30/01/2018 § Leave a comment

‘Do you have enough mdizzle, or shall I bring drink?’ I asked. ‘I have enough md for everyone’, he said.

You can judge a person by his friends, and his friends are all lovely and creative and full of humour; just how I expected. This weekend was amazing and beautiful and fulfilling. My body was happy, my mind was happy, my soul was happy. It feels like it could so easily be or have been a beautiful transition into a relationship, into the boyfriend/girlfriend labels. But they still aren’t there, and they feel so far away, with so much space needed from his side. I don’t believe a relationship is what he wants or what he’ll want for a while.

And so I create points of excitement and joy that aren’t to do with him and dot them all throughout February. I focus on my friends and the others I love. I take hold of the silver gorgeous noose I love to have so much around my neck and ease a finger under to allow a little room to breathe. And, I think, I’m breathing. There is hope and hopelessness and it all feels good.

He holds me close and he holds my hand and he kisses me goodbye in front of his friends. And yet. But.

I don’t understand how the sex is so good. I do not understand how it is so good.

I spent Sunday night dog tired and very happy with three good friends. It was our last night of our own Come Dine With Me and they have been such amazing evenings, we all get along so well. B gifted me out of the blue with her old washed bedsheet. She said ‘some people would consider an old bedsheet a rubbish gift, but I have a feeling you’re not one of those people’. She was right and I felt my heart was going to burst. A couple of weeks before I had told her that one of my bedsheets had gone missing, that I only had one now and was rotating it with a mattress topper. There are many ways to give and to receive affection but I have discovered over time that one of the ways that means the most to me is when someone does something that makes life easier. Cooks me a meal, gifts me something which may well be ugly or small or unexciting to the outside world but which is something I need, lends me their jumper when I am cold. I feel love by practicalities.


Suddenly it’s beautiful December

07/12/2017 § Leave a comment

It’s a Wednesday. I wake up in the darkness of pre-6am, practice yoga, go to a quiet eight hour shift in a corporate law firm, work for another two hours which include pissing on a guys face and making him suck another guys dick, practice my aerial hoop routine ready for a performance Saturday night, shoot a photo for the August page of our studios upcoming calendar, come home and hoover my bedroom and eat a banana with almond butter and wonder if meditating will force me to face my constant mild nagging guilt of eating animals and push me into vegetarianism, decide no it probably won’t be enough and possibly nothing ever will, go to sleep.

He wanted me to text him when I entered the hotel so he could leave the door on latch, and I enter to find him restrained to the bed and blindfolded with a cock cage in place. There were two piles of money on the side and I didn’t go near them initially, it wasn’t necessary. Later I said ‘I’m assuming one is for me and one for Ben’ and he said ‘Yes, the larger one is for you’.

It often pays to be a woman, at least to be a relatively attractive woman in England in 2017. I can not deny the advantages. I think my life would look so incredibly different if I’d been born male. I’m not sure if it would be better or worse but I think I would have made so many different choices from birth that my life would be unrecognizable from the one I lead now.

Sometimes when other sex workers are with me and a client, they say things that indicate they enjoy what they do and get genuine pleasure from it. When this happens I always try and look at their face and detect whether this is the truth or a lie. The truth is that probably, like me, everything is somewhere in the middle.

I’ve been looking at recipes for eggnog’s and Tom and Jerry’s and vegetable lasagnas and risottos and I have so many beautiful things to cook and make and when I finally run out of food next week I will do a large shop and get everything I need in. I need to clear out first. I need to use every last scrap.

People are fascinating and you can never predict them. You can never assume. I wore nice underwear for my first meet with J the Nazi and he was disappointed. Not at me, he understood I couldn’t have known, but he likes plain cheap cotton panties.

It seems to be more common than usual lately that male clients want to be controlled in a caring motherly girlfriend type way. I’m glad, the bitch mother/caring mother style suits me best above other dominatrix styles such as being the cold princess or pure giver of pain. They want cuddles and skin contact. Perhaps it’s the month, the loneliness of winter and December and Christmas. We all feel it though I have avoided its sting well with friends, family, John. I am not too lonely at all this Christmas, thanks to the life I have created and a spoonful of pure dumb luck.




Queen of Pain

04/12/2017 § Leave a comment

05 November 2017

How to do right by yourself and by everyone around you?

Tonight I am sitting in bed listening to Florence and the Machine’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful and I am crying. I am waiting for the phone call which tells me I can go out and earn money tonight, keeping 40% of what I make whilst the agency keeps 60%. I have a sore throat and a heavy cold and an anxious mind and a sad heart. I have begun working a job that no-one knows about and there is no-one I can tell, which is isolating. I have to lie to everyone around me.

I am hurting a man who loves me. I have feelings for a man who I believe doesn’t have them back. I am lonely and I am scared. None of this is a choice, feelings are not a choice. Everything is the only way it can be, the only way that is true. I must follow this path even if it leads to misery and darkness.

The best part of being financially desperate is that you feel alive all of the time, another is that your life can take creative turns, another is that in some ways you are free, another is that you always wake early in the morning to see the sun rise, because panic jolts you awake. One man in my life is going to prison between 1 and 14 years, another tried to kill himself two nights ago, another is about to leave me due to something out of my control that isn’t my fault.

There are lies in the frost but the rain exposes us all and it’s beautiful.
Have you seen the rain? It’s gonna wash us all away.

Before Escape, The Suffering

04/12/2017 § Leave a comment

October, 2014

Sometimes, I think, I do bad things because I don’t believe I deserve to consider myself a good person.

Tonight, I walked home clutching my plastic bag in my fist, the roads littered with rubbish.

I refuse to be someone who thinks of themselves as not worthy anymore.

It’s embarrassing to tell myself in the mirror ‘I love you’, but the difficulty of it shows its necessity. I can’t look myself in the eye when I say it and when I do, I cry.

Last night I wet the bed. I haven’t done that since I was a very young child and even as a toddler I only did it a few times. The possibility of doing this wasn’t even on my radar, if the day before I’d had to list a hundred unusual things I could do in the night I don’t think it would have made it on there.

I know that even afterwards my bladder was bursting with pain when I moved in the night to the bathroom. I know the pee was long and heavy and clear. It’s not enough of a reason, it’s not like I haven’t desperately needed to urinate before.

Have you ever wet the bed in adulthood completely out of the blue? Do you know why?

I have a friend who has started sleepwalking in her sleep. I am dazed and anxious most of the time this week. I cried uncontrollably last night on the phone to my mother. She didn’t think of it as a big deal and continued to talk to me as if it wasn’t happening at all, which was exactly what I needed and why she is the perfect person to call.

What do I say when there’s no-one around to listen

07/11/2017 § Leave a comment

A side effect of that kind of work is that for long chunks of time I am utterly done with being sexy. Presenting myself as sexy and feeling sexy appeals to me a lot less than it used to. I am excited by being my childish self, by scruffy braids and no makeup, by wooley coats and walks outdoors and lipstick free smiles. I am excited by men who value this also, who enjoy non-sexual things and like to cuddle and be friendly.

I dreamt about kiwi fruits, making a white sculpture of a bloated happy pregnant figure, my dad attempting to take his life with a shotgun and nearly succeeding and finding out about his attempt to kill himself during the Halloween party at my house last weekend. My ex-boyfriend knocking on the door to tell me and then driving me back to Nottingham with me in my pyjamas and crying. Halloween make-up swiftly removed.

I dream my reality or possible realities and so reality and dreams blur together. I dreamt I was making quilts for comfort, I dreamt I had a pussy power tshirt, I dreamt bad things about my new man and good things about my old, I dreamt I was being questioned by a man somewhere about something and it was unpleasant but I don’t remember what it was about.

I dreamt that he’d sucked 46 cocks not 3, that he’d lied but it didn’t matter. I dreamt I had a stack of six pizzas and they were all different and all on their last legs and I had to freeze them quick. I dreamt, again, that my dad had shot himself in the head. And I dreamt many other things besides though I can’t remember what but a friend who slept in my bed with me one night said I muttered all sorts of things quickly, and the only bit she caught was ‘kill them both’ which I said calmly.

Often when I spend the night with John he says I talk in my sleep. Once it was something sexual towards him which makes a lot of sense and is a funny story, once I pointed at the corner of the of the room and said something about there being faces. Who knows what I say when there’s no one around to listen.

I’m done with biting to the bone

24/10/2017 § Leave a comment

This is not the first night this week I’ve laid awake till the early hours in the grip of anxiety. Lungs tight, mind heavy, heart panicked. This won’t be the last.

Life moves on when you least expect it to. I’m standing in an area that normally pulls my heart in all kinds of ways. It’s where I lived my first year away from home, where all kinds of joys and miseries occurred. I feel very little here now, my pain has moved on to other sources. I need alcohol or friends or the right men or alone time with shitty cartoons to soothe it.

My fingernails are bitten down and I feel thoroughly myself in the way you do sometimes when you’re the parts of yourself you dislike but can’t seem to shake.

I miss my best friend but he will never be my best friend again and can you really call someone a best friend who allows you no privacy? Who watches every word you write and move you make against your will? Of course you can, just because a relationship is incredibly unhealthy doesn’t make it false.

I have been weak. I should never have contacted him, I should have recognised the desire for friendship and connection would only hurt him. I should have recognised that I needed to properly let him go.

My heart and head used to fight with equal sized fists. My heart is always on top now and has been for a while, I can make very few decisions with my head these days.

I didn’t expect to have these feelings. I didn’t expect to have any feelings. Every time I see him my feelings grow. I hope, I hope, I hope they are reciprocated.

Leaving uni wasn’t stepping off a cliff, leaving America was.


19/09/2017 § Leave a comment

What comes out my mouth
I hear in my parents voice
And my heart aches

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing the True Stories category at Salt&Prose.