“He’s the perfect client.”
That’s what I tell the San Fran provider that reaches out for a referral. “He’s a dream.” Ty works hard in IT and is a book-at-the-last-minute kinda guy. Fortunately for him, he’s also miraculously lucky at catching me.
He’s the perfect client in many ways: always punctual, PayPal’s me hours in advance, and tips. But most of my VIP clientele are like this. What sets Ty apart is that he brings out the best in my craft, the erotic bodywork I’ve cultivated over the years. It’s my art, my magic, and my communion. Every time Ty lies on my table, it’s confirmation that I was created to take men like him on ineffable journeys into Eros— that I was created to sexually serve.
In his late 30s, Ty’s the hipster poster child of Austin, and I’m his respite and reset. I provide those basic human needs that most people don’t even know exist, like the need for touch, and the need for connection and intimacy. But I am also a courtesan, so I work my magic with a feminine finesse that comes from years of practice and training. I rock his world in slow, scintillating strokes. To the edge and back, to the edge and back, swoon.
Ty lets go with me and allows himself to be truly nurtured. And because he’s so deft at receiving, he’s the beneficiary of my craft in ways others (who are more focused on me), are not. I can dive in with him, tune into his mind-body-spirit and flow. Every session is different, every session gets better. There is no script. It’s an organic, intuitive dance, an erotic rebirth, a modern-day reenactment of the ancient temple priestesses loving a man whole.
He sighs the minute he lies on the table. The stress drips out of him, making more space for pleasure. I seduce him, layering sensation upon sensation. Mudras. Mantras. Stillness. Prayer. His hidden erogenous zones awaken under the drape of my breasts, my sweet breath in his ear, my hands and fingers in all the right places at all the right times.
I’m also the lucky one. This is my vocation; I provide the luxuries of life, I heal, pamper, adore and worship. I love.
“You’re masterful,” he murmurs as his warm seed smeared across my breasts begins to cool and congeal. I know. I brush the hair out of his eyes and whisper,
“You bring out the best in me.”