Author: C S

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Beginnings begin with the end

One of my beloved regulars broke up with me yesterday and I couldn’t be happier. We’ve been getting together regularly for laughter conversation, wine, and some saucy fun for a year or more and yesterday over coffee, just a quick social hello, he broke up with me. He told me he simply didn’t have the energy to see me and maintain the new relationship he’s found himself in. My grin nearly cracked my face. I may never see this clever, endearing gent ever again. I couldn’t be more pleased.

Much like a counselor watching her client develop self awareness and healthy coping mechanisms or a nurse daily observing here patient’s return to health, watching my loves find someone else to fill their time, bring them joy, and make love to brings me peace.

That’s not to say that our interactions are the interactions of an unhealthy individual, far from it. I only mean to say that for some, this is a pit stop, a surrogacy, a chance to learn without shame how to move easily and comfortably in your own skin and to explore how far it will take you. For some, it’s an amusing and convenient diversion, for others a way to patch the leak in the marriage boat and keep it afloat for years to come, for still others it’s a way of life. For those who stop at my door on the way to something else, goodbyes are sweet. I will always hold space for them in my heart and my memory and someday I will wonder how they’re doing but I’ll never know. I’ll imagine some fuzzy sunlit future and hope it’s the truth and remember our cozy past and be well.

Best of luck, and always, love.

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Fall into Autumn

It seems I am doomed to keep odd hours. Long nights awake at a desk, a late evening escaping solitude over a glass, a quiet walk in the November chill, a Sunday sunrise bicycle ride, noontime musings lounging in bed, and long weeks of silence, distracted from my writing. Days pass, the weather turns. The quiet is slowly broken by the whisper cum roar of a passing car. The roads are lit only by street lamps. Quiet residential alleys recede into the gloom, joyful in the sunshine but in the waning hours of daylight coming to stillness both poignant and eerie. The heels of my boots click softly against the concrete, the only sound aside from the last straggling vehicles finding their way home alongside me. I am alone tonight. Cold sheets and an empty bed lack the welcome I’m accustomed to. Earlier this evening I shared a bottle with a traveler, facing for months at a time what I find difficult to endure even once: sleeping alone. Both of us shared delicious hours fending off the inevitable.

My partner is away to the east side of the state for two nights. It will be my first lonely sleep in a very long time and more importantly, my first lonely evening, morning, and day. The house is always filled with the sounds of NPR or PBS, enticing scents of sizzling onions or fresh baking bread, visions of a smiling face, heartwarming hugs, everpresent knowledge of a home shared. I am fortunate, so incredibly fortunate to have this. I only hope that with every meeting I am able to share a moment of that safety and security, the joy that comes from shared pleasure, the reinforcement of a kiss and a smile.

For the moment, however, I am alone and lonely. It will pass. It would even if my personal life were different; no one is alone forever. In the meantime it reminds me why I do what I do: because sometimes you just need someone to be with.

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Labor, A Day Late

This was supposed to go out yesterday. I thought “A Labor of Love” sounds like such a lovely title for a Labor Day post, I should write something. I sat down to write, got distracted, and realized that I so often extoll the virtues of my profession and blather on about how much I enjoy it that yet another post about how awesome you guys are would just be overkill. So I slept most of the day and spent my waking hours incredibly stoned, reading a book.

This morning I woke up early enough to catch the last commuter bus downtown which gave me a good hour or so to grab coffee and futz around on the internet. The morning was gray and the forecast was for gloom all day. As I walked to and from the bus, my mood sank comfortably into gloom as well. Two of my best girl friends and confidants just moved away from Seattle and the third in my loving lady trifecta has been out of town and/or so busy I haven’t seen her in two months.

I generally try to compact my work days so my free time comes at the end of my day but today I’m spread evenly throughout the day. It means I have chunks of time long enough to think but not long enough to go do something. It means I often get bored, sleep, or waste time online. The prospect of such a day plus the bedraggled stray feeling of social neglect tagging behind me made for a dull morning. Even my favorite coffee beverage from my favorite barista wasn’t enough to lift my spirits.

Then you showed up. You know who you are and you are not alone in your ability to first distract me from my melodrama, then genuinely change my mood. Your big smile, your respect for my limits, your appreciation for our time together, your conversation, your insights, your trust, and that dreamy look you wear out the door flipped my mood around so thoroughly that I don’t mind so much the prospect of creating new friendships from scratch and keeping myself sane in the meantime.

I would not love what I do if each day I faced a series of impersonal, disconnected, pushy, self involved, shallow interactions. I love what I do because each day I meet genuine, caring, respectful, humorous, interesting people. You are not who I would meet under any other circumstances. In what world would I meet such a variety of individuals and connect with them on a prearranged yet personal level? In which universe would I be allowed to lie naked and warm in the crook of your arm in the afterglow of sexual passion asking you about your life? Where else would I find both the impetus and the freedom to pursue educational avenues alongside personal reflections? Nowhere else but here, in my little corner of Seattle, where you and I are the only two in existence, for a while.

You are my inspiration.

Thank you

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REV: FBSM Danielle and our cocoa friend ‘Velvet’

I had a brilliant experience last month, as I am often wont to do, but this one I thought I’d share.

FBSM Danielle and I have shared classes over the last almost year and the day after we ended our student status and began our professional careers, we shared a luxurious afternoon with a TRB gentleman I will from now on refer to as Velvet. I was so struck that I asked permission to review the event and both acquiesced. So here it goes:

LOCATION: My place; First Hill
DATE: 07/10/15
NAME: FBSM Danielle and Velvet
INCALL/OUTCALL: Out for both; they came to me ;-P
AGENCY OR INDY: Both very independent
ACCURATE PICTURE: Her, yes. Him, You’ll just have to see him in person
AGE: mid 30’s/ late 30’s?
PERSONALITY: Her, Energize Bunny. Him, eager to please/be pleasured
RACE: Her: caucasian. Him: dark chocolate
BODY TYPE: Her: Marks of motherhood might trick the ignorant into thinking she’s something other than fit but for those of us who have touched her we know she’s all muscle Him: robust, exactly perfect for leaning into and onto.
WEIGHT: Not even gonna try
HEIGHT: Taller than me. Both of them. Everyone taller than me is of equal height: tall.
BUST: her: I’d guess C-D and she does this thing with them… him: There were other, more interesting things but the corkscrew chest hair and extremely responsive nipples had all three of us entertained
WAIST: Her: thin, muscled, with evidence of motherhood adding character. Him: robust, muscular, and mature
HIPS: Her: a waist-to-hip ratio for the ages! Him: I was paying more attention to the center than the width, I must admit
HAIR: Her: medium-long, strawberry brown. Silky and soft, up in a clippy when she wasn’t upside down on the floor. Him: trimmed close, pepper with a sexy smidgen of salt.
EYES: Her: big, dark, don’t remember the color. Him: laughing and rich brown.
FEET: Her: pink pedicure with nail art. Him: …good question. I got distracted on my way down and didn’t notice the feet.
SKIN TONE: Her: NW tan but her Mexican vacation may change that. Him: deep, rich mahogany. Lovely contrast for our hands and lips and other fun bits.
TRIMMING: Her: her waxing appointment was an hour after we got done so full womanly bush but I imagine it’s different today. Him: again that lovely fun corkscrew coil. She described it as a cashmere sweater and I’m not sure I disagree
TATTOOS: None on any of the three of us
SCARS: Also none that were obvious. I believe she has a c-section scar but nothing else I can think of.
PIERCINGS: Her: belly button and ears. Him: No? Not that I noticed
MOLES: Her: one well-placed on her cheek but not very noticeable. Him: I wouldn’t have seen if I looked.
BIRTHMARKS: One on her hand.
CLOTHES: Her: little black dress. Him: Something we could unbutton. Man-clothes. They got in our way so we took them off.
GLASSES: Her: contacts but glasses on request. Him: yes? I think so
MOANER OR A SCREAMER: Her: too much slurping for moans to be heard. Him: I think he lost his ability to speak for a full five minutes. I assumed that because there was a lot of frantic pointing and grunting which I dutifully followed by tonguing the indicated nipples.
ENERGY LEVEL DURING THE SESSION: Her: Energizer. Fucking. Bunny. I don’t think she sits still in her sleep! Him: matched ours which is fun because our levels are so different.
MULTI SHOTS DURING THE HOUR: We made sure of that.
ACCEPTS FRENCH: Her: possibly, at some point, but not that night. Him: Oh yes. She gave him little choice!
SMOKES: Neither?
DRINKS: Champagne for all in celebration of graduation and birthday (back in March but hey, who cares?)
KISSES: Her: I’m convinced she has an oral fixation. She licked everything!! Him: sweet and caring and very full. I enjoyed it very much.
FRENCH: Her: vigorous, immediate, and nonstop. I quote “You have to beg me to stop.” I believe it. Him: I’m sure he would have but we never gave him time to try.
GREEK: Not on anyone’s radar
RUSSIAN: Her: I think of her breasts as interactive. She was too busy with her mouth to give them a try. Him: the thought makes me chuckle but no, not really the right equipment, haha.
DO’s or DON’T’s: Do have a good time. Don’t expect FS. Leave your inhibitions at the door!
WEB-SITE: www.seattledanielle.com
SCREENING PROCESS: We all already know each other quite well but she and I both do references and I do full name and ID
EMAIL: seattle.danielle@yahoo.com
PHONE: Given out when needed
RATES: 360/hr. 500/1.5hr. 600/2hr
RECOMMEND: Hella yes!
COMMENTS:
Danielle and I had talked about doing a duo special (watch out in the future!) after classes were out. We kept putting it off because of how busy we were but Velvet is a beloved client of ours so when he emailed us inquiring, we both went wild. I set the date, time, and duration and offered my space so they could sit back and enjoy. The appointed time arrived and I broke out the bottle of bubbly I had set aside for the occasion. Danielle arrived about 15 minutes early and flopped energetically (I didn’t know you could flop energetically but Danielle proved it can be done) on my couch to enjoy the first sips of her champagne while we chatted about school and the private stripper pole party we had put on the night before. Velvet arrived and I was greeted with the broadest smile of anticipation plus a big, full kiss. I don’t know how many minutes passed but it wasn’t many before Danielle and I had unbuttoned all available buttons, my robe slipped off, and her dress peeled over her head onto the chair. Not a second later, he fell to his knees, I knelt behind him kissing and touching what I could reach, and she laid below him, thoroughly soaking everything that fell into her mouth. That set the tone for what was to be a hurricane of an adventure.

We moved from the couch to the floor to the massage table to the couch again, and every move seemed to separate her mouth from his body only for a moment. It was like her mouth was the north and his was the south pole of a magnet and they were drawn together by the laws of physics, beyond natural human desire. Danielle is literally a force of nature.

We began on the table with her lying face down. Even with the skilled and talented ministrations of Velvet and myself, she writhed and moaned even when the focus was just on feet and shoulders, respectively. Her oral fixation craved satisfaction. Ten whole minutes passed this way before wandering hands found more sexually charged places and my lips found Velvet’s, towering over Danielle’s arched back. The two of them trade places and Danielle and I spent another span of time, I don’t know how long this time, tickling and teasing, Velvet rewarding us with moans and grins and words of encouragement. My smile never left my face as I watched and giggled and made a nuisance of myself, getting in the way of her twisting teases and pleasurable pressure. Even on his belly on the table, he couldn’t get away from her trailing tongue, trickling down his back and between his thighs, rendering him speechless, as if her tongue tied his with its ferocity.

On the flip, the relentlessness never stopped. On the rare occasion her energy flagged or was distracted, I slipped in with hands when needed and tongue when appropriate. In one memorable moment, he lost his ability to speak and it was gestures and grunts that led me to his sensitive and needy nipples that I proceeded to tongue, tease, and teeth while her lips and hands were occupied south of the border. She and I finally drew a shuddering breath from him along with his first release after which we immediately resumed our manual and oral ministrations.

This was the gentle in-between when we joked, he had his wits back (and witty they are!!), and our stimulation ebbed to allow him his recovery. It was this time with the slipping and sliding of body on body and the constant but more gentle movement that inspired my favorite quote of the evening. We joked about personalities and mentioned a few other nerdy providers when Danielle teased Velvet about being ‘slathered in nerdy white girls’. And slathered he was! Me on one side, she on the other, we made a reverse Oreo of sensual and action packed excitement. Velvet, through it all, was the greatest sport. Knowing us both well, he joked, teased, chided, encouraged, gasped at, and adored us in equal measured measure. His smooth rolling tones gave an intoxicating complement to our girlish giggles.

However, true to form, Danielle indulged that oral fixation we have decided she’s got and we cued the devolution of words to sighs and giggles to moans. With she and I licking, touching, teasing, tasting, tickling, slurping, soothing, sending Velvet into another world his second climax came much to our joy and delight.

After a judicious period of recovery, sipping some water and breathing deeply, we moved our sweaty selves back to the couch where we worked our way through more of the wine. Time goes on, as it is wont to do, and we eventually got showered and dressed by turns before I was finally, once again alone in my studio. As I reflected on my experience I realized that, while I was not center stage because this duo was for him and I was experiencing this part of her for the first time, I felt deeply fulfilled, cared for, rewarded, and looked forward to more similar but different experiences. I highly recommend both of these absolutely beautiful people for social and erotic adventures.

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Would You Still?

Over the last few years my professional life and my persona life have traveled separate but intersecting paths. Almost as if the pendulum is beginning to settle.

In January of 2013 I drove out to the suburbs and met a kind, sweet, solicitous young man who proceeded to converse and make love with me, then send me home with a generous wage. In February of the same year my good friend sat across two large bowls of pho and warned me of the danger I was in, speaking to my experience through his lens of the mainstream narrative of sex work. A few weeks later we fell into bed together and we have been inseparable ever since.

It hasn’t been all rose-tinted glasses and laughter. One night, after drunkenly flashing a coworker, I started a long, loud argument over trust; namely whether he trusted me. I remember holding a half-eaten hamburger in my fist, shaking it in his direction and swearing at him. Another sunlit summer afternoon he sunk his fist into the wall after I revealed my first and last infidelity (defined as such by the lack of communication prior, not the action itself). However, as we both learn to read each other’s moods and needs, our discussions are quiet; full of ‘I’ statements, reassurances of devotion, and loving touch.

My personal relationship has settled, much as my professional ones have, into a mix of routine and novelty that nurtures me. The domestic duties are largely taken care of by the time I get home and we are free to watch shows we like, go out to see friends, or stay in and watch the fire burn in the fireplace come winter. My week is filled with beloved regulars who brighten my day in a different way every time they join me in my little corner of Seattle. I leave reluctantly in the morning, longing to stay warm in bed, talking sweet nothing to waste time. I leave reluctantly in the evening, finally setting things aright for the next morning and fondly remembering the warmth of my loves. It is a quiet domesticity on both counts, even and easy, busy without being overwrought.

This post was inspired by a recent question posted by the lovely Larissa Nostrova. She’s always coming up with interesting questions but this time it was “would you still?” If you as a partner were getting sex as often as you wanted it, would you still be seeking professional companionship? Reactions are mixed. Some choose to be exclusive when dating, though serial monogamy can be seen as a type of polygamy, each partner separated only by time. Some discover that the injection of sensuality and desire supports their personal relationships, recreating that sense of passion and confidence that then reignites their personal life. Some are actively polyamorous, seeking professionals in order to have a fulfilling but no-strings-attached experience in order to recharge and relax. Some are perpetually single and so the question is moot. I thought it might be interesting to answer the question from the other side.

I have a more frequent desire for sexual activity than my partner. He has acclimated to infrequent sexual activity over the course of his life and so our current level is higher and more satisfying than he is used to. During and after my personal sexual revolution I became accustom to a much higher frequency, if not quality, than I currently experience. He and I have different baselines and my profesional activities make up the difference. I wouldn’t do what I do if I couldn’t make a living at it, but if I had a regular 9-5 that kept me too busy to play with people’s bodies and senses I’m not sure if or how much the difference in baselines would chafe. Over the last four years I’ve not gone more than a few days without being naked with someone. If that suddenly changed….. Suffice it to say I’m hoping it doesn’t change for a long time yet.

To answer Larissa’s question: if I got as much sexual/sensual activity as I wanted, neither of us would have time for a job and I’d have bigger problems than my sex life, haha! My life affords me both the diversion my brain craves and the freedom to pursue it. It’s a beautiful thing.

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Low and Slow

I’ve been waiting all day. He’s been teasing me with it, telling me how pleasurable it will be to slip it between my lips and feel the hot, slick juices slide down my throat. My eyes drift up from the page to stare at nothing, imagining his smooth, firm flesh sitting there right before my eyes. First I’ll see it. Glistening, proud, a hot mass waiting for me to taste. It smells salty-sweet with that musky scent underneath. I bring it slowly to my lips where it drips a slippery trail up my chin and I finally taste it. It’s warm, fresh, silky to my tongue but firm when I give a little nibble. I bring it into me again and again, slowly savoring each rich, thick mouthful. It slides into me with a final rush, exploding savory juices into my mouth, settling warm and comforting in my tummy.

What a delicious barbequed pulled pork shoulder!!!!

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Good, Better, Legal?

I did an interview with a reporter from the Seattle Weekly last week and amid questions about my daily life and how I feel about it, he asked me about decriminalization. My answer wasn’t simple, much as I wish it were. While I love the idea of feeling free from the threat of legal consequences and even more tempting is the safety of my partner from accusations of ‘living off the avails’, I’m not so excited about the idea of someone butting in. Did you know that the temperature at which massage linens are washing is mandated by state law? What might be mandated after decriminalization in the effort to keep us ‘safe’? In Australia, exchanging money for unprotected penetration of any kind is illegal, while its protected counterparts are legal. That includes digital penetration of the mouth. I understand how this increases the level of safety, but some of us prefer to draw different lines. At what point does the state become my manager and am I ok with what restrictions someone else decides on? Who does the deciding? SWOP recently (and successfully) campaigned to keep the names of Seattle exotic dancers from becoming public record. Will I also be protected from social repercussions? Will I be required to keep records? Will my client files be under HIPPA protection? Do I need to disclose my occupation to my landlord? Where will I be allowed to practice? Can I collaborate with colleagues? Until these and dozens more questions are answered, I’m not sure what to decide.

It would please me to know that the work I love is valued by others and recognized as work that is loved by many more. I would feel great relief knowing my partner is safe from legal vilification just because I make more than he does. The ability to openly teach new entrants how to stay safe and careful would bring me joy. Watching my life crumble as regulation and social stigma destroy my livelihood and my loved ones does not make me feel good.

What do you think? Would you be proud to walk into a place of ill repute or do you prefer the current risky but discreet arrangements? Would you rent to a provider? Would you tell your friends that hooker jokes aren’t cool anymore? Do you want to be able to tell your significant other how you survived that two year dry spell? What might the world look like for you if this one things was different? I would be interested to know what could get better without losing what is good.

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Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence

Lady Chatterley, the quintessential cheater, more notorious a tragic figure even than Madame Bovary, is at the center of a story that both rouses and irritates me. Written in a time when sex was for young people and married couples and intellectualism ran wild, Lady C, as the author was wont to call it, told a story of romantic love that heals and inspires.

Lady Chatterley has four lovers altogether. One is of her youth; young, eager, appreciative, but set apart from the care and devotion that often grows from carnal engagements. He and she teach each other of sex separate from thoughtful care, though it does sound like an adventure and if she had had the chance she might have found love without heartache first. Her second lover is her husband. They have a short time together before he goes to fight in the Great War and when he comes back he is paralyzed below the waist. For the next ten years, she lives with him and cares for him, but his overly cerebral analysis and his empty but popular writings slowly, slowly drive her towards the arms of a young playwright, her third lover. He is young and frantic, passionate with a baseline of bitter resentment. He once angrily scolds her for bringing herself to orgasm, petulantly whining that no woman ever came at the same time he did (and not surprising, with only two minutes to work with). Her third lover is the woodsman, the gamekeeper her husband hired without care but casually, thinking of the decision as his hereditary right to the lives of the lower classes. Finally, Lady Chatterley discovers a man of endurance and variety that brings her the kind of long-term satisfaction a thoroughly fucked woman possesses.

Through each adventure, the author uses monologue and long form prose to outline his own ideals. Monologues delivered by windy intellectuals make it clear that Lawrence doesn’t believe in life without sex because their long discourses praising the mental life as superior to the physical are punctuated by Lady Chatterly’s internal skepticism. Long form prose, very poetic and descriptive but with a strange habit of repetition, illustrate the high esteem Lawrence holds the feminine and sensual sex. I can see why, in 1928, this book was considered pornographic: Lawrence uses strong and transparent language to describe our Lady’s various lovemakings and hold up sexual passion as a form of healing. To me, now, in my circumstance and in today’s sexual climate, I felt only moments of surprise as opposed to the appall and disgust that must have followed in the postwar, puritanical social climate.

The books ends without really ending so we don’t know what happens to the Lady but there are some interesting things that jumped out at me. The irritating one is that it’s obviously written by a man who has no idea what being a woman is like and failed to consult any in the writing of this novel. He often refers to ‘her woman’s instinct’ and ‘her womanly senses’ and all sorts of things that are universal to humans but are written as the sole property of women. I found my eyes rolling regularly as I came across silly passages like that where he wrote her behavior as if it’s just what women do and she as a person had nothing to do with it or as if women have some kind of special powers or some foolishness. It felt to me as if I were reading what someone wished were true and in that way it very much was a romance novel.

I also noticed that the Lady’s husband was incredibly progressive, granting her license to take discreet lovers and even to have a child by someone since he was unable to. I find his actions admirable, if the reasoning behind them a little flimsy. He and his intellectual friends don’t value the pleasures of the flesh and so he doesn’t realize what she is missing. My partner has noticed that if we go longer than four or five days without sex, I get emotional, irrational, and weepy. She went nearly ten years! and he didn’t even notice. Of course he allows her her affairs, not because he realizes how important it is but because he doesn’t believe it important at all. What a dope.

The final take-away, and one that I am pleased with, is the idea that sexual passion is important for our emotional and even physical health. In her years between the playwright and the woodsman, she begins to waste away, lose her appetite, become listless and gray, and generally suffer neglect and ennui. Her health recovers rapidly as she moves into her affair and it sounds like the sex is great, if a little romanticized. While fanciful in this story, the idea that sexual health is important to overall health is one I heartily stand by. I like to joke that I’m doing my part to prevent prostate cancer by ensuring regular activity, and getting your heart rate up a bit isn’t a bad thing 😉

Overall, I found it sweet in some ways, silly and overly poetic in others, and not as much a pleasure to read as the Outlander novels I also took with me. I would be curious to read a modern rewrite, using more common language and pacing more evenly. While I didn’t respond with any strong emotions, I will say that the mild romantic reaction it did provoke was well timed. Reading it with the sun and later the stars drifting overhead, the twitter of birds in the trees and the occasional swish of a single car on the lonely road the only reminder of civilization, my inclination towards amour rose luxuriously. Reading about how a sexual connection had the power to energize, educate, demoralize, please, or anger, and in explicit, sometimes even playful terms I was grateful for the proximity of a willing partner and the privacy of a closed door. I can see why, when video based pornography and more explicit writings weren’t available, this book titillated and aroused many of its readers in a relatively healthy and comfortable way.

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Today I Learned

My lovely, periprofessional friend quoted this to me. In my drunken reverie I found it not only worthy of posting but near necessary. Rate details are in the next post; this was too good to wait.

 

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul –

 

by Emily Dickinson

 

long live the book

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Up, up, and away!!!! and announcements

Today is the day. I’ve scheduled this to post as I’m driving out to Eastern Washington for two weeks. School is done, paperwork is signed, things are in place to hit the ground running upon my return. I hope schedules are scheduled and screening is screened because you won’t hear from me until august 1 and no one will see me until the third. I’m going to take in sunshine, grilled meat, and mixed drinks in equal measures as I go off the grid with a stack of New Yorker magazines and a series of high fantasy novels. See you guys when I get back!

I have some fun announcements to make that go into effect as of Monday August 3:

I have a standard schedule now.
Sunday from 10a-7p or so
Monday off
Tuesday from 8a-noon
Wednesday from 8a-8p
Thursday off
Friday from 8a-8p
Saturday off
I will still keep my calendar up to date, but this is a general guideline.

I’m offering a new session style. It may not appeal to those of you who have grown accustomed to my more GFE style FBST sessions but for those who just need to relax and enjoy the ministrations of a pretty girl with skilled hands and don’t want to think or move for an hour, this is just the thing.

Massage with a happy moment:
This doesn’t include kissing, mutual touch of any kind, prolonged teasing, or body surfing. It’s a fully nude massage (draping optional) where we identify an area of concern, treat it, and either begin or end the massage with your sexual release. Massage is relaxation style or treatment style, whichever you wish.
60 minutes: 160
90 minutes: 220
120 minutes: 280 (may include two releases)

New rates for FBST as you’ve all come to know and love is as follows:
60 minutes: 220
90 minutes: 300
120 minutes: 360
Longer session available on a case by case basis.
Shorter sessions by special announcement only.
New friends add 30 minutes of social time (50/hhr)

New rates are subject to a ‘happy hour’ special. Any sessions falling completely within 8a-4p on a weekday or 10a-5p on Sundays are subject to 20$ off.

Of course those of you who already know and love it are grandfathered in at my previous rates. Grandfathered rates are not eligible for ‘happy hour’.

Add prostate Massage to any session for 40$ Can be added at time of service. Never done it and curious? I’m happy to work within your comfort level to discover if you like it or not. Either way, first timers try it free. I use powder free nitrile gloves in midnight black to keep us both happy and healthy and to help mitigate the mental ick factor that often bars us from exploring pleasure.
I’m happy to accommodate toys you bring and am open to suggestions for a collection of my own.

While I love gifts, tippng is not necessary. I charge what I feel is right for my time and I realize my rates are on the high end. While I won’t say no, instead of leaving extra cash think of bringing flowers, staying mindful of our time, donating to a charity of your choice, or simply prolonging your relaxation experience by treating yourself at home to a hot bath with some epsom salts and a bit of quality dark chocolate.