I don’t know if I’ve just been lucky as an escort, but most of the time the whole process of finding clients has been quite a smooth one.
I’d post my ad for escort services online, and that’s pretty much it. Clients would start calling, and not just any clients, but exactly the kind I wanted – nice, well-educated, respectful, polite, and not expecting anything crazy in bed.
They’d call at just the right time, they’d give me plenty of room to get ready for the appointment, and they’d take care of it all in just one call or text. We’d meet, have an excellent time together, especially the nice conversation over drinks. Sometimes even the time spent in bed would be a good one.
Then they’d gladly pay me, and assure me with a big smile that they’re going to call me again next time they’re in town. And they do.
There are other times, however, when nothing goes right for weeks on end. Client after client would call at the wrong time when I’m busy, and don’t even hear my phone, as if they all agreed on some evil plot against me.
Then a wave of misers would hit my inbox, writing weeks and even months in advance, whom, of course, I never get to meet, because they’re just fishing for the lowest price, and that’s exactly why they’re contacting me weeks ahead.
Then another bunch of bargain-hunters would come along, shamelessly lying that they visit Bulgaria quite often (as if that equals guaranteed appointments for me), and so I should give them a discount.
Some would try to shrink the appointment to 30 min., sometimes even 15 min., in the hopes to pay less, as if I’d leave the house for anything less than an hour, in most cases, at least two.
Then, as if all that’s not enough, here would come my favorite crowd, the fetishists, with their incessant demands for tall patent leather boots, or facesitting with changing into several differently textured garments – fishnet stockings, foe leather leggings, yoga pants, etc., or really nice, pedicured feet and lots and lots of footjob, or sexy slave/master play, as if there’s anything sexy in a passive guy, on all fours, waiting for you to come up with exciting orders, and pathetically gazing at you with adoration and gratitude.
The problem isn’t the fetish itself. It’s the never ending demands that put me off. As if I haven’t had enough demands dumped on my head by life itself. Why is it so hard for some people to stick to the escort services I offer, or contact someone who actually advertises what they’re looking for?
And they are very thorough in explaining what they want. As if I can’t wait to get my nice shoes soaked in some random guy’s saliva, who doesn’t even offer to pay extra for them, because the only thing I can do after that is throw them out, and get new ones.
Once, during a particularly slow month, I was so frustrated that I agreed to meet someone in a wheelchair, although I had no idea how that would go. The guy appeared very humble at first, I thought, probably because of his disability, but then turned into this demanding douche bag. And that was the end of my good-hearted intention to meet him despite everything.
Having all my dreams and hard work crashed in front of my eyes has made me no longer willing to give my best to anything I do, as my experience has shown me that that doesn’t guarantee success in life. Quite the opposite, apparently the less I gave, the more I got in return.
In such times (fortunately, doesn’t happen too often), with all the missed phone calls, misers, and fetish nutcases, I end up making next to nothing. Luckily, most of the time, there’s no shortage of normal clients, so I can make the most money with the least effort.