Sex Workers

Bronze statue of Belle in Amsterdam’s red light district. The plaque reads: “Respect all sex workers around the world.”


Sir, our daughter and I are on vacation in Miami. I’ve never visited this area before. South Beach (where our hotel is) is crowded and quite warm. Florida is usually busier and more crowded in winter when it’s high season, but it seems to be a “happening” place to me, with loads of tourists and heavy traffic. It’s also very hot and humid. I’m enjoying the classic Art Deco and Streamline Moderne architecture and the pastel colors of the buildings.

We had dinner at a very “hot” restaurant where many patrons were dressed quite glamorously. It was a huge place with several bars, and a night club upstairs. Partway through our meal a man and two women sat at the table next to us. The women looked very similar in appearance  and were dressed in skimpy revealing outfits.

Our daughter (an adult) overheard much of their conversation. Although this may not be true at all, it occurred to me the women could be escorts.  Based on their talk, it was apparent they weren’t related  to each other.

In most larger cities there is a vibrant sex industry. There are many types of sex workers: escorts (who may or may not actually have sex with clients), sexual surrogates who help psychologists assist people with problems related to having sex, professional dominants who provide various services for clients, erotic models and photographers, actors and directors of pornographic films, phone sex workers,  strippers, dancers and workers in “adult” or gentlemen’s clubs, and obviously prostitutes.

Most people have little regard for those who choose to work in the sex trade. In fact, a derogatory term for prostitute, “whore,” is one of the vilest things you can call a woman. Yet, there are millions of people who support this industry.  In most areas prostitution is illegal.

I find myself wondering about the mindset of sex workers. Do they have any amount of self-esteem, or is their work strictly a job? How is it possible to turn the most intimate act into just a job?

I’ve personally known both men and women whom I considered to be sexually promiscuous, however they still chose each and every person they had sex with. Sex workers (for the most part) don’t get to choose their partners.

I feel it takes a very strong person to do this kind of work. There are so many dangers inherent in the sex trade, such as psychological and physical abuse, sexually transmitted diseases, lack of job security, crooked employers, little to no benefits, risk of arrest, and (usually) poor living conditions. Bear in mind that many workers have a limited time span in the industry due to their age.

It’s said that this is the oldest industry in the world. Isn’t it way past time the nameless people who are paid for sex are treated with respect instead of disdain? It’s very possible the women next to us at dinner were simply friends of the gentleman they were with. Regardless of who they might be, I hope they had a fun, safe time together.


How it was… or was it?

A blog-friend posted yesterday about her childhood. She’s in therapy and is opening up about her life more than the regular day-to-day happenings. I found her writing inspired me to think about my childhood again. I always thought we had a fairly normal family, growing up. But don’t kids think this? As I got older I realized things weren’t perfect, in fact far from it. My dad was a career military officer and we moved quite a bit. I was the youngest and only girl, and none of us were born in the same city. After I was born we still moved 5 times until Dad’s retirement; he then went on to a second career which thankfully did not involve us moving again.

My dad was a typical military guy. He was quite stoic and rarely showed emotion. He and my oldest brother did not get along at all, and he was emotionally and physically abusive to him. I was 10 years younger than my oldest brother and I still remember it. My dad also liked to drink. Every day. He was what they now call a functional alcoholic. I doubt his employer or colleagues knew. He and my mom were rarely openly affectionate and when he tried to hug or kiss her, I recall her usually rebuffing him because she hated how he smelled from the alcohol. They slept in separate rooms by the time I was in college.

I don’t recall my dad actually playing with me as a child often. Once or twice that I recall, but it must have been more, right? He was a great provider and very proud of his family and home. He loved working doing odd jobs around the house and yard. The only time I saw my dad cry was when my grandfather (his father-in-law) passed away. He adored my mom’s parents, maybe because he had a horribly dysfunctional childhood. I know in his way he did love us; he told me a few times – and also he mellowed a great deal when he was elderly. He loved spending time with all of us and his granddaughters. I guess I’m rationalizing trying to figure out writing how it really was for me as a little girl!

I was born with amblyopia. That is crossed eyes – and I had 3 surgeries by the time I was a toddler, to correct it. One became a lazy eye, and my eyes, while almost perfect, still had the appearance of not being quite right. This bothered me a great deal growing up and I had a terrible self-image. I was very shy and didn’t make friends easily. My favorite activities were staying inside and reading, or playing with my dolls. Between this and all the moving, I probably should have had some counseling; but back then this was considered a sign of weakness, especially by my father.

I remember when we moved from Virginia the summer after 2nd grade, I was so sad because I was best friends with the little girl next door. When we got to California we lived in an apartment for two years and again, I made friends with someone (she is still my dearest friend) and had to leave her behind when we moved 15 miles away and would no longer be going to the same school. Looking back now, I realize that for a somewhat “sensitive” child who already had been through some major life issues, these seemingly minor things were actually major emotional upheavals. Though I had some friends after that, I was never close in the way that best friends are or should be, and ended up dropping them or making excuses to not hang out. I was never socially active at school (I regret this now) and never joined clubs or groups.

In high school I did not date or attend any dances or the big proms. No one asked me, either. I was an excellent student and consistently on the Honor Roll. But why didn’t my parents, or at least my mother, see that something wasn’t quite right? One incident during this time stands out. I asked my parents if we could host a foreign exchange student for a year. In doing so, I would have gone the following year to stay with a host family somewhere exciting. At first they agreed. We had the in-home interview and were approved. Then my mom came and told me we just couldn’t do it. She said there was no way with my dad’s drinking, that it would be a good thing to have someone else in the house. I was stunned. And mad. And probably in some small way, I never forgave them for that.

Even after university when I got my first real job, I continued to live at home with my parents and didn’t even have a desire to move out, or go out dating. Looking back, I’m amazed I met my husband and we married. I was very immature and inexperienced – almost scared of getting out in the real world and living! Even though my best friend and I had traveled all throughout Europe, and I had a very demanding job, emotionally something in me was missing.

I will continue these thoughts more at a later date. Wishing everyone a warm and wonderful Christmas!

Happenings (Do you believe in karma?)

I haven’t posted in a very long time. Life had been rather uneventful, meaning nothing momentous to write about, until July. You might recall it was a year ago June we moved “home” to California after almost 20 years in Texas. It takes many months to really settle, finding all the best shopping, veterinarians, dentists, restaurants, etc. I’ve never been good at taking care of myself, so finding doctors was way on the back burner until I had a minor issue and was forced into locating a primary care physician. The issue required a referral to a specialist and some testing which was all normal. My new doctor also wanted me to have other routine tests which sadly had not been done in several (actually many) years. Mind you, my career when I worked was in an allied medical field and my husband is a physician too. I should know better.

Suffice it to say, I found out in August that I have breast cancer… for the second time. I had it 14 years ago and was considered “cured.” It was early stage back then and I had a lumpectomy plus chemotherapy and radiation therapy. Our daughter was very young then and we were living far from family – it was a rough time in my life.

Now I have two new tumors completely unrelated to my previous cancer, in my other breast. I also have three lymph nodes positive for cancer. Interestingly, the two tumors in my breast are different from one another. So this is not a recurrence but two new cancers. Life has gone from uneventful to crazy, stressful, and filled with testing and treatments and medical appointments. All of which I detest. It makes me feel weak and out of control. The doctors (both women) feel confident I can be cured so that is what I am thinking about and hoping for. There appears to be no spread elsewhere in my body, which is excellent news.

I already had two out of six hardcore chemo treatments. After those, I will have a double mastectomy, which I am actually looking forward to! I’ve always had big saggy heavy breasts and I should have had it done the first time I was diagnosed. For the first time I will be able to wear anything I want without looking big on top. I can go without a bra! So this will be something to look forward to. After I heal, I will probably have radiation on the affected side, followed by some of the chemo for up to a year.

I mentioned karma in the title to my post. That has to do with some bad decisions I made in the past – things which hurt my family very much and almost destroyed my marriage. I’ve prayed long and hard about the things I did and asked God and my loved ones for forgiveness. Yet, I’ve always struggled with the concept of karma. I’ve always thought that deep inside, I’m not a good person and someday I would be punished. Do you believe in karma?

Naughty Nora’s Sizzlin’ Saturday!

I saw this, and as with nearly any kinky writing challenge, was intrigued to try my hand at it. Sorry for my tardiness! Thanks Nora for this great idea!

Sizzlin’ Saturdays Weekly Writing Prompt

  1. What memory do you have, the one you re-visit and find yourself grinning to, of your earliest sensual experience?

What comes to mind is the incident when I was about 6 years old. An older male cousin had come to visit during school break. I was playing “house” with my best friend Mary in my bedroom, and my cousin came in. We decided he would be “Daddy” and he promptly decided we needed punishing. He took first my friend and then me over his knee, flipped our dresses up and spanked us. Mind you, my parents didn’t believe in spanking. It was the only time I was spanked as a child, and the feel of his hand on my rear was delightful. Some people believe children aren’t sexual until puberty. I know for a fact this is not true. My panties were damp and I’m sure my friend’s were too. We begged him to do it over and over.

  1. What is the most common fantasy that plays out in your mind which brings you to orgasm?

I’ve always fantasized about sex with a much older man, particularly a man much bigger and stronger than me. I even have fantasies about incest (not with my real father) which I find incredibly stimulating and HOT. Yes, this can make me come!

  1. What is one act, that unsolicited, you’d like your lover to do to you during sex?

I’d like him to talk to me and even call me dirty names. Tell me exactly what he’s going to do. For me, the “silent treatment” during sex doesn’t quite cut it, LOL.



This is a picture from my best friend’s wedding. She was married for the first time in December; a Christmas wedding. I was one of her bridesmaids (that is her sister shown, I’m standing further to the left.) It was a beautiful ceremony and reception, both held at the church she’s attended all her life and where she met her husband. It happens to be the church where we both also attended Girl Scout meetings for many years, and so even though I’m not Christian, it holds fond memories for me. It was bittersweet in many ways because I only recently moved back “home” after 20 years in another state, my father and her mother have since passed away (our families were very close friends), and the city has changed and modernized, yet is still very much as I remember it. Of course, she and her husband are so much in love that it renders me speechless and teary when I really stop to think about it, because everyone who knows my friend had basically given up hope she would meet the love of her life. It’s so wonderful to see her happier than I imagined she could be, and I wish them a long life of love and happiness. Which brings me, finally, to my point.

I’ve been thinking about my friend and watching her blossom in love the past year or so. As many of you know, I’ve not had the happiest marriage or relationship with my husband. I had doubts until I met him, that I would ever marry or have a child. Even as a young person I liked being alone or with my immediate family, never caring to socialize or date very much. It was always a huge effort to go out with guys and I never cared for parties, the bar or club scene, or meeting new people. I met my husband through a mutual friend and we seemed to hit it off immediately. But even going back to my early teens, I wrote poetry about not thinking I was lovable, or capable of giving love. That I was a prickly person and didn’t care for hugs, kisses etc. To be honest, I never have and still don’t!  I’m still happiest by myself.

Seeing my friend so happy and thinking about her being married now after living alone for most of her life has made me realize that maybe, just maybe, the reason I’m such a terrible submissive, why I can’t relinquish control, is because I basically hate myself and always have! I was born with an eye condition requiring three surgeries to correct; and even afterward, my eyes didn’t appear normal. I developed early and have always had large breasts which I hate. The rest of my body is normal sized, but because I’m so large on top, I always need a bigger size and thus appear heavier than I am. When I was in high school, I contemplated suicide and even cut myself for a period of time. I’ve always been filled with self-doubt and unable to readily, easily make a decision. I thought perhaps D/s would be an answer. That being able to give up my self-control to another (the man I’ve lived with and struggled with for so long) would open our relationship in a new, exciting and wonderful way.

Some of what we tried was new and exciting. I found I did enjoy being controlled sexually and learning new kinky things in the bedroom. I learned that pain is very liberating. However, I just can’t be all he desires of me and maybe I never have been and never will. I know he loves me and I love him. But I found the bonds of control even more confining than loneliness is. I did not feel liberated nor secure in submission. I chafed at everything he demanded or even asked. If anyone has any further insight, I am open to hear it.


Giving Thanks

It’s Thanksgiving week here and I’m feeling particularly grateful this year for a couple of reasons. When we went to Texas 20 years ago, I wasn’t happy. I never wanted to leave California, my beautiful home for most of my life. All my family and friends and everything I knew and loved was there. I left a wonderful career and our daughter was born there. I attended university there and most importantly, the beautiful ocean and fresh air is there. Sir said we would live there for 5, maybe 10 years, which turned into almost 20. I had high hopes of our girl being able to attend high school in Cali but that was not to be. We were planning to move last year, and even that didn’t turn out! However, finally we are back and it’s everything I dreamed of and remember.              This is our house, taken at sunset tonight.


Last Friday evening, our daughter arrived, having driven with a friend in a U-Haul truck, towing her car and belongings from Texas. She has her Esthetician license now. For the first time in over a year we will all be living under the same roof once more! We will get to spend Thanksgiving with all my family for the first time in many years. How I wish my dear dad was here to enjoy it. Thanks to my kind, caring, generous, loving Sir all this is finally possible. I am almost (but not quite) without words.

Why not drop by for a visit if you’re in the neighborhood?


Thoughts about sexual harassment

Of course as a woman I’ve been following along reading and listening to the continuing reports all over the media about the various women alleged to have been assaulted and/or harassed by numerous and sundry political and Hollywood figures. Every day more names are listed. One of the recent actors accused is Dustin Hoffman. None of us know what really happened between the people involved. I’m not saying something did or didn’t occur in all these cases. What is worrisome to me are several factors. Why do victims not speak up immediately? Even if there is the fear factor that nobody will believe them, it would be on the record.

In Hollywood so many actresses are coming forward with their stories or with corroboration that things did happen which they knew about, that it makes me sick listening to the likes of Meryl Streep and Kevin Spacey jumping on the bandwagon. They are clearly legends who would have had some pull, had they spoken up long ago!

The second and perhaps most worrisome thing (and please bear with me) is, WHY are we not preparing our girls to better handle brutish behavior? Why do we not teach self-defense as part of physical education to all girls starting in elementary school? Because obviously it’s NEVER enough to just say no. Or scream. Or push a man off.

The third thing really bothering me is why would any woman knowingly go alone to some guy’s hotel room unless she plans to have sex with him? Really, please explain this one to me. Even if you’re an aspiring actress and he says it’s to show you a great script or read lines with you or try you out for a part in his new play, show, etc…? WHY? Didn’t your mother teach you anything? Because to me that is just asking for big trouble. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting that any woman asks to be assaulted, or asks to have her drink altered with a date-rape drug or sedative. Of course not! But use some sense, ladies! When you go out, never go alone! Buy your own drinks. Know how much alcohol you can handle and stick to that limit.

Know how to handle yourself in a crowd and be prepared to defend yourself if you have to. If someone approaches, speaks, or touches you in a way you find inappropriate, speak up, LOUDLY.  I never forgot what my daughter’s karate teacher told the kids. If anyone tried to hurt them or grab them, they were to yell at the top of their lungs, “This is not my mother! This is not my father!”

Well you know what, women could do the same thing in a bar, restaurant, or even a hotel. It would arouse attention if a woman started screaming her head off, and we should be doing it more. We need to stop keeping our mouths closed and let the world know we have voices and we aren’t going to allow big bullies to out-maneuver us any longer. It really is time to make a big scene and stop acting lady-like.


I’ve been spending time while Sir is away working doing something I enjoy, catching up reading other people’s blogs and checking websites I used to frequent often and have chosen to bypass nowadays. It occurs to me perhaps I truly am officially “old” now. I suspected as much when I’ve posted on other chat groups I belong to, and I seem to be one of the (if not the) maturest ones writing. So many seem to be caught up in going along with what’s trendy and popular. This often seems to translate to being inconsiderate, impolite, blunt, off-color, unhelpful, rude, sexist, racist, stereotypical, and self-centered. Not how I was raised! And so not the America I was raised in.

Comments are often so rude and hurtful that moderators must step in and either shut down the comments of a post on a website, or remind members of the rules. It often reminds me of my parents at our dinner table saying, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Where is the motivation and justification for this type of behavior? I wonder, and then I look at the men (mostly) leading this nation. Their actions, behavior and talk leads everyone to think it’s perfectly acceptable because if the man at the highest level is doing it AND getting away with it with no repercussions, it must not only be okay, but perfectly acceptable in today’s society!

My father was a career military man, and though he had many faults, some of which I’ve written about already, he never raised his voice, cursed, or made advances toward other women. I know in his own way, he truly loved my mother as best he could in his damaged way. He was an officer and a gentleman and raised his sons to be gentlemen. He taught them to be respectful of and stand up for women. He detested violence. In many ways I have always felt I am not of this era and it sickens me what’s happening today. The greatest nation which has always represented democracy and freedom is being systematically destroyed by a lying lunatic.


The last time Sir was home we finally had The Talk again; the one we’ve had several times over the past few years, discussing our relationship and our D/s. When we embarked on the path of D/s, I was the one who asked him to try to dominate me. I told him I had always thought of myself as a submissive until the time that his work and career sort of drummed it out of me. I told him how losing that feeling and having to make all the hard decisions around the house left me feeling discontented and just, well, not quite myself, for lack of a better word. He listened to everything I said, for this came on the heels of us nearly being divorced and he wanted to do everything he could to keep us together, as did I. He was also intrigued by D/s, as he’d never before really heard of it. I suggested many things he might read and research but his career has always come first and leaves him with time for little else.

He agreed to try D/s and has really gotten into the control/sadism. And he of course loves certain aspects of what he sees as domination. But without doing proper work at becoming a good and real dominant, one can’t really be a dominant. He can call himself whatever he wants, and he will always be head of our household, my husband, my mate, my lover, my partner, but in truth, he is not a good dominant.  He wants me to tell him how to do it, and I can not do that. He wants me to do all the work at making our D/s right, and I can not do that. He constantly points out what a terrible submissive I am.

I have done all I can do at making it work. I told him what D/s is – and what it is NOT. I gave him a list of books to read, websites to check out, places we could possibly go to learn new skills, bought him (us) new toys, told him about various concepts I’d like to use and/or try, told him when I thought things were not working and why…

I don’t see how as a submissive or as a person with a submissive mindset, I can possibly TELL someone how to dominate properly. Either it comes naturally, or they have the desire to learn on their own, is what I believe. So, I told him I’m tired. I don’t want to be a D/s couple anymore. I told him we can still do the fun kinky things we love to do in the bedroom, but I don’t want anything else anymore.

He was really mad. He accused me of purposely trying to confuse him by going back and forth as I choose. He said I still have to do as he says, and the discussion is not over.



Perhaps some of you may recall the troubles with our daughter. She’s long been a procrastinator dating back to middle school, always putting off assignments and being bored by most of her classes. She barely graduated high school even though she’s extremely intelligent and has taken advanced placement classes and was formerly in an elementary and middle school program called the International Baccalaureate Programme. She dropped this in the 10th grade after having gone all the way through up till then. It was a huge disappointment to her dad and me, of course. Children who graduate from such a program with the diploma have many great opportunities a regular high school diploma does not afford. She also started skipping school and not turning in assignments.

In truth, I think she got this gene from my brother, who also was bored in school and couldn’t concentrate. Her dad and I weren’t like that at all. We were all A and B students, excelled academically and knew we would attend university and have a career. She attended a few college classes and said it wasn’t for her. She could not keep even a part-time job. We had to finally employ tough love, telling her she had to choose  something to do – either work or school or she would lose the car we got for her.  She began a cosmetology school in the town we were living in. It was a 9 month course. At first she really seemed to thrive, but as always, the complaints started. She ended up dropping out much to our chagrin. We told her she had to do something else. She ended up deciding cosmetology wasn’t precisely what she desired, she really wanted to do make-up, or esthiology. She (and we) researched and enrolled her in the Aveda program in Dallas.

I’m thrilled to say although she did need extra time to complete the program, she did eventually finish! Yesterday, she took the last of two licensing exams, and she is now a licensed Esthetician! I realize it’s not rocket science. For her though, and for us, this is a giant step to adulthood. I’m very proud of her.