Strange Turn of Events

Tonight was weird. I wrote half a blog entry about my first client, but then was called to my second. He asked to book for half an hour, which annoys me on a Friday night as it wastes my time, but right now I’m scrambling for money before tuition and rent is due. He lived so close to where I was already, I figured I could be there and back having drinks with my friends in 45 minutes.

I’ve been to his apartment a couple times before. Each client were of the same demographic. Mid to late 20’s, attractive, and making really good money in finance. His apartment was very well styled, and we chatted for a bit while enjoying a glass of wine.

I teased him a little, “Is this what you do before you go out on the town?” I asked referring to the Something About Mary reference. He denied it saying he never went out.

The conversation was good, but half an hour goes by, and I suggested we go in to the bedroom. He had a nervous laugh to him. It’s not often that I get nervous, but I did for some reason. The vibe was off. I stood in front of him, as I usually do, and got close to him. I took off his hat, then I took off my dress, and I leaned into kiss his neck, and he chuckled. I took his hands and put them around me, and tried to make him feel more comfortable, but it didn’t seem to be working. When I tried to help him out of his shirt, he didn’t raise his arms.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do the bed thing,” He said.

“Did you want to do the couch thing?” I asked. I thought maybe he had a girlfriend, which made the bed sacred.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“Ok,” I said, using a tone that I hoped would make him feel more comfortable, “It’s just that half an hour isn’t a long time if you had expectations.”

“Yeah, I know,” He said and laughed again.

“It’s ok if you want to hang out.” I reached for my dress and tried to put it back on as un-awkwardly as possible.

Then we went to the kitchen and talked for the next 20 minutes. I got my time call, and I stayed. We talked about his work, and relationships, and Burning Man and all sorts of things.

Then I did the unspeakable.

I invited him to come back to the bar with me and join my friends and I for some drinks. And he did!!! I felt weird about the whole thing. This was so against my rules. But, really, I wasn’t going on a date with him. I actually thought it would be good to set him up with my friend who was celebrating tonight. And he wasn’t getting free sex. And he seemed like a very reasonable guy. So I figured, it wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

We had a really good time. He only stayed for the first venue, and we were stuck at a table with these really obnoxious women, but it united us against them. Then when we moved to another table, he told them that we were married and made up this elaborate story of our wedding in Maui.

I continued on to the next venue with the party, but only lasted about 15 minutes, before I declared myself too tired. We texted a little after we parted ways. He expressed regret over not taking advantage of the situation, and asked if I wanted more. I responded by saying;

“It depends on who you ask. Megan [that’s my new name] is available for the next half hour, and Realme likes a gentleman.” That last bit was in reference to something said earlier.

He didn’t respond.

I have no regrets. 

I'm Not Dead

I'm not Dead!!!

I've just been on holidays, and sick, then more holidays. I'm sorry I haven't been writing, but truth be known, I think I've only worked a total of six jobs since I started back. Like, I say, I haven't been able to work most of August. Which of course leaves me more broke and up to my eyeballs in debt. It's ironic. I took this job to pay off a $2,500 Visa bill, now it's considerably more than that, and I have a tax bill that terrifies me. Forget about tuition. Whatever. I have an appointment with a financial advisor next week. We will get a game plan. I've dropped a class so that I can work more, and I've cut my shifts back at the bar, so I'm more available to the agency. I will get through this.

My first job back was a fail. He asked if I was open minded. Ha! When asked that, there is no beating around the bush. I always clarify exactly what is meant when that is said. This guy is into foot licking. I can handle that. And when I got there I found out he wanted me to pee on him too. Personally, maybe. Professionally, well this guy certainly couldn't afford it.

He was staying at the Ho-Jo. In some cities they're nice hotels. This one wasn't. I find that very rarely things are not as they look. People stay at these places because it's all they can afford, not because they want to save money. At first I thought that this guy and I would be able to have some sort of connection. He was really shy, and I am good at making people feel comfortable in situations like that, but he wouldn't respond to anything I did. I got down to my knickers, and rubbed my feet on him while he sucked on a couple toes. It wasn't until the time came to move on from that that I noticed that he had a large skin-coloured herpe on his bottom lip. And all things come to a halt.
"You have a cold sore on your lip. I have to stop," I tell him. My theory; Avoid opinions, avoid feelings, sticking to the facts and being brief is the quickest, safest way to get out of there.
"What do you mean?" He asks dumbly.
"You have herpes. I have to protect myself. I cannot continue."
"Ok, well I'm not paying you."
I already had the money. I had actually over charged him because of the foot fetish.
"I'm taking enough to pay the agency fee, I still have to pay them." Lie. I wasn't going to come out of this little rendezvous empty handed.
He protested a little more while I got dressed. There was the moment when I standing between him and the door, that my purse was on the other side. I sized up the situation. He he going to make a big deal out of this. He has at lease 70lbs on me. I decided to go for it, and made a quick get away.

Once in the car, I called the agency and let them know the situation.
"Ewww, gross!" She exclaimed. The fees were not discussed.
Once I was in the car my feet felt so irritated, as if I could feel the herpes virus on them. I couldn't get home fast enough. I sprayed them repeatedly with anti-bacterial kitchen spray. The harshes stuff I have. Perhaps I should have used bleach. You can't get foot herpes can you?

Yesterday's job was much better. It was waiting for me when I booked on at eight. The dude literally lived around the corner from me, which was good because I needed to shower, bad because I don't want to run into him at the kwiki-mart that backs onto my parking lot.
"I hope you don't mind, I'm just a head," he says to me when I arrive.
"No, I don't mind." What the hell is a head?
"A coke head, not a crack head," He clarifies.
"No worries," I laugh. If he was on crack, I would have figured it out already. It's the first thing I scan for when I walk into a place. Perhaps this is poor judgement, but clients doing coke doesn't bother me at all. I know that people on coke can be unpredictable and dangerous, but I'll take a coke high over drunk any day of the week.

He didn't want to fuck. He just wanted to go down on me. It was fabulous! I made the extra cash, and I didn't even really have to deal with him. He had to deal with me.

"I just wanted to pleasure some random girl," He said over and over again after I was finished.