In the United Kingdom escort agencies are legal entities. Agencies offer “companionship” but it is a barely disguised secret that the customer is paying for more than company, he/she is paying for sex.
I have used the services of escorts on a regular basis and this blog will, on occasions deal with my experiences of paying for sex. It would be dishonest of me to deny that I have enjoyed some of these encounters greatly, that I have been left feeling sexually fulfilled with a desire for more of the same, however in most cases the feeling I am left with after having slept with an escort is one of emptiness and “Christ what am I doing with my life”.
Tiffany (not her real name) was a slim 24-year-old with black hair and eyes. She wore a short skirt and no stockings (I love the feel of bare skin). I’d paid £240 for her “company” and was hoping for a toe curling erotic experience combined with some good conversation.
“don’t touch my face you will spoil my make-up”. I stopped touching this attractive lady’s face a feeling of sadness coming over me. What had I expected from this encounter? Tiffany was a working girl. To her I was nothing more than a source of income for her lifestyle which so far as I could ascertain involved spending the day getting a tan, on the sun bed and socialising with friends. The sex, when it came was mechanical. I couldn’t come through intercourse and Tiffany finished me off by hand.
Although I’d paid for 2 hours I felt empty, I wanted to say goodbye , for Tiffany to go and for me to enter the blessed world of slumber. Finally the time came. I gave Tiffany a perfunctory hug, thanked her for “a nice time” and, closing the front door felt a wave of relief wash over me.
It is often said that the client’s of prostitutes regard sex workers as mere “objects” with no feelings who’s only function is to give sexual gratification. Well on this occasion I, as a customer felt like a mere object who’s only purpose was to fund this young lady’s lifestyle. Tiffany was not unpleasant. She made (we both made) a valiant efort to converse, however having nothing in common it was a chore rather than a pleasure for me and, I’m sure for her also.