Diary Of A Mad Escort

There is no starting point. And so I will ramble you into the deep end and the beginning will fluidly run into each other part; here & there being exact to now & later.

I'm a lot of things.

Who I am could possibly be one of the most complex and simple answers at the same time. In short, I am whoever I need to be that day. Today it just so happens I happen to be fed up. Men & women are facing a stage in the world where things must be taking a turn downwards...because common sense is all but gone & empathy is dying.

I can't stand alot of things. But the toppers are stupidity, ignorance, a feel sorry for me human, a liar or thief, or an obsession with power and abuse of authority .

Its one thing for criminals & police to be battling for one up on the streets. That's life. I wish it were like baseball where everyone slaps a little ass in the end and goes home to rethink their plays. But its not, so a few of all of us go to the emergency room with gunshot wounds, some go to sleep forever, and some of us brave another night of hustle handing the next out of whatever it is they have without giving up what we have ourselves.

But iits another thing for the "authority" to give themselves a handicap by means of being a Dirty Dick Debby playing both sides of the coin. To be a criminal & have the police protection is a power that the streets cant match with a fair opponent. Its sickening. Like a cheat code on Vice City that calls all officers away from the chaos you are causing. Endless destruction. No consequence. You get the picture.

And yet its always been that way. Some times worse than others. Some people worse than others. I never knew until i knew that casualties of politics were so common. Or that they could be so expendable. And now as I sit here as one of them myself, I am almost numb to such a day when any of it surprised me. Now Im just tired & its another annoyance in the road. But i remember how many times I told myself to not forget the intenseness of this or that. To remember the pain, the fear, the confusion, the sadness, the disgust, the aloneness, and most of all, do not forget the girls.

I have been an escort for 20 long years. My first job was at 13, and if it weren't for me adopting my father's business sense I'd probably be dead already. Without a doubt.

A lot has changed in 20 years. The market for sex has not. Its thriving and strong as ever. The difference is made up of a 2 part equation made for the opinion of everyone to just disappear. Guys that discovered pimping, and girls that discovered how to get high.

Now we have a bunch of Trick For Trade Junkies being fed by a bunch of New Age Gorilla Pimps to try and not look strung out long enough to satisfy every Bill, John, & Harry that can't seem to find enough time between work hours to get laid without wasting all six hours a week they can spare taking some chick out wining & dining her only to realize she 'has a headache' and 'thank you for dinner the gifts were fantastic but I really should go home and rest'.

What in the hell is he suppose to do now? Only thing to do is jerk one off and wait it out another week to try it again. But the smart ones know better. The smart ones start ordering a girl just like a freaking pizza to come over and take all of his stress and tension into her waiting body & happily leave without even a conversation if he isn't in the mood. And all for the same price as that stuck up Headache from the week before. Maybe even less. Life gets better and life moves on. Easy as freaking pie.

Or what about the happily married men that are keeping up with the next taking care of the wife and watching the kids grow up safely before their eyes. Except for his wife hasn't gave it up in going on a year now. Its not like they don't get along. They love eachother and are doing great with the kids. They are like best friends and wouldnt dare imagine leaving one another.

But a guy has needs too.

Now some of the wives have no sex drive, some have a mutual understanding that respects the silence as long as its not brought to the light, some are doing their own thing in the darkness, some are sick & require as much care as the kids, and some would absolutely die if they found out that the man they use to screw silly still needed that physical connection to a womans body if at least for long enough to bust.

Point is, whatever the situation is they all result in the same arrangement for service. Accept men arent able to customize their order anymore. They are having to settle and hope the girl isnt so high shes sleep walking in, that she remembered to shower after her last fix, or that her pimp isnt so fed up with her lack of money making skills that he says fuck it and decides to put a gun in each clients face to waste less time and ensure his money that day.

It seemed almost gone are the days of beautiful bodies and glossy lips perfect for pouting or BBBJ with a CIM ending. The girl that lets you actually fuck her instead of just mechanically getting off and out. The ones that give a man the fun that they are missing in a normal sex life in exchange for a pretty handful of bluefaces. You know, the Role Play, the GFE, PSE, the DDLG. The Slutty Neighbor & the Public Stranger & the Bisexual Vixen 3 some with Angel. The 'I don't have any panties on' so you slip a finger inside her in all kinds of places. You go deep enough to put weight on her breath-- both trying to stay composed with straight faces.
The drive by when your times short, the morning session for a wake up, the late night go where you bust not one but 3 times and the rest of the dates that you have in between these are now spent with a body that is barely better than a doll. Sometimes you wonder if worse.

How do you roll play with Ragedy Anne? Sure, she has pigtails, but you can't hardly pull her by her handlebars just to find that her cotton has no grip. And how awkward is it when you tell her to call you daddy when she doesn't respond? Now what do you look like? A weirdo pervert thats lost his goddamn mind talking to a doll while he attempts to hump it while staring in the mirror. No fucking thank you Johnny. You can find other ways to ruin your life than that. Ones that might actually feel like they could be worth a little loss & pain. One's that will at least talk back, even if it is to cuss you to filth.

But every once and a great while you can still find one of the rare ones. One girl that still knows she can give people something they need, something that they are missing, something that noone else understands. And she actually likes her job. Takes your needs and wants and melts them down so smoothly that the details are even accounted for. And not only are you more comfortable than you've ever been on a date, but shes freaking amazing at what shes doing to you. She throws options at you and restores that choice that so many people lost long ago, or maybe have never even had. Shes smart and her personality isnt rubbing you the wrong way. She listens to you if you need to talk and only offers advice when asked for it. And when she gives it it actually makes fucking sense. A sounding board, a psychiatrist, a friend, a teacher, a submissive, an object, a work of art, a passtime, a hobby, a maid, a fuck toy.... a wonderful thing that's both alive and not; wholly real and still not part of the world that you live in every single day. Shes perfect, except for her price. Shes expensive. Too much so for your budget even. You try and make since of things but no matter how you slice them you cant pay the donation shes asking. You try and talk her into a lower price since you will be a regular spending all of your extra cash on only her. But she doesn't bite, and in your head you know its because she has plenty of other clients that can meet her demand. And most likely will because shes worth every penny. If she let everyone in for what he vid afford she wouldn't have time for the bigger payouts. She tells you to come back as soon as you can afford her. And now your stuck with Ragedy Anne again.

Sucks, but its life. You get what you pay for. And sometimes you are stuck settling for less than you would like. But now that you tasted that fulfillment its hard to shake it. To forget that there is something out there that literally embodies your every pressing issue.

And so of course people talk about her. At the gym, the water cooler at work. Social media and forums online. She becomes the most desired thing at that time in that area. Only unlike most stars that have paparazzi in there face daily, this star is being talked of in hushed quietness. A secret that lies on everyones lips and still manages to only branch out to the shadows that link with her darkness. And ao she doesn't see the paparazzi. Her paparazzi are incognito and sneaky and lightfooted. Admiring her every move sometimes and finding ways to just smell her presence. Fans. Clients. Supporters. But to some she becomes their prey. They b become aggresive and possessiveness fuels their anger of the fact she isn't doing what she should and being their own.

All the while shes completely unaware of the predators she has crafted. Unaware that if she were to of been alone 5 seconds longer in the dark car that night shed of been sliced like roast beef and left for the newspaper boy to scream over the next time sun hit her bloodless body.

Because as much as they can adore her, they also must accept that its purely fantasy and shell never even entertaine sitting for dinner and laughing at a joke and simply letting him rub her shoulders until her muscles are nice and loose. And in some people that's all it takes. That's enough. They find it easy to kill BECAUSE they love it. Because seeing it in a world where she doesn't mirror the fantasy they've created is heartbreaking.

And who wants to feel that?