Author: C S

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Moms are pretty great

At least mine is. We don’t always see eye-to-eye and I know she wouldn’t be happy with this particular life choice I’ve made, but we talk. Real talk. And despite out opposing ideas on how exactly to reach our goal, we both have the same one: make life better.

 

A lot of folks don’t have moms, either ever or anymore. Still more folks have moms who make their lives, if not worse, than at least not better. So I count myself among the lucky folks who love their moms and believe that they wouldn’t be the strong, interesting people they are without them.

 

My mom spent some time as a survival sex worker in her teenage years. What little I know of it leads me to believe that it would very easily fall under the ‘defrauded and coerced’ elements of the human trafficking definition, aside from the fact that she was still basically a kid. That a woman with that in her past managed to turn me out is a pretty clear sign that sex work, even the involuntary and abusive kind, doesn’t render women helpless or unable to make good choices moving forward.

 

She’s a thoughtful woman, taking her time with decisions, though some still come out not quite right. I’m learning to emulate the things in her that I admire: calm, quiet conversation, a self deprecating sense of humor, loyalty, faith in a cause, hope for the future.

 

I don’t want to dig too deep into my history, or my mom’s (gotta save something for the memoir, ha!) so I’ll leave you with this: I hope there’s a mom in your life that can lend you inspiration. It doesn’t have to be your mom, god knows there are other inspiring moms in my life, but someone who has been through the unique and all encompassing trial of creating life, bearing it, raising it, and loving it even when it fucks up. Step moms, moms-in-law, grand-moms, aunt moms, adopted moms, and the mothers of your chosen family. Take a moment to remember the things that make you smile.

 

And also order flowers today for whichever woman you’ll catch hell from if you forget! 😉

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Duck SESTA!

I know some folks are kind of aware of what’s been going down in the industry but for those of us who are only marginally if at all plugged in: 

 

Last week the President signed into law a pair of acts collectives know as SESTA/FOSTA 

 

They claim to fight sex trafficking by giving tools to law enforcement but the reality is that it targets all sex workers, irrelevant of our own status as consenting or even legal such as  in Nevada. 

 

There’s a clause in the Communications decency act that says a website cannot be held liable for illegal content posted by third party users. If I sell you a stolen bike via craigslist, it’s not Craigslist’s fault that you bought a stolen bike. If I promote the anarchist’s cookbook over Facebook, it’s not Facebook’s fault if someone builds a bomb. This act eliminates that protection but not in the cases of the stolen bike or the bomb builder but in the case of ANY possible instance of sexual labor, consensual or otherwise. 

 

Guys. This is fucking big. This is an attack on online freedoms and the freedom of speech as well as on anyone taking control of their sexuality and using it to further their own goals. There are dozens of op-eds popping up about it if you google it and many of them are questioning the real motivations. Who really benefits from this law? Because it’s not anyone I know.

 

There’s a group in Seattle preparing to launch a huge pro- SESTA/FOSTA PR campaign so keep an eye out for it and stay skeptical. 

 

After Backpage removed it’s adult services section, I posted a list of my favorite six advertising platforms. Of those six, one is gone, one is so slow as to be not useful, one is not accepting new advertiser profiles, two are cost prohibitive for many but are still around, and one has severely cut back on what posters are allowed to say. 

 

I also linked to others’ lists. Of 41 advertising options posted by the cauldron NYC, 18 have gone down, either through neglect or as a direct response to SESTA/FOSTA. Of the remaining 23, thirteen have limited utility due to regionality and difficulty of use or are not accepting new members and only ten out of 41 advertising options are still viable. Of those ten, none are free and few are cheap.

 

Worst of all, the two private blacklists I know of are also cutting back on what people are and aren’t allowed to say. One isn’t even allowing incident descriptions anymore. Knowing the details of a black mark is a critical part of deciding which risks to take and which to avoid at all costs. Only those of us living well in the clear can afford to take no risks at all.

 

This is not going well. You’ll be seeing more vague comments, fewer reviews, and just a general shyness in all industry interactions. You who know me will see how that level of side-mouth-talk irritates the bejeezus out of me but at least my options are open much wider. 

 

One local and immediate short-term solution is literally just giving people money. The Coalition I’ve spoken of is accepting donations for an emergency fund to support sex workers who were living on the edge before this happened and are reaching the end of their resources. Monthly phone plans, immediate food needs, utility bills, etc. It’s going through a few trusted individuals who have direct exposure to marginalized communities but if that’s not in your comfort zone, simply scheduling an appointment with a lady you already know or paying a girl’s full rate even if she’s running a special are ways to help. 

 

I’m ok. I’ll be ok. Actually, a lot of us are going to be ok. Tuesday evening I gathered with a dozen or so providers and about sixty percent of us are ok. But that’s 40% of us scared for our future and one of us has died as a direct result of the loss of advertising and safety mechanisms. Over a dozen have died nation-wide in deaths directly related to losing safety mechanisms and more will go.

 

There are calls to action coming from many sides. I can’t put everything everywhere. If you care about the incredible women who fill little pockets of your life with pleasure and joy, you’ll care about this. Survivors Against SESTA is full of up to date information and resources as is the sex workers subreddit and fostaupdates.com so poke around, see what’s up. We’re still around, it’s just going to be a bit harder for the next little while.

 

Once again I’d like to thank the generous, kind, consistent gentlemen who have allowed me breathing room so I’m not afraid. I appreciate your continued patronage.

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Thank God it’s Over!

Tax Season, I mean. Corralling documents, shuffling money to the right accounts, waiting with bated breath for the accountant to reply…. done. All over.

The rain is gone for now, the sun is shining, my life is filling back up again with friends and volunteer opportunities, and my trips out to Eastern Washington are beginning. And it’s about time. My trip to Hawaii in January only delayed the inevitable; I’ve spent much of the last three months in the doldrums, spa days and sweet gentlemen only barely staving off ennui.

But no longer! As my days fill up again, the lifeblood of summer travel brings us back to each other again and again. By september I’ll have forgotten the entire month’s income I had to sign away to Uncle Sam, the slow, sad passing of grey, clod days. I’ll be ready for the season of warm fires and long books.

Until then, Welcome summer and so long, tax season!

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Weather Report

Nothing puts me in a black mood like gray weather. Seattle, again, has teased us with a few beautiful weeks of sunny, very nearly warm weather in February and early March, then turned her back on us like the capricious vixen that she is. Over the last week we’ve seen hot sun and icy rain both in the same day. I’m over it!!

I’ve actually been keeping my curtains drawn and my blinds down to shut out the wan light and make room for the warm buttery gold of the lighting in here. With a few candles lit, scattered low lighting around the room, the heater turned up, and a hot cup of tea in your hands it’s easy to leave the chilly drizzle behind.

The kind of rain Seattle rains doesn’t deter me. I’m a huge fan of using my own two feet to get me where I’m going. If it’s misting, I walk through it. If it’s pouring, I step under an awning and glare moodily for a few minutes until it stops.

My friend in Hawaii says it’s not been much better there, even, and I don’t want to go visit the desert just to get away from the gross weather. So here I sit, in my cozy chair, trying to keep my spirits up. Yesterday that looked like a lively pilates class and some warm snuggling. Today it’ll be an invigorating massage and an hour or so at the spa, heating it up in soothing silence as steam wraps itself around me and drips off my body.

I hope you’re in the same mood. My place up high, overlooking the city, is warm and pleasant and delightfully devoid of cold wet. Only warm wet, here.

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Fantastic Bodywork

A fantastical imagining. To be taken as an inspiration, not a promise.

 

The apartment is dim; I’ve pulled a heavy curtain across my large window. There are a fed tea lights burning here and there, adding a flickering glow. The layout is a bit awkward, walking through the kitchen before reaching the icing room but once there, the lounge jazz and low light facilitate the kind of conversation that only fills space while I unbutton your cuffs.

Your voice is low, relaxed. You’ve been here before, you know what to expect and you’re looking forward to taking a load off. Our clothes slip to the floor, piece by piece, interspersed with gentle kisses and soft caresses.

“Would you like me to torture you with anticipation or do you prefer I do something about this and let you relax in post-orgasmic bliss?”

“I’m having trouble focusing right now.” You chuckle.

“Then I think I’d like to keep that up. Come lie down.”

I draw the massage table away from the wall where it’s been waiting, dark and inviting. “face down to start.”

From the moment you lie down your heart slows. Breath slows, movement slows, each moment drawing itself longer and longer as you sink into that state of not-awake but not-asleep. Your mind drifts. You feel warm oil and my strong, tiny hand smoothing it over your shoulders, your back, your ass, your legs, teasing with my fingertips a little as I pass your hips.

I start on one side, just above your hip, lifting and kneading your muscles as I sweep my gesture up and down your back, covering every inch of you with kitty-paw massage. If you looked to one side you’d see me in my mirror, clear smooth skin from head to toe, breast swinging, perky bottom braced to give you deep, firm pressure. On occasion you feel a nipple lightly graze your back or a small quite kiss on the back of your neck.

My kneading hands move down your body, giving careful attention to each muscle group. trapezius, latissimus, gluteals, hamstrings, calves… slow. Perfect. Mesmerizing. Each song blends into the next and your mind drifts.

As I finish one final pass, one long, slow stroke from your soles to your shoulders and back, I break contact.

You hear oil pouring but don’t feel it.

You hear me step around to one side. Feel my fingertips brush one thigh. Notice the table shift a bit as I draw myself up, one slow controlled movement, and slide my firm breasts, my soft belly, the curls at my groin, me knees, across your body. Sometimes you feel my fully weight pressing you, a long deep exhale with the comforting weight of a tiny beautiful woman settling onto your back. Sometimes you can only feel the light softness of my feminine curves meeting your skin here and there. Hot breath on your ear, tiny giggles, deep strokes of my knees across those long muscles by your spine. Slow. Controlled. A fine dance, a slow motion jungle gym, pressing, moving, stroking, teasing.

I can feel you when I slip my fingers between your legs. That sweet spot hidden there under, between the family jewels and your shooting star. I can feel your erection as it disappears into you. I can feel you hard, ready, waiting.

“How do you feel about turning over onto your back?” I whisper into your ear. All I get is a smile in response.

It takes a moment as I stand at the foot of the table, watching your muscles move as you turn. A few inelegant flops and you’re resting on your back, your proud, hard cock staring us both in the face. I turn my attention from you to your cock. For a moment, I get to objectify you, turn you into a vehicle for my desire. We lock eyes and I climb up onto the table, onto you, my breasts brushing and pressing up against you, until we lie, me over you, lips locked, my body shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, pressed up against you.

With one talented hand I draw you close but not over the edge. I hear your silence turned to heavy breath, quiet moans, I feel my own body responding, images leaping to mind, the sensations in my hand translating into my pussy, an echo of penetration. So close, but so far.

We come close to the edge together, my warm hips grinding on your thigh as my hand, slick and hot with oil, an echo of my wet lips, brings you closer, closer, slowly, until I feel that moment, the moment when you’re so full you throb, the moment I hear your moans turn to words “Oh my god.” Yes, your goddess, your sensual treasure, we ratchet each other’s arousal higher and higher with each breath until I feel you shudder, throb, splash us both with hot, slippery come.

We ride your waves together. I know better than to touch the sensitive rim but everything else is fair game. Pressure, subtle movement to keep the waves coming, keep your orgasm going as long as I can. I want you to feel the way I feel when I come.

A deep breath out, a smile, a giggle. Hot damp towels and deep working your hands or feet or shoulders. I can see the tension seep out of you. You eyes are closed; you’re just enjoying the afterglow, the moment of rest before you have to rejoin the world.

A shower, a glass of water, a piece of chocolate, and you’re on your way again. Relaxed. Revived.

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Same Day Experiements

I’m always experimenting with what things work for me. What to do, how long to do it, etc. Over the last couple of months I experimented with making myself terribly available for same-day get togethers. Very little has contributed to my discontent like making myself available for same-day appointments.

The problem with same-day appointments is two fold. The first problem is when they don’t materialize. When I try to ‘treat this like a business’ and hold some kind of office hours, I do a pretty good job of keeping myself occupied. In some ways it’s been good for me. I meditate (or try to), read, write, and constantly revamp my website. I keep my advertising current and keep trying to make Rose’s life easier but failing ha! But there is nothing quite like wanting to do something else and feeling guilty about it because I’m supposed to be a professional.

The converse is when I say fuck it and do what I wanted to, only to find that, had I been around, I could have gotten laid! My eternal frustration is being unable to have sex because the person who wanted to have sex with me didn’t let me know before I went to bed, so I woke up without enough time to do so. Or committing myself to a social engagement or volunteer opportunity because otherwise I’d have been bored at the office only to find out that if I’d been at the office I could have gotten busy with you.

I tried it, and it didn’t work. I tried taking the same bus and holding the same hours and having a regular gig only to find that it doesn’t work the way I want it to. It doesn’t support my happiness and well being. I either get frustrated at the wasted potential of an empty day or frustrated by the disappointment of realizing in close order that I could have been busy but can’t.

So I’m ending my experiment. It’s an absolutely gorgeous spring so far and I’m going to go love it. You should, too. And when you see a potential clear spot in your schedule, say something right away so I have enough time to get where I need to be for us. I understand not wanting to pester me with a teaser that never comes to fruition, I appreciate the consideration, but there’s a very easy way to solve that problem: send a good faith tip.

The next time you see a potential spot in your schedule late the same day or early the next morning but you’re not sure you’ll actually get it, let me know. I’ll let you know if it’s possible on my end (a lot of times just checking my calendar will tell you if I can or not but check anyway) and you can send me 100$. I’ll make myself available for up to a two hour appointment at the time you think you might have. If it doesn’t work on your end, you’ve compensated me for my efforts and if it does work, you won’t need as much from the ATM.

I know that a few of you have been in this spot and it’s frustrating on all sides. This is how to make it work for me.

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New Guy

I’m new

Ok, that’s fine. Just send over your references…

No, like really new.

Oh, right. OK, well fill out my screening form on my contact page and…

No, I mean I’m really, really new to this.

…Ooooooh. Wow. Ok take a seat.

If you’re not only new to seeing professionals but you’re new to this whole girls thing in general, there are some things for you to know.

First: Relax. I know that’s not very helpful, but I promise you’ll have a better time if you give yourself time to breath, read everything available to you, follow the click trails, and let yourself sleep on it. When you’re going to your first appointment, arrive a little early so you can take a few breaths. Book 90 minutes so you’re not rushed and have time to ask questions.

Second: we all have different ways of doing things so whatever I say here is overridden by anything your provider says on their website or in their ads.

If you’re looking to lose your virginity with a professional, know that it’s going to be different than with a girlfriend. It’s not guaranteed to be good, or even great, and it certainly won’t be unprotected. There are limitations within this world and navigating the emotional aftermath of sex isn’t always simple.

Ideally, you’ll have found someone nice who is willing to take her time and help you get what you want. You’ll have gotten over that first experience, realized that sex is both under-appreciated and overrated by turns, learned a little about how two bodies work together, and can either return to your provider to learn more or move out into the world with a little confidence under your belt.

There are two ways your first time could go wrong. If your provider isn’t who you thought they’d be or isn’t willing to hug or kiss or cuddle or give you any feedback, you may end up with an isolated, uncomfortable, unsatisfying experience and no context to frame it in. It could make you feel worse, not better. The other way it can go wrong is if your provider is awesome and the lines between emotional connection and sexual satisfaction start to blur.

Both of these problems can often be resolved by finding another, equally awesome provider to either help you experience good sex or to take your focus off the first one.

So how do you even find one of these nice girls? The one who will help you experience pleasure and sex without short changing you or disappointing you? If you’re in Seattle, come find me, Sofina, or Alice. If you’re anywhere else and you can’t afford to fly me to you, look for providers you have something in common with. Many of us have websites with about me pages where we talk about what books we like, what shows we watch, what our hobbies and interests are, and whatever little tidbits we can think of and are willing to share. It’s increasingly common to see providers on twitter, being cute and showing personalities.

Let go of any preconceived ideas of what you want. I’m sure you’d love to hook up with that statuesque blonde but what if the tiny brunette in the corner is going to adore you the way you’ve always wanted? You can see the blonde later. Right now you’re searching for a vibe, not a look.

There aren’t any hard and fast keywords to search for, either. Plenty of folks who advertise as ‘unrushed’ kick you out the moment you’ve come. There’s a list of acronyms to pick and choose from but not everyone agrees on every thing so even that’s not foolproof. If you want this to feel beautiful and special, doing your homework helps.

Doing your homework looks like reading a bunch. Follow any links your provider has on their website and investigate a little. At http://divinadaemon.com/1209-2/ I wrote up a list of advertising sites for the Seattle area specifically but several of them are national or global so they’re a good place to start.

Never sign up for anything related to this industry with an email address you use for work or that has your name in it. You may be asked to screen using your name, that’s fine, but don’t just leave it sitting around for any subpoena to catch. Have your provider delete your information after they’ve seen you and/or use encrypted methods to communicate it. A lot of folks are using proton mail these days.

So you’ve looked around, followed her on twitter, seen some cute pictures, and think you’re ready to take the plunge. Now what? I have forms on my website that walk you through whichever screening method you’re comfortable with. I’ve upgraded them so they’re encrypted and all my email addresses are as well. It should be simple to click through the steps and initiate screening. Once my assistant has done a light online screening (checking blacklists, quick google searches, verifying employment, etc) she will email you with the go-ahead for scheduling.

I have another form for that, also simple and straightforward, that asks for exactly the information I need to reserve time for us.

I usually suggest bodywork for our first meeting. First of all, it’s less expensive so if you end up changing your mind you’re not out to the same degree you might have been. Second, if you’ve never kissed, touched, fondled, or made love, this will all be a little overwhelming. It’s likely you’ll be nervous and you can only do so much in 90 minutes. With the tablework, some of your time is face down. By limiting your visual input, it’s easier to enjoy the other senses. And finally, it’s low pressure on you. Those jangling nerves can have weird effects; some people can’t maintain erections, others only have them a few moments before they’re done and gone. If we’re focused entirely on you, there’s no pressure or disappointment. As an added bonus, I’m a very good masseuse so if all else goes to shit at lest you’ll get a nice massage out of it, haha!

If you opt to go big or go home, that’s fine, too, it just means we won’t quite know each other that well yet and we might be a little awkward at first 😉

When you’re getting ready for your first full service appointment, shower thoroughly before you show up. That means you’ll have to touch your butthole with your soapy hand and if you have a foreskin it might mean pulling it back to expose your head to rinse it. I don’t recommend applying soap to skin that would normally be covered by a foreskin but rinse it thoroughly. I do the same with everything covered by my outer labia: rinse well but do not apply soap. Soap does, however, go on the butt, the outer labia, and for you, the balls and perineum (the bit between balls and butt). Not everyone manages this. There’s nothing quite like stinky junk to prevent that amazing blowjob from happening.

File your nails and trim your cuticles. Don’t cut your nails, file them. Check your mouth, hands, and genitals for any cuts, scrapes, sores, or wounds. Yes, that means that bleeding hangnail and the dry skin cracks if they get too deep. If you have any, cover them. This might mean using gloves or a dental dam when pleasuring her or it might mean applying a liquid or fabric bandaid.

If you’re going to manscape, trim, don’t shave, and certainly don’t shave right before as you’ll have micro wounds from the razor. Also, no one likes prickly stubble grinding up on their sensitive bits so it’s best to either wax or trim, not shave.

Same with brushing and flossing: Floss the night before, brush the morning of, mouthwash upon arrival. Bristles cause micro wounds that can increase the risks of passing on bugs.

Ah, the envelope. So many people worry about the envelope. I’m not terribly picky about what you put my fee in, as long as it’s correct and present. I prefer you put it down somewhere obvious: a countertop or some such, and usually I ignore it until we’re done. With new clients sometimes I will make a point of checking to make sure we’re all on the same page, but it’s rarely a problem. The standard method is a plain, unmarked white envelope, unsealed so it’s easy to open and also reusable. Alternative methods are inside a thank you card or inside a gift bag with a gift. I’m always chuffed to get a new book that has a few extra leaves in it. When in doubt, leave it out, in plain sight, and don’t mention it. The rate should be very clear beforehand, either agreed upon over email or clearly listed on her website.

How to ask about rates? That’s a tricky one because everyone feels differently. What if the thing you want is included in the lower rate and you didn’t know that or they only have one rate and you’re not sure you’ll get to do the thing you want to do within that rate? This is one of the most relevant reasons for you, clients, to be fighting for decriminalization. By telling you what you will or won’t do, your provider is incriminating you both. It’s the number one method, and the only method useful in court, for busting providers and clients. It’s frustrating as hell and it’s why nearly no one will actually tell you whether they’ll kiss you or not. It’s how shady folks hide and how honest and open folks get arrested. The short answer is: you don’t get to ask about her rates and services because if you do, and she tells you, and you’re a vice officer, she’s screwed, and not in the fun way. You should, unfortunately, be suspicious of anyone who offers you a menu or rate structure that outlines services. Don’t ask, don’t tell, and I hope it gets repealed, ha!

However, once both of you have met once or twice, you are now allowed to make inquiries. Some ladies are ok with simple question and answer. I find it most helpful when I hear “I’ve always wondered about XYZ. Have you done it before? How was it?” Now I know that it’s on your radar. If I’m down, we go for it. If I’m not but I know someone who is, I’ll suggest you go see her (and if I know her well enough I can even give her a heads up). Until then, you just have to go with the flow.

Generally, with 90 minutes, I try to spend a lot of time kissing and hugging, undressing each other, letting you look at me… that’s a big one. It’s rare that guys get the chance to really just stare at a woman, much less a real life naked one, without shame. All these firsts just keep rocking through you, not giving you much chance to reflect and process. I try to give us time for that. I’ll give you pointers and feedback and do my best to read your face for signs of ecstasy or fear or anything in between. If I don’t feel that you’re ready, I won’t push you into it.

What now? Sex is pretty great, isn’t it? I know there are limitations in emotional connection and in sensitivity, but it’s still great and now it’s not some mysterious unknown. If you decide that’s all you needed, I hope it helps and I hope your future lovers appreciate how careful you were with yourself and your sexuality. If you decide to come back enough times to learn how to read a sexual situation, how to establish boundaries with new partners, and how to listen to your partner’s body, then I hope I’m up to the task. If you decide this is it, you’re just gonna stick with ladies of the evening for the foreseeable future, I’m happy to welcome you into my world and help you establish a pleasurable and robust community experience.

For the bullet-pointed among us: here’s the quick and dirty how-to.

New client step-by step instructions:

1: Read my FAQ page in full www.amiepetite.com/FAQ

2: Fill out my screening form. Feel free to follow up if you have questions AFTER you’ve filled it out. https://form.jotform.com/71645582884166

3: After getting the go-ahead from Rose, check my calendar against yours and find a time we’re both available. www.amiepetite.com/calendar-and-rates

4: Fill out my appointment request form. https://form.jotform.com/71647421484156

5: Once we’ve confirmed an appointment, read the detailed instructions you’ll get from Rose.

6: Arrive a few minutes early, let me know you’re nearby, and follow the directions I send you.

7: Make sure you’ve counted out the correct fee ahead of time – Leave it on my counter when you arrive. I’ll ignore it until we’re done.

8: Enjoy yourself. Make your desires known and we will find a happy middle ground.

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Slow Days

“I can only be so busy before I go bonkers. I can’t fake enthusiasm; I’m a shit improvisational actor and I wear my heart on my sleeve. Some incredible pros can greet their fourth client with a big smile but I’d have trouble mustering it for the second in a day without being in a particular mood. I love this whole industry, I often feel like the luckiest girl in the world when I’m with clients. I don’t ever want to lose that. In order to never lose it, I have to keep my schedule low.”

I wrote this on a nice hobby board the other day, in the context of a thread about rate setting. I find it irritatingly ironic that while writing about how important it is to keep my schedule reasonably clear, my schedule was, in face, waaaaay too clear.

It turns out, and I didn’t know this until just recently, that I go just as bonkers if I’m not busy enough.

A normal week for me is one massage and one bed session per day. Everyone is different so I get to let myself go with people I know well, stay clear and present for individuals struggling with their sensuality, I get to absolutely give and absolutely receive, often in the same week, sometimes in the same day. It’s magical.

When I have a light week, I take it as a pleasant surprise and use the time to recharge, work on a side project, wander around outside, etc. When I have a slightly busier week, I revel in it, soaking it up and looking forward to the inevitable ebb. I can keep my weeks from getting too busy by declining to meet potential suitors and I can even them out when we all plan ahead, but there’s only so much I can do to keep my weeks busy enough.

I send my newsletter and try to make it simple and efficient to schedule with me, I have an assistant to help with prompt and thorough replies, and I try to advertise in enough places that delightful boys know and remember who I am. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been very effective lately!

Over the course of twelve empty days, I rearranged my furniture, re-re-redesigned my website, tried and failed at sexy film clip making, renewed my advertising on all relevant websites, figured out how to move bitcoin from here to there, and tried to convert some foreign currency to US. I created an intuitive autoresponder to manage texts (situational), helped a friend get some of her business goals off the ground, planned and canceled a weekend trip, and started taking pilates. I read four books, wrote a dozen pages, baked, filled, and ate a batch of mini cream puffs, drank an entire bottle of champagne in the middle of the day and then sobered up again, and knitted another hat. I’ve not been so bored for a very long time. And I didn’t even finish the hat.

I have a strong suspicion that it was due to Rose’s absence. She went on an incredible tropical trip and left me to manage my inbox for the longest stretch since we started working together. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder but in this case it made the heart remember what a great debt it owes. Untethering myself from my phone and my computer was one of the best things I could have done for my mental and emotional health and it was never so clear as when I had to tie myself back down for two weeks.

Fortunately the weeks are over. Spring seems to be bringing a new vigor and with my incredibly efficient and patient and prompt assistant back, I can seize it the way I did before! Just writing that makes me sigh with relief.

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Adulting

I enjoyed ComicCon this year. I didn’t actually buy tickets and attend but I did spend Friday afternoon downtown sharing drinks and small bites with a good friend. We poured airline bottles of fireball into hot apple cider and watched costumed masses parade up and down the lobby stairs. It’s not as heavily cosplayed as SakuraCon but the variety is much wider so I actually recognized a fair number.

Alex and I mused on good couples costumes for next year: she’s much taller than me so pairs with a height difference came up like Rick and Morty, Morticia and Wednesday Adams, maybe Captain Mal and his surprise wife Saffron (I don’t have the right figure to be Inara).

We talked late into the night, maintaining our buzz with cheap white wine, sitting on the floor in her living room.

I thought of this moment a few days later when someone asked “What makes you feel like an adult?” I don’t often feel like an adult, despite doing many of the things adults are often accused of. I’ve generally got my shit together, I’m considerate and thoughtful and competent at a variety of things. But none of that makes me really feel adult-like. This conversation made me feel adult-like.

I’ve always been a talker more than a listener. Over the years I’ve identified good listeners like Betty Martin or Paz @ExquisiteOasis or Claire. People who ask questions and listen to the answers; people who make you feel important and interesting. I love the way those people make me feel and I’ve always wanted to cultivate that skill. I’ve gone out of my way for nearly two years to remind myself to stop talking and start listening.

It’s always felt forced. I’m doing it for a client who has never had a chance to mourn the end of a relationship he wasn’t supposed to have or shyly explore kinks and consent with a young man still learning. Or I’m doing it because I want to be that kind of person, not because I am.

This time, this Friday evening, I was that kind of person. I was authentically interested, listening to her without filtering it through my own experience. I didn’t notice for a while that I was even doing it and it was awesome.

Thinking of that moment and realizing that it’ll keep happening more and more as I practice, made me feel like I’d arrived. I felt, for once, like I could be the kind of person I’ve always admired. It’s only taken me almost thirty years, ha!

So when did you finally feel like you’d arrived? When did you feel like you were an adult, not just like someone pretending to be one?

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Come Along

How to make Amie O: a simple guide.

Step one: Don’t. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do and trying to force an orgasm out of me is just going to annoy me. Let’s try another tack.

How to help Amie O: a less simple guide

Step one: don’t worry about it. Let me revel in your touch and let orgasms come naturally. Or not. I am much more likely to enjoy my time with you if I am invited to revel in pleasure rather than demanded to perform.

Step two: slow down. No seriously, let me relax and tune into you. Spend time on my neck and arms and the small of my back, tease around the edges and don’t skip the nips and go straight to hammering my clit.

Step three: don’t hammer my clit. Ever. Don’t suck on my labia like you saw someone do once in porn, don’t lift the hood and drive your tongue or fingers straight onto that pretty little button or it will very quickly melt down and end all our fun. Some ladies have the cast iron clit that demands a hitachi on high but mine is a sleeping kitten, an unfolding flower, delicate layers of thin, fine pastry that beg for gentle tonguing and light, slick, buttery touch.

Step four: use your lips. Tongue is great for teases and for when business really gets rolling but never underestimate the pleasure power of soft, dry, whispery lips across my everywhere. Use them instead of teeth to nibble my earlobe, let them drift baby smooth under the curve of my breast, tickly whiskers and all. And don’t underestimate the tip of the nose as a tongue substitute on dry skin.

Step five: use your ears. If I say more, less, harder, lighter, faster, slower, freaking do it! I don’t fake my orgasms, I am reasonably well in touch with my body and if I am still possessed of the power of speech, there’s more to be done. I’ll try to make it easy for you but if you ignore my requests because you think you know better, you will lose pussy privileges.

Step six: use your eyes. The visible rhythm of my heart in my chest, the breath caught in my belly, where my hands go, the gyrations or lack thereof in my hips, all give valuable information. By the time you have to read my body language, I’m on my way to an orgasm and you’ve probably paid attention, listened, and taken me gently and carefully to the point where you don’t have to be quite so gentle and careful anymore. If I get really quiet, don’t stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing.

Step seven: Enjoy yourself. I love orgasms, no matter who is having them, but they’re a secondary goal. My primary goal for each encounter is that we both enjoy ourselves. Whether that means a few rounds of strip poker or 45 minutes of vigorous fucking until we both collapse sweaty and cum covered in a fit of giggles or you receive a beautiful and joyous massage, it’s all good. I enjoy myself in many ways depending on my mood and you can trust me to let you know if I’m not.

Step eight: trust me. I know my body and myself and you can trust me to let you know what I want. I don’t fake my pleasure for anyone anymore. I won’t lie about orgasms or enjoyment or anything. If I tell you I’m not excited about coming or I’d prefer you to use me for your pleasure today, I hope you’ll trust that I mean it. I know how to be a selfish lover when it’s necessary and I know how to be generous and enthusiastic. I know how to respect the desires of my partner and I hope I can trust you to do the same.

Post Script: I am interested in coming inasmuch as you are interested in me coming. The above is for folks who get off on me getting off and is in no way intended to dissuade a good old fashioned selfish fuck. I really and truly don’t mind a nice client who shows up, soaks in my attention and energy, and leaves refreshed. It gives me a deep sense of satisfaction to recharge someone’s batteries like that, to give them a place where they can, for once, honest to god just enjoy themselves without worrying about whether they’re doing it right. As long as you can respect my ‘no’ when it comes up, you’re as good as gold in my book. And sometimes you’re just the cool drink of water I need.