Oh no, I insist…let me.
I developed a well-defined clientele while working for Elite Escorts in the summer of ’94. Most of them were professionals traveling through my area on business…looking for a bit of R & R. Being a sales person by trade, I found an enigma in this line of business….what should have been a short sales cycle morphed into a long sales cycle. One would think that a sex-for-services transaction would be an “impulse buy” much like retail. You know what you want and you go in and buy it. Done.
But in my case, it turned into a long sales cycle…it became relationship sales. I began to understand each client’s needs on a deeper level and they didn’t want to go in and just buy what they wanted…they wanted me. I turned each qualified/worthy client (those with the expendable income to invest) into repeat business. It was amazing.
I knew that the 3rd Tuesday night of each month was reserved for Tim, an engineer who worked in research and development for a pharmaceutical company. He was 35, born in Korea, but lived in Canada. He was married with 2 children. His sexual tastes were basic and he usually asked me to stay the entire night. The sex was okay and we spent a lot of our time talking. I learned a lot from him about the pharmaceutical industry.
There was Andy, a sales rep who traveled the world, but lived in my hometown. He was also married and he and his wife had no sexual connection. He was probably my favorite regular. He loved to put a chair in front of the hotel mirror and watch himself fuck me. He taught me how to control my gag reflex (a skill that I later found to be quite lucrative). He was always bringing me gifts from Europe. I still have some of the jewelry he gave me. And when I put it on in the mirror…I think back to watching him fuck me. Yum.
There was the good doctor, Robbie. He was a surgical resident at the local army hospital. I usually made house calls to see him. He always wanted me on top, with my legs extended up to his neck. I remember one night he requested I come see him at the hospital. I had no idea there were certain hospital rooms designated for physicians on call for 24 hours. He was able to adjust the bed at an angle that allowed me to ride him, just like he wanted. And the trapeze (used for traction) was an added bonus. I could leverage myself while I rode his cock for maximum pleasure for both of us. I looked him up not too long ago. He’s a successful orthopedic surgeon in Louisiana, now. And looks just like he did 20 years ago.
There were a handful of nameless clients who were not memorable to me, but I was obviously memorable to them, as they regularly used my services. One, that I can’t recall his first name, was an A & R rep from a record company. He always stayed at a very nice hotel and his room usually had the in-room jacuzzi tub. He had a fantasy of receiving head underwater. I didn’t know I had it in me, but I did it. I could only hold my breath for about a minute before coming up for air. But I kept diving down to see if I could last longer each time. Ironically, I think it’s where my interest in breath play began. Nice guy. Kinky as hell…but nice. And he always came with concert tickets.
I learned through these experiences that most men are afraid to ask their partners for what they want. There was an underlying fear of rejection that kept their dirty little fantasies bottled up. I feel like I did a public service allowing them to have what they really wanted. To watch themselves fuck me. To fuck in a hospital bed. To have someone suck them underwater.
And then there were a handful who were so fucking good in bed, that I considered picking up the tab and paying them. There was the older Russian gentleman. I know he was involved in some type of illegal shit because I got this vibe that he could break my neck in a matter of seconds. But he drank my pussy like a fine vodka and fucked my brains out. I was a swooning mess, desperately trying to say “thank you” in Russian, each time I left him. “SPASIBO”
And there was the police detective who was hung like The Secretariat. Jesus-effing-Christ, the man was huge. When we fucked I always came. I used to wonder if the reason he called a service for sex, was because his cock was just too big for the average gal to handle. And trust me, it was uncomfortable at times…but I loved that feeling of fullness. And again, at the end of the session, I wanted to tip him. Years later I saw him at daycare. He was picking up his daughter and I was picking up my son. There was a brief moment of recognition and I was a wet mess for the rest of the night. If memory serves…I went home and fucked the hell out of my (then) husband that night, thinking back to my time with him. DAMN….
I had some really great times. I met some great people. I met some wretched assholes (their stories are for another post) and I learned my craft. I was a professional, after all. It was business….but the invaluable lessons I learned about relationships, communication, sexual mechanics and the fine art of listening, has made me the person I am today. I feel lucky to have had those experiences.
And I wonder where The Secretariat is now….
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