I tried to explain myself to FD by using the term "alter ego," which he got turned around. He thought the real woman was the alter ego, and I only half-heartedly tried to correct him. What if I could convince myself that he was right? Or what if I couldn't stop myself from believing it? That would make me crazy, of course, and although I never approached that level of delusion, something else happened that disturbed me. Something that might not be that different. The real life woman began to lose interest in her real life. I think of it as attenuation, a thinning out of experience, as if someone had added too much water to the soup. I became Scylaa almost all the time, whether I was actually in RLC or not, and I begrudged the times when I couldn't be.
Around that time my virtual social life peaked. There were people I saw every day, all of whom wanted me in one way or another. Most wanted to be my master, and I found it extremely gratifying and titillating to play them off against each other. All but one were men, and in the end, to my great surprise, I chose the one woman who wanted me, and in retrospect, it seems certain that I also chose the one person who played the game as well or better than I did. My first reference to NG in my notes reads, "NG I know is horny for me. We talked a lot yesterday and she asked me for advice about her slave." A later reference reads, "Turned one trick and talked to NG. She's hot for me. Was she doing someone else while talking?" Was that last a hint of trouble to come? I'm afraid so. Much trouble and much joy.
I often think I should have just played the field, meanwhile doing tricks as they came along. I first wore my working girl badge at the beginning of my third week in RLC, and I loved everything about it. Standing half-naked in the Bordello with my badge on; bantering and negotiating with potential clients; trying hard to please but in a strictly professional way, keeping my distance emotionally; getting a kick out of being used, or rather the pleasure men took in using me; watching the rays pile up, even though there was nothing really to spend them on, until I learned how to convert them to cash, which was also a thrill, since it made me just a little more like a real whore. This is where I left off last time, isn't it? Contemplating my worth. First as a slave, now as a whore. I can tell you this without qualification: I knew from the very first trick that being bought for sex gave me the thrill of my life. I'd never felt better, never more alive and horny, than when I received those first rays and said, "Follow me." I could feel his eyes on my ass as I led my client to a room.
Basic whoring is so easy and simple. It's acting. It's creating an illusion, in this case a virtual illusion, and the more you believe in and enjoy the illusion, as I did, the better you are at what you do. But if you are going to be really good and make lots of money, as I did eventually, it takes practice, the acquisition of skills, and imagination. At that level, you acquire regulars, and the relationships are inevitably as complicated as if they were lovers or friends. Virtual lovers. Virtual friends. Virtual clients. In my third week in RLC, I had plenty of all three, but less than a week later I found myself really interested in only one virtual person. I was smitten, a feeling that came on suddenly and out of nowhere.
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