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!
Saturday, May 05, 2007
My Life Series: Drugs
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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.
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
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 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
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:
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?
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 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!
Sunday, April 08, 2007
I am looking for a "date!"
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
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
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The business side of Belle....
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.
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.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Me and strip clubs...then and now
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!
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!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
My life vs. a non-escort's life
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Montreal: Bricks and Bouquets
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.
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!
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….
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
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!
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!
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
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
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
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
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
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
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