A Day In The Life Of An Escort – Leila X - Part 2

Once my arsenal's packed and fully loaded, I focus on my face. My usual makeup routine isn’t heavy; I always play up the eyes with generous coats of mascara, groomed brows, and a deep, rose-colored pout.Contrary to popular belief escorts aren’t glorified hookers. We look fucking fantastic every single time without the cheap perfume and tacky leather anything, FYI. My outfits vary. Most of the time I can get away with anything black and tight, but for clients that are particular about the clothes that I wear I switch it up to please them. Sometimes it’s all soft, dainty and feminine - I get to bust out the tight cashmere sweaters and short skirt for this number - while sometimes they something a little more out there, to which they’ll have to put down extra for.
9 times out of 10 it’s a blast. Clients aren’t creepy losers or abusive mafia lords that they make them to be in the movies. Most of them are just the guys you see walking down the street looking for some release. Some are shy, while some actually give me a good laugh. I get to meet all sorts of blokes and they make for great conversations whenever I get to sit down with my roommate. The 1% of unkillable germs that they talk about in alcohol or hand sanitizers materialize into the douche bag clients that somehow make it through the cracks. Those nights aren’t all that great. Ladies, you have all the power in those situations. If you aren’t feeling it, feel free to walk away honey.
I’d say the foreplay is my favorite part. I love getting them riled up and seeing their honest reactions. In the privacy of the room the weight of the world melts and we’re left to be whoever we want to be. I get to become their dream girl, and for a few hours we’re living the perfect fantasy. When the moment comes, it’s like a switch is turned on. I’m a tiger let out of her cage; ready to devour. To get us both in the mood I talk as soft and sweet as possible, holding their gaze. I start to rub my collar bone and tease them by inching towards my cleavage. At this point, I’m standing over them on the bed, peeling my clothes off. Once blood reaches the parts urgently calling for immediate attention, the bravery kicks in and they start to get handsy. If they’re good, I let them cum inside me with a condom on. Most of the time, I ask that they let me know when they’re about to nut so I can get off just in time. Even with a condom on I get extremely paranoid. I had to take plan B at one point and promised myself I would never subject myself to that torture ever again. Being on the pill Is like being submerged in sewer water -- not pleasant.        
But I’ll tell you what IS pleasant - feeling like the sexiest woman in the world while getting felt up by someone whose attention is on you, all while getting compensated for it. I wouldn’t call it a shallow attempt at establishing a carnal human connection. I think it’s pretty damn cool I get to have all of this because I chose to take charge of my sexuality. The parting words that this self-certified sex genie has for you is simple: have all the fun in the world while your tits aren’t sagging.