Monday, 30 November 2009
I think I'm turning into my Mother. Not the nauseatingly annoying bit, but I hear myself say things and it's like turning the wheels of time backwards 25 years.
Such gems as ;
"I'll give you a real reason to cry in a minute".
"Don't come crying to me when you've been knocked from your bike and killed because you wouldn't wear the reflective arm bands."
If some kind soul could email me a link to the current suggested school curriculum I'd be very grateful because I think the education system has a lot to answer for. Take last week for example. I committed the horrid atrocity of actually asking my little treasure to tidy her room unaided, since I had already brought the cleaning equivalent of a JCB through it twice. Cue an unmerciful row which culminated in tiny hands being applied firmly to hips and then the clincher ;
"I may be small but I have a voice and I deserve to be heard."
Well, suffice to say that the only voice to be heard in the immediate aftermath was mine, at a pitch and a volume that had my kitties diving for cover in the broom cupboard.
Last Thursday I thoroughly enjoyed an overnight with Mr F, we had food to die for and he bought me a beautiful pair of earrings for Christmas. It just goes to show how much I trust him, one of the earrings went straight through but the other ear has semi healed over. So I took a large mouthful of wine ;
"Right, just do it."
"Are you sure ?"
Many howls later and we still couldn't manage it so I need to get that one pierced again. Oh joy. Anyway, the next day we were both attending a social lunch which was superb. Beautiful food and the best of craic. Big Rick was there too and I think he was a little nervous as it was his first social but as it was a daytime meet it was relatively civilised, the next one will be a haze of doubles, hehe. The last time I was in Aberdeen Rick gave me a pressie and I've attached a picture. It's a name badge which says " Laura Lee, 5* Tour Guide ". How cool is that ? I wore it with pride at the social and will do so at future events too. :)
From the social I sprinted home, did a handstand in the shower and set off to meet Mr A for the weekend. I have long made it my mission to put the "f" back into sex, by which I mean fun. Why does it have to be so goddamn serious ? Some people approach bedroom olympics like a military operation. The second part of that mission is to bring a sense of perspective back into "Senior Management" types. I have very happy memories of perching on an armchair in Glasgow one night with my client seated at my feet. He was using management speak and waxing lyrical about the expenditure for his latest project, so I kicked him over.
"Oh my God, did you just kick me over ?"
"I did, yep."
"No-one has dared to give me cheek for years, let alone kick me. Thank you."
So back to Mr A. We were enjoying champagne and strawberries when he started to wind me up. ( He does it very well. ) The closest thing to hand was a large scatter cushion so it was duly fired in his general direction, but missed, and instead took out several glass tumblers. Now, most people would have stopped there but for all his management training he has obviously glossed over the chapter on "When to concede defeat," and so it went on until neither of us had any energy left.
It was a wonderful weekend which we both thoroughly enjoyed. :)
This week sees me heading off to Dundee on Wednesday and Thursday before landing in Edinburgh on Friday. I shall speak to you from there.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Good evening and greetings from deepest darkest Ayrshire from behind a pile of A4 paper which resembles the inbox at the AOL complaints department. I have been very busy completing my latest assignment tonight because it's due by mid-day tomorrow. All is peaceful and quiet and my boy cat is curled up beside me fellating himself in a nonchalant manner. I suppose it's revenge for my playing cat porn on You - tube earlier which resulted in his sprinting for the door. I know, I'm very mean.
The "C" word is almost upon us and although I love spending time with my loved ones and chilling out, the mayhem in the lead up to it is a pain in my curvaceous backside. This year my little treasure has decided she'd like Santa to bring her ( inter alia ) a guitar. I could have cried, not least because my Dad rather helpfully offered to get her a drum kit to go with it. I could hear the smile in his voice when he said it but it didn't stop the almost unbearable desire to throttle him.
Once my assignment is submitted it's a quick metamorph from me, the tracksuit clad, pale and very uninteresting student to my far more glamorous alter-ego. I have it down to a fine art and can do the total transformation in an hour. On Thursday night I am meeting Mr F for an overnight and looking forward to it immensely. We always have the best of craic and I think I'll wear "that" dress which means I can't bend over at all, well, not until we get back to the bedroom anyway, hehe.
Friday afternoon and I'm off to a social lunch in Glasgow with other lewdies from the industry and it will be brilliant to catch up with my friends. Straight from there I'm into a taxi and off to meet Mr A for the weekend, another of my guys who always spoils me rotten. I'm a lucky, lucky girl when I think about the regular clients I have.
On that happy note I'm going back to the books and to hoosh my porn cat from the sofa.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Wednesday last saw the publication of an excellent piece in The Guardian by Catherine Stephens where she said that if the government wants to reduce the social exclusion of sex workers, they should consult us when consulting on new laws. She said :
"Sex workers themselves are the experts on their own lives. As the origin of many political and civil rights organisations, including the Labour party itself, shows, the way to prevent exploitation is to recognise the human, civil and labour rights of stigmatised and excluded groups. Sex workers have been denied these rights for too long."
Absolutely agree and very well said. I don't feel that the current prohibitory mood is doing anything to help our stance as sex workers in society in terms of stigma and marginalisation. As a sex worker, I don't ask anyone to "like" what I do for a living, after all I'm not particularly enamoured with traffic wardens. What I do seek ( and believe I deserve ) is respect, and the same rights as any other self - employed individual in the UK.
As usual, there were a mixture of comments following Catherine's piece but she argued back in a most measured and calm fashion. She even dared to allow her sense of humour to come through. That in itself came under fire because you see, prostitutes are so embittered and hardened that we couldn't possibly have a sense of humour. *sigh*
Today's papers also made me smile, not least the article by Ian Bell in The Herald : "Prostitution's vile, but is it wrong ?" The crux of his article was simply this ; Ask the average person for his/her opinion on prostitution and the answer will most likely be that they find it abhorrent. If we dig deeper and find the root of that distaste, it won't be the actual prostitution that's the issue, but rather, the perceived associated moral wrongs, such as coercion, violence, underage girls and drugs.
So what if we strip away all of those associated crimes and examine prostitution as a single, legal and regulated entity ? What then ? What can we say is actually wrong with it ?
"We would have to think, to begin with, why such a state of affairs has never before pertained. History tells it plain. For every celebrated courtesan with a fancy invented name, in every age, there has been an entire immiserated class of women, disposed of as men saw fit. This implies, beyond much doubt, that prostitution is the way it is, and has always been, not because of a shortage of the lucky, smiling Belle de Jour sorts, but because men make that choice.
It’s called hypocrisy. It’s the politician in the massage parlour; the judge who has no idea that his car has slowed to a crawl; those ministers attending the General Assembly who were, or perhaps still are, the stuff of Edinburgh legend. They make, enforce, commend or applaud the law as though to ensure that there is a law worth breaking, and an illicit thrill to be had. They create criminals for their pleasure. The cliche is antique: the vast majority of prostitution’s customers – and the numbers are vast – are respectable.
Should society tolerate the horrors of the sex industry? Such appears, after all, to be the proposition: either/or. Either we continue to keep prostitution in murderous darkness, it says, or we risk the stability of the daylight world. Why does that sound like nonsense?
The sex industry is vile because the men who run it and use it would have it no other way. They are not acting out of social conscience. One group wants easy money; the other wants to pay for the chance to use helpless women on command and according to whim.
Dr Magnanti, “Belle de Jour” – who sounds as though she has never seen the bleak film – has provided the trade with a fresh set of glib, glamorous and deceitful excuses. She was lucky. The countless women forced to pretend to play her game will never be so fortunate.
Why not? Because, I suspect, men couldn’t stand to see those women making the free choices, sexual and economic, that liberated prostitution would allow. Sheer slavery is tolerated instead. For the common good."
Bravo Mr. Bell.
Also today was this very balanced and perceptive view from India Knight in The Times :
"Two things struck me in the aftermath of my interview with Belle de Jour last week. The first is that several of my female colleagues in the media appeared to be deeply personally offended by the fact that Belle, or rather Dr Brooke Magnanti, wasn’t at any point raped or beaten up during the 14 months she spent as a call girl.
There were vague disclaimers to the effect of “of course, thankfully, nothing terrible happened to Magnanti”, but the basic thrust — as it were — of their argument was that the lack of rapes/beatings meant that her experience was not representative of prostitution and therefore fraudulent in some way. But how would they know what was or wasn’t representative unless they’d been in a lot of rooms with a lot of customers themselves?
Magnanti never suggested that her experience was anything other than subjective, but she did tell me “the vast majority” of her clients “were more polite, nicer and treated me better than many ‘normal’ men on dates. No one wants to be ‘that guy’ [the one who abuses prostitutes]. Besides the agency had their real name, their real landline number, their real credit card details”. She had, she said “never left an appointment” before time was up and only two clients had made her feel uneasy.
Now that Belle has outed herself, I wonder why it remains so difficult for people — or indeed the law — to understand that not all prostitutes conform to the stereotype of the abused, trafficked, addicted victim. Of course such women exist in vast, shaming and regrettable numbers. But to claim, as so many commentators did last week, that this is the only version of prostitution that exists seems to me extraordinarily naive."
No-one can now deny that there is a huge cross section within the sex industry and that it is simply not acceptable to use a sledgehammer to crack a nut in terms of planning legislation. Is the tide finally turning ? I sincerely hope so.
I also liked the comment in relation to the difference between "normal" dates and paid encounters. I am very fortunate to have a number of regular clients who treat me like a very special lady in their lives, and that's because I am. Our relationships run far deeper than a paid sex encounter and have developed into lasting friendships, based on trust, loyalty and an openness that I never experienced in some of my previous "personal" relationships. I will freely admit that in the past I allowed one or two of my previous partners to treat me like a toy, to be cast aside when they were bored with me, and when I look back now, the whole relationship was based on ritual humiliation and emotional abuse. My, how times have changed.
None of my regular guys would even attempt those kind of head games with me, after all, when you're tied to a bed and blindfolded, it's probably not the best time to goad me into psychological warfare. ;)
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
All I can say is I'm glad today is over. It was fun but everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. I checked into my hotel this afternoon after horrendous delays on that carpark they have the gall to call a motorway, the M8. I was stuck in the car for over 40 minutes all in all apologising profusely to my first client because I was running late, whilst trying desperately to control my temper because Glasgow's answer to Denis the Menace was gurning at me out the back window of his parent's car. Little *$!&%.
Eventually I got settled in and my first appointment went fine. Since I have been doing very well on the studying front I decided to pop out of the hotel to pick up some wine for this evening. It was like I had stepped into a parallel universe because the reception area was filled with blind people. Apparently there was some form of conference on. Anyway as I was making my way to the revolving door, I noticed a gentleman with a white stick hanging back and trying desperately to guage when to go through the door. Ever the helpful soul ( I was in The Brownies, you know ) I asked him,
"Do you want me to tell you when to go ?"
"Oooh, that would be smashing, thank you."
What he should have mentioned is that he is a little hard of hearing too, because when I said "Now", he turned and said "What ?" before launching himself at the door and going face first into the glass panel. I swear, it could only have happened to me. Numerous people jumped up to see if he was ok, all the while glaring at me like the spawn of Satan.
"I was only trying to help, and see, what happened was, I said now, but he ... "
It didn't seem to matter as they were all too concerned with circling him and looking at me like the dirt from my cat's paw. I decided to beat a hasty retreat and set off to get my wine. At the pavement side there were two more delegates, but I decided to leave them to it, I had done enough damage for one day.
Finally, I got back to my room and waited for the world's most nervous client whom I have been speaking to via email for quite some time. He'd never met a lady of negotiable virtue before so I welcomed him in and offered him a full body massage to begin with, because he was literally shaking like a leaf. He was a lovely, lovely man and the moment of mutual engagement had just started in missionary position when the fecking fire alarm went off. He lost his erection almost as quickly as I lost the will to live. So we left the hotel via separate fire exits and he bolted off into the night, presumably never to be heard from again.
So there we are. A day in the life, huh ? I wouldn't mind, but three units of Strathclyde Fire Brigade couldn't produce one good looking fireman between them. It was like Krufts.
So I'm off to quaff vast amounts of white wine and contemplate for the 8 millionth time how I ever became the Frank Spencer of escorts.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
So whilst I was busy letting my hair down and playing air guitar with gusto as a stress busting measure, Belle de Jour came out. The reasons why she chose to do so after all this time are fairly ambiguous, but it would seem that she was going to be outed sooner rather than later anyway. Whatever her rationale for it, I absolutely admire her courage and strength and wish her all the very best in her future career too.
One of the things I admire about Belle is she has faced criticism over her apparent "glamorisation" of her work as a call girl, but I think what needs to be remembered is that those were her memoirs. She didn't claim to speak for the whole escort or indeed sex industry and therein lies the difference. She says that she was very fortunate and was never raped, beaten etc. but not once does she claim that to be the case for ( insert appropriately inflated statistic here ) of call girls.
As to her style of writing, I find it refreshingly funny, even if sometimes as she said herself she didn't intend it to be that way. Sometimes this world I inhabit can be hysterical, that's a fact. I write my blog as a memoir for myself to look back on but also as a window into a world that a lot of people find fascinating, but too few understand. Never once have I claimed that it's a bed of roses, far from it. It's a very catty industry and the work can be very taxing and tiring. I met Amanda coming out of her bedroom on our recent tour of Aberdeen and flashed her a grin.
"Well, did the earth move ?"
"No, but his teeth did."
I still wouldn't change a thing.
I read The Daily Mail today ( always a bad move ) and happened across the article written by Bel Mooney : "How can such a clever woman be so stupidly naive about this sleazy world ?" The first flaw is in the title, Dr. Magnanti cannot be referred to as naive if she has lived the experience, can she ? She is saying in her memoirs, "This is what I know of being an escort because it happened to me," NOT "This is what I think of being an escort based on my personal opinion."
Ms. Mooney goes on to say :
"....for me, the worst aspect of this whole sorry story is that such an intelligent woman (currently involved in research on 'environmental toxin exposure and child health'), with all the privileges of a good background and education, should make such a low-down, straightforwardly bad choice."
Hmmm, we must be looking at a different story then, because all I can see is a very intelligent woman who made an informed decision to pay her way through her studies rather than claim benefits. Aside from that, who is Bel Mooney to say it is a "low down" choice ? She has worked as an escort and can speak from experience can she ?
"Whatever the truth, Dr Magnanti has just added to an unfortunately widespread illusion that sex workers are free-wheeling women who make an empowered choice."
How many times ? WE DO EXIST. REALLY.
*bangs head on wall, repeatedly*
Then this little beauty ;
"Make no mistake, prostitution is not about a man enjoying a thrillingly transgressive sexual encounter with a willing woman who looks like Brooke Magnanti, or Julia Roberts; it is about exploitation, violence and abuse."
Ah, ok. Thanks for clearing that up. Next weekend I am meeting Mr A as he has arrived back from his latest business trip. He has booked a three hour session for me in a health spa to unwind and at some point over the weekend we will be driving to the borders to collect the cocktail dress I was measured for which has been hand made. Ooooh, and if you see a woman strolling around the Buchanan Galleries with hair not a million miles away from Julia Robert's mop, that will be me too, out shopping for some new make up with my abusive client, who is hellbent on exploiting me, obviously.
So blog on Dr. Magnanti, and I sincerely hope that Belle does get her happy ending, because no-one deserves it more.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Good evening and firstly let me say I'm sorry I have been out of circulation for a couple of days, but I was busy having my annual meltdown. Sometimes we all need a bit of space and to be around those we know we can trust with our lives.
When I'm not on a rant against politicians, I come across as a very fun loving and bouncy person and 99% of the time that's exactly who I am. However, I am only human and sometimes I just get to a point where enough is enough. The latter part of this week was one of those occasions I'm afraid. I'm laughing now, but quite honestly the last tour of Aberdeen Amanda and I did was less "Thelma and Louise" and more "Baise Moi." It's funny how when you're already stressed, the littlest things can seem so enormous and when you consider that I am the world's greatest drama queen it was bound to explode at some point. So explode it did, in spectacular fashion. I had a tantrum of epic proportions and cried myself silly. Amanda was her usual rock and with copious hugs and the passing of tissues I soon calmed down. From experience I knew what I had to do, so it was into the car and off to my old home town to spend the weekend with G, my good friend and confidante.
Not to put too fine a point on it, G is quite mad. Come the weekend, her flat is party central and it's anyone's guess at how many people are likely to be in the kitchen, or asleep in the bath. She says it herself, it's like "Shameless" in Scotland. We had it all, the allegations of infidelity, screaming matches, tears, tiaras and tantrums. You know what ? It was the best fun I've had with my clothes on. It was like being in a parallel universe, her new rabbit called "The Dog" was bouncing about the house all weekend when he wasn't eating cheese on toast in the kitchen.
On the way back from the pub, we established we were a member down and it emerged that 'D' had wandered into the police station for a "blether". Apparently it's a regular occurrence, most people go out of their way to avoid the police station but there we are. Mind you, 'D' did significantly better than 'F' who ended up in a gorse bush. I never, EVER want to smell spiced rum again and I am sipping blackcurrant at the moment in a very ginger fashion.
So it's back to business as usual for me, once again I'm sitting here in floods of tears but this time it's because I'm watching the X-factor about some of the seriously ill children in Great Ormond Street Hospital. I'll never complain about the state of my little treasure's bedroom again.
As a complete aside, if John and Edward are not voted off next week I am going to stage a one woman protest, nekkid.
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Good evening, and greetings from Aberdeen where I landed today after a long and tortuous journey. My drive was marred by thick fog, thick truckers and most bizarrely, huge numbers of bunnies bouncing about. I would have thought that come the cold weather they would go to ground but on the verges of the A90 tonight they were plentiful. I've only hit one bunny in my time, which given the amount of time I spend on the road is quite remarkable. To be fair, it was the most stupid bunny ever to grace the earth.
I was on my way home from an outcall late at night when I spied said bunny by the side of the road. It appeared to have noticed my car approaching and so began hopping towards the ditch and away from my car. Having slowed down, I was relieved and so went back on the accelerator. Without warning, it turned around and hopped at great speed back towards my car and under my wheel. To say I was gutted was an understatement. I braked hard and thought for a moment about what I would do if it wasn't truly dead. Having decided I couldn't bear to see it suffer I decided that I would have to reverse over it. With a heavy heart I looked in my rear view mirror and there bathed in the red light of my brakes was a VERY squashed bunny. It resembled a scene of carnage with the red light for added effect. It was as dead as dead gets but that didn't make me feel any better. :(
Aside from that, my recent post about the buddy system got me thinking about the newbies I have encountered over the years. I guess one of the first was my babysitter in my former home town. I knew it was about to become common knowledge that I was an escort so I sat her down one night.
"I have something to tell you. You know that program that we both love, 'Confessions of a Call Girl' ? Well, that's what I do, I'm an escort."
"Heh, I knew that."
"What ? Why didn't you say ?"
"Well, there was still 5% of me that thought I could be wrong, but when half of your bookshelf consists of memoirs of an escort I had an idea. What did it for me is the night you came home and paid me in English twenties which smelt of 'Kouros'."
Hmmm, I suppose that will do it all right.
With time, she decided she'd like to become an escort too, and I was in a blind panic. I'm good friends with her mother too and really didn't want to be held responsible if anything went mammaries skywards. In the end the decision was taken out of my hands. One Sunday morning after I limped home from an overnight booking, she declared loudly "Right, I've decided. Escorting is definitely for me, but I have to fancy them mind." After I got it through to her that you cannot pick and choose your clients based on looks, the subject was dropped. Phew.
Perhaps I should have shared with her my recent encounter in Dundee. I met a man who was utterly charming and had booked for an hour. Round one was absolutely fine and went as you would expect. For Round Two, he asked if he could come on my assets contained within my La Senza bra. But then came the clincher ; " Can you lick my balls whilst I make myself come ?"
I was still wondering how I was going to make that happen, ( maybe me lying on my side ? ) when he launched himself upon me in reverse, so that one buttock fitted neatly into each eye socket. I was temporarily shocked and also asphyxiated, but that didn't seem to deter him. When he finally reached his golden goal and got off me I was temporarily blinded and was seeing white spots.
"Babes that was amazing."
No, what was amazing was that my teeth were in such close proximity to his boy bits without having made contact.
Try explaining that level of patience to a newbie. God knows I try.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
I was interested to read an article in today's Guardian by Beatrix Campbell about
the debating of the police and crime bill in the House of Lords.
It wasn't so much the article that interested me, more the comments afterwards. For example :
"Before the inevitable spluttering outrage from some quarters begins, I would just like to put the argument that this is a hugely important step forward not just for women but for positive attitudes to men in our society. At last it is on the record that the UK believes that most men do not leave their consciences at the bedroom door, and can in fact be expected to value consent and equality in their sex lives."
I take great exception to that remark. What one person has the right to judge the conscience of another ? I have met clients who have been bereaved and felt unable to enter into a new relationship with a woman, much less a sexual relationship. I have been able to form an important bridge in their lives to enable them to move on to form a fulfilling relationship and find a new partner. Never once did I consider those men to be men without a conscience or men who chose to take the decision to contact me as a sex worker lightly.
The men I encounter already value equality and consent in their sex lives. They are educated and well informed individuals more than capable of determining when a woman is committing an act of her own volition. They do not need it set down in Statute Law.
I was slowly but surely losing the will to live when I came across this comment :
"If the buying of sex from someone who chooses to sell isn't meaningfully distinguished from the buying of sex from someone coerced then despite your sophistry you are simply criminalising buying of sex. Your reasons cannot be to protect the coerced since you would be interfering in the business of the non-coerced. You must effectively believe buying (and therefore selling) sex is inherently morally wrong - be honest and tell us why. And then tell us why it is any of your business what other people do with their own bodies?"
Absolutely spot on, and very well said. What the legislature is actually working towards is complete abolition, thinly disguised as a move towards the protection of the greater good. It's been proven that criminalising sex workers is ineffective, so their next step is to criminalise the clients. This too will fail as it is using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. It is failing to address the real issue of the women at risk and those who are responsible. It is the traffickers who need to be penalised.
Further down the article came a comment from a suspiciously "Bindelesque" commentator :
"I have to say that the debate that took place in the Lords on Tuesday night was a credit to all the peers who took part, from both sides of the argument. They were informed, and more importantly there was very little doubt that their principle concern was for the well-being of the women involved in prostitution, especially those who are there as a result of vulnerability and exploitation.
This made a welcome change from the tired arguments increasingly employed by the pro-sex work lobby, who have been trying to sell prostitution as an entirely free-choice, as evidenced by the apparent existence of legions of so-called happy-hookers, and who have been trying to sell trafficking into the 'industry' as nothing more than a purely valid form of economic migration.
Try telling the young woman from Romania whose traffickers were jailed in Manchester yesterday that her being forced to have sex with up to 10 men a night was nothing more than an economic choice on her part. Try telling her that being lured to the UK on the promise of a job and of being able to afford a better life for her 3 year old daughter, and then having her daughter's life threatened if she refused to service men, was nothing more than a result of her own free choice, and that rather than being a victim she's simply just another economic migrant, as the ECP and their academic puppets would have us all believe".
Unbelievable. The "Happy Hooker" argument is becoming more than a little tired now, surely to goodness the recent letter from most of the ladies of Punternet on foot of Harriet Harman's efforts to shut the site down should have been sufficient to offer some amount of evidence as to our existence as strong, independent women who have chosen to work within the sex industry and continue to enjoy our roles ? What more evidence can we possibly offer ?
For me, the most offensive part of that comment is that we have been "trying to sell trafficking into the industry as nothing more than a purely valid form of economic migration." That is quite simply untrue and also highly inflammatory. No one of the ladies that I am aware of have ever tried to condone trafficking in any of it's forms. On the contrary, many of the women that I count as friends within the industry are involved in the "Buddy Scheme", run by Penny BBW which seeks to provide a befriending service for those women who have already made a conscious decision to enter the industry. The whole rationale behind the scheme is to protect those "new" women away from would-be predators who prey on the less knowledgeable and seek to push boundaries. Why then, would we advocate trafficking ? It simply doesn't make sense.
The question of trafficking versus economic migration arose because at it stands, if a woman ( such as myself ) leaves the country with a client, that is counted as trafficking. How absurd. Surely if we are going to tackle the problem of trafficking then we need to know the beast we are to do battle with? Inflated statistics serve no purpose other than to satisfy political agenda. At any rate, that gain can only be a temporary benefit. As sex workers, we are not seeking to deplete the numbers of trafficked women to lessen the likelihood of prohibitory legislation. On the contrary, we would rather see real figures and a real, workable solution.
To suggest that we as sex workers would put our own interests in front of those women who suffer at the hands of traffickers is at best, offensive. We more than anyone else want to see an end to trafficking, but to see it tackled with measures that will actually work rather than wasting tax payers money and valuable police resources prosecuting clients.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
I'm weary. I'm tired from all the online arguments with bigots and misogynistic politicians. I have come to the conclusion that they will never hear the voice of reason, no matter how plainly it is presented to them.
As you know, I visit Harlot's Parlour every so often and have my say over there. I have to be honest, I feel that the people who contribute there are far better read than I and without a doubt infinitely more suited to constructing a valid argument to counter a relentless onslaught. But the point is this, as simplistic as my approach may be, I do recognise the difference between right and wrong, and what is being proposed as a "realistic" approach towards the "problem" of prostitution is very wrong and also based on assumptions built on a bedrock of false statistics.
I have been in correspondence with a gentleman who gave me his permission to publish this excellent piece : "An open letter to the House of Lords", so I've put it on Harlot's Parlour :
I too have written to the Lords and I sincerely hope that enough voices with reasoned argument will make a difference. As per usual, any pro-active action by an escort is met by 95% support and applause within the industry. The remaining 5% who gossip and snigger can kiss my ever decreasing backside. :)
Since I last blogged I've been working really hard, both in escorting and also at my studies, so any time to myself has been precious and treasured. As you know I love my kitties so imagine how gutted I was when I found my boy cat was peeing blood again. Last week I had him at the vets no fewer than 3 times and the vet came to the conclusion that he is prone to cystitis from stress. Gawd. Tomorrow I'm off to buy him a plug-in diffuser that apparently calms even the most nervy cat. I don't think it's to do with my kitten per se, because he's had it before she ever arrived, however I suspect her launching "Kujo" style attacks on his head from the top of the sofa probably doesn't help.
Speaking of random attacks, I had a text from my Mother yesterday, " Greetings from Lanzarote. Plenty of sun, sea, sand and sex." Bleurgh. God alone knows who she has collared now, no doubt I'll get the details alongside vivid descriptions at her earliest convenience.
I was amused to discover recently that my brother reads my blog. ( How wrong is that ? )Hi G. :} Anyway, he said he doesn't mind reading my explicit tales of romps with various clients but parental sex makes him retch. Uh huh, Amen to that.
Last week I travelled to Manchester to attend an industry social and it was hugely enjoyable. Kit and Kat were there, the porn star sisters. ( If you don't know who I mean, google them but ensure you're seated comfortably firstly. ) It was a wonderful opportunity for me to catch up with some of the lewdies I love and a good laugh was had by all.
On Wednesday night I had an overnight booking with an accountant. Far from being the stereotypical bore, like myself he is just on the positive side of eccentric and we had a riot. It was very strange, the more we chatted, the more we found we had in common and by the end of the evening we were tripping over each other to speak. He mentioned to me that he thinks there is a gap in the market for information and advice for Scottish ladies on all things taxation. I agree. So, he is in the process of organising a symposium in Glasgow at some point in the not too distant future. This will be a half day in a hotel where he will give a talk on the relevant parts of taxation to our industry and of course there will be lots of time for questions and answers afterwards. Of course, we ladies will need to retire to a nearby pub afterwards to discuss what we've learnt. ;) So, if you are based within travelling distance of Glasgow and would like to attend, please email me and I will email you back with some information as soon as the date is finalised.
It's study and relaxation for me for the next couple of days and then I'm back on the road on Wednesday when I'll be in my usual boudoir in Glasgow. On Thursday and Friday I'll be in Dundee with that lunatic from up north, Amanda. I was thinking about her today when I was shopping and picked up a DVD for us to watch, "Thelma and Louise".