Holy hoors Batman!

I have 2 phones now, my regular phone, and what I call my hoor phone. When my hoor phone rings or beeps it’s like the Bat phone, I leap into action, well, more sort of stumble, and see who wants my amazing super-heroine blow-job skills and when. In my head I hear the batman spinning logo music when it beeps.

I really need to get this as my text alert on my phone, I can’t find it anywhere unadulterated though… I may also need to get the 60’s Batman theme as my ring-tone on my hoor phone… Just to make the job a little more fun. Or maybe the wonder-woman theme?

“I wanted to ask you if, among other things, you would use me as your “horsie””

… You know that whole escorting thing I talked about in a previous post… Well I’m now officially, as it were, a hoor. The title to this post is an extract from a potential clients email.

Tonight I turned my first trick, and it’s weird, I wasn’t at all nervous getting ready or driving over there, it didn’t seem weird or stilted. It felt really quite natural. The client was a lovely chap, older, not bad looking but obviously living alone, and as most escorts seem to find he wanted to spend his time pleasing me. I’ve been more nervous on dates, much more nervous. But like my driving just seems to have clicked now, this just seems to click too.

It’s not something I want to spend my life doing, but I love sex & I need money right now, and I’d *much* rather be doing this than working in McDonalds.

The guy who wants me to use him as a horsie, wants to spend 2 hours “worshipping” my body and he’s paying me for the privilege. Ummmm remind me why didn’t I do this before?!

This is not going to turn into a sex blog or the blog of an escort. This is still just me rambling away, the only difference is now, me also happens to get paid for sex, well that and I may have more interesting stories…

Benefiting…

I’m not well, mentally or physically. I have clinical depression, ultra-ultra rapid cycling and IBS (possibly endo). In my previous job I worked their for 6 months, within those 6 months I had 60 days off. That’s 2 weeks off per month. This is mainly because my ?IBS is stress related. If I get upset or someone argues with me or some-such I will be crippled with pain within minutes. So combine this with a boring job I hate, working with people who I have nothing in common with, who make me feel like a total freak and you have an unhappy tHornyMinx and therefore an ill tHornyMinx.

Following all this I decided I was going back to university, I had a taste of the real world and I didn’t like it, I was going back to academia. The plan was to get an MSc in Evolutionary Anthropology (to follow my MA in Celtic Civilisation and History) then get a PhD combining the 2, then lecture and give other folk pointless degrees. I love my subjects, they fill me with a passion palpable to anyone who asks me about them. So in 4 years I will be a productive (tax paying) member of society and I know how I’m going to get there.

I was on Job Seekers Allowance*, but I decided I would be better off on ESA, Employment Support Allowance, which is basically JSA but for people with disabilities and DLA, Disability Living Allowance. I have to apply for both, as I can’t be in full time education without being on DLA. Despite the fact my course is only 10 hours a week and I’m willing to find a part time job the system doesn’t support that. My course is full time if the university says it is never mind it’s only 10 hours a week, to do it part time would take me 2 years meaning I was draining the state of more money.

As part of getting ESA I have to be signed off work by my doctor, there is one small problem, my medical records have not arrived from my previous practice. I have lived here 3 months, signed up to my new GP’s immediately, and I’ve phoned my old GP’s and they no longer have them. So they are lost in the ether in-between PCT’s and I have no idea when they will arrive. Without my records my new GP’s will not refer me to the CMHT (which I have practically begged them to do, I know I’m far more unstable that I was), and will not sign me off work. Now I don’t ahve the problem with the second part of this so much, if I was a GP (who gave a damn) I wouldn’t sign off someone with only their word for their medical history.

Because of my sickness record I can’t get a job, so I though about escorting, I figure, I love sex, I’m single, why not get paid for it. I’ve never seen anything wrong with the line of work but I always figured as a “big girl” I’d never get any custom.  But in the past year or so my eyes have been opened a lot more to the sex industry, I have several friends who are dominatrices and/or escorts. They love their work, they weren’t forced into it and they make a hell of a lot more money that any other job with the same hours***. So I bit the bullet, googlelled local escort agencies and sent off applications for about 10. There are a lot more agencies out there but they either looked cheap or wanted girls of a specific dress size. I heard back from 3 within a few days, unfortunately one was to say my photos hadn’t worked could I send them again. Another only wanted in-call girls which I won’t do for several reasons**. The final seemed hopeful, nice website, good response to me, saying they thought I’d be popular.  But then it was once thing after another, their email went funny so we missed a meeting, then she couldn’t make it to where I lived and all sorts. I usually hate phone calls but though I’d ring them instead of texting then I’d get an immediate response and be able to sort a meeting out. No answer, I tried sever different times. I’m going to try again tomorrow but that’s it, I’ve got a horrible feeling they’ve decided I’m not worth the bother and aren’t answering my calls.

I filled in my DLA form and man that thing is a bitch, it’s deigned for people who have disabilities like being in a wheelchair not less obvious ones like mental health issues. I got a response from them and they refused it. This caused a lovely major depressive episode for me, along with the above paragraph’s problems. Apparently I’m not at risk of hurting myself, the fact I only made it home by luck, is I think evidence against this. I was praying for a car to hit me, just to take my problems away at least temporarily, I didn’t look while crossing any roads, just walked, and prayed.

So I have no benefits, I have no savings, I can’t get a job, one of my parents is retired and one is unemployed himself, so they can’t support me. What on earth am I supposed to do? As I’m studying my housing benefit will also stop when I start uni. So I have £300 rent p/m to pay, plus food so about another £100 a month if I’m really frugal, more like £150-£200. And then there’s going out, books, entertainment for myself, which isn’t stuff I need (well except the books, but I’m not a freaking monk) so lets say another £100 for that. That’s £600 a month, I have to magic out of nowhere.

I wonder how the criminal underclass do it. If I wanted to do nothing with my life except take drugs and be a baby factory I’d have loads of cash. But I have a plan and a reasonable career choice I’m willing to work for, but I need help to get there. Help I would easily pay back with the taxes/NI etc on a lecture’s income. But I can’t get that help because the system is broken.

And it’s breaking me too.

*That’s the basic unemployment benefit for any overseas visitors.

** Safety, privacy and my house-mate.

*** Local out-call rates are about £120 an hour, the agency takes some so lets say you walk off with £90 cash in hand for an hour’s work. If I got 10 hours work a week I could make almost a grand.

Jobless

So I’m terribly sorry to the host of readers waiting with baited breath for me to post something for the past month (Jeez has it been that long?!) anyway the reason for lack of postage is I’ve been working, sleeping and little else, “little else” mainly consisted in going to and from work. So I’ve had neither the motivation, the time or any topic to actually post about, not much has changed but I handed in my notice, worked it out and I am now free from the clutches of my evil job.

The reasons why I quit my job are simple:

– The job was a waste of my talents, I have a Masters degree, I was spending 8 hours stood by a photocopier (oh and that wasn’t in the job description).

– I hated the people; my line manager was a total jerk, he took no notice of the rules himself but when it came down to his employees he was by the book, by the letter and not the spirit of the law. E.g. I resigned, then had a day off sick about a week later, he then sacked me, despite the fact I had already resigned and it was one day off. I then had to work out my notice anyway.

– My team, although mainly ok, I had nothing in common with, well illustrated by the fact I invited none of them to my good bye meal.

– The entire organisation was a mess, and full of hypocrisy and waste.

– The work was making me ill, (when you have a stress induced illness, having a job and a boss you hate doesn’t help).*

Anyway I’ve now quit so I will stop bitching. Quitting was the best thing I’ve done, I may be poor again, but I am so much happier. I’m trying to give my lack of social life a kick up the arse too so fingers crossed I’ll have stuff to post about!

* The reason I didn’t blog about this, was as I signed a contract saying I wouldn’t blog about my job, and I didn’t want to get the sack, that worked out well eh?

Common

Well, it’s week 2 of work, and I’ve realised the main problem, why I don’t want to go to work in  the morning. I have absolutely nothing in common with any of the trainees or anyone who already works there. The other trainee’s are all graduates, all roughly my age aside from 3 (out of 13), yet I struggle to find conversation topics. And I am amazed some of them are let out unsupervised never mind somehow managed to get degrees. They guys all talk about footie, the girls about EastEnders and X-Factor, they were prudishly shocked when someone had got some Ann Summer’s vouchers as a leaving pressie for a colleague. They whispered about him in dark tones and called him a pervert… He brought her some Ann Summers vouchers, he didn’t turn up dressed as a gimp with a strap-on saying she could roger him goodbye. Possibly it was an in joke between them, we don’t know, she wasn’t offended by it, why should they be?! It was at this point, having finished my book, I did not then get my copy of Filament out to read. I have no problem with my sexuality, and I’m open about it. However, if it’s going to cause gossip behind my back and make my co-workers recoil in horror from me. I’d rather keep quiet thanks.

In counterpoint the office is remarkable relaxed, too relaxed. I’m a bolshy hippy type but I do like to get a little work done. Some people in the office do work, the “pervert”, for instance, who is a lovely friendly chap, gets on with his work and is very helpful, a great person to help the new starters.  However, the majority gab all day, about horses, clubbing and sex mainly. Now I like horses, clubbing and sex, but I don’t talk about them 24/7 at work, nor do I in a voice that carries across an entire floor. Gossip is essential in the work place, people are not robots they need to be able to have a wee natter with the person sat next to them, or around the water cooler so to speak. But you can work and talk and you can last more than 5 minutes without screeching across the office about your last shag. It’s like being back at school, people were being rolled about on chairs, having people jump up behind them and put bags over their heads. Actually in all the schools I went to there was a sight more discipline, even the shite one that gave me a nervous breakdown.

My mother is shocked by this behaviour, she is management in a similar organisation, and is not against me now going for an interview with the police, even though it’s only a part time job.

First Week

Tomorrow I start my second week at work, and I suppose I should enlighten you all on how the first week went. It was mainly boring, like really, really boring. The trainers have been nice enough, but they’ve spent days teaching what could have been done in hours. The problem with this is that everyone except me got bored and let their attention wonder so had to ask stupid questions making the training last even longer. And I’ve been bored out of my tiny little mind, then getting incredibly angry with everyone for being so bloody thick! I almost walked out on Friday, this is even with half of the days going past in a drug filled haze as I had some bad cramps and had to take some of the good stuff*.

The only perk of the week is that although there is no-one in my group that’s hot, there are a few cuties about the office, though non of the women are much to look at, though there are a few nice guys. In fact one of them seemed to be spending a lot of time eyeing me up on the tour he gave, one of the other new starters noticed it the next day when we gave each other a shy smile when he walked past. “He likes you” said my colleague, “Erm yeah he’s nice” is stuttered, “He kept looking at you on the tour…”, I quickly changed the subject. It’s not like me to be shy but the guy I was talking to is old enough to be my dad. And I don’t want wild rumours flying round the trainees about this, I’m not in the mood to be teased about it, and as he’s a manager it may be not a done thing.

Also since I’ve been at work, I’ve had three interview offers from various jobs I applied for several months ago. Typical.

* My lovely morphine based drugs.

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