Post by Jack of Blades on Apr 2, 2007 17:46:36 GMT -5
21st January, Saturday
I woke up today fully expecting this entry to mirror the hundred or so precedent to it. I woke up in the same 'enseamed' bed I had been doing so since I came to find a trade as a very obtainable object of desire. I was also aware that by tomorrow, this bed would be further tainted (despite its probable saturation) with the resultant material that comes from pleasuring bored breadwinners and introvert customers. The problem is with waking up is that it you do not have adequate time to recover from any slumber whether catalysed naturally or 'narcotically.' As you become sensitive to the world once more, you receive a sensory overload. You realize where you are and perhaps, more pressing, the events in your tired, insignificant life that brought you there. That dream about you being a talk-show host and consoling fatties with asthma is a lie. Anything that happened during your absence from the real world is soon dispelled by that slideshow of embarrassing moments and failures that hits you before that cleansing yawn.
Today, I was fully booked. My first appointment was at 9:00AM. Kazamyaki. After that, it was just another continuous loop of 'small-dicks' and 'cum-quats' until I made another futile effort to shower the residual traces of their existences of my fine body and spend a good few hours adapting to a bed without a partner.
This morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that some cereal had been left. My lucky prize, I hear you ask? Why, a nicotine-yellow molar disguised as a marshmallow piece straight from the mouth of 'Cindy.' Diary, I will say that at the discovery of her tooth, I was lamenting the fact that us high-earners have to share such basic facilities with the 'Dime and Nickel' selection. Needless to say, after finding the tooth, I will not be pressuring her to return the 'John Wayne' that I lent her.
After breakfast, I went through the daily process of dusting myself with coloured powder and flavouring my lips with gloss. Unfortunately, as is needed by the unwritten law of prostitution, the application of cosmetics goes beyond the degree of emphasising beauty to detracting from it. Good news came after though as Kazamyaki cried three times during the allotted hour earning me a considerable bonus (one that will be probably spent on those Manolo Blahnik's that teased my credit rating on Sunday.) Next came Sid. Sid is a regular of mine but dear diary, I have never confided to you about his tastes and nature. Partially, because it makes for very boring reading. But, in the spirit of change, I feel inclined to. Sid made his fortune on 'search engines' and the like even managing to hit the Fortune 500. However, the time he devoted to siphoning through the web, he deducted from his development of physical relationships. One that he now insists on developing with me for a very considerable price. Of course, herein lies the problem. He doesn't want to do anything. He just wants to talk. And with the sporadic nod and thoughtful sigh, I earn my hourly wage.
After Sid left, I found Deirdre, our 'receptionist', at my door. She told me that I had an unscheduled customer demanding to see me. My first thought was that Dennis was here again. I suppose I should feel a degree of guilt as to what I did to Dennis. I don't. I feel quite proud to have such a dramatic impact on his life as to make him wholly concerned with obtaining me. Many people of my pay bracket were unwilling to accept him as a client when Deirdre did roll-call. He wasn't particularly wealthy and had especially saved up a sum of money so that his first time with a consort would be of exquisite nature. And well, by my very nickname alone, I felt inclined to take him under my thrall. Indeed, I did earn the sobriquet of 'Euphoria' with the time that was given to Dennis. Unfortunately, it was to such a degree that on each subsequent meeting with him he has asked for my hand in marriage. I may have been tempted to do so if, and as I alluded to prior, he wasn't of the usual financial calibre of my clientele. Alas, there is a little a forty-nine-year old 'super' with osteoporosis can offer someone of my carnal stature. However, this was not Dennis. No weeping middle-aged 'addict' clasping onto my finely toned leg. No half-hearted gift purchased on an impromptu visit to the gas station. No marriage proposals at least not at the moment. No, this visitor was universally superior to my prospective significant other. He'd sauntered back into my life completely different as to my last memory of him. This wasn't role-play. I'm Alice stuck in the asylum and the Cheshire Cat had made his arrival.
I woke up today fully expecting this entry to mirror the hundred or so precedent to it. I woke up in the same 'enseamed' bed I had been doing so since I came to find a trade as a very obtainable object of desire. I was also aware that by tomorrow, this bed would be further tainted (despite its probable saturation) with the resultant material that comes from pleasuring bored breadwinners and introvert customers. The problem is with waking up is that it you do not have adequate time to recover from any slumber whether catalysed naturally or 'narcotically.' As you become sensitive to the world once more, you receive a sensory overload. You realize where you are and perhaps, more pressing, the events in your tired, insignificant life that brought you there. That dream about you being a talk-show host and consoling fatties with asthma is a lie. Anything that happened during your absence from the real world is soon dispelled by that slideshow of embarrassing moments and failures that hits you before that cleansing yawn.
Today, I was fully booked. My first appointment was at 9:00AM. Kazamyaki. After that, it was just another continuous loop of 'small-dicks' and 'cum-quats' until I made another futile effort to shower the residual traces of their existences of my fine body and spend a good few hours adapting to a bed without a partner.
This morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find that some cereal had been left. My lucky prize, I hear you ask? Why, a nicotine-yellow molar disguised as a marshmallow piece straight from the mouth of 'Cindy.' Diary, I will say that at the discovery of her tooth, I was lamenting the fact that us high-earners have to share such basic facilities with the 'Dime and Nickel' selection. Needless to say, after finding the tooth, I will not be pressuring her to return the 'John Wayne' that I lent her.
After breakfast, I went through the daily process of dusting myself with coloured powder and flavouring my lips with gloss. Unfortunately, as is needed by the unwritten law of prostitution, the application of cosmetics goes beyond the degree of emphasising beauty to detracting from it. Good news came after though as Kazamyaki cried three times during the allotted hour earning me a considerable bonus (one that will be probably spent on those Manolo Blahnik's that teased my credit rating on Sunday.) Next came Sid. Sid is a regular of mine but dear diary, I have never confided to you about his tastes and nature. Partially, because it makes for very boring reading. But, in the spirit of change, I feel inclined to. Sid made his fortune on 'search engines' and the like even managing to hit the Fortune 500. However, the time he devoted to siphoning through the web, he deducted from his development of physical relationships. One that he now insists on developing with me for a very considerable price. Of course, herein lies the problem. He doesn't want to do anything. He just wants to talk. And with the sporadic nod and thoughtful sigh, I earn my hourly wage.
After Sid left, I found Deirdre, our 'receptionist', at my door. She told me that I had an unscheduled customer demanding to see me. My first thought was that Dennis was here again. I suppose I should feel a degree of guilt as to what I did to Dennis. I don't. I feel quite proud to have such a dramatic impact on his life as to make him wholly concerned with obtaining me. Many people of my pay bracket were unwilling to accept him as a client when Deirdre did roll-call. He wasn't particularly wealthy and had especially saved up a sum of money so that his first time with a consort would be of exquisite nature. And well, by my very nickname alone, I felt inclined to take him under my thrall. Indeed, I did earn the sobriquet of 'Euphoria' with the time that was given to Dennis. Unfortunately, it was to such a degree that on each subsequent meeting with him he has asked for my hand in marriage. I may have been tempted to do so if, and as I alluded to prior, he wasn't of the usual financial calibre of my clientele. Alas, there is a little a forty-nine-year old 'super' with osteoporosis can offer someone of my carnal stature. However, this was not Dennis. No weeping middle-aged 'addict' clasping onto my finely toned leg. No half-hearted gift purchased on an impromptu visit to the gas station. No marriage proposals at least not at the moment. No, this visitor was universally superior to my prospective significant other. He'd sauntered back into my life completely different as to my last memory of him. This wasn't role-play. I'm Alice stuck in the asylum and the Cheshire Cat had made his arrival.
