Swing club...

So...

a while ago I went to a swinger club in Miami that shall remain nameless [but you know which one I'm talking about if you know Miami, or know swingers clubs] and it was only slightly interesting. But, I Tweeted about it, and apparently some of yall pay attention to my twitter. I said I'd be writing a blog post about it, and I didn't realize I'd be held to that. Here's my blog post about my night at a swingers club.

This was in December, and I did drink [not a lot, honestly, because I wanted my memory to be crisp of my first foray into swinger world] which are my excuses for why this post may be a bit... lacking in details?

My gentleman friend [not a client! I would not be writing about this if it was!] called me up and asked me to come with him, as it's hard for a man to get into a club of this sort alone, even though he is a former NFL player. He'd also never been in this situation before, and I think he needed me specifically because he knows I have a devil may care attitude about alternative lifestyles, and he was a bit nervous. I meet him at his hotel on South Beach, and after a few shots of Patron, and a few mojitos to chase the shots, we're feeling sufficiently Spanish inspired [as one must in Miami]. I get dolled up in one of my dresses I rarely wear outside of appointments [and even then only if they are asked for]. This dress is what I call Spice Girls short, as in it stops approximately half an inch below my butt cheeks and the only things I can do in this dress are stand, lean, or distract men from whatever they were thinking. I put on my heels, my favorite ones, eight inches of mean stiletto [these come in handy later, as the floor was a little...well, wet]

The cab arrives to take us on our way, and when the cabbie hears our destination, he turns, looks me up and down, and winks at my friend. Let's call him James. James says "I know, right..." I did look pretty hot. [this would prove a bit of a mistake]

The club looks pretty nondescript from the outside, maybe a little even... you know, crappy. But, as a former club worker, I know the outside of a place rarely gives you a good insight on how fun the inside will be. I mean, one of my favorite clubs in Atlanta is entered through a garage door into a really gnarly basement, and you're almost guaranteed a great time. So we walk in. The first time you go to this club you have to sign a long disclaimer [of course] and once I'd agreed to give them my first born child [and honestly probably signed something that says I shouldn't be writing this blog post right now, but hey, the ID they have from me on file is under a different name, and I'm not including the name of the club in this post] we were given a tour of the club. Our tour guide was a young guy with a slightly Spanish accent and braids. He was a little short. If you ever go, I hope he is your tour guide. He talks super fast, but he checks with you to make sure you get all the info he is pumping into your brain at lightspeed. He made us completely comfortable, and James, who has 10 years on me and NFL level sexual experience was such a wuss about the whole thing, I'm glad for our tour guide getting him to relax so we could enjoy the night.

The first room we walk into is the club room. The room was pretty empty, but this is the dance floor, and pretty much the only room in the club that is clothing optional [the rest is mandatory towels or nude]. There were two naked girls on one of the small stages alternating between pole dancing, making out, and playing with each other. I stared. James took sneaky glances. I squeezed his hand, trying to make him look. Our tour guide talked.

The next room we are shown to is a locker room where we can change. As I said, towels or nude is the standard of dress. This is also where you stash your phone. For obvious reason they are not allowed. Discretion is paramount.

I only have vague memories of the other rooms, honestly, because of time and alcohol for the evening, but it kind of doesn't matter. There are private rooms with and without windows where others will join you only if they are invited. There are rooms with no doors, both large and small. An orgy room. Maybe there was an outdoor area? A hot tub? Co-ed showers? I'm not certain.

So, we finish our tour and James takes his seat on a couch in the club room, and I dance a little. We only brought a six pack of beer with us, and my dress is too tight for beer so I'm not touching  it. I noticed the eyes on us as we walked through [I mean, I am 24 with GGs and an ass that is debatably great, and he is 6'6" and chocolatey and looks like he used to be a defensive lineman, because well, he did] and these eyes were attached to feet that followed us to the club room.

If it was my sex club, we wouldn't have a building, just a forest slightly lit and raked of pinecones and poison ivy. And maybe a Playboy Mansion style pool with a naughty grotto you have to swim to under a waterfall [that way everyone in the grotto is wet] But alas, this is not my sex club. We were there on perhaps a Tuesday, so as sex clubs go [in my mind], it was rather tame.

The couples that had checked us out approached James while I danced. I love to dance. If there is loud music, dim yet sparkly lighting, and a cheerful environment, I can hardly stop myself. They of course immediately begin to offer us drinks. Very sweet of them [the club is BYOB, a concept foreign to this ATLien] but I'm always hesitant to accept drinks from strangers in a club, especially when it's a fact they want to get me naked [I like to be clearheaded. I don't want to forget the fun stuff. How could I write about it?]
I was new to the idea of "please please fuck my wife" [well, not new to the idea, of course I've heard of cuckold, but I'd never been privy to it in person]. I'm not sure about the size of James's little James [we really are just friends] but considering his physical size, I'm sure this couple made a large assumption.
James is getting shoulder rubs by the lady in the couple and shoots me a look, one I know means he is uncomfortable, so I sit down next to him. I'm immediately flanked by the husband who, of course, can not remove his eyes from my cleavage. But poor James. He's grasping for my hand and I decide this isn't a good way to ease him out of his comfort zone, so I get up, pull him off the couch, say thank you, and walk outside.

Yeah so...rather uneventful. But! I have a membership and shall return. Perhaps next time will be more interesting. At least there will perhaps be more to observe.

escort > dating

I started dating later than most girls I know. I was eighteen when I had my first boyfriend [which is not dating, as we hardly ever went on any dates. Guys my age just want to "hang out" until you're their girlfriend, whatever that means] and after we broke up I was really into the whole idea of playing the field and learning about my interest when it comes to relationships.

Dates are great and terrible all at once. They start with so many pretenses. Both parties tend to drink a bit more than they usually would to make themselves [and the other party] seem more interesting and free spirited. I always felt like I had to hold back telling about myself, because I am a bit of a wild card and being as vibrant as I am only scares a 25 year old man. Dates were always better when the gentleman I was out with was over 30, and more so the older he was. 38-48 year olds were my favorite men to date back when I was on the market, but the problems ensued when they admitted their desire to get married and start a family and I reminded them that I was a head strong 22 year old trying to establish myself on my own before I even thought of that. Being a published author is currently more important to me than being a mother. I think kids are cool, but I don't want to resent children I might have, raising them with the feeling that they are the reason I gave up on my lifelong dream. That would suck for both of us.

Dating is confusing. For the first several dates with guys they would hide things: five dates in is never the right time to find out about a cigarette smoking habit, an ex-wife, a kid or two or three, a felony conviction, a current wife, the fact that they aren't actually legally/gainfully employed. I've never been a cynic, and it was never enough to make me give up on men [as made obvious by my current profession, I love men!] but it was enough to question the classic set up of the American model of dating. They way the first date is a job interview, the second date is to charm them, and the third date means sex. And so you paint your best face on and buy new clothes. The first time they see your house you cleaned for four days. It's all forms of deception and it's senseless if the whole point is to make someone a part of your real life. I mean, are we supposed to continue to fake things for the next 10-25 years [like a prison sentence] until we've had our 2.5 kids, a dog, bought the right house, and then got the trendiest divorce lawyers in the city? And then he get's a sports car and a 21 year old girlfriend, and I get plastic surgery and Eat.Pray.Love? Yeah...I'm not about that life.

Being an escort makes the interaction more straight forward. At dinner we can relax. You've read up about me and know all the details to make the decision that I'm the company you desire. You know more about me than I know about you, so we can spend the evening talking about your life, because you know I genuinely want to learn your story. This makes things ridiculously more relaxed.

In "real life" men lie to women, and pretend they want relationships so they can have sex, and women lie to men and pretend like they only want sex so they can end up in a relationship. Emotional entanglements are confusing, and miscommunication is rampant because everyone is trying to get something they never will say aloud they desire. Being an escort has raised my expectations for how well a man can and will treat me. I know how good things can be now.

When I meet you, it's all excitement on both our parts. We have fun. We play. There is no judgement or hiding faults because why would there be. It is a fantasy, but in my estimation it is more real than the mixed up affair that is dating. Hence the title of this post. Escorting > Dating.

sorry about that...

I’ve been slacking on my blogging lately, so I’ll begin this post with an apology. I have been  asked to keep My tour has been going very well, so life has been a bit busy. I’d just returned from a week’s vacation in New Orleans and immediately got back on the road to here, a windy and cold Philadelphia. In sunny Miami, a special gentleman has given me such a stack of books [two stacks, in fact] that it’s hard to find a moment where I’m not lying in the sun and reading, unwinding, getting the chance to catch up on my proposed book list.

Speaking of my book list, as soon as I'm done typing this, I'll be marking off all the books I've already received. Say you've been looking it over, worrying, wondering which one I don't have so you could bring a 

big smile to my face when you come to see me... give me a few minutes and I'll be marking them out for you!

In the past month I've had a great trip to Richmond, DC, Baltimore, New Orleans, and I've enjoyed every bit of my trip nearly equally [I hate cold weather, as I'm sure you know, so of course I can be a bit whiny if I have to go outside at all on a chilly day]

I feel like I'm learning so much about the world through the conversations I've had, the languid liaisons, the new faces. The more time I spend at this, the more I'm gaining a love of providing. I guess it was a bit simpleminded of me in the beginning to think this was a simple career choice, I'm realizing more and more that it is a lifestyle decision. Though my time in appointments is never cut and never ever dry ;) in the beginning I thought that I was a provider, and a gentleman a recipient. These past months have really showed me how much our interaction is reciprocal. 

I'm rambling a bit, I'm excited about the new blog post I have in mind, so instead of going on and on about how much I've gleaned lately here, I'll end this now, edit my book list as promised, and get started on the post about all that I have to share with you! 

acronyms: a few details

Though, as I state on my site, I am quite wary to use acronyms, as they are far too general [and everyone has their own interpretation of what they mean] and I don't think they accurately describe the personalized attentive service I strive to bring you, clarity is important to me.

I always make jokes about how a true GirlFriend Experience would be me opening the door in sweat pants and hoodie, hair in pigtails, or all matted together, and sleep in my eyes, and snuggling up in bed while I switched back and forth from sleeping, watching Archer, and eating from a melting pint of Ben & Jerry's Everything But The... 

I'm more about the dream girl experience. I'm all about the honeymoon experience. I'm the "strangers who met on vacation and immediately clicked" experience. Being with me is absolutely like a vacation. I live outside of the "norm" and I want to take you with me, to a place where there is only happiness and comfort.

Alas, the escorting world is a culture effected by yelp [aka TER] and so, especially being new, I'm asked for something more qualitative in my description, and less conceptual. In effort to preemptively answer any questions you may have about what may or may not occur during our time together [though, as always, feel free to ask me any questions colettecurves@gmail.com, though some questions obviously have to wait until after you have been screened] here is a short list of acronyms that will maybe be a little helpful in your decision of what rate is better suited to ensure your desires are fulfilled. Of course, the time we spend together is ours, and I do not abide by a menu or a check list; nothing is guaranteed, but it is important to me to fulfill your desires. Anything that occurs in our time together is of course priceless: my rate is for my companionship only, of course.

Hypothetically, a GFE date would include: LFK/DFK, BBBJ, DATY, CFS
and a PSE encounter would include all of the above in addition to: CIM/COF, Greek

If you'd like to give me a back massage, I always love that [big boobs lead to sore shoulders most days]. If you'd like to play with my hair, feel free [but never ever get it wet. EVER]

special rates

I have specials listed here and there on many ad sites, but I thought perhaps I'd compile them for a little more ease. If you made it from an ad, through my main site, and are now on my more extensive blog, you might just deserve a reward for your attentiveness!  [I do love a fastidious gentleman]

• I offer $50 off for mailing list members for any book on my list of books I'd like to read this year, or any other book on my Amazon wish list. $100 off for the same for appointments 3 hours or longer. You must be on my mailing list to access this rate.
• $50 off appointments 1.5 hours long or longer for Date-Check or P411 members who book through those sites. Send me an appointment request :)
• If you'd like to treat me to a music festival, my weekend rate will be halved. We don't have to go together, you can bring me two VIP tickets. I'll attend with my redhead girlfriend if you'd prefer to avoid a giant mudpit filled with odd-smelling hippie kids.
• Concerts, of course, are one of my favorites. If you'd like me to accompany you to one [*one I was hoping to attend*] my three hour rate will apply, regardless of how long the music continues on :)
• Follow me on Twitter, if you'd like. I occasional mention things I'd like to do in a specific city, and special rates of course apply for making dreams come true.