Before I left escorting I decided to give day shift a go. I liked day shift, the clients were more civilised even though there were less of them. I didn’t mind though because I’d often be the only worker on shift and the agency would let me work from home which meaning I could hang out at home and my driver would pick me up when I got a booking and drop me back after rather than me having to sit at the agency all day.
It was on one of these day shifts that had my first ‘fetish’ client. As was the annoying norm at this agency, I was given no warning about what to expect from this booking even though he was probably promised someone who was experienced and ready to provide the specialty service that he requested. With only a name, the booking length and price and a driver who knew the address and phone number, I accept the booking and wait for my driver to collect me.
My driver delivered me to the dodgy ‘pay by the hour’ motel. The one with the mirrored ceilings and filthy carpets. At least I didn’t need to be concerned about standing out as i walked through the reception of this cheap motel. Me in my trashy nightclub clothes in broad daylight. Carrying my tiny little hooker bag, just enough room for condoms, massage oil and lube (before the time of mobiles phones). Clip clopping around on my high heels i eventually find the right room.
*knock knock knock* on the door. Adjust my skirt, push up my boobs, fluff my hair, head up, smile bright, tummy in, tits out… and…… *door opens*
I am never sure what to expect from behind the closed doors, I don’t usually think too much about it. All I hope to see is a person with cash who is clean and happy to see me. Sometimes I see business suits, sometimes i see blue collars, sometimes i see party T shirts, sometimes i see bare skin and nakedness. Even at this early stage of my career, there wasnt much I thought would surprise me. And when this client answered the door, I pretended to not be surprised. From the ground up, I saw bare feet and bare legs – OK naked man. I’m used to this. Next up… a nappy (or a diaper for you americans). Yep, he was wearing a nappy. A cloth nappy with huge big nappy pins. Umm……quick regroup – so, I’m seeing an adult baby client. OK. I heard about this, i can do this. Straight face, not a flinch of surprise to give away my lack of experience. Remember my motto ‘fake it till you make it’. Keep my eyes moving up, bare tummy, to be expected on a baby on a hot day, and eyes moving upward –
HOOOOOLD UP! A pink lace bra. Ok, this I could not comprehend. A nappy AND a bra?
I couldn’t help myself, I burst into laughter.
“A baby in a bra? are you a baby or a lady?”
He just smiled. So my ultra professional, nothing shocks me, exterior somewhat diminished, he lets me in, seemingly happy by my taunting. He removed his oversized dummy from his mouth and asked me if I was ok with it (‘it’ being his choice of clothing i presumed) while handing me his cash. Ofcourse I was ok with it. You are wearing a nappy and a bra, and you’re clean and you have money and you’re smiling. Im fine with it!
As a boring vanilla service supplying whore, this was definitely an interesting booking. He wet his nappy, ok, I can change it for him. He wanted me wear the wet nappy, nope, I draw the line at that. He wanted me to feed him a bottle, no problems. He wanted me to wear a clean nappy and wet it myself, nope, no thanks. He wanted me to wee on him but I knew my bladder would not oblige. He offered me extra money, still I declined. He offered even more and more and more money, but I know my body, my bladder gets stage fright, I knew that no amount of money would convince my bladder to let go of control whilst squatted over an adult baby in a pretty pink bra. But it was clear he needed to be relieved of his money so I finally agreed to go to the toilet in front of him. On the toilet. Not on him, nor in his nappy. He watched as I trickled, he was a very happy baby.
We spent the rest of the booking playing baby games and being an affectionate mummy. I gave him hugs and kisses and the hour ticked over.
Fantasy play finishes like clockwork 10 mins before the end of the booking and I showered and jumped back into my drivers car, giggling to myself. My driver could see my amusement but I didn’t say a word, a good hooker doesn’t kiss and tell (untill years later in an anonymous blog). I added the experience to the growing collection of memories that have been teaching me about human sexuality and psychology. Feeling honored to share in so much of the unspoken (and happy i made extra money)
And it’s still good for a story.