I have looked for, for years. My blog has been a great medium for me and I am glad that so many of you have been traveling that road with me.

It is funny when I get emails about things I have written. Sometimes it is encouragement, other times critiques. Some just want to say hello and some even feel open enough to share their personal stories with me. The internet is amazing for what it allows us to become. To write a journal on paper is great, you can express yourself and set free things inside of you that you need to air out. But it lacks explanation. It is simply one sided, a view or a thought that just sits there.

I thought blogging was a ridiculous idea when I first heard the term. A journal online? I started to research a few online blogs and found that many were about computers or gardening or cooking. Those I could understand the concept of. They had content that was based on a subject, a concrete subject. But to write an online journal about ones self seemed ludicrous. I then thought of many emails I was getting or conversations I would have with clients. They would ask how, as an escort, I felt about certain aspects of escorting. I thought that a blog about escorting (a concrete subject) would be an interesting read for some but had no idea that my blog would intertwine with me and my life in such a personal way. It has just seemed to have flowed that way on its’ own course and I am glad it has.

It hasn’t been easy for me in some ways. It’s difficult to accept fault in myself and admit when I have really screwed things up. It’s just as hard to look in the mirror and not like who I see. But when you have hit bottom, stripped away all of the BS that you have used to cover your unhappiness and sit there bare, there is no other way to go but up. We all have to face who we are at some point in our lives. Some choose to do nothing, I can’t give up that easy. I never thought I had it in me, most don’t. But if you want it bad enough you’ll fight for it.

So keep reading, keep sharing your thoughts and keep critiquing. Most importantly, keep looking within yourself for who you are and what you want in life. So many of you tell me how you wished you could set yourself on a journey of self discovery like I have….so do it! It sounds crazy, I know it does, but it is so worth it. Find a way that works for you. It doesn’t have to be a blog or even a journal. Find an outlet that works for you and go with it. Life is too short to waste years wandering aimlessly. Find you, and everything else will fall into place.

The couple call.....Part 1

2007-02-12T13:46:00.000-05:00

I have shared with you many experiences that have been extraordinary in this business. Experiences that certainly are not the norm for an escort but do make for great memories. The couple call fits in here. I do not get the pleasure of visiting with a couple often but when I do I have to say they have made for some of most memorable moments as an escort.

These calls can be awkward prior to the actual meeting. A whole new set of rules apply and it can be a time consuming process. I always ask a lot of questions when a couple requests to see me. First I like to make sure that they have played with other parties prior to inviting me to play. This is important to me. It’s all fun and games when a couple makes the decision to have a third party play with them. But the reality is that a woman can never be totally prepared for the sight of her husband entering into another woman, even if that woman is being paid to be there. I do not want to be the cause of a nasty argument and marriage counseling for years after.

I also need to know that the woman is as much into the experience as the man, for the same reasons as above. When I kiss her, I need to know she will return my kiss. When I kiss her husband, I need to know she will not be hurt. I have to be sure that their relationship is secure, that they love one another and that they are equally aroused by what is going to take place.

The next step is discussing the rules. I talk to her, I talk to him. What are they comfortable with? What are they not comfortable with? It sounds funny but I take notes and I read them over many times prior to meeting with them. At no time do I want any boundaries crossed. I have been asked not to kiss him. I have been told that he will not actually partake in having sex with me. I have been asked not to kiss her (this is the one and only couple call I refused to take simply because it implied she was doing this for him). And even once or twice I have been told that everything is on the menu.

Once the rules are set, everyone is on the same page and the details are taken care of….I wait. This part really sucks! It’s like waiting for Christmas morning, just 3 more sleeps, just 2 more sleeps…..but the anticipation only heightens the experience. I love the wondering, the curiosity of what they will be like to play with. I read my notes and wait.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting a young couple. Before I get into the details I want to explain why I was so excited to see them. They were truly concerned about me having a good time. It says a lot when a client repeatedly asks what I enjoy. They wanted to be sure I had a good time too, it was just as important to them for me to enjoy our time together as it was for them to enjoy.

I walked into the room to see a beautiful woman smiling at me. You will notice that I will omit many graphic details, but remember things like this. Her smile turned me on as soon as our eyes met. She was dressed in a very simple black see through camisole. This was very erotic. Simple sounds boring but for me it is just the opposite. It spoke volumes for the type of woman she is. No, not simple but confident and sensual. She did not feel the need to dress up in a garter, complete with leather straps and all the frills to impress me nor her husband. She looked so calm and natural, I love that look on a woman.

He poured me a drink and we sat on the bed chatting about nothing really. It wasn’t awkward chat, just “getting to know you” chat. The jacuzzi tub had been run before I arrived and was too inviting to not soak in, even if only a few minutes. So we stripped down and stepped in. The lady and I both next to one another, he at the foot of the tub. It wasn’t long before she ran her hand up my thigh. The tub so warm and I still felt the chill her touch gave me. We continued to chat as I watched her hand caress my leg. I wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to kiss her some more. I wanted it to all happen now but found myself being content to feel her touch, to best program how that felt in a place within my mind that I would hope to come back to many times over.

I raised my hand to meet hers and I could swear I felt her desire for what was about to take place. I could not wait any longer, my hand traveling on its’ own. Down her leg and back up again. She looked at me, those eyes inviting me to kiss her, so I did. It was soft and gentle, both of us holding back from getting carried away. Another snapshot to file away. We soon decided it was time to carry this to the bed just a few steps away.

She lay herself upon the bed and I instinctively followed. What happened from there would be impossible to chart in chronological order but I will do my best to paint a picture for you. So many erotic moments were explored during our short time together. Of the most vivid is tasting her. While I explored her pussy with my tongue I watched her to see head roll back as she let out a soft moan. We were not to forget he was there, no, that would not happen. This moment could only be topped by having him taste how wet she was making me. Like the chain of life, her pleasure pleased me which seemed to make him quite happy as well.

We would switch position many times, he on the bed, us two ladies tending to his genitals. My tongue lashing against his balls while his wife kissed him with such passion. He entered me while I lapped up her sopping pussy. I crawled up her body to kiss her, what wonderful lips they were. He took a break to sit and watch and we thrust our pussies against each other. Writhing, moaning, kissing and trying to catch my breath, this was the first time I had ever been one on one with a woman. It was overwhelming, a moment I had fantasized about most of my adult years.

I loved to see him watch us. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him but at the same time he seemed content to give his wife to me. He wanted her to have this moment, even if it meant he was not to be a part of it. That is true love. I have spent many nights replaying the events of that evening in my mind. I feel guilty at times with couples that I tend to monopolize the woman and that perhaps the man feels left out. I do my best to be sure that I include each of them equally, I really do. But times like these, they just feel right. There was no pressure to meet any expectations. They were happy if I was happy……and I was most definitely happy.

We have talked several times since our night together. They thank me, I thank them. What we all agree on when reliving that night is that it was wonderful. There was so much we wanted to do, things we wanted to try. But that is what makes this so great. While you would think being an escort becomes routine business, it does not. Each experience is different, each experience is new. But with everything that happened that night, with so much to play over in my mind…..it’s the memory of me walking in the room, putting my arms around him to say hello and peering over his shoulder to see her sitting on the bed that was most erotic for me. Her simple black camisole, her beautiful calm smile and their love for one another…that’s what turned me on. The rest that followed? It was hot, it was passionate and it was sensual. But without that brief moment when I first walked in, it would have been business. There was no business that night!

You asked about my blog?

2007-02-05T21:47:00.000-05:00

I have been asked many times about my blog. Why do I write it? Do I really believe in what I write? Do I write simply as a form of free advertising? Do I write all my entries or do I have help? How do I decide what to write? Do I embellish my writing to appease those reading it? So here are your answers.

1) Why did I start a blog?

To be honest, I started writing because I was asked to. I wasn’t asked to start a blog, but many clients had mentioned my posts on the review boards and suggested I take that writing one step further. I didn’t know what to with my writing, but I knew that I really wanted a medium to share my experiences. Thus, I created my blog.

2) Why do I continue to write?

What started out as sharing with you an escort’s perspective on the business has now become a journal of my personal life intertwined with the business. This is my way of keeping everything in perspective and finding the proper balance between my personal and my professional life. The paths have crossed, something I never expected to happen. But that is part of being human. I am not mechanical, I am real and I feel it is important that while many of you put the ladies you see on a pedestal, you also see that we are human too. It is therapeutic in a sense, to admit my faults, flaunt my triumphs and openly discuss where I have been and where I am headed.

3) Do I believe in what I write?

I have to. I cannot write about something I have not experienced or do not truly believe in. I just cannot. I have tried writing as a third person and about a place I have never been. It’s not in me to write that way. You will notice as you read my blog the sentence structure is way off. From a grammatical stand point my writing would disgust any editor worthy of his title. But I write the way I do for you to try to feel what I am feeling. My sentences run on and on at times because that is how my mind processes what I want to say. As of late I have been thinking a little more seriously about writing. I have hired an English Professor to critique my blog. Let’s face it, Belle will not be around forever. I will need something to focus on when it’s time for me to say goodbye.

4) Do I write simply as a form of free advertising?

Well, if people who run their own businesses incorporate their time spent on business into their fee I can say that my blog certainly is not “free” advertising. But yes, it is an advertising tool. I just use it for different purposes. If you read through the topics I write about and perhaps try to read between the lines you will see how I have used my blog to be open about awkward things. Clients getting too close is a good example. Do you have any idea how hard it is to meet a client to tell him I can no longer see him because he is becoming too emotionally involved? It’s not easy. I do these things in my blog. It opens up the issues no one wants to talk about. It is the reality of escorting that not all things are pleasant. My blog can at times be a means for saying in open forum what I lack the balls to say one on one. It can be a lot of work but I enjoy it. No, I do not write to advertise my business but yes, I do use it as a business tool. Besides, talking about bed head, bad breath and being late certainly doesn’t increase my business!

5) Do I write all of my own entries or do I have help?

I would hope you all know me better than that but this was a question I was asked in an email. I will only answer it here because I have never met this gent so I suppose it is a fair question. I am the only person who has any access to my blog. I write everything that you read, without the help or insight from anyone else. My life experiences I share with you…..they are true. My escorting experiences…..they are true also. I will never try to give you a false idea of who I am or what I am about. If you can fault me for anything, it can be that at times I get too honest…..but I will never lie. I will hold back from saying something that I might feel would hurt my business or my reputation, but I will not lie. I could never prove this to you, so the best I can do is leave that judgment up to you.

6) How do I decide what to write?

Again, it’s all about how I am feeling when I write. I have always written down my thoughts…..happy, sad, angry…..it’s just how I have always dealt with life. My posts at times come from something I have read. I may have just come from an amazing appointment, something beyond the usual course of business and want to share it with you. I may have just finished listening to a song or reading an email that inspired me. I only write when something has motivated me to write. I cannot sit at my computer and try to think of a topic and then write about it. It just never happens that way. I don’t write under deadlines, this is why you may see several days between posts. I simply cannot write just for the sake of writing.

7) Do I embellish my writing to appease those that are reading?

Pretty much I have answered this above in #5. I try to write about things I think you may be interested in reading, yes. But not always. I don’t write to say things you want to hear. I may write about topics you would like to read about, but what I say about that topic is in my own words. I’d love to say that my life is perfect, this business is perfect and I am perfect. But that isn’t reality, it may be what sells, but it isn’t me.

I have never asked any of you what I should change about my blog. I don’t want to change it, it is what it is. It is there for you to read it if you wish. It is just a blog. A journal. A diary. However you look at it, it’s still just a compilation of my thoughts and my experiences. I am glad some of you enjoy reading it and I apologize to any of you I offend. I write what I feel and sometimes I just don’t feel like being nice!

Thanks for the small things.....

2007-02-05T00:50:00.000-05:00

I am having a most wonderful evening tonight. No, sex has not been a part of it (as of yet!) and no, I do not have any company that sex (other than with myself) is even a slight possibility but I am having a wonderful evening none the less.

I have had the fire burning since dinner time. It is amazing how the glow of the flame gives me a sense of ease. I can sit and watch the flames for hours, finding myself getting lost in thought. I think about the small things in my life that have altered my path, those small details that without them happening who knows just how different my life would have been.

It wasn’t until thinking of these things that I realized just how many people I owe thanks to. I would have no idea where to find most of them today, I don’t even know the names of most of them. But I want to say thanks to them anyways.

1) Thanks to the lady I sat beside in the hallway of the emergency room with the police in 1989. You stopped me from taking the rest of the pills I had in my pants pocket that night. They were going to release me until I thought about what you said and I did not trust myself to go home. I asked for help that night.

2) Thanks to the man on my train ride to BC in 1990 for the $5 you gave me. I had too much pride to admit it but I was starving! You taught me to never forget how hungry I was.

3) Thanks to the teacher that ran across the field to pick me up after a “friend” had beaten me up. You told me those tears would make me a stronger person some day. I didn’t understand what you meant until a man followed me home one night when I was 16. I stopped a lady in her car and asked her to drive me home that night. I would have been too embarrassed to do that if I didn’t learn from shedding those tears to stand up for myself.

4) Thanks to Mrs. Mckinley, my high school cross country coach for being so supportive when I dropped out of school. You set me up with the tools I needed to get through the next few years. You didn’t criticize or condemn, you were the only one to believe I would find my way some day. It’s now 16 years later and I’m happy to say I think I have finally found it, or atleast on the right track!

5) Thanks to Kip. If you only knew what your friendship meant to me 16 years ago. I certainly would not be who I am today without your quirky outlook on life. I now own a pair of red socks to live for too and when I see them in my drawer they make me laugh….every single day! Some days that chuckle has been my everything.

6) To my high school sweetheart. You were the first to give me love, I wouldn’t have known what that was like had I not met you. I have never felt those butterflies since. You were my first high school dance partner, I still remember how giddy I was. We spent 4 crazy years together. You gave me more than you will ever know. You and I were not meant to last, but that feeling I had every time I was with you, was. Next time, I won’t settle for anything less than the butterflies.

7) Thanks to the crappy real estate agent I used to buy my first house. I swore I would get my real estate license and prove that some really saw the business as more than an income. I sucked at selling houses but I went after something I really wanted. I worked hard and I did it. I was far too honest for real estate but I learned a valuable lesson. I learned that no matter how bad I wanted something in life, I just could not sacrifice my morals to get it. A lesson I have carried into this business with me.

8) Thanks to my kids for always asking “Why?” It drove me crazy for many years, “Why?, Why?, Why? About everything. Depending on my mood my answer was anything from some long winded brilliant explanation to “Just because” or “For God’s sake please do not ask me why one more time!” Now every time I ask “Why me? Why?” I give myself a kick in the ass for asking such an annoying question!

9) Thanks to Padre who works at Santana Beach Resort in La Romana. Without knowing it, you opened my eyes up to someone inside of me that was screaming to come out! My first moped ride, my first time peeling sugar cane and my first time being naked on a beach. While it took me a few years to bring that part of me to life again you showed me that she was in there!

10) Thanks for my very good friend, you know who you are! Ten years of joking, teasing and spilling to you my life story. Thanks for supporting me when I have needed you to and opening my eyes for me when I have been too blind to see what I needed to see. Thanks for the shoulder to cry on Christmas Eve, the hand to hold as I started out in this business and for your sense of humour which keeps me sane. You keep me grounded and lately I know I have really needed that! I know there would never have been a Belle if it weren’t for you, so thanks... for just being you.

New Orleans

2007-02-04T01:04:00.000-05:00

New Orleans, a city in great despair? Yes, Katrina set upon New Orleans total devastation. Over 1500 deaths, thousands left homeless, thousands more forced to relocate. But during my recent visit to NOLA I witnessed rebuilding, smiling faces and a city whose attitude was not defeat. I spent my stay in the French Quarter and therefore I was mostly in the company of tourists, but the point is….there were people there. Bars were open, bands were playing and while I had never had the opportunity to visit NOLA before something told me “This is just how NOLA should be”.

The restaurants were busy tending to rumbling stomachs, the hotels still had bodies hanging over the railings in hopes to give away strands of beads. There were sax players giving their soul to anyone who would stop to listen. The beignets and hot chocolate at Café Du Monde even had New Orleans flavor. The oysters at Acme Oyster house were excellent! (They even let you take home your shells without sneering at you when you ask!)

Zydeco music was pouring out the French Quarter bars, my first introduction to the genre. Krazy Corner was where it was at! Bands with washboards draped over their shoulders made playing the spoons look so simple. I managed to get an autographed CD from these guys! (Not to mention an aggressive hair pull from the “obviously bi” washboard player in dreadlocks!).

Le Booze was a great bar to start out with! Just a small bar with bar stools but they served up one hell of a Bloody Mary (don’t ever ask for a Caesar in Nola, it gets quite confusing) and a view of the street for people watching that couldn’t have been better. When the rain is pouring (and believe it or not it’s so perfect to have rain while strolling the French Quarter) GumbOlaya was a nice retreat for a mimosa and a hot bowl of gumbo to warm up with.

Then I discovered Pat O’Brien’s. I will leave the link for you at the bottom of this post. If you visit New Orleans, you MUST visit Pat O’Brien’s! Dueling pianos with copper tops and riveted leather casings. Request a song written on a napkin and they will play it for you. Not only did they play ‘Oh Canada’ for me but most of the bar sang along too! (Which was only fair as I sang along with ‘God Bless America’ so many times I could barely speak!) There is no dance floor but if you choose to work the bar with attempts at dancing, there’s plenty of room! A great atmosphere especially with Alvin playing his thimbles. Another link below to read of the legacy of Pat O’Brien’s original thimble player (and 67 year employee) Eddie Gabriel. What an amazing story!

I spent so much time letting loose at Pat Obrien’s that I did not make it to many of the Bourbon Street hot spots save one. Coyote Ugly…. I love the movie, I love the reality show and now I can officially say I have “been there, done that”. Yes, the girls in their cowboy boots dancing on the bar top. Hundreds of bras strung from the ceiling. There is no other drink to be had here but a beer, a man’s drink. Unfortunately the bar was empty so it was a little disappointing, but this will not stop me from checking it out again on my next visit!

Southern Architecture, Creole and Seafood, Zydeco and Jazz, beads and more beads. It was all still there just as it was prior to Katrina. Homes are being rebuilt, lives are being put back together. The atmosphere which is the heart and soul of New Orleans was vibrant, promising and very present….. something I don’t think any amount of water could wash away!

http://www.patobriens.com/courtyardrestaurant.html

http://www.patobriens.com/mreddiegabriel.html

Hotel vs. Motel

2007-02-02T09:19:00.000-05:00

Hotel vs. Motel. I suppose each lady has her preference but here is my take. You see it on escort websites quite often. “I only visit upscale hotels”. I have often wondered why that is. Perhaps a lady in this business may feel more respected by entering through those large lobby doors, the ride up the elevator a sign that she is of a higher class. Maybe she needs that defining experience to justify to herself that what she is doing is not wrong, nor is it dirty as long as there is a white duvet on the bed. Not to say that there is anything wrong with that, if that is what makes her feel comfortable in what she does for a living.

When I talk to women in the business about this, they seem to think that that the men they see in a hotel will treat them much better than the men they would see in a motel. My experience has not proven this to be true. Yes, a knock on a hotel door will likely be opened by a man in a business suit. Does that make him any more clean or respectful than the man in jeans and a tee at the motel? Not so, in my opinion.

I have learned in life to not judge a book by it’s cover. My life is a prime example of how the book certainly does not read as one would expect from the cover. I do not judge as I do not wish to be judged. Look at what I do for a living. When it comes down to it, a man can be kind and gentle in a suit or sweats. A man can be abusive in a suit or sweats. So if it not an issue of “presentation is everything”, I suppose some women may feel more safe in a hotel.

Again, my experience has not proven this to be true. I had a “call gone bad” last summer. Yes, it was in a motel. I was mad, at him and at myself as I had let my guard down. I was sickened with the fact that he thought he could hurt me and get away with it. When I got out the door I ran over to the manager’s office in tears. He called the police for me and sat with his arms around me as I cried. He never questioned what happened. He never questioned calling for help. Would I have received that same treatment in a hotel? Likely not.

When I walk into the motels, I know the owner is aware of what is going on. The more familiar motels, I have met the owners. I want them to know me, to trust me and to respect me. And they do. They wave as I pull in, they wave as I leave. I know they take great care of my clients, especially when it comes to respecting their need for anonymity. I feel safe there. They may not understand why I do what I do but they don’t need to. They just need to be there if I need help and for the majority of them, I trust that they are.

I try to picture my “call gone bad” happening in an upscale hotel. Would I have felt so free to walk up to the front desk in tears and ask for help? Would they have whisked me away to some private room to hide me from their guests before calling for help? Would they have just directed me to a pay phone across the street? Would they have sat with me until the police arrived? Likely not.

Sure, it’s nice to be in a fancy room. Everything brightly decorated, plenty of room to walk around. But let’s face it, if it has a bed it serves its’ purpose. It’s not about the room for me. It’s not about the revolving doors, the paintings on the wall or the elevator ride. It’s about being respected and feeling safe. I walk into the motels and not have to try scuttling past a front desk who have seen me three times this week. I don’t have to hide or feel embarrassed by what I choose to do. I don’t have to pretend I am something I am not nor pretend I am not something that I am. The motels, they know what I am doing. There is nothing to hide. Sure, the bad guys are out there. They are in hotels, they are in motels but would you believe that the majority of bad calls (since I have been in the business) have been happening during house calls! Yes, men calling for women and abusing them in their own homes!

You don’t weed these guys out by not visiting homes or motels. You weed these guys out by being street smart. You trust your instincts. The sad reality is that there is a certain risk in this business. It is a risk us ladies are all aware of. Hotels, motels……there is the same amount of risk but at least the motels know who I am. They know I am there, the know the client I am seeing and they look out for me. Yes, I love warm white duvets and big fluffy pillows but I also appreciate the security of knowing there are another set of eyes and ears looking out for my safety.

So when a client apologizes for requesting to see me at a motel I go the extra bit to let him know I do not mind at all. It’s not about the cover, it’s about the good read.

Website changes.....

2007-02-01T20:39:00.000-05:00

Just a quick one tonight to say that I have made some changes to my website, finally! Yes, you will see my blog located in my new "Forums" section of the site. I will be maintaining my blog for a short time here on Blogger, but within the next month or so you will only be able to access it from my website.

The forum section of my website will have similar format as most review boards do but the content will be much different. Because I recieve so many emails about the issues I talk about in my blog I felt it a good idea to move it to an area that would be a little more interactive for those that would like to comment or discuss in more detail the things I write about. This move also allows me to copyright my writing which was important to me.

I hope you enjoy the new look and feel and to keep your anonymity you can view my blog from my website without registering as a user. It is a new format for me as much as it is for you so please be patient as I fine tune the forums. Same blog, same Belle, just moving forward!

You can view my website at www.niagarasbelle.com and click on the "Forum" link or view it directly from here : http://www.niagarasbelle.com/forum/index.php