An unseasonably cool, drizzly, dreary day. I spent a portion of the morning writing at Starbucks (which I haven’t done since before the pandemic struck) and dipped into Liturgical Theology after Schmemann, which is an Orthodox appraisal of Ricoeur. My mind wandered, though. A parade of attractive women disrupted my concentration. That urge, so familiar yet still so disquieting, came over me once again.
While still in the coffee shop, I discreetly clicked on Eros. It indicated “Cath” was available. A self-described “alternative companion,” she intrigued me. With her tattoos and piercings, she’s pretty but not my usual type. Same-day appointments can be tricky, but I submitted my information on her online booking form (which included proof of vaccination). Given the short notice, I wasn’t expecting a response.
She responded within minutes indicating that she was able to accommodate me.
A last minute cancellation from another client freed up her calendar. We traded e-mails to sort out the details (she could only do outcall), and I sent the deposit. Tipping her in advance, I purchased Porn Work for her online. Then I prepared myself, navigated the traffic, and checked into the Sheraton downtown where I had booked a room with a view of the art museum.
She texted me, apologizing in advance for arriving a few minutes late. I left the donation in a plain white envelope on the desk. It was the cost of sin. Part of the thrill of hiring a call girl is the anticipation one has in a hotel room awaiting that knock on the door.
The knock finally came.
She arrived wearing a black leather jacket to guard against the late spring chill. I offered to take her jacket, which enabled me to glance at the tight red dress she wore underneath it. I immediately appreciated the curves of her voluptuous body and her full assets. Her red stiletto heels were also hot. Her warm smile and charming confidence only heightened my attraction to her.
We sat down by the windows. The skyline was wrapped in gray. Cath was impressed I bought her a book from her wishlist. (Most guys buy lingerie.) Sex, Labor, and Late Capitalism is the subtitle. We transitioned into a discussion on how we even know that we’re in late capitalism. (Even as something of a Tory socialist, I’m not convinced that we are.) The phrase “porn dialectics” also made an appearance. Her exploration of sex work includes erotic filmmaking.
Part of her appeal lies in her self-description as a “bad Jewish girl.” Growing up in a region with few Jews made Jewish girls exotic. And the exotic can be erotic. She was now a “professional sinner.” It was almost Shabbat. Writhe and groan, O daughter of Zion (Mic 4:10).
She had noticed from my ID that I was a Gemini. “Gemini season raises your horny level.” It was time to make our way around each others bodies. “Here,” she said while moving closer, “let me be your muse.” She seductively removed her red dress, unfastened her black bra, and unleashed her 36DDs. Oh may your breasts be like clusters of the vine (Song of Songs 7:8). I immersed my face in her luscious tits. Her nipple entered my mouth. Her lacy black panties came down. She’s truly all-natural: tufts of hair surrounded her pubic region.
“I know you want a taste.”
Dessert was served early. I enjoyed her taste.
She grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube labeled Fuck Water out of her purse. She unrolled the condom on me, then proceeded to work her mouth on my cock while staring at me with her blue eyes. She’s well-versed in her craft. The sensation was remarkable for a CBJ. Then I got her on her hands and knees. Playing the harlot, she turned her head back, teased me with her lush ass, and invited me to fuck her. The obvious comfort she had in her body was irresistible. As our bodies merged, everything else faded away. She moaned as I penetrated her and placed my hands on her hips. This girl held nothing back, meeting me thrust for thrust. I got into the flow, entering that trance-like state that accompanies sex for me. I recall one neuroscientist saying, “Sex is a source of pleasurable sensations, but beyond that, it’s actually an altered state of consciousness.” Frantic and furious, I ached for relief. Then, shuddering, I climaxed. She had drawn out my desire.
We resumed our conversation naked in bed.
Lutheran Guilt 