Escorts (1)

You know how, a couple of entries ago, I toyed with the idea of prostitution and you all read and laughed because it was a joke and it was funny?

Well....this evening I printed off an application form for a position advertised ala Google for 'a Non sexual Escort'.

If I haven't the balls (quite yet) to fuck for money. I can atleast make a quid or 40 by meeting a lot of weird and wonderful women without any obligation being placed on my phallus. It's comfortable middle ground surely.

So, the form is rather clean and simple, just the way I like them. My only worry relates to the possibilty of being rejected. Can you imagine....the rejected whore. I'd never live it down.

And I was speaking with a friend not so long ago who was all in favour.

'I love sex, and if I'm getting paid for it, why not?'

I would be inclined to agree.

Every time you go to a bar and some greasy man grabs your waist and asks you if you'd like a shag, isn't he turning you into a whore there and then? Now, if he paid for the privelege, I think suddenly the tables would be turned. You'd be the one overpowering the greasy desperado. In fact, so many people are expected to be whores in their everyday life. And they do. Because filth and lack of self control is apparently clean and nice. But throw a fiver (or 70) down onto the table and soon the club will be empty and you'll be left alone with the sounds of Kylie as you bounce beneath the disco ball.

So, I've managed step one. We have fourty more to go, but we're still one step closer than we were before.

As soon as I mentioned the form to The Dame she decided that filling it in should be a joint enterprise (It's more of an occassion in my eyes).

I shall keep you informed of the progress readers, worry not.

Ciao