I don’t know the meaning of the word ‘relationship’. Well, at least not when it comes to having a healthy, lasting relationship with someone I care about. Since I’ve started blogging, I’ve come across so many wonderful people who live with their partners in exciting, healthy, and often unconventional D/s relationships. Some for shorter periods, others for many years. I have never had a relationship that wasn’t based on selling my body.

Now that I’m entering my mid-30s, I’m no longer looking to make money off my body. I’m not an escort anymore. This may read like an add on a dating website, and perhaps that’s what I’ve been reduced to, but I’m actually a really nice person. I don’t look like the unapproachable model that I was portrayed as in my escort pictures. I’m actually very average in my looks. There are many women who are more attractive than I am in my age range. Hell, for that matter, there are more attractive women who are significantly older than I am.

I’m also not this super-kinky person who always needs that excitement in a personal relationship. I don’t want to be spoiled the way I was often as an escort. I’m actually very much down to earth. Sure I have my kinks and fetishes, but they are just for fun. I don’t need them to have a fulfilling relationship, I think.

And that’s the point. I don’t know what I’m looking for in a relationship, because I have never had one. Am I under the illusion of having had one? Yes, but I realize that it’s just a mirage. Can a relationship, no matter how sincere, really be based on sex for money? By now, I don’t want the money part anymore, but the one person who I could see myself with for many years, pays me to be with him.

He used to be a client. I’ve known him for the past four years. Our first date was short, but the chemistry was there right away. Our second date was three days in Moscow. That’s not what I would normally do as an escort. I hardly knew him and yet felt comfortable spending several days with him in a place I didn’t know. He gave me the instant security that everything would be alright. It was beyond alright.

I saw him about four or five times when I was still working for an escort agency. He didn’t know my real name, everything was fake. He paid the normal rate through my agency. The money was good, though I was already on my way out of the business. Still, I wanted to see him whenever possible. The problem was just that I could never initiate the contact. It all went through my life as an escort. I was by contract even prohibited from establishing any personal contact with him.

That changed when I left the agency. It was not a clean cut by any means. I shared my contact information with him, but had assumed that he would move on to the next girl. I wasn’t a person for him, I was for service, or maybe just a sales item. Those are my words, not his.

The thrill of seeing him again after I left the agency was indescribable. We went to Rome, saw each other again in New York, spent a week in Greece. I became his travel companion. There is little he doesn’t know about me, and I know much about him. We’re compatible and our time together is always magical.

And then there is the old ‘for sale’ sign that still hangs around my neck. He pays me. Not because he has to, I don’t ask for it. I don’t have a price tag, no fees, none of what I used to have as an escort. But he treats me just the same. I don’t say no when he pays me. Maybe I should. He doesn’t ask whether he should pay me, he just does.

I feel flattered and demeaned. Maybe he likes the emotional distance that money creates. Maybe he thinks that’s the only reason why I still travel with him. Am I so poor at communicating genuine affection? Do I have a sign hanging around me that says ‘Used Body for Sale’? I don’t dare ask him. I’m just glad we are still seeing each other. It may be a one-way ticket to nowhere, but it’s still a journey I feel is worth taking.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked