samedi, le 9 mars

Sometimes I make (and not in the phone sense, mind you):

- House calls

- Hotel calls

- Apartment calls

But sometimes, I let the customer come to me.

Which, you wonder, how do I do that?

- I have a rather large apartment, first of all. I don't own a house.

- Next, my apartment is divided into two.

- Private (which is all mine, mine, mine! and rather messy.)

- And Professional (which is all clean. And pretty. And soft. And comfy. You get the general idea.)

My professional area has to be always clean and unscented except for the smell of freshly laundered clothes. Don't want the customer leaving smelling of flowers or some female scent.

This means I don't wear perfume. Unscented soap, shampoo, deodorant, everything. Can't have the customer smelling of woman, unless it is a woman, of course.

I have my own time for it, thank you. I currently smell of cherries and vanilla. Yummy.

The Professional side consists of:

- A bedroom (Duh)

- A washroom (for the customer to clean up in)

- A large window next to the bed

- Doors

- A king-sized bed with royal purple sheets and turquoise and lavender pillows (random sizes)

- A walk-in closet with all my work toys and hidden fetishes and stuff like that

- Walls

Now, my Personal Private side.

It consists of:

- Numerous closets (For sheets, towels, and an enormous walk-in closet for my clothes)

- My bedroom

- Kitchen

- Office/living room thing (My laptop is in there, along with my couch, TV, desk and bookcase)

- My fridge

- Chocolate

- A spare bedroom for a crashing N, Y, G, super-rare S2 and S1 when Y kicks him out

- Drawer full of my own toys

Yup. That's it.

…Wait, I forgot about my closet.

My closet:

-Is the most important thing in my apartment (dress to impress, darlings)

- Is also divided into two

Why?

I go by two names. Cerise, and Sakura. Separate people in a way, but played by the same person.

The difference?

Sakura doesn't have sex for money. Cerise does.

Because, who in the hell tells people that you just met what you actually do for a living?

"Hello, lovely to meet you too, Mr. Perfect. What do I do for a living? Oh, I'm a prostitute."

Seriously! I don't go around telling people I sell my body for money!

I tell them my job is some boring desk job where I sort papers and crap everyday and place them into the cubbyholes of CEOs of some big company. It's so boring, no one asks me about it.

Cerise is French for cherry. I don't tell my clients my real name. They don't expect you to. Some girls do tell, I don't.

By the way, my lips healed somewhat. They're of normal size, but very, very tender. No work for me to do… I told my manager to put me off the list till further notice.

My doctor said that I was allergic to sperm-killing stuff in the condoms.

lundi, le 10 mars

Went to visit S2 today. I know he's weird and all, with the probable gay thing pasted on him, but he is one of my very best friends.

And no, he is certainly not gay.

He was painting today, as always.

I barge in through his locked door, carrying a bag of food.

S2 is sometimes so focused on his damn work, he forgets to eat. One time, me, G, N, Y and S1 found him so emaciated that we tossed the idiot into the hospital. He tried to escape twelve times before the hospital released him.

Bad boy.

So he was sitting on that old stool, easel posed in front of him, and he was painting a nude girl from imagination.

He's one of those artists becomes world famous while he's alive, not dead. It's not hard to imagine, so many people are buying his work. I went to one of his shows as his muse.

Yes, I was his muse at one point. We were lovers during that time too. We were in university.

He stared at me when I came in the door, with that same longing back in uni.

It wasn't lust for me; it was lust to paint me.

He likes painting me, you see. He's so fascinated by me, and all my curves, contours, shapes, and shadows I create, he claims. All of his paintings of females are all variants of me.

"Hello." He rasped. He turns back to his work.

I tell him at length what he missed when being ensconced in his abstract, artsy world. About Y and S1. N and his new little hardcore porn series. (Which I got to watch before it came out.). G and his new little surprise with four wheels and is Italian-racing red. And that his voice was way too hoarse from lack of talking.

He doesn't answer. He was too busy changing the size of the naked bosom on the figure on the canvas.

mercredi, le 12 mars

I am finally back to work!

Apparently, according to my silver-eyed gorgeous manager, there were over a hundred calls for me.

Over a hundred.

Wow.

I'm in huge demand.

I honestly never knew that.

jeudi, le 13 mars

My huge handbag has inside (And I'm not kidding about the size):

- Pocketbook (For holding money, cards)

- Notepad (For writing things down, you expect me to remember everything?)

- Pens (For writing, of course!)

- Keys (To open my apartment door, and assorted other keys for opening various things, such as the door to N's porn collection and S2's door)

- Tampons (Because girls do.)

- Spare knickers (Same reason as above, as well as the reason below))

- Spare bra (Customers may rip the one I'm wearing)

- Sponge (Uh, do you really want to know?)

- Makeup (For touchups)

- Condoms (I carry latex and polyurethane. You don't expect for the client to have condoms with them, do you?)

- Folding scissors (Loose threads look bad, and it's for cutting the sponge)

- Comb (Look your best, ladies!)

- Breath mints (Bad breath is a no-no)

- Gum (Same as above, but a lot more fun)

- Phone (Needed to use for calling important people, such as the manager, G, or N)

If I even tried to pack that all in some Coach glasses-case, it would explode. I trust that Houdini can't even do that.

vendredi, le 14 mars

I went out to go buy groceries, and instead of taking a taxi or calling a friend, I actually walked the five blocks to the grocery store.

It was cold, so I wore a leather jacket with lovely cashmere lining.

You might think this is crazy, but I noticed a lot of new things. And I have been down this road so many times.

The sidewalk I walked on, it was actually cobblestone!

And there are so many delicious-looking cafes around; I may have to treat Y and S1 to one sometime.

samedi, le 15 mars

Oh my god.

Manager just called me, asking me about an appointment.

It's from a young man.

And he personally went out to find the manager.

He was asking for a girl, with confidence, beauty, power, dominant and docile, and stood out in a bunch of people.

And she picked me.

And that's not all.

He wants me to stay with him and accompany him to functions, etcetera, for a week.

And I accepted.

There's no way am I going to let something like this slip out of my manicured hands and into another girl's half-bitten claws.

He is paying for a week.

And a week of pay for me?

That's an enormous sum.

I wonder what he looks like?

-紅-

And you wonder who this mystery man is?