Continuing the spirit of bringing new perspectives to this blog, allow me to introduce Inara. She will be another guest blogger.
Her story is compelling. She is a pro sex worker who fell in love with a client. This blog can certainly use a perspective from the other side of the fence. I’ve broken her story into a series of posts. Starting with this one today….
Guest Blogger: Inara – Part 1: Meeting Matt
The day Matt and I first met, I woke up giddy with nerves. We’d been flirting for months on Twitter, where his charm and knowledge of great music, art and books had engaged even the women who usually shunned client types on social media. When he finally reached out about an appointment, he used one of my best friends as a reference. She said he was handsome, sweet and fantastic in bed. She added that we’d be a great fit and then, almost as a warning, that it might be *too* great of a fit.
Matt, I knew, was married. I also knew we shared the same niche kink. He knew I had a boyfriend who lived halfway across the country. What he didn’t know, and what I was refusing to admit to myself, was that my relationship was quickly disintegrating and that our sex life had been dead for a long time.
The evening of our first date, I arrived at my studio an hour early. I got dressed and then I paced, fussing with my makeup and then fiddling with the playlist. I worried I would disappoint him. I hoped he’d disappoint me.
Then, finally, he was walking through my door. The things that struck me in those first few moments would continue to grab me every time I saw him over the next few years: his impressive height and build paired with the gentlest demeanor, a smile that made my stomach do somersaults, a way of putting me instantly at ease.
We sat on my couch and he told me that he’d lived next door to my space when he first moved to the city 20 years ago. This would be the first of many eerie moments. We’d find out we had friends in common and that we’d been at over two dozen of the same concerts. We developed a version of the kind of ESP that twins have, where I would be thinking about him and he’d call or vice versa or we’d feel it if the other was sad or sick. We had the same dreams. I predicted a bad accident he had. Twice during separations I was sitting in my car in awful despair and our song came on the radio. Those were the only two times I’ve ever heard it played, and I’m in the car a lot. It was all a bit much for two science loving atheists.
As we sat and talked, Matt told me that he was only still married for the sake of his kids. During the week, he was living four hours north of our city, alone. He’d taken a job there after a long period of underemployment and his wife, at the last minute, decided not to join him. At some point he leaned in and kissed me, and it was a great kiss. The kind where it feels like the room has stopped; like you are kissing exactly the right person. The sex was the same: exciting and nourishing and familiar all at once. I felt sad and overwhelmed when he left that day.
To be continued…