The Gems

From the general tone of my blog, you would think I don’t like my clients. I actually like them, it is just sometimes as a WG, we just don’t dare to express our true feelings about things, because if we are perceived as anything other than a happy hooker, we are automatically lumped into the trafficked, coerced, and pimped category. Which isn’t the case at all. Just like you have people who in other professions complain about crappy clients so too do we. There is nothing wrong with having a grump about the less than enjoyable aspects of our work. Everyone does it. Why should we be any different? Why are there different sets of rules for everyone else, and for WG’s?

There are days, people get on my last nerve, and I want to hang up the knickers and fuck off to an island. How is this frustration at my work any different from a nurse getting sick of having to deal with obnoxious doctors, and grouchy patients? If she expresses this, she isn’t automatically lumped into a category of a trafficked human, coerced, or pimped? But don’t let a WG say she has had a shitty day, lord the aid organisations are beating on our doors try to rehabilitate us. It may come as a shock to some people out there, but there are some women who like working as sex workers. We, like the ability to work the way we do. Plain and simple. We like the thrill, we like the challenge, and we like the money. And if we have a bad day, it is just that. It is about choices for most of us.

As a feminist, yes I am a feminist, I firmly believe, that a woman should have the right to make the choices that are good for her, if she wishes to use her body to make a living, then she should be free to do so. If she wishes to stay at home and raise her kids, she should be free to do so and if she wishes to work outside the home, again there must be support for this. Exchanging one set of limiting rules dogmatically issued by men for another issued by women is not progress in any way shape or form.

But occasionally, the good lord blesses this wayward little tart and sends her a gem. By a gem I mean a client out of the WG manual of the perfect client. Well behaved, sweet smelling, good looking, sexy as hell, modest, pays well, sense of humor and just wants to worship you. I love and I hate these. I hate them because, for a moment it is easy to forget you are with a client and not out on a date. That is how good they are. When a gem comes along, it can shake your WG foundation. Thankfully, these darlings only come along once and a while. And I remember every one of them.

I had one young man take off his rather nicely stylish clothing to reveal a body to die for, I mean he was cut in all the right places, smooth alabaster skin, neatly trimmed pubic hair, shaved chest hair, the boys armpits were shaved, and his toe nails were clipped, and filed. In a word YUMMY! I asked him to lay on the bed, and he said, “No, you lay down first, I just want to visually admire you.” Mouth dropped open. Here was as near to a perfect specimen of manhood standing before me in all his male glory, with a rather impressively sized manhood; which if I must admit I really wanted to get my hands, mouth, and girly bits on, telling me he wanted to admire me. As I was staring at his rather delicious cock, I commented on the size, he looked down, and said modestly, “This? This isn’t large.” Bless him. I sighed and thanked the good lord, whatever I had done, I was being blessed for having done it well. I just wish I remembered what it was, so I could do it again.

The time unfortunately finished all to soon. And because of the delicious temptation they present, I am even more strict with my rules.

The next day I popped into a church and lit a candle of thanks.

Dear Mr. Perfect Client,

Thank you for being the ideal client to this sometimes jaded working girl. For providing that ray of hope in the darkness of what can sometimes be the monotony of boring and mediocre sexual encounters with less than sexually exciting men.

Thank you for giving a girl hope, that there are men out there who do appreciate a woman for the sweet femininity that she embodies. For thinking first with your head, and not with your dick. For using your hands to touch and to feel, not to grope and probe. For a standard of hygiene that should be written about in text books as the gold standard.

And most of all thank you for tirelessly putting forth the necessary effort to really make me orgasm several times. When I normally am not a multi-orgasmic female.

Thank you in general for being a lovely human being.


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