Honestly, it's really not that important that you know who I am. Although as humans we are naturally curious about a person's background - where they're from or what they're like - before we dig more into their lives, their stories, their past and the present. However, I won't do that. It's not that I'm not willing to, but in all truthfulness I fail time and again to really describe myself. Somehow, no matter how hard I try, I can never conjure up the perfect way to precisely portrait myself. And none of us should be able to either, since for all I know, humans are complicated. We, as I prefer to think, are souls that reside within bodies, instead of bodies carrying souls.
The way I would start this blog is by initiating the countless of stories and encounters that will unfold in front of your eyes in the future - a continuation of adventures, of heartbreaks and many depressing moments, with a few enlightening ones in between. It's a timeline of my life starting from this moment. Yet, for me it's impossible to discard the past, since they consist, in large part, of who I have become today. Therefore I'm telling you a story today, of my first encounter with my very first customer, and how it has led me to this point of where I am today.
On January 16th, 2017, three days after my 18th birthday, I posted an ad online, put up a few photos with a short and concise description. Within minutes, I received my first email requesting more information about my services. I still remember, about four months later, how my heart started racing upon seeing that email in my mailbox. I felt like I was walking toward someplace unknown, and I should consider turning back to my ordinary, depressing life. The feeling of excitement and apprehension, a bit of shame and guilt were all bubbling in my head, whirling and mixing together into a big pot of disturbing thoughts. I knew right then, the moment I replied to him, the person, the man who had just been checking me out, sizing me up and down through a computer screen, probably having obscene thoughts and fantasising about what he would do to me, there was really no turning back. I would soon be sucked into the world of endless pure desire but minimal emotions. I would have to restrain my heart's command and betray my soul.
Our conversation has lasted for days before we finally met up. I was so stupid to have suggested he come to my city, around my school area for my convenience. I had been sitting on pins and needles the whole day, without a clue as to what I should expect either from myself or from that man. After school I quickly changed into a casual attire - striped shirt and jeans - put on some eyeliner, took my backpack and walked out the school gate. The school gate was like the fine line between my two entirely different - almost contradicting - realities. As I was walking down the street, I felt so surreal that I thought I was simply floating in the air, without a clear destination of where I was heading to. We were to meet up in a café. As I was approaching, my heart was thumping and my inner voices were pulling me back and letting me loose all at once. From a distance I could see a well-built Caucasian man walking about, and immediately I wanted to just turn around and walk away. He wasn't even close to hideous. In fact, he was quite attractive. But my heart, and every cell in my body were telling me "no", because in my mind I knew very clearly that if I did what I was about to do, I would be permanently modified, and I would never be able to see the world the same ever again.
He was tall and strong. When we started talking, I could immediately sense the nerves in his voice. Surprisingly, he was about as nervous as I was. Suddenly our sexual texts translated into a real life rendezvous, and it was just like two normal people talking, except it wasn't. In both of our minds, we were struggling to distinguish the line between right and wrong, innocent and evil, moral and immoral. Of course, those concepts are heavily influenced by society, and everyone is entitled to their own right to decide what's moral and immoral without infringing upon other people's right to do the same. However, who's to say that what we were about to do is as pure as the simple act of sexual intercourse, of the exchange of labour and services, or of the two lonely souls consoling each other?
At last we hopped on a taxi and went straight to a nearby hotel with his warning that I should never arrange a meeting around my neighbourhood, ever again. In the taxi we barely touched each other, and he started asking me about phrases in Mandarin which he didn't understand. After we arrived in our room, he paid me upfront our agreed-upon price for a two-hour session. It couldn't have been more awkward with me trying to act experienced and him nonchalant.
Anyhow, it started off by him giving me a back massage down to my butt. Admittedly I was instantly relaxed, and my anxiety and nerves from the beginning subsided. That was when we both started to feel a bit excited about what was coming. He grabbed me by the neck and started kissing, rather passionately, on my lips, his tongue seducing mine. It was good, perhaps the best I had had at that point. I started to let my body take control over my mind. It all happened so naturally, once we were in the bed. It's something I've learned from the first day of my many days to come: it is always the easiest once two people are in bed; skipping the painful meaningless conversation and trying to act cool and attractive; instead, just get naked and become wild animals - let the bodies speak.
Prior to that point of my life I had never felt so desired and dominated in my life. And I knew for sure the reason he was so turned on by me is largely because of the fact that he was my debut performance, and that I was only 18. He had dreamt of having sex with his students, who were all about the same age as me. Sadly, in his other reality, just like in mine, he is a good and well-mannered person, a well-respected teacher, who would never do such thing. He would never betray his own reputation just for the sake of being his true self. I failed to really accept the idea of living multiple identities, and I still am failing to convince myself till this day. It is not easy. Sometimes I wonder whether I am the only one to think this way, whether I am simply too sensitive, or whether I was just born to be a melancholic writer. How can I be truly accepting of myself if I have to numb parts of me in order to satisfy the others? Yet, some people seem perfectly capable of separating their physical experiences from their heart and soul. Or, I wonder, are they even aware of the voice inside of them?
As I slowly undressed myself before him, a strong sense of desire and pride came over me. His eyes were filled with desire and lust as if he wanted to eat me alive if he could manage to. He gently rubbed on my breasts, gasping at their tenderness. My brain shut down. Obediently I followed my body and what I imagined he would like me to act: that I was extremely pleasured by his touch. His next command was for me to kneel down to give him a nice blowjob, like a good girl. I took out my phone and let him take pictures of me as I was pleasuring him using my mouth and tongue. My eyes would occasionally look up at him with the kind of intensity that I hoped to burn on his soul. I was utterly defenceless and overpowered, yet I could easily pleasure a man with my youthfulness and burning passion - the passion to discover the world and myself from within.
Afterward we were sitting face to face across from each other. I was on the bed, cross-legged, and I couldn't see very clearly his features because of my poor eyesight, although I didn't really need to. He was babbling on about his fantasies, his previous adventures in Thailand, and his first experience with a prostitute in a brothel in Thailand. I, on the other hand, barely said a word except for responding to him in monosyllable words. I found it interesting too, from my past experiences as an 'escort', if you will, that people have a tendency to point out your scarcity in speech when in fact, there was nothing worthy to talk about. Surely you could share with me every little detail in your life if you really want to, or need to, but am I obliged to do the same? Simply put, I was there to pleasure you, not to make friends with you. Perhaps by making me talk more, as two normal people would converse in a social setting, they would be more at ease in a situation as unconventional as prostitution.
Nevertheless, it was still quite good a experience. I mean, at least I didn't get murdered or forced to do what I would be reluctant to do. And in prostitution, that's all you can ask for: survival. If you're lucky, you meet someone who you can really take an interest in, but no, deep down you still can't see them as your other acquaintances. Maybe it's just me, but writing is what I have to do to keep loving, to keep my soul alive. Confusing as it is, I do not hate being a prostitute. Sometimes I even feel lucky to be able to do this. After all, it is my choice. And just like any other occupation in this world, it has its ups and downs. For me, dealing with loneliness will always be my biggest struggle, whether I'm in prostitution or not. This experience only adds more loneliness to my life, since as I know more people, I feel more lonely. My body is constantly exposed, but my soul is locked and shielded from this world.
And now, without me telling you my name, or for god's sake, anything you should've known about me before you read all that, you know something that constitutes me - a piece of my past and its link to the present. And as you read more and more, you'll discover more and more about this person. I'm just a person trying to shine my brightest in this vast world, like everyone else. My experiences are mine, and they will always be mine; but you're welcome to come and feel them, feel my emotions, and the simple tenderness of the sharing of human experience.
The way I would start this blog is by initiating the countless of stories and encounters that will unfold in front of your eyes in the future - a continuation of adventures, of heartbreaks and many depressing moments, with a few enlightening ones in between. It's a timeline of my life starting from this moment. Yet, for me it's impossible to discard the past, since they consist, in large part, of who I have become today. Therefore I'm telling you a story today, of my first encounter with my very first customer, and how it has led me to this point of where I am today.
On January 16th, 2017, three days after my 18th birthday, I posted an ad online, put up a few photos with a short and concise description. Within minutes, I received my first email requesting more information about my services. I still remember, about four months later, how my heart started racing upon seeing that email in my mailbox. I felt like I was walking toward someplace unknown, and I should consider turning back to my ordinary, depressing life. The feeling of excitement and apprehension, a bit of shame and guilt were all bubbling in my head, whirling and mixing together into a big pot of disturbing thoughts. I knew right then, the moment I replied to him, the person, the man who had just been checking me out, sizing me up and down through a computer screen, probably having obscene thoughts and fantasising about what he would do to me, there was really no turning back. I would soon be sucked into the world of endless pure desire but minimal emotions. I would have to restrain my heart's command and betray my soul.
Our conversation has lasted for days before we finally met up. I was so stupid to have suggested he come to my city, around my school area for my convenience. I had been sitting on pins and needles the whole day, without a clue as to what I should expect either from myself or from that man. After school I quickly changed into a casual attire - striped shirt and jeans - put on some eyeliner, took my backpack and walked out the school gate. The school gate was like the fine line between my two entirely different - almost contradicting - realities. As I was walking down the street, I felt so surreal that I thought I was simply floating in the air, without a clear destination of where I was heading to. We were to meet up in a café. As I was approaching, my heart was thumping and my inner voices were pulling me back and letting me loose all at once. From a distance I could see a well-built Caucasian man walking about, and immediately I wanted to just turn around and walk away. He wasn't even close to hideous. In fact, he was quite attractive. But my heart, and every cell in my body were telling me "no", because in my mind I knew very clearly that if I did what I was about to do, I would be permanently modified, and I would never be able to see the world the same ever again.
He was tall and strong. When we started talking, I could immediately sense the nerves in his voice. Surprisingly, he was about as nervous as I was. Suddenly our sexual texts translated into a real life rendezvous, and it was just like two normal people talking, except it wasn't. In both of our minds, we were struggling to distinguish the line between right and wrong, innocent and evil, moral and immoral. Of course, those concepts are heavily influenced by society, and everyone is entitled to their own right to decide what's moral and immoral without infringing upon other people's right to do the same. However, who's to say that what we were about to do is as pure as the simple act of sexual intercourse, of the exchange of labour and services, or of the two lonely souls consoling each other?
At last we hopped on a taxi and went straight to a nearby hotel with his warning that I should never arrange a meeting around my neighbourhood, ever again. In the taxi we barely touched each other, and he started asking me about phrases in Mandarin which he didn't understand. After we arrived in our room, he paid me upfront our agreed-upon price for a two-hour session. It couldn't have been more awkward with me trying to act experienced and him nonchalant.
Anyhow, it started off by him giving me a back massage down to my butt. Admittedly I was instantly relaxed, and my anxiety and nerves from the beginning subsided. That was when we both started to feel a bit excited about what was coming. He grabbed me by the neck and started kissing, rather passionately, on my lips, his tongue seducing mine. It was good, perhaps the best I had had at that point. I started to let my body take control over my mind. It all happened so naturally, once we were in the bed. It's something I've learned from the first day of my many days to come: it is always the easiest once two people are in bed; skipping the painful meaningless conversation and trying to act cool and attractive; instead, just get naked and become wild animals - let the bodies speak.
Prior to that point of my life I had never felt so desired and dominated in my life. And I knew for sure the reason he was so turned on by me is largely because of the fact that he was my debut performance, and that I was only 18. He had dreamt of having sex with his students, who were all about the same age as me. Sadly, in his other reality, just like in mine, he is a good and well-mannered person, a well-respected teacher, who would never do such thing. He would never betray his own reputation just for the sake of being his true self. I failed to really accept the idea of living multiple identities, and I still am failing to convince myself till this day. It is not easy. Sometimes I wonder whether I am the only one to think this way, whether I am simply too sensitive, or whether I was just born to be a melancholic writer. How can I be truly accepting of myself if I have to numb parts of me in order to satisfy the others? Yet, some people seem perfectly capable of separating their physical experiences from their heart and soul. Or, I wonder, are they even aware of the voice inside of them?
As I slowly undressed myself before him, a strong sense of desire and pride came over me. His eyes were filled with desire and lust as if he wanted to eat me alive if he could manage to. He gently rubbed on my breasts, gasping at their tenderness. My brain shut down. Obediently I followed my body and what I imagined he would like me to act: that I was extremely pleasured by his touch. His next command was for me to kneel down to give him a nice blowjob, like a good girl. I took out my phone and let him take pictures of me as I was pleasuring him using my mouth and tongue. My eyes would occasionally look up at him with the kind of intensity that I hoped to burn on his soul. I was utterly defenceless and overpowered, yet I could easily pleasure a man with my youthfulness and burning passion - the passion to discover the world and myself from within.
Afterward we were sitting face to face across from each other. I was on the bed, cross-legged, and I couldn't see very clearly his features because of my poor eyesight, although I didn't really need to. He was babbling on about his fantasies, his previous adventures in Thailand, and his first experience with a prostitute in a brothel in Thailand. I, on the other hand, barely said a word except for responding to him in monosyllable words. I found it interesting too, from my past experiences as an 'escort', if you will, that people have a tendency to point out your scarcity in speech when in fact, there was nothing worthy to talk about. Surely you could share with me every little detail in your life if you really want to, or need to, but am I obliged to do the same? Simply put, I was there to pleasure you, not to make friends with you. Perhaps by making me talk more, as two normal people would converse in a social setting, they would be more at ease in a situation as unconventional as prostitution.
Nevertheless, it was still quite good a experience. I mean, at least I didn't get murdered or forced to do what I would be reluctant to do. And in prostitution, that's all you can ask for: survival. If you're lucky, you meet someone who you can really take an interest in, but no, deep down you still can't see them as your other acquaintances. Maybe it's just me, but writing is what I have to do to keep loving, to keep my soul alive. Confusing as it is, I do not hate being a prostitute. Sometimes I even feel lucky to be able to do this. After all, it is my choice. And just like any other occupation in this world, it has its ups and downs. For me, dealing with loneliness will always be my biggest struggle, whether I'm in prostitution or not. This experience only adds more loneliness to my life, since as I know more people, I feel more lonely. My body is constantly exposed, but my soul is locked and shielded from this world.
And now, without me telling you my name, or for god's sake, anything you should've known about me before you read all that, you know something that constitutes me - a piece of my past and its link to the present. And as you read more and more, you'll discover more and more about this person. I'm just a person trying to shine my brightest in this vast world, like everyone else. My experiences are mine, and they will always be mine; but you're welcome to come and feel them, feel my emotions, and the simple tenderness of the sharing of human experience.
Comments
Post a Comment