ESCORT EDITORIAL #101

IF I WERE AN ESCORT

- By Billy Bob

On a more or less regular basis, independent girls call and give me too much information about individual guys they see - like I care about the details of their encounters. Whatever...I play along because that’s part of my job, in much the same way that listening to THEIR customers’ drama is part of theirs.

So anyway...a couple of days ago, one of these indies told me she’d just seen a military man who was about to leave on assignment - and oh so appreciative of her superior services. I asked the obvious question as to where he was shipping off, and the girl responded “I don’t know” in an annoyed tone. Call me crazy...but in her shoes, that would have been the first question I’d have asked. And if his destination was Afghanistan or Iraq, I’d have had a mouthful of questions - especially if it wasn’t his first tour. But I’m not an escort and for whatever reason, this girl didn’t think it was appropriate to discover where he was going.

Then I started thinking about all the comments, jokes and metaphors I’d have invoked if were I in her shoes as in...“Wow, that’s quite a gun you have their sir.” Or “I like the way you stand at attention!” Or “This is your rifle but this is my gun...the first is for killing but this here’s for fun.” Or “OK, soldier! Head high...stand tall and straight...honey...your veins are popping.”

Anyway...you get the idea. I could have had the guy eating out of my hand. But she did NONE of that stuff. No imagination, apparently. But with this girl...her technique has been reviewed as heroic - which fits considering the guy was a soldier - and he promised to come back and see her one more time before he went overseas.
Yes, her mission was accomplished. The guy was smitten. But somehow, I can’t help but feel that the girl missed a golden opportunity to truly shine as the ultimate escort. Instead, she simply relied on her own nuts and bolts devices - rather than give him the combination physical AND mental seduction that could have lingered in his mind for a lifetime. But that’s all if I were an escort which I obviously could never be (or at least a female escort). I think the point is that seduction isn't just in the body. It’s in the mind as well. And I'm not sure that my clients excel in the latter realm as much as I would if I were in their place.

A year or two ago, in the middle of having sex with one of my clients, we hit a mutual little piece of utopia that was the epitome of fulfillment for both parties. Totally in the moment, I actually high-fived the girl realizing we'd reached an emotional and physical pinnacle together. And as her palm met mine, she oozed the magic words... “You're not just fucking my body...you're fucking my mind, too.”

And so girls...if you’re reading...that’s the key. A pretty body and good technique are important. But a fertile mind can really open a guy up and turn him into your oh-so-appreciative regular customer. And this advice doesn’t just go for escorts. It goes for their customers - and their customers’ wives as well! Seduce a person’s mind and you’ll have a partner who wants more and more - and not less and less. Just a thought for this football-less Sunday. I'm in mourning. What the fuck am I gonna do with myself today?

MY FANTASY

I have a client who derives her entire sex life on the job. I criticize her for this...telling the girl she should find a boyfriend for the real thing, and do the out of body experience at work. She cites that having a boyfriend who doesn’t know how she earns a living would be more difficult than the situation she’s put herself in currently. There’s something to be said for her point of view but whatever...this isn’t about her...it’s about me. She’s not the only person looking for something in all the wrong places.

Back when I was in the music business, for a couple of years I teamed up with my old man. He was a has-been trying to regain some of the old glory...and I was a wanna-be attempting to find some. Together and/or separately, we entertained what I labeled “the fantasy of the week.” I’d have a publisher interested in a song I’d written....or he’d have an A & R guy thinking about giving him a recording budget. Sometimes we’d be co-conspirators and both be entertaining the same fantasy. But usually (as is in the music industry), the guy would be bullshitting and the fantasy of the week would fizzle only to be replaced by a new one when somebody else provided a fresh dream.

And now years later, I find myself in the same situation except...now the fantasy of the week involves meeting an escort who fits the bill as a girlfriend. Finding fetching candidates isn’t a problem. Even finding INTERESTED fetching candidates isn’t that difficult. But finding somebody who I respect...am attracted to...and can hang out with enjoyably for a period of time is nearly impossible. And that’s because I’m looking for love in all the wrong places...just like the aforementioned girl is looking for sexual and emotional satisfaction in a similarly unsuitable location.

Thirteen years ago, a female colleague of mine remarked “You’ll probably marry a hooker.” I disagreed at the time and still do to this day. Bust a good nut with a hot girl? Yes. Find a soulmate? Not likely. One after one, my relationships crash and burn with the realization that the girl is a total dumbbell...or a completely self-centered brat. Or often...BOTH! Not a good combination I’m sure we can all agree.

But don’t feel sorry for me (not that you were). Back to sleeping in the bed I made. I’m a realist. I knew going in there wasn’t much of a chance at finding a meaningful hookup in the escort pool. And nothing has changed my original pessimism.

 

ESCORT EDITORIAL #100

THE APOSTROPHE AND THE TOP HEAVY APPLICANT

ne of my pet peeves in not just the escort world - but in the entire speaking-English-as-a-first-language world - is people who don’t know the difference among “their,” “they’re,” and “there” and especially, people who don’t understand where and how to use an apostrophe. There are a surprising number of trained/educated individuals who fail miserably in both of these realms. It’s (again) not just the exclusive domain of escorts.

I tell you this because a very cute girl e-mailed me yesterday looking for advice. And in the letter she wrote the line “I don’t know if you’re interested.” I don’t know...but how many escort or escort wannabes would have written “your”? I’m guessing 100 out of 100. Thus, I was duly impressed not just by the girl’s picture...but the fact that she placed the apostrophe correctly! So I called her back and sure enough, found an educated soft-spoken girl on the other end of the line.
Whether she ends up working for one of my clients or not is immaterial. The fact that I found somebody in this business who knows a little basic grammar totally amazed. And this was NOT the girl who knew the meaning of “carpe diem.” It’s somebody else! Even more incredible!

Not surprisingly, the new jack admitted she’d never worked as an escort (not a good thing - I don’t like dealing with novices)...and (get this) apologized for being a little top heavy. Honey! Let me give you a hint! Top heavy in this or any other business is not something you need to apologize for. Top light? Maybe. But top heavy? Never...unless you’re a ballerina or basketball player.

I remember watching a women’s college basketball game a long time ago in which a big barrel-chested black girl was trying to guard her flat-chested little caucasian counterpart. The former was clearly wearing a sports bra which was in no way equipped to handle the heaving of this girl’s big breasts. They were just too much. The unfortunate owner of those big, juicy juggs could in no way keep up with her paler and less endowed counterpart as the latter ran circles around her, scoring over and over again as the stacked chick struggled to haul all that extra weight up and down the court. Ya see! That’s the one instance where top heavy might be a problem. But in the room? I don’t think so!

Anyway...the point is...I’m gratified to find an applicant who can handle an apostrophe. Whether she can handle herself in the room - or if she ever will - is besides the point. Time will tell. And if she DOES work somewhere, I’ll let you know.

The great majority of my clients do NOT speak English as their first language. And even if they do, they don’t speak it that well. Whatever...as a guy who studies proper usage, spelling, syntax etc., I’m often amused at the fractured English I hear from my customers. After all...most have picked up the language through conversing with English-speaking people rather than actually going to school. And thus, they don’t know about conjugating verbs, placing modifiers and stuff like that. The girls simply hope to understand - and make themselves understood. And that makes perfect sense to me. But sometimes it yields hilarious results.

Here are some of my favorite bastadizations of the language in which the results though ass backwards - can be surprisingly endearing. Just for example, I have one Brazilian friend (not a client anymore - way too big a pain in the ass) who assures every caller that what they see is what they’re gonna get by repeating over and over “And that’s my really picture.” I would correct her but when I hear the statement, it brings a smile to my face. It just has a funny ring that gives her a charming and irresistible dizziness.

Or another time, I was hanging out at an Asian place for a few minutes shooting the shit with the phone girl. When I stood up to leave and go to the next stop, her eyes opened wide and out came the words “Billy-ah! Don’t go! I’m boring.” You’re telling me! That’s why I’m leaving! Not entirely true. I just had to go! Still...it brought a chuckle to my attitude.
And just the other day, I called up another Asian customer who picked up the phone to say “You can coming over” before I even asked if she was ready. YOYO at BUNNY GIRL NYC is too cute! “You can coming.” I’d like to be “cumming” with her - if you get my drift.

Years ago when zero Asians would allow me to photograph them, I finally convinced one outcall place to pose for the camera. They had two cute girls and after placing the ads with the real photos in The Press, Voice and NY-Exotics, the phones exploded! When I went back the next week, the boss broke out with a big smile and said “Bill...you good information.”
Even though the English in all these examples was totally fractured, what I liked about them is the way the girls conveyed the message. As I once wrote in a venerable publication regarding an immigrant taxi demonstration...”The placards were misspelled...but the message was loud and clear.” And that’s what language is about ultimately: Sending the message loud and clear - and with attitude! And in all those previous examples, the girls accomplished their missions...regardless of whether the grammar and syntax was correct.

And that’s enough of English Professor Bill. It’s time to get to work!

 

ESCORT EDITORIAL #99

INSIDE SELENA

- By Billy Bob

Anybody ever curious about what an escort thinks or says to her colleagues after you walk out the door. Trust me...you don’t want to hear. Selena has been a long-time client of mine, a sensitive girl (at least for an escort) whose thoughts I have organized to enlighten our devoted ESCORT readers as to what the other side says and thinks about their clients. Note that this piece is written in the first person...as if the girl can really write. But because I did not get the anticipated service I expected for making it look like the slut has a brain, I changed her name and now divulge the truth: I’m sure there’s an escort out there who can organize her thoughts articulately enough to appear within the editorial pages of ESCORT. This just isn’t the one.

As I lounge leisurely in my cozy apartment, sitting in a soft chair given to me by a client, with television whispering quietly in the background (also a present from a client), I type away my thoughts on my brand new laptop (yet another token of esteem from another enamored client).

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to have a realistic perspective on men, as they pamper and spoil me, lavishing praise and gifts on what they perceive as an icon of feminine lust and longing. But really, when I analyze the truth of the matter, I’m nothing but your average girl next door whose very active sex drive and love for money propelled her into the career I now enjoy. Forget about that old prototype of the sexually molested child who has no choice but to become a “companion.” While it’s not bull shit in every case, it is in mine. None of my brothers, uncles, cousins or father ever laid a hand on me.

If I have a bad attitude about men (which I don’t always), it comes from some of the knuckleheads who’ve passed through my door and handed me their money in exchange for my services. Men are often very unenlightened, selfish (which could be because they’re paying for something), and worst of all, completely out-of-touch with what a woman wants. And too often, I can tell that many guys aren’t just acting that way. They’re no different with dates and even wives. Somehow, they’ve gotten as far as they have in life without even a clue that women aren’t simply receptacles for their unbridled sexual desires.
Now it may seem ridiculous to say all this as I sit in a lap of luxury almost completely furnished and financed by the very guys I malign, but trust me, all these presents came from exceptions to the rule, or just guys with so much money that a few hundred or a thousand bucks doesn’t mean anything anyway.

What I like most about this job is the money I earn. Obviously, it would be very difficult to make as much as I do in another line of work. But that’s not the whole deal. I also get a big kick out of satisfying men. Having a dick connotes power in our world. That ferocious throbbing, growing, invader is the human race’s most enduring symbol of dominance. And when you’re a woman, the only way to usurp that authority is to wrap your hand, mouth or vagina around that symbol and command that it release its essence. The moment a man begins shivering with pleasure and pulsating with satisfaction is the moment I live for. I feel like David slaying Goliath. And that to me is raw feminism and unadulterated female power. Whatever I say or do goes and that’s it.

More important than the actual performance, amount of payment, or the size of a man’s gonads is his personality. Now this may sound totally ridiculous but trust me, in my world there is no shortage of money or studs. But there is a severe dearth of men who can entertain me. Like most other working girls, I’m very restless and get bored easily. The majority of clients leave me fidgety. It’s not that they’re totally boring...it’s just that I’m so demanding in this area that very few men can measure up. But give me one guy with an offbeat sense of humor and a sixth sense as to how to keep me interested...and I’ve found somebody I want to spend some time with.

An intelligent guy also commands my attention. I pride myself on having an intellect and I figure if I can surround myself with adroit minds, I’ll emerge that much smarter from the experience.

And like most girls in my profession, men with fame and fortune are powerfully attractive. There’s something about their stature in the world I want to share. Unfortunately, I often have ambivalent feelings of jealousy and admiration in their presence, and thus find myself intentionally ignoring their celebrity in an attempt to put them in their place. I guess I have a problem.

Ditto for gorgeous and or endowed clients. Most women prefer their men handsome and hung. While I like a big dick on a beautiful guy as much as the next girl, there’s no bigger turn-off than a man who knows what he has and chooses to flaunt it. And this is the guy to whom I give the roughest treatment. Every time I put one of them in his place I feel like I’m doing womankind a service.

The real truth is that while I exude confidence with my customers, I also have my insecurities like everybody else in the world. If I’m not feeling so beautiful one day, a gorgeous client will make me feel a little prettier. If I’m don’t feel like Einstein on another, a rocket scientist with a hard-on instantly elevates my IQ. And if I’m feeling a little less than very talented, an accomplished artist will help me through the day.

A lot of people think my profession is fascinating. Women are secretly envious of all the men I get to sample. But really, 99% of the job is deadly drudgery. I don’t come with customers; I’m simply using my orifices to turn a buck. When I really want a good release, I get drunk at a lesbian bar and get off with another girl. So in essence, I’m just a gay chick getting over on a bunch of stupid guys...to the tune of $5000/week or more. But if you’re with me...you’ll never know. And that’s why I’m such a money-making ho.

 

ESCORT EDITORIAL #98

ORAL FIXATIONS

- By Billy Bob

Although I’ve never witnessed the phenomenon in the Asian community (quick disclaimer so as not to offend my Asian clients), I have observed on many occasions severe cases of arrested development in the clients I deal with. I know psychologists claim that children who undergo an early traumatic experience will stop developing emotionally at the moment that event occurs. And I might be skeptical about this theory if I hadn’t seen it exhibited on too many occasions.

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I’ll give you a few examples. One day, a total mess of an owner was training her employee how to answer and screen guys on the phone. The lesson was a simple one but the girl who was being taught became uncomfortable...clammed up...and actually began sucking her thumb to ease her emotional pain. Or another time, I was booking ads with a tranny madam when one of the girls tuned into a cartoon show on the television and sat right in front of the set Indian style to commence (drum roll) sucking her thumb! Call me crazy...but for women in their 20’s, I find this behavior a little disconcerting. And finally, I once slept over at an incall with a young (though legal) girl who was afraid to stay alone in the house. Come morning time, I awakened to try and go another round, but was stopped dead in my tracks by the visual of the girl fast asleep with (drum roll again) her thumb stuck deep in her pie hole!

Well....I haven’t seen any women of this particular genre for a long time...but another manifestation of the arrested development syndrome has been on exhibition recently. And this one I’ll call “nursery rhyme syndrome,” an annoying little reality which entails grown women calling me up and singing made-up, completely amelodic, and totally out-of-tune little ditties about nothing. I’m sure the girls think this stuff is oh so clever - just as a 3 year old would. But I find it depressing. Sometimes, it gets really tired dealing with so many emotional basket cases. As George Carlin once said “The world is full of losers. A couple of winners here and there....but mostly all losers.” If he operated in my realm, George would delete the “a couple of winners here and there” line from his routine. You get the idea.

The longer I work in this business...the more I’m convinced that the traumatic event that causes all this arrested development is sexual abuse at an early age, which I’ve come to the conclusion is way more prevalent than anybody wants to believe. And I’m not talking just with escorts. I’m talking with everybody. Back when I was doing Grand Jury Duty and we had a graphic case which involved a man systematically abusing his niece over the course of years, I could see from the faces on some of the female jurors - all of whom functioned in mainstream society - a pain which led me to believe that at some point in their youth, they’d been there, too. But as strong women with a degree of talent, aptitude, resolve and resilience, they themselves had gotten over that hump to make a life for themselves which didn’t involve repeating that abuse to earn a living.

Well anyway...enough of the amateur psychology. If there are any girls reading to this point? Do me a favor! Don’t call me up and sing moronic nursery rhymes in my phone. Hey! If Oprah could succeed after all her childhood abuse, you can too! And that’s my message for the day! Grow up and get over it! We all have our emotional scars. Just some of us can deal - and others cave!.
—Billy Bob

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