On Dating A Pro

When we met it was at the beach and, as it was a nude beach, I was attracted to her and she was naked and beautiful. Five five, long blond hair, blue eyes, with a smile out of a Michelle Williams movie, and a body that could start a dead man's heart. I didn't know what she did for a living, but it really was not a big factor in my decision to be friendly and try for more than a wave of the hand, a hi there on-the-beach sort of relationship.

She responded fairy well to my clumsy attempt at congeniality and smiled back, what I would describe as 'seductively' (even though any lovely naked woman looking in my direction would be seductive to me), and my heart skipped a few beats before I asked her what her name was after telling her mine. She seemed actually interested and I could barely speak, stuttering and stammering around like a birthday clown at an elegant restaurant.

When she asked me to put my towel down next to her I figured she was talking to someone else. She wasn't and I quickly, before she could change her mind, put my stuff down next to hers. She said her name was Claire and I told her mine, which in the excitement I came close to forgetting.

We chatted but I am not sure what I said, I hope it was halfway intelligent. I found she lived in Isla Vista and she said she did social work. I wasn't sure what that was, but I was smart enough not to ask. I learned later that by social work she meant 'working the street, which meant literally 'walking the streets' (as in street walker), which certainly wasn't a deal breaker for a guy who washed pots and pans for a living. At least she was off her feet when she earned her roll of bills. I got a small check Friday night in an envelope handed to me in front of my locker in the cafeteria employees locker room. Who was I to judge?

I asked where she went to school and she named the local high school. I figured her for a college girl, but dropped the inquiry at that. We talked about the beach, the economy, and some inane comments about the weather. She was easy to talk to and it was apparent that I was falling in lust with a call girl on a nude beach in Santa Barbara.

We took a swim together and if her body wasn't irresistible under the umbrella, wet it was it was absolutely out of this world. She gave an actually stunning performance drying off that glistening body at her umbrella, giving my heart another jolt of electricity.

The way I finally found out what she did to earn a living was when I asked what hours she worked, trying to work a possible time for a reunion of sorts and she dismissively said she works nights, late. I asked where, not knowing enough to let it go. When I asked where she said all over town. I should have realized what that actually meant, but then I asked who she worked for and she said Manny. Manny?

Finally I dropped it but she gave in and said she was an escort, which is street vernacular for call girl, prostitute, working girl, whore. Actually, I was thrilled. I had never met a call girl before. Only once when I backed out of a call to a "service." Maybe I could help her out with a 'job' or two, help contribute to her retirement.

I told her I was a student at the Community College and she acted impressed at my being a college man. I finally got up the nerve to ask if she wanted to catch an early dinner before she 'went to work' that night. To my surprise she accepted and we made arrangements to meet at the local Habit hamburger cafe, not actually the Ritz but as good as I could afford.

By the end of the day, sitting with her, I was as horny as a sailor on shore leave, and my eyes had not left her sweet breasts or lovely naked legs all day. It seemed she didn't seem to notice or it was an occupational hazard she had gotten used to over the years of 'night work' in her chosen profession.

Being at a nude beach with a genuine call girl had me in ecstasy and figuring all the possibilities and the erotic potential of the friendship. I could be "going" with a lady of the evening. She didn't look like I expected a call girl to look, but then what does a naked call girl look like at a nude beach?

I told you I wasn't the epitome of a suave and cosmopolitan California college student and my athletic prowess is far below standard, and I was not as smooth and confident as a call girl deserved in my humble opinion, but I was willing to try my very best to sweet talk her as appropriately as possible.

We met at the Habit and I counted my small amount of cash as furtively as possible, and determined the size of our possible feast. She greeted me and we embraced,a hug, then we settled in to dine. After we trashed the leavings, we walked to my car and chatted easily. That's when I realized she was being noticed by some of the other customers. I didn't know if the reaction was because people recognized her, didn't feel I should be with a woman of her profession, or if a woman of her rank and obvious allure shouldn't be seen with likes of me.

That didn't bother me as much as it seemed to bother her. She wanted to leave and I realized how uncomfortable she was. A person who makes her living making people feel good does not bother me at all, but others around us seemed to judge it differently.

We have been together regularly now going on two months and we have never so much as kissed. A hardy hug, perhaps, but physical intimacy has been out of the question. It didn't bother me all that much at first, the no sex part, but the sting gets worse, since she does earn a living spreading her legs for people and I do regularly wonder why I am excluded from her womanly charms. Of course I wonder if it is because she doesn't want to bring her work home or if she feels she'd have to charge me. That, of course, is the downside of dating a whore.

Sometimes I just think of calling her service and paying for her attention like a "client" or pleading with her as a customer and leaving some money on the dresser. I'm not troubled by her career choice or the way she puts money away for retirement, but I do wish I could occasionally fuck her silly like a paying customer would without her grousing.

I do, of course, long for the affection those customers receive and constantly visualize, as she dresses for work, what her clients get for their money. Does oral cost less or more? Do hand jobs rank as light work or tedium?Dating a woman of leisure can have it's drawbacks. Does she not fuck me out of sympathy or spite or character issues? I do wonder how long I can be celibate.

Do I just ask her to bed with me or let her off the hook because I don't want her to have to bring her work home with her? I do think I love her, and I sincerely hope she loves me. If I ask her to marry me, will we just shake hands on our honeymoon or will she give me a cut rate or throw in a freebie?

Last night we did have a breakthrough. She let me touch her breasts and it didn't cost me a thing. I am hoping soon for a little pussy groping without a fee attached. Maybe by our first anniversary we can achieve penetration and I am hoping not to have to make a down payment or give her a credit card.

We are clearly a couple, even share chores, and the same address, but the sex is still a distant daydream. You think I am a wimp and should demand a good fucking. Perhaps you are right, but it is easy for you to say. You don't get to be with the hottest woman on the street corner and actually be able to call her your girlfriend, do you? If I had the cash I could fuck her anytime I want, I tell myself. I do realize this is the grown up version of yelling "I know you are but what am I?" An "I could fuck her if I wanted" comment. But the reality is I accept the restrictions because I love being with her. I actually like having a whore for a girlfriend. I am who she comes home to even if she doesn't come at home.

So if you date a whore it is not all roses. You may find the benefits are imaginary. You may realize it's not all glitz and glamour. Proceed at your own risk, but of course you are not a man who would put up with this shit. Yeah, right. Tell me about it. I am the one who lives with a beautiful, slightly rich whore.