C R A Lady Becomes An Escort

When will the world finally allow us seemingly ordinary people to be free to be you and me, I wonder? Probably the day after never. My name is Minerva Tremblay and I'm a young French Canadian woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Five-foot-eleven, lean and athletic but curvy, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, I look like a supermodel but I am a numbers gal. Look, I am a geek, essentially.

Female geeks do exist, ladies and gentlemen. I am that chick who loved science fiction books and superhero cartoon shows when I was younger. Most of my friends were guys. Yup, I was that rare combination of tomboy and nerd. I studied accounting at the University of Ottawa, graduating with a bachelor's degree in the summer of 2012. Since then, I've been working for the Canada Revenue Agency. Considering I am a recent university graduate, I am lucky to have found a job in my field.

By day I am just another uptight White female government functionary working in the high towers downtown, but by night, I become something else altogether. Something my friends cannot imagine. I become Mina, the Sultry Vixen. A professional escort. I advertise online, taking great care not to show my face. Can't have my family, friends and co-workers find out what I've been up to. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. The world's oldest profession. Why would an educated woman who is successful delve into it? Well, that is one hell of a complex question, folks.

Why do I do this? I honestly don't know. It's not because I need the money. I make a good amount of money at my "vanilla" job. Most people don't think of me when they envision an escort or a prostitute, whatever term they want to call women who sell their bodies. I am not some young runaway, working in the world's oldest profession because I have daddy issues. Nor am I some desperate housewife, dying to give herself a thrill. Nope, I am something else altogether.

I work for the Canadian government and I have a high level of clearance thanks to my job at Canada Revenue Agency. I make sixty five thousand dollars a year, after taxes. I live in a nice townhouse located not far from the Marketplace area of suburban Barrhaven, arguably Ottawa's richest square mile. I bought it last year and recently put a pool in the backyard. I come from an upper-middle class background. My father, Lionel Tremblay used to work for the RCMP and my mother, Helene Jean-Tremblay was a schoolteacher. I lacked for nothing in our lovely house in Orleans.

My parents, friends and co-workers don't know or even suspect the existence of Mina the Vixen, and that's how I like it. I like the thrill of it, the danger of meeting new men, and finding out what makes them tick. A man is at his most vulnerable right before, during and after sex. This much I know for sure. I love men, of all races and religions. I find men endlessly fascinating, and love exploring both their minds and bodies. What can I say, ladies and gentlemen? I know what I like!

I think I get tired of being the cold, unfeeling government worker. I hate sitting at my cubicle, in front of the computer or on the phone, like a robot. Cigarette in one hand and coffee cup in the other, I take frequent breaks at work, coming down from the ivory tower to smoke or chit-chat with other ladies and the endless parade of effeminate males whom the Canada Revenue Agency likes to hire. Lots of my co-workers do the same thing I do. We talk about weekends spent at the cottage, or shopping trips to Montreal or Winnipeg. We are boring people leading boring lives, what else can you expect from us?

I meet all kinds of men at The Bay Street Hotel in downtown Ottawa. It's my favorite one. Lots of visiting businessmen from Montreal, Toronto, and even Boston and New York City stay there. I don't use an escort service, and instead advertise at the back of local newspapers. I have two cellphones, the main one which is known to my parents, friends and select co-workers, and The Other One, known only to the men who browse the back of newspapers, looking for a lady of the evening. I am classy and pretty, educated and well-spoken, and my clientele appreciates that about me.

Unlike a lot of escorts out there, I don't discriminate on the basis of color. I've seen escort ads online posted by women working in the Ottawa area who specified "No Black Gentlemen". I feel like laughing when I see these ads because I think these women are insane. If you're selling your body, yes you have to have standards, but you can't exactly act as though you were the Queen of Sheba. Get real ladies, that's all I am saying.

You can call it escort work, courtesan work, being a geisha, or a lady of the evening, but it's all the same. I know what I am. The moment I decided to sell my body for money I became a prostitute in the eyes of most men and women, never mind that I am educated, middle-class, and work for the Canadian government. I make no bones about any of that, folks. Besides, I like variety in my dealings with males. Most of my clients are middle-aged White guys, private sector guys or government workers for the most part. They're usually polite, and decent, but their sexual prowess lacks. Oh, and some of them are vicious and angry. I learned to steer clear of those.

My most memorable experience came courtesy of a tall, dark and handsome young Muslim gentleman by the name of Mohammed. The tall, well-dressed young man who decidedly looked Somali, came up the elevator. I read him instantly. College student. Probably from out of town. Either Montreal, Calgary or Toronto. Those are the three cities with the largest Somali populations outside of Ottawa. This guy spoke English well, and was well-mannered and friendly, but I could tell he wasn't from Ottawa. There was something Prairie-like about his accent, so I'm guessing the tall, handsome brother came from either Calgary or Edmonton.

My standard fee is three hundred dollars for sixty minutes of my time, and I have hard limits. I don't like choking, or rough sex, and I don't like biting or spanking. I do not like anal sex. I don't permit men to cum on my face. Oh, and I've had to add no spitting to the list because lots of White guys like to spit on people and occasionally they like to be spat on. I find that disgusting and an affront to human dignity. I don't tolerate this sort of thing.

Prior to starting the festivities, I spoke with Mohammed, and the handsome young Somali guy politely told me what he liked. I've had sex with Arab guys and one Chinese guy before, but never a Black guy. I don't discriminate. I just hadn't had the pleasure of bedding a Black man. No, I am not that White chick who has a fetish for Black men. Nor am I that White chick who's racist and hates Black men. I like men of all colors, provided they're friendly and respectful. I'll slap the hell out of you if you're disrespectful whether you're Black as midnight or White as snow. I don't play.

Mohammed and I got busy in the hotel room. This young Somali guy was different, and not just because of his ethnicity and purported Islamic faith. No, I found Mohammed different because he cared about my pleasure rather than just his. Most guys tell me they want me to suck their dicks, and then they paw at my breasts then slide their cocks into my pussy. I find them supremely boring because they don't know how to sexually excite the female body. Mohammed had me lie down on the bed after I disrobed, and then we had ourselves some fun.

I lay on the bed, legs spread, as Mohammed buried his face between my legs and licked my pussy. Folks, I cannot recall the last time a male client pleasured me orally. Mohammed licked and probed my pussy, sliding his fingers into my cunt while teasing my clit with his tongue. What a pleasant surprise, right? Soon I found myself moaning in pleasure as Mohammed worked his magic on me. Mohammed made me cry out in pleasure, for I was orgasmic for the first time in ages.

I screamed like a madwoman, not caring where I was. Typically I am more controlled than that. I've gotten fucked doggy style by a tall, burly Saudi guy named Alharbi who fucked me for two hours, leaving my cunt sore and my body marked with bruises. I did not scream, though. I am always in control. Alharbi played rough but then again, he offered me a thousand dollars for three hours of my precious time. I am willing to be flexible with certain clients, of course. Alharbi fucked me silly, but he never even licked my pussy.

Mohammed made me cum, and I looked at the Somali stud with moist eyes, stunned. Mohammed smiled, and then asked me if I was ready for more. I grinned and nodded, and Mohammed freed his dick from his boxers, which he'd kept on till then. Mohammed's dick was long and thick, and glistened in the pale light. Tall, dark and impeccably masculine, Mohammed locked eyes with me and I grinned and got on my knees. I began sucking Mohammed's dick slowly, taking my sweet time as I pleasured the Somali stud.

No two men smell or taste alike down below, and I loved the funky, masculine musk emanating from the Somali stud's dick and balls. Once I got Mohammed nice and hard, I got on top of him. A smiling Mohammed looked up at me, and I reached for the condoms on the nightstand. I rolled a condom on his dick, and straddled him. Mohammed looked at me as I smiled and grabbed his dick with both hands, and put him in me. The Somali stud sighed, and I licked my lips, loving the feel of his thick manhood inside of me. Time to fuck.

Mohammed fucked me good, and took his sweet time doing so. I cried out as he fucked me, and that's when the otherwise gentlemanly Somali turned into a frigging lion, fucking me forcefully while gently caressing my breasts. I screamed loudly, riding Mohammed's dick with wild abandon and loving every minute his dick speared my cunt. I wrapped my arms around Mohammed's torso, and my eyes bore into his. Gone was the line between client and escort, we were only a man and a woman, doing what men and women have done since the beginning of time. We coupled, mated, fucked, made love, or whatever else you want to call it.

When all was said and done, I lay next to Mohammed, my body covered with sweat. I was tired, but happy. Mohammed smiled at me, and then he looked at me for a long moment without saying anything. Finally, the Somali stud nodded, thanked me for a wonderful time and got up. Hastily Mohammed got dressed, and then he bowed his head gently, wished me a good night, and then left. For a long time I lay there, basking in the afterglow of a good fuck.

Men are such strange creatures, seriously. After sex, most of them act weird. Usually, they tend to want to get the hell away from you as if you're the plague or something. Others like to linger and chit-chat, or ask you to rare their performance. I am not your sex coach, gentlemen. I provide a service, that's all. If anything, you should rate my performance. Still, if I had to rate Mohammed, the Somali stud was honestly better than most. The sex was good, Mohammed took his time, he took care of my needs, and he was polite before and after. I showered and left, for I had a busy day ahead the next day.

Come morning, at around six o'clock, I took the 95 Bus from Barrhaven and headed downtown. The OC Transpo bus was full of government workers, mostly middle-aged white males and white ladies, along with a few Indians, Chinese people and the odd African or Afro-Caribbean person. That's the government sector in the City of Ottawa for you. Diversity is not necessary. Prime Minister Stephen Harper is allergic to immigrants, especially those who aren't white. Why would he hire people like that to work for his government? I hate the bastard and hope he doesn't get re-elected.

As I sat on the bus, I looked at these people, supremely dull and boring as they are, and sighed. Not a single one of them is like me. For I am fearless in my exploration of danger. When the bus reached Lincoln Fields Station, I saw a vision of masculine beauty. A tall, handsome young black man, clad in a white silk shirt, black tie, black silk pants and black Timberland shoes. The handsome brother had a government worker's ID hanging around his neck on a lanyard, and I noticed that all the middle-aged white guys on the bus looked at him angrily. They're so bigoted, jealous and insecure. I had my purse on the chair next to me, and removed it while smiling at the young brother, who nodded gratefully and sat next to me.

I looked at the young Black guy's ID, and read the name "Ismail Kader". Yup, definitely Somali. Just like the handsome stud who fucked me silly in my hotel room last night. I don't know why but I struck up a conversation with Ismail, while the middle-aged white guys on the bus looked on disapprovingly. Ismail is a part-time business student at the University of Ottawa, and he works for a call center located near the Rideau Shopping Center. I found Ismail friendly, charming and non-pretentious, unlike the effeminate, passive-aggressive, covertly racist bozos I work for. That's why I gave him my number for, ahem, networking purposes.

Ismail Kader and I continued chatting until the bus reached Rideau, at which point we both got off. I shook his hand and wished him a good day, then headed to work. Do my actions surprise you? Well, they surprise me too. I am what I am. Government worker by day, and high-class escort by night. I know that should my secret life be exposed, I might lose everything. That's okay, because this is the life I chose. I am a highly educated, middle-class white female government employee and home owner living in the Capital of Canada. I don't need your pity, even if I should meet death due to my actions.

I know the risks I am taking, folks. My family, friends and co-workers, everyone would be disappointed in me, not to mention shocked. I am not going to stop doing what I do. I know there's psychotic guys out there who might kill me, and that's fine. I'll take precautions. I also believe in living a balanced life, and lately, I've been neglecting my vanilla life. That's why I was all smiles when Ismail called me later that day, and we ended up talking for forty five minutes. I find Ismail really interesting, that's why I agreed to go to the movies with him this coming Tuesday. We're going to see the new movie Straight Outta Compton. Wish us luck. Peace.