Thursday, July 28, 2016

and get paid for it
It was a little before 10 when I received his text, "Can I see you this afternoon, perhaps around 2?" I considered what I needed to do and the the length of my task list, "fuck it," I thought and replied "yes" and he replied with the name of his hotel and room number.

Early in spring I promised myself that I'd work no more than 4 days a week and 10 hours per. That lasted well a weekend and I was back to my 12-14 hour days and 7 day work weeks, well maybe 6-10 hours on weekends. That went on till a gentleman asked to see me and I need a good part of the day to make myself presentable. It has gone on like that since, long work weeks interrupted by a trip to Cannes and another to Monaco. My life is work, punctuated by whoring, that itself being a job, well vive la différence.

At least, I began to rationalize whoring gave me time for another life, which business and my obsessiveness wasn't. Then my better self would interject, but you hated what it took to be a full time escort… I did and now need to figure a work-life balance.

His hotel, was the one where Anne Marie started in the hospitality industry and I'd have to sneak past the desk to see my gentleman or hope she didn't see me. No longer, I casually walked through the lobby wearing a white sheath dress, teal pumps and enough turquoise jewelry to stock a small gift shop.

In the hall, after exiting the elevator, I passed and expensively attired man, we made eye contact and I smiled. When I reached the room, I noted that he was watching me, so I took out a business card, flashed it at him and then tucked it behind the plaque that contained the room number, when I came out it was gone.

My client is a film maker, who will check himself into a hotel for a couple of week to edit the raw footage. We met a over a year ago through an acquaintance and he indicated he'd call me, but never did. This spring he called and I've seen him several times during the summer, the type of client that I like.

After our greeting, I excused myself to go to the toilet, where I retrieved the envelope, per our arrangement. Normally I collect my fee by credit card or a wire transaction, getting cash was a bit of a treat and I couldn't help but spend a bit on my way home.


Monday, July 25, 2016

Carole and Tomas are in town and she invited me to join them along with a co-worker of Tomas and his partner for an evening out. We met at the Maison Souquet,a newish hotel in Pigalle. The building was a brothel during the Belle Époque is opulently decorated to reflect that time.

In the months following my bout of depression, I've rebound with a mild manic period in the past week, Oh I was on and definitely wanted to be noticed, I chose my sexiest silk hanky dress and intentionally arrived after the others and making eye contact with anyone in the room as I entered.

Another had joined us, a handsome Spaniard, who had recently joined joined the Paris office of Tomas' firm. As we were introduced I thought that I wouldn't be sleeping alone that night.

A drink, maybe two and I was in full hussy. Carole rolled her eyes, Tomas was amused, the couple wasn't sure how to react and the Spaniard knew that he wouldn't be sleeping alone either. "I could have worked here," I said summing up a short dissertation on the history of the building. "Drinking anisette, smoking opium and entertaining my lovers," I continued, laying my head in Tomas's lap and rubbing the Spaniard's leg.

With that, Carole summoned me to join her in the ladies, she had seen this act before and knew how to turn it down a notch. Appropriately chastened, but not particularly repentant, I followed her out to re-join the others. The seating arrangements had changed to place me next to the Spaniard, who would soon whisper that he was getting a room. It has been a while since I experienced the walk of shame, but the morning was familiar.


Sunday, June 26, 2016

Last evening I saw that Bill Cunningham of the NY Times had passed. I had met Mr. Cunningham twice, once when I was twelve and my grandmother introduced me to him and again about seven years ago at a party in NY where I told him of our prior meeting. That night he took my picture and it appeared in the Times.

Good Speed, Mr. Cunningham.


Saturday, June 25, 2016

Last weekend, Abigail and Amanda, celebrated their graduation from high school. The extended family took this opportunity for our summer gathering, joining the proud parents in celebrating a major milestone in the lives of our nieces and grand children. For Catherine and Kenny, it was a bittersweet weekend, at its end, Mandy returned to NY with Grace where she'll apprentice with a photographer for the summer and Abbie returned to Paris with me to work at Kim & Co II. 

Well the UK is leaving Europe. Financially I've done well in the short run, betting on exit and shorting the pound and buying USD and Japanese Yen, the challenge now is to convert the currency to assets that will have longer term value. I have a plan, hope it is a good one.


Friday, April 08, 2016

A lazy Friday morning in my neighborhood cafe, greeting friends, reading, scrolling through tumblr and catching up on blogs. A weekend out of town is in the offering with a few GFs, life is good again.


Sunday, April 03, 2016

"You're still a courtesan?"

It was my second lunch of the week with Francis, we had finalized the launch of Kim & Co II. It will start small myself and a brilliant mathematician with a bent for finance who is currently buried working for one of a big bank and would like to join a startup where she can become a partner. Francis found her through a friend and I interviewed here earlier in the week. Mimi will join us in the fall, she will be free of her golden handcuffs and wants to take a few months off.

I couldn't look at him and moved the remaining food around on my plate, "Is that a question or an accusation?" "The question," he replied, "is why?" I wanted to be anywhere else than at that table having this conversation with him, "I enjoy it, can't I do things that I enjoy?" I asked. "Besides it's my kink, can't I feed that?"

"It limits you," he replied. "That's true," I admitted, "and I've long conceded that I'll never marry well in Paris and some may choose not to do business with me. Finally able to look him in the eye, I continued, "But being a courtesan got me here, hasn't it?" His face reddened slightly, I had begun to rub his leg and moved my foot to the hollow just above his knee. "We all have our kinks and fetishes, don't we Francis? His color turning scarlet. "Why can your fetishes be satisfied and mine denied?"

"You will need to excuse me now, I have a spa appointment in preparation for a new gentleman that I'm seeing this evening."


Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Word of the Brussels attacks gave me flashbacks to 13, November. It wasn't the first time that this has happened. One morning in January, I was walking past a construction site where several workers were using a fastener system, that creates a noise like a gun, memories of that Friday night came flooding back and I sank to the ground in tears. A couple stopped to help me, they had been at the Bataclan that night and also are suffering from PTSD.

When I learned of Tuesday's bombings, I stopped and stared at my phone reading and re-reading the report. Thinking of what those present went through and will go through.