Confession Time: I’m a procrastinator…

But I’ll bet all of you have found that out!  Sadly, this blog has fallen into that strange box of “get to it when there’s time” but then something else more pressing jumps up and down at me and demands my attention, wash, rinse, repeat, and so goes the blog!

I’m sorry, lovers, I really am.  To make up for it, I’m doing something I’ve never done before.  I’m going to put a story on here that I’m working on for my pseudo-memoir that may or may not ever get finished.  Criticism is welcome as long as it’s in a respectful tone, even if it’s negative (actually, especially if it’s negative.  I’ve done some of my best work after getting dressed down by a peer or teacher)


OK.  Without further ado, here is a small excerpt of my book-in-progress.  Enjoy.




My alarm app trills it’s pseudo-Japanese arpeggio at 9am.  Blurry-eyed and not a little irritated, I fish it out from beneath my pillows and switch it off.  It’s Monday morning, and it’s time to get ready for work.

Stage One of Morning Ritual: Caffeinate.

I don’t eat breakfast, usually, at least not right as I wake up.  It makes me bloat, sick to my stomach, and I’ve never been one to be hungry in the morning.  Coffee (fresh from my very own french press) sweetened with brown sugar and a pat of unsalted butter suffices for my morning wake up. (Seriously, try the butter trick.  Luxurious, creamy goodness awaits you.)  Once properly caffeinated, I can’t procrastinate any  longer, so it’s on to stage two of Morning Ritual.

Stage Two of Morning Ritual: Get Pretty

I always shower before work.  I know some girls can get away with showering the night before a morning appointment, but I always feel a little grimy after I sleep, especially during the summer.  I use natural, unscented products where I can, but my peppermint body wash is subtle enough I’ve never heard of the perfume migrating off of me onto someone else, plus it makes my skin tingle, so it’s my exception.  Once my hair is clean, and I’ve shaved, bugged, exfoliated and completed other magic potion-y things, I just stand under the scalding spray and breathe in the steam.  I put myself in a state of relaxed expectation, a sort of calm joy with a hint of impish glee.  I’m always my best when I can approach the day with a bit of mischievous verve.  I also might masturbate, but then, who -doesn’t- rub one out in the shower now and again?

Out of the shower, toweled down and stark naked, it’s Lotion Time.  Finding unscented, light weight lotion is more difficult that you think.  I swear Big Lotion is in cahoots with Big Perfume, and they just seem to think all of us ladies -want- to smell like sticky, melted ice cream or like we just rolled in a pile of rotting flowers, but I digress.  I use Burt’s Bees Milk and Honey, which is technically scented, but it soaks in well and smelling like sweet milk seems to agree with me.  Lotion goes everywhere I can reach, but hands, feet, knees and elbows receive special attention.  In the same vein as the lotion (to remove roughness and increase softness, of course) my nails get a once over with an emory board.  Appearances always matter, and in my case that first impression is the difference between a one off client and repeat business.

Hair and make up come next, and that is the most variable part of Stage 2: Get Pretty.  Hair is always soft and touchable, but depending on the client it can be tousled bed head, bouncy, co-ed pony tail, elaborate curls or somewhere in between.  Likewise, my make up can be understated and natural, vintage cat-eye eyeliner and ruby lipstick, or completely bare-faced (which, I won’t lie, still means I have make up on.  What most people think of as “bare faced” actually include tinted moisturizer, setting powder, mascara and lip gloss.  I promise.)  For those with no strong opinion, I usually pull my curled hair back into hair combs and put on my “Bettie Page” face: fresh-faced pin-up with dark eyes and a pouty red lip.  All of my make up is kiss-proof and water-resistant, and I’ve never had a complaint about errant lipstick on the collar (in fact, most women call that 24 hour lipstick “blow job proof lipstick” but I’m classy so I don’t).  It’s these touches that I believe puts me an inch above the competition, (and I can use all the height I can get!) and I pride myself in doing the little things to make each tryst special, memorable, but completely discreet.  Speaking of special, let’s talk about the wrapping of this tasty present.

Stage 3: Dressing

Stage 3: Dressing is always fun.  Without a client suggestion (in which I can be everything from a doe-eyed college girl to a lace-covered vamp) I wear my favorite lingerie: red or black satin, seamed stockings, and garters to match, edge in lace or ribbon.  Easy enough to pull of in the heat of passion, but just delicate enough to require an ounce of restraint.  I find anticipation to be quite the heady aphrodisiac.

Once I am powdered, fluffed, painted and adored, I take a long pose in my full length mirror, and I inspect my handiwork.  A few turns, practice some seductive and flirty facial expression, fondle the girls a bit, marvel in the softness of my body.  It’s always a good rule that if you can’t turn yourself on, how can you expect to turn on anyone else?  This is the last stage, which really isn’t a stage at all:

Stage ??: Reflection

I’ve always been a kind of voyeur, I can’t help it.  By studying my own movements I can always find ways to improve- turn out the hip, bend that knee, lift up the chin more- and I have a distinctly alluring fantasy to offer up to my lucky client.

My work phone chimes: my first appointment of the day is parking.  I send a flirty text in reply, letting him know I’m anxiously waiting with bated breath.  He hits the door code and I buzz him in.  As I open the door to my Love Nest for him to slip through, I smile my wicked smile and throw my arms around him, for all the world welcoming back a long lost lover.  As we pull away from my greeting kiss, I can see in his eyes he is quite taken with me, already, and I know all my preparations are worth every minute.


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