If you thought an escort’s day was all nipple clamps, cheap body glitter, and blow jobs 24/7, I’ll have to stop you right there honey. Contrary to popular belief, we aren’t magical pixies that reside in sex dens with the stamina of 40 horses. Hell - you could have passed by me doing the groceries in my juicy couture sweats just last week.
I can’t speak for all the escorts out there, because some of you might be dealing with your own thing. Before this got around to becoming a full time job for me, I was busy busting my ass over a string of part time jobs. I remember being so tired from work but then perking up at the thought of getting dolled up and slipping into lingerie that made me feel like I could put Gisele Bundchen out of a job. I loved being an escort. Save for my unsavory encounters with rude pricks, the job is fantastic. I get to play out my sex goddess fantasies while having fun with strangers. The promise of no complications, generous tips, and interesting stories to tell my roommate the next morning? Too good to pass up. So, if you’re wondering what usually plays out during an ordinary weekday for good ol’ Leila, I suggest you fasten your seatbelts.
Yoga. Gross, I know. I could never wrap my head around it before I gave it ago. I’m just glad my roommate didn’t stop egging me on about it. She would say the reason I had all these migraines was because of all the pent-up tension I’ve been storing in my bones, or some shit like that. Long story short, I relented one morning. I’ve been dedicating 15 minutes every morning every since. The best part about it, apart from not having to pay for memberships because I can do it in the comfort of my own home? Discovering I could get all bendy and flexible! Fucking me is like getting down and dirty with a trapeze artist or octopus - whichever turns you on more.
After showering and making myself a meal (I’m quite frankly the most domesticated escort you’ll ever meet; I love my fine china, ceramic cookware, and japanese knives all in that order) I’ll shower, take my dogs for a walk, and then head back in to do some writing before getting ready for work. When I’m not babbling off to you guys, I’m busy contributing to Cosmopolitan. It today fell on the 25th, I would be off to the nearest remittance center to send a little love towards mom and dad’s direction.
At this point, I’ll accept all the wild fantasies that have been dancing through your head upon glancing the title. It’s every bit of sex charged and raunchy as you’d imagine, with just a hint of preparedness to it. How I get ready to engage with my clientele is almost ceremonial; I have a checklist and a purse any girl scout over the age of 18 can be proud of. In my little black purse, you can find the essentials: hand sanitizer (your girl’s a practical one), condoms (no STDs here big boy), lipstick, ID, a powerbank, a tin of mints from Starbucks, a few 50 dollar bills, and pepper spray.
To Be Continued…..