Modern Day Courtesan

Quote:
The courtesan must live in the shadows. Is she in a state of fluctuating power and powerlessness?

yes. quite.
she is that space between desire and indulgence. keep the bait up, keep them chomping, stir fantasies, stir dreams, but all from a distance.

she can never be known, and she can never quite be reached. as much as she yearns to be touched, no one ever quite does. no one ever quite knows how. she shuts off a piece of her soul so that the blatent falsity of it all doesn't hit so hard, doesn't knock the wind out of her so completely.

how does this affect the way she exists in waking life?
the walk through plexiglass peer into other side of the pane, the floating reality, she must believe her own illusion, but truth itself distorted, nothing has a base of grounding and foundation in it. the temporal fleeting interest of her clients depends on her ability to continue to feed their inner monster - lust, that melancholy motivator of this madness. their desire for something forbidden.

how then, the courtesan must reconcile, how then to balance her own version of truth, her own desires for love and the fed black hole that keeps her returning to this space, where nothing is appropriate, where nothing is real, where she can be as dirty as she wants to be, in fact the more the better, where she can exist and prance freely, unbeholden to the conventions and strap down standards that society constantly imposes?

the fantasy world is a drug, to both courtesan and patron. she inevitably becomes a slave to her own self constructed fantasy world, her alternate persona, her addiction to the madness of it, the never ending kaleidoscope of men and their overwhelming desires to do this or that dirty deed, she maintains the poise, but indulges the dirt... each new experience, each new adventure fills and floods the possibilities of the next one. the stories come out one by one. some stay locked, some she forces out. the landscape of novelty becomes entrancing, new prospects beg to know wheres she gone, where she has been. elusive she remains.

the dance is complex, yet ridiculously simple. he holds the money, she holds the sex, but at any given time either could walk away, and allow too much time to elapse between fantasy and fruition.. and inevitably someone does. her through selective indifference, or he through a return to reality, a splash of cold water to his face, a reassesment of funds allocated. who wins, who is powerful now?

and as the interior hardends, as the wheeling and dealing continues, the yearn for reality, familiarity, the surreal tear inducing prospect of marriage, all grow stronger, locked in a dark room in the back of the soul... yet all the while, the belief, the conviction that this kind of life is foriegn and never-to-be spreads through the blood, through the marrow pervasively. love appears and is shunned. resented. dismissed. the cycle resumes.

yet the exercise affords her something unique. a space others dare not venture, a strength in spirit, a study of men. the opportunity to practice, the opportunity to weave. this strange value emerges, this strange notion that her body is not simply for pleasure, that it can be used for profit. she realizes that her mind can spin tales that bring the strongest to their knees, grasping at their crotches. is she empowered for this realization, or is she debased?

is she collecting charms and tools for the next victims, for her true love, for her self confidence, for her future children, for her potential great work of art, or is she simply delluding herself that any of this is real at all...

what is the calling of a courtesan?
the motivation, the purpose?

Hypnosis.

*Sleep*

Deeper and deeper. *sleep* deeper and deeper. *sleep*

~Snap~
I don't really know why I became so interested in hypnosis. I always have had a fascination with it, since I was very young. I remember fantacising about hypnotising my teachers into giving me more time on my homework, or into simply giving me preferred treatment over the other students. It was a strange thing really, considering how well behaved and bright I was as a young girl.

But it must come back to power, and control. Giving up control, being in control. These ideas swarm around the idea of hypnosis for me like bees swarm honey, and years later one day I found myself reading erotica, and finding the strangest stories about domination, hypnosis, aliens and mind control.

This then led me to run a search on craigslist casual encounters for the word hypnosis.
One ad.

I responded.
He wrote back, his name was dribble-glass and he lived far away, in baltimore.
Now I don't have a car. And generally it is near impossible for me to get anywhere remotely close to Baltimore. But that day, after a few emails, we had a phone call. He was slammed with work, but if I could perchance come up that day, he knew it was short notice but... And my curiousity had me wiggling so damn much about the idea of it that I managed to borrow a car from my ex and drive up to meet him for a drink.

I arrived in dirty baltimore and found the dive bar we were supposed to meet up at. A statue outside. A joker of sorts. The place had a hard core way about it. Red lights. Leather seats. I sat down at the bar and tried to look like I belonged there. Instead I kept looking out the window, wondering when this guy would make his way up to the place. A drink? The bartender has short spiked blonde hair and seems to want to make me feel more at home there, I have been sitting down and getting up a few times. Yes, no.. yes. I order one. Then forget about it.

He doesn't get there too much longer after this. Chuck taylors. Slender. A charming 5 year old boy's smile. A slow deliberate way of talking. Not much older than me. We move to the back of the bar and start talking.

Its not that I don't trust him. I think its more that I don't find him all that powerful. He has a flexible spirit. Its like a willow tree. But I am so excited about the kink of it that I not too long there after agree to go with him to his apartment and let him spin a crystal in front of my eyes.

We tried a few things. It lasted hours in the end. An elaborate aphrodesiac of a drink. Some weed. Different ways to go under, induced relaxation, and you know what I am going to cut to the chase and tell you that I masturbated in front of him. I would have kept going with it, with him, but in the end I didn't like his strange agenda. He was obsessed with control in a way that he would never quite have it. It was almost as if he didnt really believe in it, really. He didn't, from the inside. I think it was a thing to take. In tiny secret moments, away from his girlfriend and the rest of the world as he knew it. Also, constantly telling me how much I love to be hypnotized will have the opposite effect, I do, but I am a rebel and telling me what I am and what to do makes me automatically want to do the opposite. Finally, getting into master naming yourself is kinda a joke to me when you're an obvious submissive.

One thing stood out, an alternate personality. Someone that I could take all my dirty taboo and repressed longings and desires and put it onto. A concept that I could take everything sexual about myself and separate it out of my body, into something else. if I were to do this, pull it all out put it in a woman, if I were to name this person, what would her name be, he asked?

I struggled with it for a while.. and then,
I came up with Jessica.

*sleep* deeper and deeper *sleep* youre going deeper and deeper *sleep*

He told me to go to sleep, and then told Jessica to wake up.
This is when I got very wet. This is when I couldn't stand it. Something about this I very much liked.

And so now, any time I am scared or hesitant or worried about what I have become, I tell myself to go to sleep. Tired, heavy dead of the night sleep. And I tell Jessica to wake up.

*sleep*