The Blog

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Pale Fire, by Vladimir Nabokov

I have a few friends who keep trying to get me to read Lolita, saying it’s one of the greatest pieces of literature available. I have a hard time with the prospect of getting in a pedophile’s head so one friend offered me an alternative: Pale Fire.

Pale Fire is some of the best brain candy I’ve read in a while. Brain Candy, by my definition, is a book that doesn’t make you look too deeply. You read it, it’s fun, you enjoy it, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable and doesn’t require a lot of post-reading musing.

Written in two parts, a 999 line poem and exhaustive liner notes, Pale Fire tells the story of a poet and a king. Our narrator tells the story both of his friendship with the poet and a story of revolution and exile in his home country, a fictional place somewhere near Russia.

I can see why my friends are so excited; Nabokov’s turn of phrase is beautiful. I love authors like J.G. Ballard who make similes where you least expect them, adds jarringly appropriate adjectives, and evokes a rich bookscape for readers like me who create images of the action in their minds as they read. I feel the reactions of the other characters to the narrator’s self-centered, overly proud behavior at the same time he justifies it. I imagine that his poet friend sees him less as a good friend and more as a source of amusement. I can tell even before it’s revealed that the poet is much more adept and perceptive than the narrator and I love the feeling of being in on the joke with Nabokov and his poet.

The method Nabokov has used to tell his story is really interesting. I’ve never encountered a novel in notes before. I read the liner notes first, then the poem because the poem becomes much richer when you know what it’s talking about. The notes also tell the story part of the novel, an action and satire-packed adventure of revolution, escape, exile, and assassination.

And the poem stands alone as a beautiful, whimsical, highly self-aware autobiography of the poet’s childhood, marriage, and the untimely loss of his young daughter.

Aside from the easy, beautiful words, I seriously enjoyed, as I mentioned earlier, being in on the joke with Nabokov and his poet. Nabokov does an excellent job of writing a man totally unaware of his boorishness. He’s just polite enough that no one really says anything but the way he describes other people’s behavior makes it clear to the socially adept reader. I always have fun guessing the twist a while before it happens; the less in advance I guess it the better. I only beat Nabokov by a chapter or two on the major twist and not much more on the more obvious one which made the book more enjoyable.

Overall, I recommend this as a shorter, less uncomfortable example of Nabokov’s mastery of language and uncanny ability to understand a man who doesn’t understand himself. It’s not too long and it’s not too heavy so it’s good light-ish reading for summer days.

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Back to Earth

Well, I made it. Two weeks, 65 pounds of beast flesh, 22 guests, and a whole lot of beer. It’s time for a cleanse, haha! Knowing myself, I’ll last about four days.

But seriously, though, I’m going to be taking it easy for the next little while diet-wise and making myself more available to my beloveds for fun and games before my next grand adventure. Yes, that’s right, I’m only here for 17 days before I leap once more into the unknown of gasp a road trip!!!

I’ll be driving down to LA and back, hoping to hit up Crater Lake, Big Sur, and the Redwoods somewhere in there. It’ll take me just about two weeks and then I’m back for real. I might take a few long weekends in some warm places and there will be one more trip out to Eastern Washington but this adventurer is going to settle into some more domestic ones for a while.

I’m already looking forward to cold nights covered in quilts sipping mulled wine and watching the fire crackling in the fireplace. Long evenings reading quietly and assuaging cabin fever with a little vitamin D, if you know what I mean, har har har. Ok, yeah, that was bad.

While I am here, I have a lovely lady friend visiting for PAX (Penny Arcade Expo. Big nerd convention starting next Thursday). My newsletter recipients have seen a glimpse already but she’s not going public until she’s had a chance to test the waters, as it were. We were chatting a few weeks ago and she mentioned she’d always been curious to try this work but as a social worker, she’s only ever seen ladies of the night at the end of their ropes, never stable and reliable. So she and I are going to try a few fun things and we’ll see where it goes! If she decides to get going for reals I’ll make it known.

Not much else to announce. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking but haven’t written much of it down. Some of Claire’s meditation practice has rubbed off, I think, as I’ve been more quietly thoughtful recently than I’m used to. It’s an odd feeling, almost like getting high, where I take the world in but feel no pressure to process it and respond.Very peaceful. Hopefully I can turn it to good use.

I hope to see you sometime in the next few weeks but if not, we’ll make time again soon, I’m sure.

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REV: Cunning Linguist

My relationship with pussy has been tumultuous. I’ve always been a straight girl and I was so not into my own body that over several formative years, I never asked anyone to go down on me and the one time someone offered to, it was his first time and he didn’t like it much, so I never asked again.

Oh boy, do you guys like eating pussy! I never would have thought that it would be so popular or that the smell, the taste, the sensory feedback would be so intense.

The first time I tried going down on another girl, it was in a duo. The poor girl had razor burn and I had no idea what I was doing but she was a good sport and put up with my tongue mashing as my client’s thrusts from behind pushed me around. I came, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t.

Until recently, it’s been pretty much like that: my inexpert lip smacking bringing not pleasure, exactly, but at least a great show!

In a few recent duos, I’ve had the chance to give some un distracted, 1:1 attention to my lady friend while our boy is recuperating and watches. Taking Nina Hartley’s how-to video into account and listening to breathing patterns, bucking hips, and some verbal directions, I was able to experience the art of lickin’ on the clits. WOW!!

First off, I was vindicated in my own grooming practices. Hair makes a difference in face comfort when administering the oral and tidy is better. Mine is thick and curly so I keep it trimmed short in the living room and stripped bare in the dining room. It means I have enhanced sensations which is nice in some ways but when it comes to bristling mustaches, not having that protection can make for a scratchy ride. Girl faces don’t have that problem!!

Also, pussy tastes good. Or, more accurately, it tastes like sex and pussy and pleasure and all those things are good so by the transitive property of sex, pussy tastes good. And it tastes different depending on how turned on she is. I could taste a metallic tangy difference between just the way it is when fresh from the shower, when she’s turned on, and after coming.

And the coolest part is feeling the sensation of muscles clenching against my chin and thighs quivering by my ears and the sounds of gasping and moaning and crying out…. Just wow. Yet another lovely reason to promote duos! I only wish I had a cock so I could feel those muscles and that slippery wet…. Sigh.

Now not everyone likes eating pussy and that’s totally fine. If you’re not accustomed to the smell or the taste it can be a bit jarring at first. Sometimes you come see a provider specifically so you can just kick back and enjoy the ride. This isn’t to convince you, it’s to let everyone else know that I finally get it, haha.

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Take Care

Sorry this is late. Thank you for your patience!

Jameson was reading when Angela got home. She’d had an easy day, only one client, and she’d made some cookies, tidied the bathroom, and had made significant headway in her latest novel when the lock clicked and her wife followed it.

Immediately she knew something was up. Angela was usually bubbly and chatty when she got home, eager to share stories or commiserate over the day’s events. While Jameson was a homebody, ascribing to the less is more philosophy of working, Angela fostered a vibrant clientele which sometimes got overwhelming. It made for a decent sized and fast growing nest egg for their young marriage but sometimes she overdid it.

“Hey, sweetheart, welcome home. How was your day?”
“Ugh. I feel like shit. I feel like a dump truck ran me over. Why am I so dumb!”
“Why? What happened?”
“Oh the usual, I overbooked myself. I know better than to see Carpal Tunnel Guy and Coke Can Cock on the same day. Then I ate too much at dinner again so I feel gross and bloated. When will I l earn!?!” Angela collapsed on the sofa with a wincing sigh. She met her wife’s concerned eyes and suddenly the walls fell. Fragility replaced irritation and tears spilled over her cheeks.
“My darling love, I’m sorry. It’s ok. It happens sometimes. I know they take it out of you. How about a bath?”

Jameson sometimes did a bath ceremony with her clients but she liked nothing better than to give the healing touch to her soft, tiny wife when she burned out. She’d insisted on the right kind of tub when they were apartment hunting all those years ago and Angela thought her fixation absurd. Until, that is, the first bath.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that. It’s my fault. I knew better…”
“Shhhhh. You just chill while I go get stuff ready.”

Jameson’s first stop was the fridge for a glass of white wine. Too much would simply feed Angela’s low mood but one glass would keep her busy while Jameson drew a bath and lit candles.

Fifteen minutes and their bathroom had been transformed from the boring white and blue pit stop to a refuge, full of fragrant steam, flickering soft light, and low music. Jameson went to fetch her tiny wife and the process of covering her in soft, feminine sensation.

First, she sat next to Angela and simply took her hand, caressing it gently all over. Angela’s eyes closed and her breathing started to slow under the hypnotic movement. Jameson took the glass and set it aside, then began slowly, gently undressing Angela, taking time to rub, feather light, over each bit of skin as it was exposed.

“How does this feel?” She asked as she caressed near a nipple. Neither of them ever knew whether they would respond or reject Jameson’s touch after the well intentioned but rough handling by clients. “ok? Maybe later? Not today?”

“Not today. That sweaty, prickly…”

Jameson cut her phrase short with a delicate finger to Angela’s lips. “Shhhh. Only answer, don’t think.” Angela smiled. It was a good reminder. She began again to clear her mind and let Jameson do what she did best.

Jeans and underwear gone, Jameson finished her whispering touch with a brief, firm foot rub and then took Angela’s hand and led her, mute, to the bath.

Lavender and low light continued the process Jameson had begun on the sofa and over the next half hour, Angela soaked and enjoyed as her pale pink life partner slowly, carefully, gently washed every inch of her with special soaps. With Angela’s eyes closed, Jameson felt no self-consciousness just looking at her wife. It never got old.

Angela was short, only a bit over five foot, and hippy for someone so petite but it gave her a lucrative body that was enough mother goddess to inspire lust while staying trim enough to fit today’s body narrative. Her hair was dark and fell to her shoulders and her limbs fit with the rest of her: a bit short but right in the middle between skinny and strong. She had shape that appealed broadly enough that she was in high demand, and her rates reflected that.

But Jameson’s favorite part was her skin. Some mix of olive and orange that made her look like a quiet sun shone from inside. In the dim light she looked dark like chocolate but in the sunshine she glowed gold and the red undertones shone from her hair. Soft, smooth, her few blemishes placed so perfectly you’d have thought she had someone put them there, her skin was a work of sensuous art and it was a shame she had to drown it out and ignore it so often. Clients were always so well-meaning but they’re men and men rarely are as delicate and sensitive as women. Their rough cracked sweaty bodies guzzled from the well of Angela’s bubbling femininity and she loved providing that respite from the sensory desert most men live in. But it took a toll, particularly when they were large, scratchy, or particularly emotionally intense. Today had been all three.

As she carefully sloshed soapy water up to Angela’s chin, she saw with satisfaction the near-sleep expression on her face and smiled. “Ok, sleepyhead,” she whispered, “time to rinse off.” She started the water draining and stepped away long enough to set up their massage table in the living room. By the time Angela was toweling herself off, Jameson had the living room similarly transformed. “It’s the deluxe treatment for you today, my darling.”

Angela’s dreamy expression never left her face as she moved, pleasantly sluggish, from place to place as directed. It was so easy to serve such a willing, passive client. They’d been sex workers long before they met, Jameson working with a massage table and steep restrictions, Angela working too hard, and they simply clicked. Their shared desire to please served them well as they took turns taking the client/provider roles and adapting the work they usually performed on men to their life together.
Jameson finished the evening with a long, slow body rub. Beginning at her shoulders, she kneaded and stretched muscle until she felt the tension start to leave.

“Draw your attention to my hands. Feel the tension leave you. Feel my focus on you and soak it in. Allow your body to open to the sensation of my fingertips, my palms.” Jameson kept up a low monologue to remind Angela to stay present, keep her mind from drifting to the next day, allow deep relaxation to occur.

All down her back, kneading her butt and thigh and calf, then the other side, all while reminding her to breathe, be. The work was familiar but the sensation was so different with such perfect skin under her hands. She worked lotion over every inch of her beloved wife and soaked in the love that filled the room, fragrant as the steam from the bath.

“How do you feel?”
“Mmph.”
“Haha, that sounds about right. Ready for bed?”
“Mmph.”

The two women climbed into bed together, unclad, and cuddled as close as they could.

“Thank you. You are incredible, you know that right?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight”

And they fell asleep, breathing each other in, preparing for another day.

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Sticky Sweet Sweat

“Gross. I hate getting sweaty during sex.”

Oh girl. You don’t even know…

When we start, we’re both clean and dry. My studio might be a bit warm but a cool shower brings our temperature down and some cold water or iced tea serves to quench the heat as we reacquaint ourselves.

Words turn to kisses, kisses turn to caresses, and sooner than we imagined we’re skin to skin and a flush has come to our cheeks. Every now and again I’m lazy and relax into your touch but I am no passive lover and before long I add dripping, cooling sweat to the sensations you bring me.

My thighs gripping your hips are slick and I move across you quickly and easily. We move effortlessly against each other, shiny where my breath gathers as I moan and swear and heave. I can feel the cool ripple of your sighs across my back as our bodies fuse in a hot, wet, slippery lake. And icy drop falls from your forehead onto my back. You watch the color and sheen rise on my chest, neck, face, I oblivious to my tells. You’re salty with fresh sweat, the sweet healthy kind you get from a heavy workout. I’ll lick my lips after we’re done, cooling in the afterglow, and smile at the visceral reminder of our flesh together.

The smell of sex and hot skin drifts around the room and eventually out the window. We catch our breath and start to mumble sweet reminders. We drink more, now warmed by the room and time. We start to feel sticky. A simple, cool shower rinses away the salt but not the glow.

Tomorrow you’ll break a sweat for some reason. The weather, a long flight of stairs, a nerve wracking meeting… Doesn’t matter. Maybe it’ll feel good, workout sweat, a flush of heat, a sensation that mimics what we shared the day before. Maybe it’ll be terrible, sticky and inappropriate, and you’ll long for the unabashed nakedness and the cool shower of yesterday.

Sweat, among other things often seen as gross byproducts of a pleasurable but shameful act, is one of the sexiest, most rewarding, literally hottest signals. When your knees wobble and your face flushes with cooling heat, when you drip on me and stick to me and then wash it away leaving only beautiful memories behind, I am rewarded. I, with my authentic sexual power, have done this to you. Oh man, that feels good.

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Special Circumstances

First off, let’s establish that I hate the term sugar daddy. I don’t like being in an imbalanced power dynamic and I’m certainly not going to call anyone daddy. I’m going to say patron for ease of use.

I’ve tried seeking arrangement and what I’ve found is a pool of men across all demographics who have one thing in common: they want to find a girl who behaves professionally, but doesn’t charge professional prices. They want her to be on time, always ready for sex, free of complications such as boyfriends or health issues or personalities. They’re looking for someone who will commit to frequent multi-hour appointments as well as communication in between while only asking for a few thousand a month. Sometimes they want to ‘mentor’ young women which might be truly helpful for some but in my case, I don’t like unsolicited advice. Other times they don’t want to offer real money, even such small amounts, so they offer gifts that might be nice to have after bills are paid but until then are simply baggage. They want their ‘baby’ to prove herself without proving themselves in return and they want to be thanked for it.

I find that kind of behavior infuriating from both sides. A successful sugar baby walks a line where she gives enough to whet the appetite but holds out for more. One provider I know did it in college with something like “I’d love to go on a date with you but my power bill is stressing me out so much I don’t think I could relax enough to enjoy it. You’re willing to pay my bill for me? Oh my goodness thank you SO much!” Once word got round that if you paid a bill for her she’d put out, she didn’t pay her own bills unless she wanted to. I just don’t have the skill to tease it out like that. Girls have to play dumb to make it with these guys and I don’t know if you’ve met me yet but playing dumb, well let’s just say it’s not my strong suit.

That said, when a client evolves into a patron, it forms one of the most fun, pleasant, mutually rewarding dynamics I’ve ever known.

I my experience, there are three general phases: client, regular, and patron

First, we jump through each others hoops. You’ve undergone screening, didn’t haggle, showed up on time, etc. I’ve showed up clean and on time, provided services as advertised, look like my pictures, etc. After meeting a few times, we’ve gotten to know each other, maybe you’ve tipped or offered gifts, maybe I’ve been more flexible for you… This is when we move towards regular status.

Generally we get along. I like smart men who like smart women. I like ribald and thoughtful conversation. When we’re together, it’s easy. We’ve seen each other either long enough, often enough, or under unusual enough circumstances that we share some inside jokes now. We’ve maybe tried something different and our sessions have morphed. If it’s been a while since I’ve seen you I notice it and wonder after you. You care and you mean it. You’re a regular client.

Most of the people I see are people who have settled into the regular phase. It’s comfortable and lovely and when I see your name on my calendar I get excited. Then there are a very few who created a special arrangement. Either explicitly or organically, you became my patron. These arrangements don’t look the same from person to person but they all are based on mutual respect and appreciation and a great deal of self awareness and clever witty banter. They also involve more commitment on both parts, so they’re not a good fit for most people which is why it happen so rarely.

When I was negotiating with these potential ‘daddies’ on SA (and can I say, some of them were just gross. Give daddy his new baby? That is not cute), in the back of my mind I had this sense of shame. What was I doing, putting up with the suspicion and constant need for attention and lack of follow through when I had this beautiful group of regulars and patrons who never asked that of me? How disrespectful to my clients was it to tolerate this crap from others when they have never asked me to? I lasted about a week before deleting my profile.

This was sparked partly by a TNA discussion on finding a girl to patronize, partly by my seven day dabbling, and partly because I’ve talked to people about arrangements like this before and really, they only work well when they evolve slowly. I can’t enter into a special agreement without equality and mutual respect and that rarely happens without spending time together first.

As always, I owe a great deal to my regular clients and my patrons. My financial security, my ability to assert myself, my strengthening sene of self, and of course a fair number of orgasms, haha. Thank you for jumping through my hoops so I could learn to trust you, for allowing me to pamper you with all I can muster because with your attitude and affection, you’ve earned it.

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Le menu du jour

I’m not sure why I don’t get this question very often but my friends often do: some variation of “what’s on the menu?”

I haven’t had a menu for a long time, partly because it wasn’t normal on the old board, partly because I was doing massage only and it’s generally understood to be pretty restrictive, and partly because I don’t want to promise the same thing to different people.

As I get back into the swing of things, I’m learning that I have a cycle of desire. I sort of knew that already; there were days when my body responded with near irresistible desire and others when even people who usually turned me on weren’t doing it for me. I’ve only in the last week started actually recording these swings because it finally became really important.

I’ve talked to a few people about this; how some days I’m just not excited for sex but other days I can’t get enough. Without fail, everyone wants to come over when I’m insatiable. This sounds great to me, too! The problem is, so often, I don’t know until I’m in the moment. It’s been a few hours since my last orgasm and I’m already craving another, daydreaming about my boys and which one I’d like to have over, but it’s too late to coordinate an actual get together. I can’t expect you to be at my beck and call when I find the inverse irritating.

So I’m keeping track, finding correlation, and I’ll be letting people know when it comes up because it dictates in a big way what I’m willing to do for the day. Now, I’m always good, giving, and game. I’m always up to bring you pleasure, you don’t have to worry, but I’m not always able to come, I’m not always able to selfishly receive, and I’m never able to just fake it till you make it. If you see ‘shark week’ on my calendar, it’s because I’m in a fucking frenzy.

***

As a tangentially related note, receiving sexual touch authentically is probably one of the hardest parts about this industry. There are many ways to receive sexual touch authentically, and they don’t all look the same. For a few, it means only having sex when they’re in the mood. For some, it’s about only doing things that are if not pleasurable, at least comfortable. For others, it’s about doing whatever is necessary to provide a great experience for the client. For many, it changes from session to session and each person holds different things from their clients for themselves.

I do know there are a lot of lovely darlings out there who love to please and pleasure. You like cunnilingus and intimate massage and playing with my body to bring pleasure. There are some of my esteemed colleagues who offer a middle ground between one-way sensual touch and full service. I considered this for some time and ultimately decided not to. My beloved givers who I empathize with so deeply, yes, you may pamper me as much as you desire and I welcome your ministrations. Goddess worship, mutual masturbation, reciprocal oral, all these things are wonderful and welcome. I strongly feel that there is no less intimacy, trust, and energy required to receive your hands or tongue than to receive your cock. I do not value your touch any more or less because of which part you use and I hope you will not value my time any more or less in return.

Most of my clients want to see me enjoy myself. I appreciate that my pleasure is important, I’d much rather be with someone who cares that I’m at least comfortable. This is why this conversation is important: my desires aren’t always for sexual stimulation, just like you. I cannot promise to come every time. I cannot promise to want sexual pleasure every time. I cannot promise you any act every time (although there are a few I rarely skip). I can’t even promise you’ll get off (though I will do my darnedest) in exactly the way you want every time.

I can, however, promise to always be present with you, not distracted by my phone or my personal life. I will always be ready to help you reach your orgasm in whatever way I can. I will always let you know if something isn’t good or right so you can help me receive pleasure. I will always communicate about our needs and desires. I will always take care of myself so that I am ready to take care of you in turn. And I can promise that every once in a while, I will ask you to not worry about my pleasure and simply take yours, freely given, with joy and respect.

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Well in hand

I had some spare time the other day and thought it might be time for some nice one-handed reading. My consumption of pornographic material is eclectic and intermittent so I’m still learning what is and isn’t out there. The problem isn’t so much finding it as it is wading through it to find what I’m looking for.

There are two problems with written porn: either it’s awful but it works or it’s really good but doesn’t work. Meaning it’s badly written but explicit and packed tightly enough with graphic sex that it gets and keeps me aroused even while rolling my eyes at run on sentences and broken phrasing or it’s beautiful writing, full of rich characterization and elegant syntax but the sexy bits are either too euphemistic, too few and far between, or too brief to actually get me off.

Even my own has these problems: I want it to be good writing and consent is important so I spend so much time outlining the story that when I go back and read it when I’m horny, it’s useless.

But I have a couple hours and I’m bored so I try anyway.

So I’m poking around the Internet for erotica and the first place I go is literotica. As I said, my consumption is low so I go to what I know is out there. I’m perusing the lists and I think maybe I should try the best stories, as voted on by the audience. Well, most of them are ‘sex people: chapter 13’ or ‘other sex people: part 35’ and of course they’re not in order so I can’t find one I like. So I restrict myself to standalone stories, hoping I’ll find something sex-packed, and the very first one I come across falls into category two: beautiful, lovely, totally useless as a masturbatory aid.

But it’s a good story so by the time I realize it’s not very sexy, I’m invested, and it’s short, so I read it all the way through.

It was a beautiful love story of two high school sweethearts growing up, raising children, and dying together. I ended up crying. I came here to get my labia wet, not my lashes!

Sigh.

Thus ends the saga of my failed attempt at some afternoon delight. A crying girl isn’t even sexy to herself so, mood broken, I did laundry instead. First world provider problems indeed.

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New site, new name, new services

Happy summer my beloveds!

Those of you who get my newsletter already know but there is a new me!

Since October I’ve been preparing to offer full service again. First psyching myself up, then testing the waters slowly, with a few regular friends. Now I’m voracious and am going public with my offerings. I find that the more I have, the more I want (up to a point) and the pleasure is out of this world.

I don’t have the fanciest setup. When I chose my new location back in October I wasn’t planning on this. The space isn’t huge but I’ve managed to make it work so far. When my lease is up I may consider a move but we shall see.

I have had to say goodbye to a few friends. Unfortunately, not all my beloveds care about my pleasure and will listen when I say what works. Others are incapable of changing old habits. To these loves I’d like to refer you to one or more of my many many delightful friends and colleagues.

Speaking of: the galleries on my images page are my favorite part of the new launch. As they’re taken, I’ll be adding pictures of myself and my duo partners together to a special gallery to spark your imagination. I do adore getting my hands on my girlfriends and if you give me an excuse? Oh my darling…

In addition to new session types, rates have gone up for FBSM as of next Sunday. I’ve stolen an idea from a few friends and chosen to offer discounts to more regular guests instead of grandfathering in old old rates so please make yourself aware of your benefit. You’ll notice that snuggles are no longer a session option. If you absolutely loved it and can’t stand missing out on cuddles, I can make special exceptions for old friends but be aware that it’s subject to my whims, haha.

 

As for why I’m adding these services back and changing my name, it simply feels right. When I chose to restrict myself to unidirectional touch, it was a chance for me to learn and grow in the safety of physical boundaries. Over the past few years, I’ve learned a great deal about myself, gained several valued mentors, and finally feel prepared to responsibly reenter the exciting world of escorting. I also feel that I’ve mastered my craft when it comes to sensual massage and, while I’ll never stop learning and inventing, my overactive mind needed novel stimulus. I do still want three or four FBSM sessions in a week to keep myself in practice and to add variety to my work so please don’t stop requesting it! You’ll just have more options now.

I’ve learned my body better and am capable of far more pleasure than I was several years ago. I’ve discovered a strong desire for novelty and excitement which you all provide to varying degrees. I’m excited to explore the city with you and I need more free time to add life skills and try to write more. My financial goals continue to rise as I plan for my future, and my wanderlust takes me from my work often enough that I want to make it more impactful and interesting.

But why the new name? Christina Slater was a fine name, it was ok, it wasn’t very interesting, but it worked for a new girl growing into maturity. This industry is a fun one in that we can reinvent ourselves to reflect changes. While the small town Montana girl is still alive and well, she has made room for a cosmopolitan socialite with a greater sense of globalism and an even greater thirst for knowledge. I lost weight, learned a new language, gutted my closet, traveled the world (a bit of it), and simply feel a desire to reflect all that new growth in a new name.

A petite amie is a girlfriend, a little French lady friend; it’s me exactly. Let Amie Petite by your new favorite petite amie.

www.amiepetite.com

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Smart Hard Work

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I hadn’t realize the emotional impact of sex work for myself until recently. It took more than most, I like to think, but it finally caught up with me and now, finally, I understand on a gut level how exhausting this work must be for anyone with a shorter rope, fewer options, or lacking a solid support network in this industry.

I’ve read a fairly wide range of feminist, equality-oriented, sex work positive literature as well as the commentary and arguments against it. These issues pop up on social media regularly (my current favorite commentator is Ava St Claire from Florida) and in personal private conversations and with every comment, comic, and essay I learn a little more about other people’s experiences.

A few weeks ago, I spent the entire day, 9a-6p, working on my new website (look for a July 9 launch!) and took myself to dinner after. I thought I’d read a book and have a glass of wine to relax but I sat down and couldn’t do anything but grin hysterically and look around. It took me half a glass and almost an hour before the tension in my muscles eased and I could relax into reading.

I learned two things from this: first, that you guys are heroes. You who grind in front of a screen or manage other people or build a thriving business from scratch. You guys are doing what I did for one day, but you do it All. The. Time. Wow. No wonder an hour or two away from it all with a beautiful woman is so meaningful for you. I’m honored to be able to provide that safe, quiet, fun space for you to let your brain turn off for a bit and simply enjoy the physical sensation of being adored.

Second: I learned, finally, way behind the curve, that this work, though it sometimes feels frivolous, is meaningful without it needing to be deliberately therapeutic. Meaning the pressure I put on myself to listen with intent and touch with meaning is unnecessary; the nature of sensual and erotic bodywork is already therapeutic in and of itself. WOW! And I thought I was a fast learner, haha.

You all have been so patient and so wonderful with me through this learning curve. Over the last few weeks I have had absolutely the best experience. My clients have all been caring and passionate and appreciative as well as fun and sexy and thoughtful. I’ve been busy enough but not too busy. I’ve been playing hard and working hard and reinforcing relationships left and right! I feel well supported and absolutely pleased to pleasure you.

Hot damn life is good.

So what does this mean for you? You’ll see when the new website launches but it means primarily that you can count on me to be there for you during our time together, fully and completely and enthusiastically. Thank you.