Apparently I should post bootie shots of myself more often. January is typically one of the slower months of the year for sex workers, but yesterday's pic – and maybe the one over on ErosBlog as well – seems to have stirred up a flurry of um-I've-never-done-this-before phone calls from new guys. No stunningly weird callers, just people asking the basic questions about rates, hours and availability. Since I mostly see repeat clients these days, I almost have to stop and consciously shift my head into "processing a potential new person" mode, when once upon a time I could do it with only half my mind on it.
There is a charm to playing with a new person, whether it's in a professional or a non-professional setting. Everything is fresh territory, and all my senses are fully engaged, as I gather every bit of data I can about how they're responding to whatever it is I'm doing. And it's almost always the brand-new people who will look at me after a session with that blown-away expression on their face and say, stammeringly, "That was great. I mean, that was really great. That was exactly my fantasy. Only better!" Hearing things like that is one of the things that makes my job so nice.
Regular play-partners give me good feedback, too, though. And there's an intimacy there, and an ease to it, that I like. I played with a man today that I've seen a lot – Blue Eyes. He and I have good kinky chemistry together, and he has the cutest trick when I'm spanking him. At first, he'll wince and wiggle and gasp - what one might think of as a normal response to someone smacking your ass with a thick rubber paddle. But then, all of a sudden, he'll throw his head back and start laughing. It's not a nasty laugh, it's a sweet laugh, like someone has told him a particularly amusing joke. It's just the way the endorphins hit him. And I like it when people laugh when I'm tormenting them, so I'll usually laugh, too, just because I'm happy. Thus, if you were listening at the door of my dungeon, you'd hear the whack-whack-whack sound, followed by peals of laughter. I'm sure it would be confusing to someone not in the know.
It's funny how my body remembers details of how I played with someone before, even if my conscious mind has forgotten. I've had guys come back after not having seen me for a year or longer. After such a long gap, I'm always going to have a fresh negotiation session with them, of course. But then I'll be in the dungeon with them, and I'll see their body, touch them, move them into different positions, begin to play with them, and whoosh, everything I learned about them the last time we played will all come back to me in a rush. That's right, when he makes that noise, it means yeah-that's-good, and when he twists that way, it means he's getting close to his limit. I remember that.
I hadn't thought much about it til just now - but I'm sure my regular boys get to know me just as I get to know them. They must get to know my tastes in toys, and in types of play, as well as my facial expressions, and the tones of my voice - and what they herald. It's sort of charming to think about this small slice of the population walking around in the world with a very intimate knowledge of how I look and sound when I'm getting my sadistic pleasures fed. Some of those boys don't even know my real name (although some do), but they all know a certain side of me in a very real way. Galahad talked yesterday on Monk's blog about achieving immortality through one's stories. I like to think of all those boys knowing and remembering me as my way of being a little bit immortal.
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