Horizontal Lives

True Tales of the Infamous Courtesan: Persephone N. Hades and her Horizontal Life underground. How she got there, her mis-adventures and her struggle to re-surface.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Assole Factor Revisited

One of the most difficult and frustrating elements involved in the Life of a Courtesan is getting out.
An Escape Plan is ‘a must’ and yet harder to grasp than imagined.
My 'Autumn' is quickly approaching.
I am now at the stage in which this must become a priority.
If not, I will go to a Hell worse than Hades.
Possibly living in a trailer and working at Wal-Mart.

So with this monster dog snapping at my heels, I ask, I beg, I grovel, (in a very nice Marilyn Monroe way of course) to anyone who will listen.
I’m not asking for ‘a fish’ mind you. I’m asking ‘to be taught how to fish’.
(You know the saying.)

A year ago, I got the brilliant idea of lessening my expenses.
Then I realized I lived in New York City and most of what I made went out the door as soon as it came in.

So then I got the brilliant idea of moving.
The complication then arose that my salary in any other place would be markedly less, in the end, leaving me with less freedom of movement.

So then I got the brilliant idea of having a second place to live, possibly in Florida where the cost of living is less and just coming up to New York once a month to work.
What I needed then was financing. But how?

In the meantime, I was seeing a Client every so often who happened to live both in New York and Florida.
During one of our first meetings, he tells me the Story of his Mistress:

He owns several properties on in Miami. The Hip district.
There, he met a Model/Escort. ‘Gorgeous’, he says.
And he repeats it over and over until I am a speck of chopped liver droppings on my sofa.

A Model. Famous. From Brazil. Only 22 years old.
She lives in one of his properties.
Pays her $25,000.00—yes that’s twenty-five thousand dollars—per month.

He’s sitting on my sofa. He’s paying me for my time. This isn’t the moment to get upset.
In his presence, without words, I feel him, I know him.
The need in his Soul is clear.
The warmth from his Heart pulses out around him.
I understand all without having to inquire.
But still I must know.
Like the strange pleasure/pain of biting your lip in stress until blood is drawn.
I must hear it.
I want to know what her secret is and why he needed that particular Pandora’s Box.

Jealously chokes my words to a whisper: "She must be amazing in bed for that much money."
"Naw. She’s not really into sex. We only had sex maybe two or three times."

"Two or three times? Huh. If she’s so gorgeous, why do you come to see me?"

"The sex. You blow my mind. You take me to another place. I never had sex in my entire life like I have with you."

"So why don’t you keep someone like me, who makes you happy?"

"Hey Geisha, no offense okay?"


"I only need good sex once in a while."

"Oh. So then what does she do that’s worth so much money?"

"I told you."

"You did?"

"She’s Gorgeous. She’s a Model. Tall. Guys like that."

"Ah ha. But, do you and she have a lot in common? I mean, do you laugh together? Does she like you? Are you friends? Do you talk and share things?"

"She’s twenty-two. Naw. You know more about me in two hours than she does in the years I’ve known her."

"I don’t get it."

"You’re not a man."

"Thank you. And very True."


"I like to have her on my arm when we go out. Everyone looks at us. At me."

"Oh. Okay."

"Here’s the problem. I gotta let her go."

"You’re firing her?"

"C’mon. Don’t say it like that."

"But you are. Right?"

"In a way."


"I don’t know. The last time I was in town, it was like she was too busy to see me. I finally got the feeling that she only likes me for my money."

"What? Finally? I can’t believe you’re saying that. Gio, you're a smart man. How could you ‘have just figured it out’?"

"You don’t get what it’s like to be a guy. To walk into a restaurant or a club or the beach and have this deluxe babe on your arm."

"It’s an ego thing?"

"I guess."

"And the ‘ego thing’ is worth that much money?"

He shoots me a look that says, ‘give me a little break here’.

"No really. I’m not judging but I want to understand. I could see taking care of a woman that takes care of you in so many ways. But just to have an ‘arm-piece’? And nothing more?"

"She’s a sweet girl. I put her through College. Anyway, that’s what it is."

"You really are so kind to her. Really. She’s very lucky to have you. You have a big heart. But, so what are you going to do?"

"I gotta give her the apartment and the car and a last months—"

"Severance pay? Why? Why do you have to give a twenty-two year old a million dollar apartment and a Mercedes just to say ‘good-bye’?"

He doesn’t answer.

"Seems to me she’s been treated pretty well all along. Twenty five thousand a month and she only sees you every three or four months for a night and then, there’s not even any hand-holding or any sex. Don’t you think it’s enough? She should be thanking you."

"I have to give her the apartment."

"Oh. Because you’re afraid? Afraid she’ll call your wife?"

"You know how it is."

"I wish."

I am aware Men are visual creatures.
I am, after all, in The Business.
I am aware many men value Beauty above all.
But I had no idea how deep and how far it went.

"Tell me what’s going on with you."

"Well, I’m desperately trying to build a home in Florida or the Caribbean so I have a place to call my own. Some place to retire to that I can live happily and maybe write."

"What’s the issue?"

"Can’t seem to get financing."

"That’s sorta what I do on the side."

"What do you mean?"

"My Cousin Matt finances private parties. I could hook you up if you want."

"I don’t want to trouble you with it."

"No trouble."

"No. It is. I like that you come see me. If you make me a promise to do something and then I call you and you really didn’t want me to, you’ll avoid me."

"I mean it. I keep my promises."

"No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll find a way on my own."

"I’m gonna call you tomorrow about it. Get your Financials together."


"No. Do it. I’m gonna call."

Just in case, I do get my ‘Financials’ together.
And true to his word, he calls.
At his request, I FedX all my personal financial papers to his Cousin Matt in California.

And then, I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
Finally I call Gio for an update.

"Yeah yeah. Matt’s on it. He’s got his fingers in a lotta pots right now. He’s comin’ to New York in a few weeks. You should meet with him when he comes."

"Okay. Have him call me and tell me when and where?"

"Will do."

And then, I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
Finally I call Gio for another update.

"He’s in town today and tomorrow. Call him and set up a time."

Oh golly gee and ugh!
I get booked a week in advance.
The only way to see him is if he can drop by my work apartment in between appointments.

I call.
Matt agrees on 1pm, my place.
I have from 1 to 2:30 free. That’s it. But this is important.
To me.

One o’clock comes and goes.
One fifteen.
One thirty.
I call his cell.

"Hey, Geish! On my way. Just finishing getting my hair cut."

Who gets a haircut at the exact time they’re expected to be at a meeting?
And a meeting in which he stands to make a hefty profit in interest.
He must be a Libra.
(Don’t misunderstand. I like Libra’s. My friend B is a Libra.)
(It’s just that he reminds me too too much of ‘poop-with-the-door-open’ Jerry Umberto.) (Earlier Blog)
(Also a Libra)

1:50 my doorbell rings.
Up my stairs walks a short, thin, balding guy.
A man who should, by all rights, be plagued with low-self-esteem.
But this man oozes self-adoration and is surrounded by a gooey aura of self-agrandizement that can only come from having oodles of money.
The kind of wads that make up for lack of character.

He ushers himself into my apartment, planting himself on my sofa, pouring himself an un-offered glass of wine.

"Thank you so much for coming. I really appreciate it."
"Wow. You are a babe. My cousin told me about you. He didn’t do you justice."
"Oh. Well, thank you. Did you want to see anything else besides the papers I sent?"
"I know what I want to see. Woe. You are hot. Great tits."
"Did you want to see the plans for the house? I also have the land and property valuations."
"Sure. Show me that."

I stand and walk to the shelf with the paperwork.

"Oh no, no. Walk slower than that. I gotta drink you in. I’m telling you. Gio did not do you justice."
"Thank you. Gio is wonderful. We have a nice relationship. I really adore him. But, so here’s the rest of the paper work. This is my only copy so I made you a FEDX envelope to mail them back to me when you’re finished with them."
"You know what I need though?"
"I need a kiss. Oh man. Look at those lips. Those lips are ripe. RIPE."

I giggle coyly but uncomfortably.
Would he be doing this to a possible client who happened to be a man?

"Let me kiss those fake lips."

I cringe at the insult, choosing to ignore it.

"Now. Oh baby, NOW."
"I’ll make you a deal Matt. You get me the loan and I’ll kiss you until your lips are numb. Okay?"
"Oh no. I need that kiss now."

I kiss him.

I am afraid.
I don’t want to lose this opportunity for my future.

"Better than Gio described. You are so hot. Do you come to Miami?"
"Only if you bring me."

I’m slightly flattered he asked aware he’s an obvious ‘player’ and has been with countless Professional and Real Life women.

"Do you need to see the plans for the house?"
"You know what I need?"
"Do you want to see the plans for building and the estimate of costs?"

Without answering, he suddenly stands.
"I need this."
In one swift movement, he unbuttons, unzips and lets fall his trousers leaving him barelegged before me in just his tidy-whiteys and his pants bunched at his calves.
"Blow me."

"Come on. You are so hot. Blow me."

What to do? What to say?
I know people sleep their way to better positions. I'm not that niave, of course.
Yet I don’t trust him.
He’s treating me like a whore.
Perhaps he thinks I am a whore.
Why not? He’s never been with me. He only knows the box he thinks I live in.
But never has a client treated me this way.
Only men from my ‘real-above-ground-life’ act this way toward me.
What to do?
What to do?
In the few seconds that pass, my head whirls.
I know no other way.
I am trained for no other alternative.
I take the female route.

"Matt. Now come on. How do I know you are even going to get me the loan? And besides, we don’t have enough time."
"I’ll be quick. I’m fast. You’ll see. You’re so hot, I’ll cum in a minute."

There is very little wiggle room.
I’m confused. I’m angry.
I’m caught between humiliation and the possibility of a future.
"I’ll tell you what, when you get me the loan, I’ll not only pay you interest of course, but I’ll put aside two hours to pamper you entirely."
(Which by the way, I don’t owe him since I will potentially be paying him quite a bit in interest from the loan.)

His hand digs into his undies. He pulls his semi-hard pee-pee into the air allowing his underwear to cup his genitals under his balls.
With his left hand, he waggles it in front of my face.
"I need it now."

"Matt, no. We don’t have enough time."
"I’m fast."
"I don’t want you to be fast. I like men. That’s not the way I do things. I like to make things nice. To take my time."
"I don’t care about that stuff. Just blow me. Come on. Where’s the bedroom? Here?"
He leaves me going behind the curtain into the other room.

I sit for a moment starring at the wine glasses.
Deep sigh.
I follow.

He is naked on the bed stroking it, keeping himself ready.
"I’m not going to do this."
"I’ll pay you. How much do you make?"
"A thousand for two hours—two hour minimum."
"Jeezus. Expensive."
"Up to you."

(Expensive? To a man who has Billions? Expensive? To a man who sees hundreds of women? He probably bargains them all down. Cheapening each and every one. Making each and every one feel like a piece of meat at an Arab Market.)

"Okay. I’ll pay you. Just blow me now."

I do.

I do because I know no other way.
I do because at the very least I will have made my few and perhaps,
Just maybe,
Perhaps the afternoon won’t feel like a complete, humiliating waste of time.
I hope.
So I do.

His cock smells like Lentil Soup.
Instead of a hair cut, he should have considered a shower.

But he knows himself.
It’s over in three minutes.
He dresses.
I never got UN-dressed.
I hand him the papers.
He goes to the door.

"When will I hear from you?"
"Soon. Baby you’re good."

"Are you going to…?"


"Pay me?"

"Oh yeah."

He pulls two hundred dollars out of his wallet and tosses it onto my coffee table.
I stare at him, waiting.

"What? Is it more than that?"
"Yes." I say shyly, not wanting to rock any of our many boats in motion.
"It’s a thousand."
"It took three minutes."
"But you were late. I saved the time for you. I have a minimum."
"It took three minutes. Don’t be like that. I’m getting you this loan. Right?"
"Um-hmm. I hope so."
"By the way, just curious, are you a Libra?"
"Call you soon."
He’s a Libra. I know he won’t.

Please understand, I have two amazing Libra friends in my life. But the only times in my Life I have been deliberately ‘screwed’—no pun intended—really! Has been by Libra’s. Jeremy, Valentino, Mark the Builder, and Matt. (All of whom I have Blogged in the Archives) And a few others that have slipped my mind at the moment. So forgive my generalizations if you can.

He leaves and for the first time in my eleven years in the business, I truly feel like a Whore.

I’m sure you guessed by now, I didn’t get the loan.

P.S. I did see Gio again who was and is a Prince.
He loves his Cousin Matt and had no idea of what actually happened that day.
I felt terrible even telling him the details.
I could see the embarrassment and pain in his eyes, that sense of responsibility even though none of it was his fault. (After all, he is not his ‘Cousin’s Keeper’)
But to clear the air between us, it had to be revealed.

And I’m glad we talked about it, for Gio will always be in my heart and I will always be so eternally grateful that he took my situation to heart enough to even try and help.
He is a generous, enormous-hearted Spirit.

His Cousin however is a very young Soul and in this Lifetime, a Villain that hopefully few will have to run into.
Best to keep the reach of his slime to a minimum.


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