Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Texts and spanking

Looking for work depresses me, but I have fun with texting and enquire about a new source of income.

Summoning my energy, I write emails to two organisations I think might employ me, or, more likely, give me some volunteering work. I earmark two more to visit.

I am looking forward to watching our current favourite HBO series with Virgil but he writes to say he had forgotten about Heidi's poetry night. She's worried not enough people will be there and he had promised to go. Could we meet earlier, for shorter, or would I like to go with him to the poetry night? It's on the other side of town in a total nuisance of a place.

I check the Fb event page and I'm not inspired. The line-up is thin and I don't like the blurb. Around 35 people have said they will attend which means that maybe half a dozen will show up.

Some background: Virgil had a date with Heidi a while ago. It was a failure of communication over a second date with her one month ago that triggered my loss of temper which led to a door being slammed which caused Virgil to end our relationship.

So I say: "No problem, but I don't think I fancy it. And if you want to watch the TV show go ahead, it's only a TV show and I already read the book so I know what happens."

Virgil writes back: "I don't want to watch it without you. It doesn't feel right."

I like the thought of that, so I swallow my bad feelings and agree to the change of plan. I say I will think about going to the back of beyond for Heidi's poetry night and let him know later. Then I continue to poke around for work on the internet in a desultory way, feeling uninspired and unemployable.

A text arrives from the date of a few days ago:
"Hi Harlot, it was lovely to meet you the other day. I enjoyed our conversation. I think we were both a bit 'Sunday evening' but I hope we might be friends. I will be having a party in my fab garden at some point and perhaps you and some of your crew can come to visit. Enjoy the lovely sun in the meantime. X"
Oh no! Did I do so badly? I reply:
"Hello, just friends - no debauchery? Damn... I thought you were very attractive :)"
Happily his rejoinder is more positive:
"Who said there was a limit to friends? Debauchery is definitely desirable too, I am very taken actually... I was just being low key x"
So it looks as though there will be a solo date as early as next week and I'm glad I spoke up. I think about sex a lot at the moment and the thrill of fucking a new person.

I feel happier but this doesn't help my money or work situation. Does paid work have to fulfill a professional ambition? When I think about it, loads of people just do their work for the money. Most of my freelance work is something I just do for the money. So I do something I've been considering for a while and email an acquaintance of mine who seems to live happily on just a few hours per week of employment.

I've heard a bit about the work already. It involves wealthy ex-public school types, giving and taking spankings and school uniforms on occasion. It's time to find out more:
"A spanking enquiry...
Hello m'dear, 
I was talking to ____, who mentioned that you might be recruiting more spankees for whatever it is you get up to once or twice a week. I might have misunderstood, but this is something I am potentially interested in.
I'm short of money right now and CP is a long-standing fetish of mine. My hard limit would be anything sexual. I'm also curious, and in that erotic adventuring mode where things like this appeal, especially where money is involved.
Could you tell me more?
x Harlot" 
She responds:
"Absolutely milady, I'd be more than happy to open this little world to you, and moreover, I think you'd be good at it, and enjoy it. Do you fancy meeting so I can fill you in and answer any questions in person?"
Later on, Virgil and I watch our TV show. I cheerfully wish him luck on his journey to the middle of nowhere and we walk down the road together, me to the shops and him to the train station.

I say: "I'm having lunch with Kate tomorrow. She's going to tell me about the spanking work. I want to know what the hourly rate is."

Virgil carefully arranges his face. He says: "Sex work?"

I say: "Why not? Anyway, it's not sex. It's spanking."

"It's the sex industry," says Virgil. "But it's not a problem."

It's my turn to look expressionless. "No, of course it's not a problem," I say. "And it's well paid apparently."

I think: "We are not together anymore, Virgil. Your opinion on this is irrelevant." I don't need Virgil's buy in on anything I do now and this is somehow liberating. Anyway, Virgil is generally rather attracted to and respectful of the sex workers we know, apart from the pro dommes who he is often dismissive of.

I suspect Virgil wouldn't mind doing some sex work at the moment if he were able to. He's in an awful patch financially.

Later he texts to tell me there are seven of them at the poetry night: the two performers, Heidi, the promoter (an ex-playmate of Heidi's), Heidi's two boyfriends and Virgil. "That must be nice for Heidi," I think. I tease Virgil gently for his conscience and feel glad I didn't go.

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