Swedish Model

Of all the anti prostitution laws on the books, most aimed at making the lives of women seeking to make a living as dangerous as possible. Ireland of course chooses the possibility of criminalising the client, or the law more popularly known as the Swedish Model. Which makes it illegal to purchase sex, but not illegal to sell. The idea being to stop men from purchasing and exploiting women. Ha! The idiots who came up with this did not think this through. I have worked in countries where this law is in affect and it makes no difference.

But I have a feeling it will make a difference in Ireland. But not the one everyone thinks. The difference I think it will make is to possibly instill a slight modicum of manners into the punting population.

You must remember that the Irish punter as a whole is a slightly self entitled, xenophobic creature. But they are scared as shit of their own shadows, their neighbours, their wives, mothers, dicks, sexual urges. You name it. The idea of it being illegal to purchase sex will make them more skittish than ever. But trust me this is a good thing, why?

Because fear is a good thing when dealing with the Irish punter. It is shocking how many don’t know it is legal. And far be it from me to tell them differently. But adding the part that makes it illegal for them to buy will have the added benefit of making them even more fearful. Fear makes them behave, well in as much as they are capable of.

Guilt is another motivating factor. But the Catholic Church took care of that one already.

So the combination of fear, guilt, horniness and disposable income will create the perfect punter. Let’s hope the extra fear improves their ability to listen and follow directions.

When will I learn?-Touring Ireland-pt.3

I am currently touring Ireland, and lord let me tell you, the place has changed from when I was there years before. The party is well and truly over. The high streets are deserted, shops are closed, and people look even worse they did before. Where as when they had money, they still had no taste, so what you end up with was a haphazard combination of expensive designer stuff mixed with Primark crap to achieve a look of sorts. Now the money is gone the lack of taste is still there, but the designer trappings have been replaced by only crap you get at Primark. The skin is still an unnatural oompa loompa orange the hair still looks like rats nests, and the men even more desperate looking than ever. What The Fuck was I thinking? I just keep doing this to myself.

But factoring in all this still doesn’t explain why food is still so damn expensive! I mean seriously expensive for what you get when compared to what you get in say more civilised European countries such as France, Italy, and Spain. Where even simple foods are done well and at a cost that doesn’t send you running for a personal loan to pay the bill.

Example, lunch at Milano a chain of pizza places. I had a pizza, glass of wine, a coffee, and olives. 30 euros! I asked if there was a mistake made, as it seem excessive for just a pizza. No, there was no mistake, that was the price. Needless to say I wasn’t going to eat very much whilst here in Ireland. Are they serious? The prices for decent food is ridiculous. By decent food I mean veggies not boiled to death, and meats not dipped, fried, and fried again for good measure, to ensure that whatever flavour that may have remained is obliterated. I mean edible, tasty food. You know stuff that consists of recognisable things in whole pieces and without enough mayonnaise to cover half the chips in Belgium. Astonishing.

Now when you consider the base ingredients are rather good quality, the butter is divine, the lamb is so tasty, the beef is some of the best, and the potatoes are amazing. But that is about where it ends, once in the hands of some incompetent cook it all goes to hell.

It Is Wet For a Reason

When I first started working in Dublin I would get so angry at the constant soiling of my nice white sheets, the amount of washing I was doing on a daily basis took up a great deal of time, sometimes well over 4 hours in total just keeping the towels and sheets clean. Then I started to buy colored sheets, which I would chuck after one or two uses. I am sure the unsightly bodily stains where still there, I just didn’t have to see it. After the gentlemen were finished I would put my knickers back on, this is done to make sure the little bastard doesn’t on the sly steal them. I cannot tell you how many expensive sets of lingerie I have had to retire, because of the bottoms going missing. I would grab the four corners of the sheet, pop in big black garbage bag hiding in the closet and off to the next one. I use to buy out the Black, red, and brown sheets at Penney’s on a weekly basis. In the good times it wasn’t unusual for me to see on average 10-13 clients a day, at about 150 a pop! You do the math! Yes, mostly half hours, lasting an average of 18-22 1/2 minutes. The odd couple of hours, lasting on average 35 minutes. After the gentleman has come twice in a half hour’s time he is usually quite happy to run away and pretend the whole encounter didn’t happen. God I love religion.

I could understand if I were in a water challenged country, such as the African Sub-Sahara, where water is at a premium. But I am in Ireland, an island and a wet one at that, so much water is in abundance. There really is no reason for this un-natural fear of the stuff I see Irish men exhibiting. I just don’t understand for the life of me why grown men are afraid of water? I have had them go into the shower and return to me dryer than when they went in, how the hell is this possible? So, one day I decided to crack the bathroom door to spy on what the hell they are doing in the shower. One gentlemen turned on the water and stood in the corner avoiding getting wet, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So, being the wicked individual I am, I banged the door hoping it would have the desired result of making him jump into the shower stream, it did. I then walked into the room, with my lingerie on, jumped in the shower and started to scrub him to within and inch of his life. He didn’t know what hit him, but it contained lots of soap. I was like a general issuing orders, “Raise your arms!” “Turn around!” “Bend over!” “I said spread those cheeks!” “WIDER!” I did have to chuckle when he left, both sets of his cheeks were bright pink. But he was cleaner than he had ever been in his life.

Some of the better comments I have heard from clients in reference to bathing have been:

‘Oh, I would prefer not to shower, my wife might notice.” I am sure she will, it isn’t like you were smelling like a daisy upon arrival. I was tempted to say, if you showered more regularly, it might not come as a shock to the poor dear.

“Oh I showered, this morning.” This is ok if I am seeing you at 10am, but at 8pm, I am no longer impressed at your cursory attempt at cleanliness!

Basically, what I noticed something the other day, a particular smell that they mostly all seem to have whether just washed or not, I can’t describe any other way that to say it reminds me of a combination of wet dog, shag tobacco with stale Guinness mixed in. Then I twigged something, so I asked the gentlemen I was with, if he was single, and he responded yes. Then the penny dropped. For the obvious reason, married men just seem to have a slightly better quality of hygiene, and the reason for this isn’t because they wash anymore regularly than their single counterparts, it is because their wives and or girlfriends are doing their laundry! Where as if a man who is single washes his clothes, when and if he washes his clothes, usually after they are walking around the room for some time of their own accord, he will tend to just use the least smelly detergent, and probably not knowing how the washing machine works, or the various available cycles, will set it on the shortest one, thus rendering his clothes less than fully clean, not to mention he will use the incorrect laundry detergent, throw in the fear of dryers, he will hang his half clean clothes in a less than spotless house, that is enclosed and rarely aired out, I mean what guy does spring cleaning? Causing them to reabsorb the same scents that caused them to be smell in the first place. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

The Dynamic

I am a skilled service provider, I am not a servant. There is nothing about my personality that even hints a submissiveness, I can’t even pretend to be submissive. It would come off as if I were a bad actress in a tele novella. Dreadful. I am dominant, pure and simple. Ultimately I make the decision as to what services the client will get. Now, I don’t have a problem servicing some poor sods dick, it isn’t as difficult or as easy as some people think. I don’t just lay there and moan on queue in the approiate places. I am amazed at the girls who can get away with this. I am thinking about is this guy reaacting to what I am doing, is his dick getting hard, or am I sucking on the cold dead flesh of a corpse? Some punters dicks are COLD! And that is a VERY bad sign. If my leg was ice cold all the time, It would be safe to say I had circulation problems. The same is true with a man who’s penis is ice cold. This fills me with absolute terror. My job will be a bloody up hill battle. I will have to incorporated the suction skill of a Dyson, which means my jaw and throat will ache, not to mention my poor arm will start to suffer from RSI. Not bloody likely. When dealing with the walking dead. I often turn them over and give a massage first, to relax them, then I massage the area around the half dead organ in a vain attempt to infuse some life down that way. I have often found the direct approach to be pointless, this ads to the tension the man is feeling and causes his already constricted blood vessels to constrict even more, thus rendering any attempt on my part to be pointless and frustrating for all parties involved. I am here to provide a service that will make the person feel good upon leaving my boudoir, not want to jump off the nearest bridge.

The hooker/client dynamic, where I am concerned is an interesting one, you can blame all the books I read by Dr. Camille Paglia, when in Uni. She is one feminist who likes hookers and has a different look on the world. I once had a friend remark she was amazed that I got any clients at all, due to how I would speak to them on the phone. At the time, I was rather abrupt to the point of rudeness. She on the other hand was so sweet to them on the phone, honey drips from her every word, can you guess who is busier? No simpering Miss me. I have often said to her, men don’t want nice-they have nice at home, they want and need resistance. Look at a lion in the zoo, having fresh butchered meat thrown in front of them. They sniff it lazily, saunter away and take a nap. Why, they know it will be there later on. Now the lion in the wild, oh they have to hunt for the food, and god help the chosen delicacy of the day when they catch it. The difference being there is resistance and with the other there is none. Even when logically the punter knows he is going to get exactly what he pays for, there is still that need within a man to have a bit of tension. Tension makes things exciting and tension adds to the satisfaction. Anyone, ever have make-up sex? Good stuff.

So, I instill a little bit of that from the first conversation. That tension, that need to conquer, that desire for the hunt.

I am not interested in currying favor with a client who has of yet not crossed my door, or paid me a single penny. I know it seems a strange approach, but if I come across desperate for his business, it will put him psychologically in the superior position, he can then play a nice little game of cat and mouse with me if he so pleases. He can dangle an appointment in front of my nose, and even go so far as to play another girl off me to get the best service and the best price. No with me. I am not interested in this type of client. Please! I am not rude, just, nor am I kowtowing or pandering to his over inflated sense of self either. I will answer a certain amount of questions with good grace, I will briefly tell you what services I provide, and I will give you the general directions where I am located, and I will confirm the price for certain services, outside of that, I don’t even try to engage in a lengthy conversation about nonsense. Not interested, and I will hang up, if the conversation starts to go on longer that 50 seconds. The average phone conversation usually lasts between 38-68 seconds. Any thing longer than this is usually a time waster, trying to get his jollies from engaging me in a free phone sex session.