The Screening Process

Now working for an escort service does have a few benifits to a girl with less time on her hands. They are mostly working to shield you from cops and weirdos. When you have your own biz and take care of it yourself, the bonuses seem to outweigh the cons. No agency fee. A more personal feel for all parties involved. Freedom. Unfortunately, this leaves the sometimes intricate art of screening your potential clients up to you. 99.9 percent of the responses you get will be jackasses or pic collecters. I'm talking about CL specifically; I make it very clear in my ad that I need an e-mail with a FACE pic, their location and when they would like me to be there. My rate is also listed. Most of my replies are, "GOT PIXXX???", "R U GUNNA B NUDE?", "DO YOU CHARGE??" and "WHERE YOU AT?" I have also been surprised by a few small and several large penises on my BlackBerry or laptop screen. Fuck, it makes me want to snap a bitch's tibula. Read the motherfucking ad that you responded to! It does not surprise me anymore that most of my clientele are at least 35. I normally play e-tag for about 5 messages, then I suggest that they give me their number, so I can call. I ask their name, where they live(if visiting, who? why?), why they responded to my ad, and ask them where it hurts. *Massage, DUH* I then ask if they agree with my rates. If I get any kind of shakyness when I ask these questions, I can either assume that they are new to this, or just up to no good. I'm not sure if I've ever talked to the police, but I've turned down more than a few guys for being fucking stupid on the phone. I will not talk about 420, sex, blow, or anything illegal. "Do you do full service?" WTF. "Yes sir, I would love to be arrested in all of my foolish glory at some ritzy downtown hotel." Get the hell out of here, man.
I tend to vibe more easily with laid back or shy older men. Once I've gotten them to agree to the rate, I head on my way. I try to keep my car clean and comfortable, because I spend so much time in her. She's a 2002 Satin Silver Mustang. Total dick magnet, she is. One of my biggest annoyances is that I can't figure out what I want to listen to while I'm driving. All of my CDs are burned and I have labeled not even one. Epic Fail on my part. So I'm driving down these dusty ass roads and throwing discs everywhere, trying to e-mail on one phone, and talk on the other. I guess that's what I can do when I wake up today. Yeah right, hehe. I listen to a lot of Sade, Jay-Z, N.E.R.D, Kanye West, Common, and trance music, from artists like DJ Shadow. I also have my token high energy music from artists like Michael Jackson, Rockwell, Kylie Minogue, and JLo when I am fighting that post-coital slump and drive in the stanky fog.
When I get to the city of the transaction, I call the dude and ask him for directions. It gives me a chance to break the ice and feel out his personality. The first impression from their point of view is probably pretty tame. I normally wear yoga pants and a sweatshirt, unless it's requested that I wear anything different. My boobies are usually on display, and I always give them a bright smile and hug them. I'm very aware of my surroundings. I don't like townhomes or any setups that are 2-level. I'm not going to ask for a damn tour, but not knowing what is behind doors number 3 and 4 will signifigantly damper my performance. I ask the guy to take me to the area that he would like to be massaged in. All the while, I'm looking for signs of life in the house, like clothes piled up or empty bottles of gatorade. A house that is too immaculate strikes me as suspicious. I ask if they have animals so I'm not startled if one makes a noise later.

Annnd... asking for and recieving payment. Fellas, if you are reading this and feel insulted, get your shit together. It is uncomfortable for me to have to ask your bitch ass for payment. Leave it on a table and point it out. Hand it to me when I walk in. Don't fucking talk about sex with me. I will leave. Once the money is in my hand, the situation will change instantly. Sorry it has to be like that. Hell to the naw, you may not pay after the massage is over. I'm sure something will have conveniently happened to those 20's after you bust that nut. Don't haggle, you cheap fuck. Massages are a luxury. If you can't afford it, stay that ass home and wait till you can. I usually let the money flutter discreetly into my purse and pull out the massage oil. Baby oil or cocoa butter oil, you can't really go wrong! *grin* I've been blessed with nothing but great clients since I started back.
More detailed customer stories to follow.