Last week my Second Life financial advisor told me I could easily retire and live off what I'd saved from escorting. Was he trying to get rid of me? If so, it worked. I'm no longer in SL and have no plans to return. I'm not in San Antonio either, by the way. I keep a mailing address there for tax purposes. I'm in a Spanish speaking country that shall remain nameless. Sorry if this is inhospitable, but I'm really, honest and truly, retired and want no visitors. I bought a nice Italian villa sort of house that's nestled snugly between mountains and ocean, and I'm going to have a good time here being alone, writing, reading, napping, eating, walking on the beach. I might even get fat. They have the best fish tacos at a place on the beach that's within walking distance. And some healthy looking young fishermen around there too, but I won't get into that. Not yet. Forget I said it.
So, this is my only concession to linking up with the past, a blog about it. I'm not sure yet exactly what the tone will be. How light. How serious. Maybe a little of both depending upon my mood that day. I've kept a log, one that dates all the way back to my Red Light Center days, and I may use that as an organizer, or I might just pick and choose from it. We'll see.
Let's start, though, very briefly, with the most recent past. My last days on SL and why, out of the blue, very suddenly, I decided one Sunday morning to close up shop and disappear. In a way, it made no sense. I was doing better than I ever had with two regulars who were giving me more lindens than I knew what to do with. The only problem was that they kept me so busy that even if I'd known how to spend the lindens, I wouldn't have had time. Both were nice guys, or at least they could be when I insisted. And I can't say that they didn't know what they were doing when we were doing business. No complaints there. And actually, I did have enough time to buy the best of a lot of things SL had to offer. A house very similar to the one I live in now, very spacious, in a similar location. Furnished tastefully, I thought. And I had so many clothes I couldn't find all of them, never mind wear them, and lately I'd bought only the most expensive shoes and dresses. Poor little rich girl. That was me. Poor little rich girl who, modesty aside, had to hide from her many admirers if she wanted any time at all to herself. No sympathy? I don't blame you.
No reason for it. I'm perfectly happy now, and if I get bored, I'll just try something else. Meanwhile, I'll spend a little time each day looking through my log for things I might want to share with you, and who knows, now and then I might find a pearl.
Let's get this straight from the start: I don't pretend to have any experience as a real whore. I'm a Camille Paglia type with just enough nerve to get my toes a tiny bit wet, and for all I know, she's done the same. Whores have always fascinated me, and I couldn't believe my luck when I found a way to be one, sort of, without any real risk. My experience in that regard in Second Life, presented here in 29 episodes, is the foundation of this effort, but I hope to include a lot more in the way of whore and whore-related information, stories and pictures.
I've decided to start at the very virtual beginning in the Red Light Center. Or would that be virtual very beginning? Anyway, as you might imagine, anyone who would go to such a place is interested in a lot of sex, and from what I hear, most people are pretty easy to satisfy for the first few days. It's all new. It's all exciting. That was certainly true for me. For a while, I hardly ever said no, and I was very busy and had tons of fun. It doesn't take long to realize, however, that even in RLC, even virtually, most guys are, well, pretty predictable and plain vanilla in what they want. Anal, blow job, cum on your tits or face. That's apparently the porno fashion these days, so they tell me, and it's what guys want. And I know, anal may not seem like plain vanilla to some of you girls out there, but trust me, you can get used to, and bored with, almost anything.