A Long Overdue Update

Wow, it’s been about four months since I last updated this blog. So much has happened! 

I moved downtown in February. I’m now living in a highrise with a view of the ocean. My Tantra business is picking up. I have also been working as a Domme and doing fetish videos. That’s been fun. I’ve had a few interesting opportunities for doing sex work in a more empowered way than I did at the agency. 

 Josh and I are still involved, and that relationship is growing and deepening. We have had a few bumps along the way (fears, wrestling personal demons, differing visions for the future) but that seems to be working out. 

Ra took over my old apartment, which worked great for him, and it was a lifesaver for me because I didn’t want to break my lease, but I really couldn’t work out of that place long-term. No privacy. 

Josh and I also participated in a great photo project by a photographer who wants to portray real people in realistic sexual scenarios. We both thought the project sounded awesome and agreed to be photographed. The photographer and I have developed a friendship, and he described feeling deeply moved by seeing us together – he said he hadn’t seen that much love in a very long time. 

 I feel blessed to be here. My life has improved radically since I met Don and Rania and moved downtown. 

Advertisements

The Importance of Taking Time

I have stopped working at the agency altogether. I feel very strongly that I won’t be going back. The first couple of weeks after I left, I felt a lot of fear and discouragement. Business at the Tantra temple was slow to start, much as expected. I spent the time going inward. Reflecting. Doing yoga. Trying to fix my sleep schedule and get back to being awake in the daytime (still working on that part!).
During this time, I noticed that I couldn’t do a yoga class without being moved to tears. I would go home and weep and sort through the mess of my feelings.
At some point in the mess of discouragement and fear, I started to shift my focus. I had, after all, wished for an alternative to the agency, and almost immediately after I had set that intention, I met Don and Rania. I could manifest other positive changes in my life.
For Christmas, my grandma had given me a copy of Louise Hay’s book You Can Heal Your Life. I started reading and doing the exercises. I have noticed a change in how I show up in the world. I am calmer, more at peace. I am a work in progress and I am still working to improve myself, but I am healing. Of that I am certain.
I am letting go of the resentment I’ve held on to from my marriage and divorce. I am working on being happy for my ex for the wonderful things in his life. For his business, his stable, loving relationship, his new home by the ocean. I have let go of most of my resentment where that relationship is concerned.
My body feels lighter now, clearer. I love this decision that I have made not to have full sex with clients anymore. I sometimes wonder if it is a patriarchal fantasy that touching someone erotically is less of a commitment than letting their cock inside of you. . . And then I remember all the instances of painful penetration, of checking out and zoning out and waiting for it to be over, while making the noises that they expect me to make, and I know I never want to experience that again.
Right before undertaking my Tantra training for my work with the temple, Josh and I made love. It was glorious. I adored every inch of him and he adored every inch of me. We delighted in each other. I was so responsive. His scent and his touch and nearness sent me to the next world and back. When he slid his cock into me, I looked in his eyes. “Do you know how good that feels?” I said. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” he said and kissed me.
I took in that phrase along with the intense pleasure, and as I came over and over, I claimed that piece of knowledge for myself. Yes, this is how it’s supposed to be. Yes, this is how it will be for me from now on. Yes, I deserve to feel so delicious, to be honoured and adored.
Now that the Tantra work is starting to pick up, I feel nourished and full of enthusiasm. There is a lot I’m still learning – the session format is very different from the game I played as an escort, but I am managing the steep learning curve. My new clients have all treated me with upmost respect, and came to me with a willingness to learn. I am very happy on my new path.

Those Pesky Feelings

The day after my first Tantric session, a regular client was in town. Calvin and I originally met through the agency, but have since exchanged private information (a big no-no, but what they don’t know can’t hurt me), and we had an agreement to meet up whenever we were both free and in Vancouver at the same time. He travels here frequently on business. We usually go for dinner or order room service, and have sex, and talk. I enjoy his company, and I don’t mind the sex, although admittedly I’m not wildly attracted to him. Still, we have had our adventures. I’ve set up a couple of threesomes for him, with a couple girls from the agency.

He once offered me marriage/an arrangement ‘if I ever wanted to settle down.’ He is the rich old guy my Dad always half-jokingly advised me to marry. ‘Marry a rich man old enough that he’ll die soon enough that you’ll still be young and have an easy time finding someone else.’

Um, yeah. . .

I didn’t want to meet him this time. I mean, I like him, I care about him, but after the loving, passionate, connected sex I’ve been having with Josh, I don’t want to go through the motions anymore.

I met Calvin at the hotel casino. He looked older than the last time we met, and more fragile. We made small-talk as we went up to his room. He had asked me to come early so we could eat together. I was hungry. I felt sad, small, frustrated at the prospect of being intimate with him.

We got to the room, and he launched into a story of his last visit to Vancouver. I had been with Josh and had told Calvin that I was out of town (because I didn’t want him to know that I was dating someone). He had, apparently, called another escort service, and he ended up knowing the girl they sent him. She had agreed to stay, even though they knew each other personally. “Wow, she knew how to fuck! I told her she had the tightest pussy I’ve had in years.”

I flinched at the words. If I was feeling uninspired erotically before, I sure was now! All the times that my body had been commented on, criticized, evaluated by clients flashed through my mind. I used to have a thick skin. I used to be able to overlook these things to survive. Now, suddenly, I felt like so much meat on the butcher’s block, drawn and quartered, inspected, evaluated, and found wanting. I hated that my livelihood for the past year and a half depended so much on how men perceive my sex appeal. What a liberation it would be to be free of all this!

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was stupid of me to say.”

“It’s fine,” I snapped. I contemplated walking out the door.

“No, you’re upset with me. I’m sorry.” He came over and gave me a hug and tried to kiss me. I didn’t like his breath. His breath was never my favorite, but suddenly it seemed unbearable. I remembered Josh’s mouth, his beautiful eyes, his body, the way his belly pressed into mine when he was deep inside me, how I came over and over again in his embrace. That was how it was supposed to be! Not like this. What was I doing in this room?

“I have no right to be upset,” I said. “I know the routine. I just feel awkward hearing about it in so much detail and being compared to her.” To the newer, younger model, the one that is coveted in the industry. Because the mainstream escort industry prizes youth above experience, and they have no qualms about reeling them in young and chewing them up and spitting them out with drug problems and a penchant for expensive shoes when they are no longer ‘fresh.’

“I am not comparing. You’re wonderful baby.”

“Should we order food?”

We ordered a couple steaks and a bottle of wine.

He nudged me into the bedroom and I complied. Soon, we were naked and he was touching me all over. I was going along with it, but only going through the motions. My whole body felt tense and closed. It was such a sharp contrast to how I felt with Josh, how surrendered and open I am with him, how much I love every inch of his body, his scent, even the taste of his sweat is delicious to me.

When Calvin started fucking me, I had to consciously remind myself to react as though I were enjoying it. I felt visceral disgust, which was new. I had never felt this way fucking Calvin before. ‘Just get it over with,’ I thought. ‘Just come, then you won’t be able to go again, and I get to eat my steak and get paid and I don’t have to feel this awful anymore.’

The food arrived. A room service waiter came in and opened the wine, leaving the steaks on the table in the other room. He came back to bed and wanted to keep going. I reluctantly bounced on his dick, quickly, hoping he would blow his load and get me off the hook. “Slow down, baby, I want to make it last.”

Motherfucker!

He touched my face and gave me tons of compliments while I forced myself to be slow about it. I felt myself draw away with each compliment. I didn’t want him to adore me like that. I wanted Josh to adore me like that.

“I’m really hungry,” I said.

“Ok, let’s eat.”

He had a conference call during dinner, so I ate my steak in silence, making sure to wash it down with a lot of wine. Perhaps the wine would help numb me out so I could do this one last time.

He came back and I kept him company while he ate. We finished the wine before going back to bed. We fumbled around together. His cock wasn’t getting hard. I half-heartedly gave him oral sex, to no avail. “Stop,” he said. “I just want to feel you next to me.”

I cuddled up to him. ‘How long is this gonna take?’ I wondered silently.

Suddenly, I was overcome with emotions. The pain of the last several months, the bad clients, the overwhelming love I feel for Josh, the pressures of being an escort, all welled up in me. I fought back tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said.

“No, tell me. I want to know what’s going on.”

At this, the floodgates opened and I wept. He held me. “Let it out. It’s ok.”

“I care about you, Calvin,” I said. “But I don’t feel right doing this. I’ve been seeing someone,” I continued, gingerly. I hoped he wouldn’t be too upset.

“I think that’s wonderful,” he said, to my surprise.

“I really care about him. I love him. But why would anyone want to be with me if I’m doing this? How can I be with someone and fuck other people for money?”

“You can’t, sweetie. But you’re doing massage now, and that’s great.” I had told him about my new massage career (editing out the Tantric part, of course) during our dinner. “I won’t text you looking for sex anymore. I do still want to be your friend,” he said. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else. You are a very special lady. And you don’t have to tell this man that you worked as an escort. It shouldn’t matter. There is always forgiveness, no matter what we do.”

I wept. “Thank you. I want to be your friend too.”

It all came out. I told him about the bad seven hour fetish client who spat on me and pulled my hair. “I’m so burned out. I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Ok, take your time. Cry it out. Then I want you to get up and put your clothes on, ok. And next time I’m in town, if you want, we can meet up for a drink. As friends.”

“I would like that.”

“I’m glad you opened up and showed me the real you,” he said.

“See, you said that that’s what you wanted, but my job is to be the fantasy girl. We don’t get to be real people.”

“Well, that’s never what I wanted.”

I got up and went to the bathroom and washed my tearstained face and blew my nose. I went back to the bedroom and got dressed. This would be the last time Calvin would see me naked. He gave me a hug and handed me a casino chip worth $500. “Is that ok?” He asked.

“It’s more than I feel I deserve after this.”

“Don’t even think that way,” he said. “I’m completely satisfied, even though I didn’t get to come. Now you go off and enjoy your life and be happy. And don’t go to the agency again. If you need money, I’ll send you money.”

I knew I could never ask him for that, but I was touched by his kindness. “Thank you,” I said. I left the hotel and took the train home, still feeling raw and shattered inside. In connecting more deeply with my emotions, I learned, I had compromised my ability to work as an agency escort. From now on, I have to work as a sexual priestess with a deep calling. Now, I just have to trust that the money will come.

 

First Professional Tantra Session

Yesterday, I had my first Tantric massage client. The session was absolutely beautiful.

I had put myself on the schedule, expecting that I wouldn’t get any work on my very first day. I had spent the weekend with Josh and had not finished setting up my place. I had my laundry done, but I hadn’t finished cleaning.

Ra came over unexpectedly because he and his partner had had an argument. We were drinking tea and sharing a joint when I got the text: Can you see a client tonight for two hours?

“Oh shit!” I said, looking around at my messy apartment.

‘Sure,’ I texted back. ‘What time?’

‘8.’

It was just before 7.

Ra and I looked at each other. “Can we have this place client-ready in an hour?” I asked.

“Yes!” Ra and I instantly jumped into action. I scrubbed the toilet. Ra did the dishes. Soon, the massage table was out, covered with linens. The salt lamp and candles were lit. The place looked radiant.

I brewed some tea and jumped in the shower. Ra went down the street to a coffee shop. I changed into a simple green dress and colourful shawl. I took a few deep breaths. My stomach flipped. This was a completely new to me, and I would have to have something more than empty flirtations and posturing to offer the man who was on his way over.

He knocked. I took a deep breath and answered the door. My breath caught in my throat. He was an absolutely beautiful man, tall, with deep blue eyes and light brown hair. His eyes lit up when he saw me. I hugged him and invited him in, took his jacket (very sexy, form-fitting leather) and offered him tea. We each took our cups of peppermint tea and took a seat on the bench.

“I apologize for the small space,” I said, acknowledging the absence of a coffee table.

“No, it’s lovely here,” he said.

We chatted a little. I asked him about his experience with tantra and if he had had any sessions like this before. He was quite experienced, and had seen other practitioners for a variety of sessions. He asked me how long I have been doing this work.

“I’m new to the Temple,” I said. “But I have been studying and practicing this work in a different form for a little over a year. I’m giddy and nervous tonight because this is new to me.” My new thing is to be vulnerable and authentic whenever possible.

I told him my ideas for the session, stressing that it was free-flowing and depended on the energy between the two of us.

We undressed. I draped my shawl strategically over my body. He kept his underwear on at first. We got up on the massage table and sat in almost-yab yum. I reminded him (though I doubt he needed reminding) to eye gaze left eye to left eye and we started to breathe together. I was touched by how receptive and open he was during the meditations. He held my gaze gently, but steadily. We did alternate breathing, followed by more breathing together. By the end of the meditation, I felt grounded and at-ease. Of course, I still had flutters in my belly from being so close to such a gorgeous man, but I felt focused and happy. I placed one hand over his heart and took his hand and placed it over my heart. We stayed like that for a few breaths. Then I let my hands trace his hair and trail down his body, down his arms and over his fingers. He shyly reciprocated. I smiled and sighed softly to show my approval. I liked his touch.

I directed him off the table and to sit at the bench. I got down in front of him and ritually washed his feet with my homemade sugar and coconut oil scrub. The bowl was a bit too small, but I did my best and he seemed happy. Then I asked him to take off his underwear and lie on the table. He lay face down on the table. First, I covered his beautiful body with my orange Egyptian cotton sheet. I felt grounded and full of purpose. First, I traced a Reiki symbol into both of my finger tips and did the chakra balancing exercise that Rania taught me. I know that a lot of people scoff at the laying on of hands as a healing art, but I have always felt powerful things whenever I’ve been involved in such things. When the energy work part was done,  I uncovered his body slowly, teasing him with a feather followed by a cashmere hat that feels so soft. I remembered Rania and Don running something similar down my back and how wonderful it felt.

At one point, I looked up and noticed that he had left the donation too close to one of my candles and one of the twenty dollar bills was starting to catch fire. I quietly went over, moved the bills out of harm’s way and put out the fire before returning to the table. I was pretty pleased with how I handled that curve ball.

I went and grabbed my heated coconut oil off the oil warmer (you know you’ve arrived when you have an oil warmer), and returned to the table. I oiled up my hands and began the massage. Slowly, I ran my hands along his back, guiding him into deeper relaxation. It thrilled me how easily he relaxed into receiving. When I moved my hands down his arms, he clasped my hands in his, and I clasped back, enjoying the intimacy of that moment. I massaged his whole body, from his feet to his head, before inviting him to turn over.

I placed a pillow behind his head and one under his knees. Making eye contact, I poured oil through my fingers onto his chest and spread it all over him with playful, varied strokes. First, I focused on his chest and legs, avoiding his semi hard cock. Then I moved my hand over his cock, rubbing his shaft with the heel of my hand until it grew. Then, I moved my hands up his body, spreading the sexual energy away from his genitals to his heart. I held his heart with one hand, his cock with the other. Our breath synchronized, we were completely present with each other.

“Would you join me on the table?” He asked, sitting up. I climbed onto the table and we entered a full yab yum this time, his cock pressed against my belly, only the thin fabric of my thong between us. We breathed together and he ran his hands down my body, gently, respectfully, giving me pleasure. He took my head in his hands and kissed me, gently, tentatively, as though making sure that it was ok before going further. I kissed back.

“May I touch you there?” He asked, gesturing towards my pussy.

“Yes,” I said. “Just through my underwear.” I loved being able to set boundaries. There was a naked man on my massage table, and I was not expected to fuck him! How positively delicious and liberating!

He touched me very consciously, and made me feel wonderful. I responded to the touch, wanting more, wanting to remove the barrier and let him have at me. “May I push these aside?” He asked.

“I’ll take them off,” I said.

When they were gone, he lowered me onto the table. I had a moment of wondering if I would fall. “I’ve got you,” he said. “There’s plenty of room.”

He ran his fingers over me, touching my pussy gently and pleasingly. I let go into the pleasure, running my hands over my body.

“Do you have any condoms?” He asked.

“I don’t normally go there during these sessions,” I said.

“Oh, ok,” he said, looking a little embarrassed for having asked.

I looked into his lovely eyes and realized that, in that moment, I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to share that experience with him. It would not feel like I was betraying myself if I let myself go there. Far from it.

“I’m tempted to make an exception for you,” I said. “If I do, you won’t tell, will you?” The last thing I needed was for it to get around that I was just another ‘full service provider’ after all I went through to break away from mainstream escorting.

“I won’t tell,” He said.

I got up and grabbed a couple of condoms and a packet of lube. He got up and washed the oil off of his cock, which impressed me greatly. He came back to the table and we sat, facing each other, touching and kissing. I rubbed some lube on his cock and put the condom on him. Holding my head in his hands, he lowered me to the table and slowly entered me. I responded enthusiastically – he felt wonderful. He kept looking into my eyes and I looked into his. My hands trailed down his back and up again. His eyes widened as he came, and I held him, sighing as I felt him reach his climax. He held me for a moment before going to the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the condom. I lay back on the table, completely at ease, comfortable being naked, happy to have shared a moment with someone who respected me and honoured what I had to offer.

He came back to me and enveloped me in a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his chest. “Thank you for making an exception for me,” he said. “It was my pleasure,” I replied, and meant it.

We held each other for a while before he moved away and started getting dressed. I helped him find his clothes. We hugged once more and then he was off into the night.

I texted Don and Rania to let them know the session was a success. ‘Everything went well. He was very sweet, and gorgeous!’

Ra came back and we high-fived and celebrated my first Tantric Temple client. We walked down the street and had tapas and a bottle of wine to celebrate new and exciting developments.

We came home and hung out a while before going to bed. We shared my double bed, and soon Ra was sound asleep. I traced my clit in the dark, feeling the swelling of sexual energy ebb and flow through my body. Eventually I went into the other room and lay down on the massage table, covering myself with a sheet. I touched myself all over until I was in a frenzy. Slowly, meditatively, I penetrated myself with my dildo, switching my finger for a vibrator. I fucked myself, first slow, then fast, fast fast. Soon, I was having a full-body orgasm followed by laughter and smiles. “I love my life” I said to myself.

Practitioner Training part 1

Things are moving along at a very fast pace, and I am brimming with excitement about what is to come. Practitioner training this weekend was transformational. There were seven of us in the class, five of which are definitely going to be working with Rania and Don. It was such a beautiful workshop. I don’t know where to start. Being in the presence of such loving, talented people (mostly women) was remarkable. I think my longstanding desire for female friendship and sisterhood will be fulfilled by this group. 

 One fellow practitioner in particular, August, and I really connected. We had all kinds of strange quirky things in common. I am hoping to explore a friendship with her. 

 The gathering of practitioners felt very ancient and sacred, the sharing of taboo stories and knowledge. I slept on Rania and Don’s couch on Sunday night, and the next day they very kindly gave me a ride to the store to get a good quality portable massage table, and helped me with some furniture I had purchased and needed to get home. 

 Now, I must begin turning my home into a tantric temple. I admittedly am not the best housekeeper in the world, but I do have to step up my game in that department. I can handle it! It’s just another adventure. 

 They advised that I not quit the agency right away, but I find myself not wanting to work that way anymore. I haven’t officially quit, but I haven’t been working. The idea of fucking strangers for money feels so unappetizing right now. It’s like my body is rejecting that form of sex work. I need to meditate, focus on my yoga practice, and grow spiritually and be the best dakini I can possibly be. 

Internalized Whorephobia

I have very understanding friends. Ra and his partner have spent a lot of time with me over the last few months (Ra’s time with me goes much farther back, because Anton is a relatively recent addition to the group), and they have listened to my outpourings of angst over my feelings for Josh and my feelings of fear and crippling insecurity.

Ra pointed something out last week that I found very interesting. I was telling him how insecure I feel about Josh, how when I imagine myself telling him how much I love him, this little voice in the back of my head stops me. “Why would someone as wonderful as Josh, why would ANYONE want to be with a hooker?” I struggle with this voice. I imagine myself being seen by others as dirty, diseased, sleazy, lacking self-respect and morality. When I was done going through this list with Ra, he said: “It sounds like you have internalized whorephobia. I understand, I had internalized homophobia for years.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Could I, such a strong woman with healthy self-esteem, one who defends sex worker’s rights and comes out swinging in defense of my fellow whores at the agency when they tell me that their romantic partners don’t treat them with respect because of their profession, have internalized these damaging messages about women in my profession? Even with knowing the good I have done for others since becoming a whore, not to mention how I have grown spiritually since entering the trade, I am at times incapacitated by shame around my choices and innate nature.

In Women of the Light, a book of essays edited by Kenneth Ray Stubbs, Carol Queen writes a brilliant essay about her time as a call girl and how sex work is directly connected to worship of the goddess and a celebration of life. She says that we whores are doing the Goddess’s work in a culture that would brand it the devil’s work. This can take a toll on us.

Somehow, I can claim the right to respect and happiness for any other whore, but I can’t quite claim that for myself. I think of Josh and his life up until his marriage ended. He had a conventional, ‘respectable’ marriage and raised children with a very traditional, conservative woman. A part of me wishes that I could offer him that same respectability, but that is the one thing I do not have to give. I am a sexual outlaw, a deviant, a whore. This causes me both pride and happiness and intense shame and fear. It is hard to go about your life when so many people seem to hate you.

I can imagine taking on stigma and being an outlaw next to someone I love. I have done this in my relationships with my trans lovers, walking next to them and offering support, standing up to transphobic bigots on the street, taking the rage some cis men threw at me for choosing a trans woman as a lover instead of a man… but I cannot seem to imagine anyone being willing to be by my side fighting the whore stigma with/for me. It makes me wonder why.

Ra went on to tell me how much my friendship means to him. “When you met me,” he said “I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I was in an abusive relationship and I was suffering from PTSD and getting off meth. And you were always absolutely wonderful to me. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

I started to make an inventory of the things I do have to offer. Love, devotion, financial security, generous spirit, sex skills, listening skills, emotional support, backrubs and foot rubs, interesting conversation, great food, companionship, honesty and loyalty. What is off the table for me: sexual exclusivity, conventionality, ‘respectability’.

When I visit Josh and we watch movies together, which we do sometimes, I am struck by the degree of whorephobia in the media. I feel afraid and I don’t talk too much about my work. I’ve told him what I do, and we’ve talked a bit, but he still talks about ‘hookers’ like they are other people and not the woman he holds in his arms at night. I am afraid that if he saw me as a ‘hooker’ rather than whatever version of sex therapist/worker that he currently sees, he will stop touching me so tenderly and holding me and caring for me. It’s fucked up. It shows how deeply I have absorbed those attitudes that women who are sexual with a wide variety of people are ‘used up’ and ‘not worth caring about’. It’s such a basic attack on a woman’s being. Sexuality is such a basic part of who we are, and, to me, such a powerful part that it cannot be suppressed without severe damage to the psyche. So the choice remains: damage yourself by suppressing that which is natural and innate, be a good girl according to patriarchy and shut up, or be an outlaw and be vilified and subject anyone you are in a relationship with to potential stigma and discrimination. It’s a complicated mess. I long for a time when people like me are held in high esteem as teachers and shamans rather than vilified as dirty, worthless whores.

I Did It! Step One

Well, I signed up for Rania and Don’s practitioner training. The first part happens this weekend. I bought myself a himalayan rock salt lamp to celebrate. It’s pleasing pink glow on my table/writing desk is a symbol of the positive changes I am making in my life. I still haven’t figured out how to wiggle out of my lease, but I have had some friends give me valuable advice on the subject. I’m biding my time, looking online at places occasionally, and trusting that all will work out in the end.

I saw Josh last night, and we spent much of today together. Almost a year of being in each other’s lives and it still feels positively magical. My friend Ra, who did a shamanic healing session with me last week, said that he feels strongly that my story will have a happy ending… which is only fitting considering I have given happy endings to so many (hardy har). I am taking his advice with Josh and am just focusing on the here and now and on how wonderful it is to be with him. No freaking out about The Future or whywouldanyonewannabewithahooker or any of that drivel. Just be present with this wonderful person right now, and let the rest sort itself out. I firmly believe that once I transition to being a tantric practitioner, I will be in a stronger place to make my feelings known. In the meantime, I truly don’t think he’s going anywhere. He is very loving with me and I with him. No harm in taking the slow, steady path.