At least four more weeks of pacing up and down my hallway. Hoping for nice weather and some fresh air. It’s like Alcatraz. No ocean, but the city is nice, quiet, clean. And no way to escape. I am a prisoner in my own apartment.
I’ve been looking forward to a graduation ceremony. We don’t have them the same way in Germany. I always marveled at the grandiose ceremonies, full of colors, tradition, celebrations. Mine will be a pre-recorded messages I can look at on May 17. Great. As if I haven’t been looking at my computer screen long enough.
I’ve perfected looking through the screen as if it wasn’t even there. You know those 3-D pictures that were popular decades ago? If you look right through it, relax your brain, all of a sudden a 3-dimensional picture appears and it as real as anything.
I like this one. Her nipples are just like mine. She’s not visible to some, at least not in 3-D. But she’s actually quite beautiful. I wanna be like her. Life inside my own world, invisible to most, but exquisite to those who can look beyond the surface.
Netflix has been my friend recently. I’ve watched the third season of Babylon Berlin. Also watched the first season of Women of the Night, about a Dutch escort agency serving as a front for laundering drug money. It made me think.
I’m not sure I want to stay in this country. Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot to like. But I miss what I gave up. I’m not sure I’m over it. As much as it drives me crazy that my old escort agency still has my German page visible to old clients who can easily find it, those times were not bad. I’ve been getting calls, could jump right back into it.
There are folders on my computer. Every dates, details, comments. I have a file in every client.
Peter was a great fuck. That’s all we did. He used to work in the adult film industry, but just doesn’t cut it anymore. His dick is huge, but he is a bit out of shape. I have his date, even his address. I’d see me in a flash. I would’t even change my rate for him.
There are about five others who I used to see regularly. I’m sure at least three to four would come back in no time. My old boss would be more than happy to see me coming back. I guess that’s why she’s keeping up my site. Just to signal that there is always going to be a place for me.
The scene has changed, though I wouldn’t be looking for new clients anymore. All the ones I’m thinking about are the 3-4 day at a time clients. Just one or two a month pays easily for what I need. I still have my apartment in Berlin, childcare is free, life is less expensive.
Maybe I’m just thinking about returning to my old profession because I miss being desired. And let’s face it, getting an obscene amount of money just to be going on to Monaco for a few days isn’t bad. It’s actually fucking hot.
I loved the trips to Monaco. The Grand Prix, the smell of burnt rubber, the show, the money. Yes, money can be a turn on. I always wanted to be one of the Cannes girls. That’s where the real money is. Not so much in Cannes, but in all the after parties and contacts. I’m out of the age group, but so are most celebrities.
There has to be a future where I get fucked, not just loved, whether I have a partner or not. Where live is easy. I can get away when I want to, just disappear in the middle of the crowd.
Tomorrow, I’ll be staring at the same walls again. The same depressing daily updates on Covid-19. It might be with us for a while. This should be the happy part of my life, and all I can think of are happier times. I’m in a place where I likely can’t stay, locked in without being able to leave.
And nobody knows for how long. I feel more and more like a stranger in my own adopted hometown. Nothing impresses me anymore. It’s not the city that never sleeps, the city that can’t be shaken, it’s a graveyard. I watch Netflix in German, just to feel like I’m in a different place. In a place where sex is a business.
This sounds crazy, but I have another good 15 years in me. Why the fuck shouldn’t I do what I enjoy. Is anyone really going to say ‘no’ to me? I’m not the submissive I used to be, but I can play a darn good one. Give me pain, give me torture, give me humiliation, own me, use me. See, it’s nothing.
It’s a game, and I enjoy it. A game of domination. A game of keeping clients, without selling my head. I am the one who uses their mis-fortune. They are typically not finding what they want. I give it to them.
I’m playing with colors. Life is not real right now. Nothing is. So why not create a version of the future that I like. One where I pain the picture, pick the colors of life. My future. And if I want to get fucked for money while floating around the Mediterranean, why not?
Maybe I’m meant to be different. Live a secret life, be a spy. Not really, but I could be. The spy who fucked me. There is almost nothing I wouldn’t do to build a future. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am. And now it’s all crumbling in front of my eyes.
What I thought was a future is a fucking illusion. What I had put into my past, is the only reality I can think of. I’m not going insane in here. I’m not depressed. I’m just realistic.