It’s late afternoon. Early evening. Whatever. I’ve held numerous bodies in the past three days, my sweat wasn’t my sweat until I bathed it off with bubbles and a whiskey and a chapter of a novel I’m not sure about reading.
My nipples are learning a lot about how much stimulation they enjoy (a great deal - I mean, but slowly, with finesse and ultimate crescendoes). My cunt is surrendered, tired. All orgasmed out and felt up beyond measure.
Sometimes I come to the city like a wild free woman on fire, like a woman on holiday. I walk around buying shit, smiling at the traffic. Making plans. Feeling big.
Then I take a flood-load of ridiculous texts and emails, wading and sifting through what is legit and what is preposterous. My tits and cunt being the main subject of everything, of course: “do u squirt?” Heaven help humanity.
Then I take a number of selected men into my sanctuary, and love them for a moment or hopefully a few more. (I enjoy longer sessions best.)
Each soul is a universal beloved for a time, I am a lover of all and any. I honour the person - their need, their urge, usually their loneliness. I meet their desire, completely turned on and ready to make love.
I love to be loved and felt, I love to love and feel. This is why I do this work. I love to smile and bring joy. I love to offer deep intimacy.
I breathe and float and forget all of myself in these long, sweet moments. There’s nothing but flesh & spirit, really. It’s a kind of music. A trans-personal connection, very slow and utterly patient. I give myself to the hour or two or three of meeting, however it ends up feeling. Almost always incredibly satisfying. Sometimes weird, sometimes fine. Hopefully, always - with me - sweet.
Today after my day was done, I found myself wandering around my room and down to the street smoking, my eyes watering. I had a whiskey. My eyes watered more. I had a few smokes. I didn’t know what to do.
Restless, I came back up to my room and let my eyes well up, fuck.
Oh, god.
I cried for awhile then - the energy of the people I’ve received this week, all of it pouring out my face in a wild, untamed, unknowable fashion. What can I do, but surrender. The things I’ve seen and held just in my skin and my eyes. My eyes, my heart, and my fucking pussy. I have so much love in me, so much to give.
I’m a lover of the whole complicated world and all its many layers, I can’t help it.
Everything had to come out through tears, all the connections and feelings. (I had this epiphany that love must be just saltwater - which is true, in its own primordial way).
The energy I’ve held in the past three days, the concentration. The old and young and the mixed up; the untouched, unsatisfied, hungry people of the world. The desirous. The strong, the weak, the shy, the nervous.
I’m here to love them all, it’s the only thing I can do for the world sometimes. It’s the only way I can meet the broken heart of the world - with the life of my body, with the work of my spirit.
I am not on holiday. I’m a rescuer of the lonely, and sometimes it costs me something, for sure. I do get tired. Like tonight.
And like everyone, I also have loneliness. Right now, I’m listening to sad songs reminding me of what it feels like to be chosen by a special someone. Thinking about the passing of time in life, counting my losses a bit.
I’ve spent my day offering connection, and now I’m sitting in the lamplight looking out at the horizon. Wondering what to do with my heart and my hands.
I’m in a big city, separated from my home, restless, wondering when I can be held just as me, for a minute? When I can relax and be cared for? When the hours will stretch out like on a Saturday when there’s nothing, nothing, nothing but a blue sky and some laughs with a good sweet lover.
And tomorrow, I’ll be a virgin again. Soft and smooth, dressed for one she loves, the one who takes such good care of her.
I’ll take a morning swim in the pool, a hot tub, stretching my beautiful body that everyone loves to love, for a moment, for a price, sometimes for long years of sensual friendship.
I belong to myself each morning - my body visits each of the cardinal directions in a prayer. A salute to the sun. And then, most days, this body offers itself on the altar of Love.
But not tomorrow - tomorrow, I’m only for him.
I’m twenty-four floors up, here. On top of the world, in the throb of my self, offering something I believe is healing. (And this is what it feels like.)
I’m going to sleep now. Melting into the sheets of this white king-sized bed. Dreaming of how my limbs will be held by his hands - I mean not just my limbs, but my heart too. How we’ll melt into each other’s need in that simpatico way. And how I’ll settle into his body, safe.
A little spent, but safe.
This is gorgeous.
I love this. Very descriptive of the energy, love and emotions you give and feel. It seems like catharsis explained, like loving and letting go - and all that it takes to do so. It cannot be easy to love, give and receive pleasure in contained time frames and spaces. Thank you for letting us try to understand what is required. You are wonderful in how you connect with others and yourself. Take care.