Posted at 19:22 on 25 Jun 2019
by Pandora / Blake
A few weeks ago I sent a nerve-wracking email.
For a few years now, I've been thinking about hiring a sex worker. I've been inspired by the wonderful women and queer folx who have booked me for sessions: our culture makes it a lot easier for men to honour their sexual needs and seek out ways of getting them met than people of other genders, particularly people who have experienced misogyny and slut-shaming. I really admire it when a woman or non-binary person comes to me, knowing what they want, and with enough self-esteem to think they deserve to get it. It made me wonder if this would be something I might do for myself one day.
The problem, as I saw it, was that as a sex worker myself, all of the suitable candidates I could think of - who I knew I could trust with my body and my fantasies - were friends and colleagues. Some of them friends I hadn't dated, some of them friends I had. Part of the professionalism of sex work, for me, is to maintain distinct boundaries between my clients and my social life, in order to manage everyone's expectations and make sure I'm not giving too much. So it seemed the idea was a non-starter - even though I felt like it might be a really cool experience to be on the other side for once.
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