The Life of a Lady

The Life of a Lady

Introduction….
I am sitting in a well-known international airport lounge after yet again another successful tour. I am seriously flushed, both with the success of a job well done and also from the two glasses of seriously delicious Champagne I have just drunk. I am contented, almost to the point of sighing randomly for no apparent reason. I will board my flight return to my lovely apartment, stroke my cat, kiss my children, call my friends and resume the façade of being a respectable up standing member of society.

You see I am a total and complete fraud. I have created a façade that to date is air tight and unbreakable that even with proof provided to my friends and acquaintances, no one would believe it. There are all kinds of titles for what I do, there are all kinds of derogatory terms for what I do. These all just roll off my back, I don’t take them on board, they do not affect the way I work or my attitude towards what I do. To put it simply I am a prostitute, an escort, a whore, a fallen woman. But mostly I consider myself a businesswoman. Whatever they wish to call me is irrelevant, as long as they do call. Oh and clients do. Ireland is one of the few places I have worked in the world that has such a consistent base of clients. Even in the middle of the recession, I am still making some serious money; basically my standard of living hasn’t taken a dent in the slightest, if anything it has improved. But this is something I am careful not to let on to my clients or other working girls. The wrath that would be reigned down upon my head in the form of malicious behavior, nasty phone calls, or the extreme of having someone booking an appointment and attempting to rob me are very real and does happen. I often wonder if the American West used to be like this? Because in Ireland they seem to make the rules as they go along, depending on which friend of a family member, distant relative or neighbor from two doors down is under scrutiny.

So I keep my pretty Dior glossed lips sealed and pretend I am struggling and barely making it. What man doesn’t like a damsel in distress? They don’t need to know I see an average of 5-7 clients a day. Make in a day what most middle executives make in a week. They, need to keep that stereotypical view that I am a struggling wronged single mom, fallen on hard times, trying to make ends meet.

Because, let’s face it, no one likes a successful whore, the clients don’t like it, they start to feel resentful, and jealous, other whores don’t like it, because women as a whole are very insecure about themselves and can’t handle competition, and society certainly doesn’t like it, because by flouting all the rules we are making a mockery of said rules, and this just can’t be allowed.

To say that I love what I do wouldn’t be true; what I love is my bank balance! Every time I log on to one of my various bank accounts around the world, and tally up the balances, a warm fuzzy feeling of contentment fills me, a smile comes across my face and I get a serious rush, which I transfer into creating new ideas for getting more clients and keeping the ones I have.

I bank privately, this is a world most people will never know, I have several account managers, in several countries, who know all my little banking secrets and help to keep my money safe, secure and well hidden. All the EU regulations apply to the everyday folk, people who bank in a certain way, don’t really have to deal with these pesky little regulations.  There always has and always will be two standards of living and operating, one for rule followers and rule makers. I fit into neither of those categories, I am a rule breaker. I manipulate systems, people, and rules to my own advantage. I learn the rules so I can find ways around them. This is done on a small-scale, so no one really notices.

I have a standard of living that most people only dream about or read about. I have  a house keeper, a personal trainer, a driver and au pairs.  I play tennis on the weekends, weather permitting with the ladies who lunch crowd. I have the right memberships to the right organizations and clubs. I vote conservatively. I may be  very liberal in my thoughts and actions, but politically I want safe streets, government accountability, and immigration limits. Foreign women are bad for business. They don’t know the rules of the game nor do they understand the value of currency, note I said currency and not money. Understanding currency values and money are two different things entirely. So, I am a serious right-wing hard-core criticizer of any governments open border policy. I have nothing against immigrants in general, I think to some closed cultures they can introduce a different perspective and bring about an awareness of the closed-ness of that society, even leading to a few marriages and some new blood being introduced to the gene pool.  Which to be honest the Irish can do with, they have been inter-marrying and breeding for far too long.

Well, that is my plane being called, one last sip of Champagne before I fly home to the family. I have to remember to put back on my costume, a designer business suite, a pair of Jimmy’s, the Prada over-sized bag,  and the facade.  Oh, yes I must call the driver to pick me up in the usual place.
If only people knew.

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