Dear Electra

What kind of mind would come up with something like this...

Dear Electra:

I'm writing to say that all is forgiven, and that despite our little 'problem' I eventually did have a good time with you last Monday. No doubt that, given enough healing time (and drying time!), I'll look back on our time together and see nothing but the humour of the situation. Well, no - the humour and the sex! I really appreciate your efforts to 'pick up the pieces' and give me what I was looking for after all.

Maybe I'm different from your other clients, not a ready-aim-fire kind of guy. No wham-bam-you know the rest for me. Not a guy whose testosterone spatters like superheated bacon grease. No, I wanted to talk with you, to get to know you, to have some intimacy if for only a while and importantly, to enjoy a main event with a, er...highly-skilled professional. Even though things didn't work out exactly as I had envisioned it, in the end I truly appreciate your being so considerate, accommodating and generous of yourself, all of it for me (and the money of course).

I want to give something back and, I truly hope that what I'm about to tell you doesn't creep you out. I'm telling you this because I do care about you, your well-being and your safety, just in case something is amiss.

You already know that on the Internet I go by the handle CheckItOutFirst and that I did a lot of checking-out-first on the web before choosing you for my first experience with an, er...independent female entrepreneur in the adult industry. One of the web sites I visited while I was still shopping was www. InsideTheEscort. com. This is a site that contains insights into the world of escort services both for clients and also for girls trying to learn the trade. I first looked at the site because I was intrigued by the double-entendre in the domain name.

Even though we've done our deed already, and my shopping phase is long over, I casually dropped in to InsideTheEscort on Wednesday night, two days after our rendezvous.

I was shocked at what I saw there. At first I felt outrage, angry at you. But then I thought, no, that doesn't seem like something Electra would do. She's too discreet, too nice. Then I realized that something was wrong and I'd better get in touch with you to let you know. What was posted there was what looks like a page from your diary! That's right. A page from your diary. Frankly, this is freaking me out. How it got there I do not know.

Here's what it said verbatim:

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"Well today was my meeting with Bob (aka the CheckItOutFirst). Brother! Things couldn't have gone more wrong! It's a shame, too, because he really seemed like a nice guy. Somebody I could have as a regular or even as a friend. After that long introductory email he sent me it was crystal clear -- or so I thought! -- what he wanted in terms of fantasy. The poor guy must be obsessed, because he's obviously spent HOURS writing all that stuff in his email. It was an essay, I think about 1500 words. Imagine handing something like that in to your English teacher! Actually though, it was kind of fun to read. I've dumped the message already but now I wish I'd kept it. At times it was really funny - I remember him saying that he was an enthusiastic but inept golfer and between the sheets, the same. Ha! Another time he got me going a bit with his subtle erotica - he called it e-foreplay. And he was very specific about what he wanted and how he saw our time together going. Anyway, he made me curious about him. I was really looking forward to meeting him to see just what kind of character was behind the words. Now I wonder what he's thinking about ME, after the debacle!

Fortunately, after our 'rocky' start, he eventually did seem to enjoy himself, and I don't think he's going to be posting a bad review of me on any of the escort review boards on the web. He seems like a decent guy so I'm hoping that my reputation will come out ok. But WOW! I wouldn't really blame him if he did dump all over me on the boards. I screwed up royally.

Usually I'm pretty careful about my clients and their preferences, especially the new ones. I keep a coded notation in my appointment book to keep track of who wants what and when. This week, my book shows:

Mon 12:30 2 Bob Trvldge B Tue 1:30 2 Jim Hltn Nrs Wed 3:00 3 Rick HldyIn ScGrl Thu Fri 10:30 2 hrs Al Hm B NoMkup

You see, diary, how it's a little cryptic? That's on purpose in case, God forbid, somebody found my book. For each of my gentlemen I record the day, time, duration, client's name, location and a little code or a little short-form note about whatever role-play, special outfit or preparations they want me to make. I consider myself a flexible, creative girl and so I try to accommodate my men as best I can. Besides, fetish/fantasy always adds a little fun for me, too. After all, the usual drill - smalltalk, massage, blowjob, cowgirl, mish, and the 'yes, baby, yes!' -- can get pretty boring after a while.

For my dates this week I had a few gentlemen who were into role-playing. For one I was going to be a businesswoman dressed conservatively, but a wildcat under the clothes. That one's easy for me. I've got a nice suit and lots of lacy things to wear underneath. I like that one, too, because I start out acting pretty uptight but then when the moment is right, I like to really turn on the supercharger and let him have it! To pretend that I'm all over the guy, that what he wants I don't care about, that it's just his cock I'm after, wow! They ask for it, so I give it to them. The truth is though, sometimes I don't pretend.

Another of my gentlemen this week wants the naughty nurse. That one's easy too. A long time ago I realized that this one was going to be popular so I bought the outfit. You know, the ultra-short, starched white tunic -- it's hard to keep the stains out! -- the cap with the red cross, white lacy bra, panties, garter and stockings. "Are you ready for your sponge bath Mr. Smith? Your needle?" Of course there comes a time with this one that it's me who's being injected, though not with a needle!

Probably I'm best at doing the schoolgirl. That one I can do two different ways, depending on what my gentleman prefers. If he wants I can be the naïve, innocent virgin, tempted into her first sexual experience by her horny, manipulative teacher. Or if he wants, he can be the uptight teacher and I'll be the naughty student tempting him. I'll flirt, bend over so he can see down my blouse or turn away from him and give him a peek under my skirt. Playing with an undone button or two usually gets them going. You get the idea.

There's a weird one this week as well, Bozo the Clown. Now that's a new one! Nobody ever asked for that before! How a clown can be a sex fantasy, I'll never know but I always say, whatever floats your boat, baby! Versatile girl that I am, I agreed to it over the phone. It takes all kinds to fill the freeways, right?

Now you see why I keep my little book. I talk to so many men, and I get so many requests for fetish/fantasy experiences, it's sometimes hard to keep them all straight. Who wants the naughty school girl again? Was it Jim, Rick, Al or Bob? Who wanted the nurse? The lawyer? The businesswoman? Catwoman? Dominatrix?... You'd think by now with all the requests, somebody might have asked for candle stick maker!

The only one this week that I wasn't ready for was the clown. So I went to the mall (they've got all their Halloween stuff out) and got myself the full Bozo outfit: the polk-a-dot jumper, the big floppy shoes, the bright red wig, the makeup kit. Everything. I even thought of something else to jazz up the clown experience just a little bit, so I hunted high and low to find exactly what I was looking for, a little accessory to make Bozo Electra just a little more authentic.

I wanted to be sure that I got it RIGHT so I even practised with the makeup beforehand. The white face, the circles around the eyes and the crosses through them, the big red nose and the most difficult part of all: the huge red mouth. When I was done (it took me almost an hour!), I stood back from the mirror and looked. Perfect! Ready for action.

When I woke up on Monday I looked into my book and saw that it was Bob's day, a B. I skipped the gym because I knew I'd need extra time before my 12:30 appointment with him to get myself into the clown getup. You see, I knew I'd have to make an exception and, instead of dressing professionally and changing into Bozo once I was there (which would take the better part of an hour), it would be best to get into costume before I left home. Yes, people would stare and laugh at the sight of a clown and maybe a few kids would come up to say hello, but surely they wouldn't figure out what I was really up to. Still, I felt a little awkward about driving around town, walking through the hotel lobby and riding the elevator dressed as Bozo. But I guess this just comes with the responsibility of being a versatile girl. It's not easy being legendary!

Well the long and short of it is this: I endured the embarrassment of being out and about dressed like a clown and finally arrived outside Bob's hotel room, my clown accessory at the ready. I knocked on the door and when it opened I gave it to him: a full blast in the face with my little accessory, the seltzer bottle. But I didn't stop there. I hosed him up and down, from top to bottom and then back to the top again.

Poor Bob. He just stood there and took it. Yes, he flinched a little when I hit him right between the eyes at first, but he didn't slam the door or even back away. It's like he was a deer caught in the headlights. I aimed at his crotch, I aimed at his shoes. Back and forth, up and down. Everywhere the stream went, he just watched it splatter on him.

Finally the bottle was empty. So there I was, in full Bozo regalia, holding an empty seltzer bottle with a huge, goofy grin on my face, waiting for somebody to make the next move.

Bob hung his head for a long time, water dripping from his face, his hair, his clothes, making a puddle on the carpet. After a while, me still standing there grinning like an idiot, he raised his face calmly, and as if nothing whatsoever had happened, politely asked me "And you are?"

Uh-oh. Wrong room? Right then I knew the wheels were falling off. "I'm Electra! What do you think of me so far?", I said.

He took a step backward into the room and I followed so that he could close the door. Ok, at least it wasn't the wrong room. "Well actually, Electra, I don't know what to think. This isn't..." and there he stopped.

"Isn't what?" I asked.

"It isn't what I thought you'd be wearing, what I'd asked for."

"You asked for the clown.", I said not so confidently anymore. "You're the clown guy, right? It's in my appointment book, right beside your name. 'B' for 'Bozo'. Bozo the clown, right?"

We were standing right outside the bathroom, Bob soaked to the skin. I scooted in to get him a towel, trying my best to recover. He took it, thanked me and started to dry himself off. His clothes were sticking to him. He might as well have jumped into the hotel pool fully dressed.

"Well actually, Electra" he said, "I don't know what you wrote in your appointment book, but I know I didn't ask you to be a clown. Actually, I'm a little like Kramer on Seinfeld. I don't like clowns."

My heart sank. My mind was racing. He's the clown guy, isn't he? Isn't he? If he's not the clown guy, then who IS the clown guy? Jim? Rick? Al? If he's not the clown guy, what guy is he? I was getting panicky.

"Actually, Electra, what I wanted was to fantasize about your being a lawyer or business woman...", his voice trailing off self-consciously.

OH. MY. GOD! I thought. Then again, this time out loud. "OH. MY. GOD!" It was coming back to me now.

Again Bob said, "Yes, I wanted a business woman, professionally dressed..."

But before he could continue, I could remember it all: the precise, carefully worded request, the erotic writing he called e-foreplay that actually had me feeling a little hot. I could remember all of it. How could I have mixed him up with someone else?

I finished his sentence for him. "...professionally dressed. Conservative on the outside, lacy femininity underneath. Stockings. Formal to start, sex-crazed later. "

OH. MY. GOD! The makeup! He doesn't like lipstick. "Just a little makeup to enhance. No lipstick." And here I am in full whiteface with a HUGE red mouth.

There was another long pause. The awkwardness was palpable. Now I'm an experienced girl and I've been in a lot of pretty unique, even scary situations. But I was really stuck now. My first impulse was to reach into my purse and slap a hundred bucks into his hand to cover his expenses, a partial customer refund if you like, and then get me the hell out of there! How humiliating!

But Bob, a first-timer, handled it with a lot of class, like he'd seen just about everything in this business. He graciously took the lead and ever so gently let me off the hook. He looked at me as he said it, and I could tell from the look in his eyes that, while yes I'd screwed up once, he still was prepared to give things a whirl anyway. Give them a whirl, yes, but ONLY if I gave him my rock-your-world, top-drawer, Nobel prize winning, earth-shattering 'A' game for a good couple of hours. He said, looking at me all the while with a keen glint of mischief in his eyes, "Well, I'm getting kind of cold. I think I'd better get out of these wet clothes."

I got the message. "And I'll scrub this stuff off my face. I'm SO sorry. Don't start without me, honey."

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Now Electra, how this diary entry got onto the InsideTheEscort web site, I'll never know. I feel certain that you need just as much discretion as I do. But still, how did it get there? This is the big mystery and this is why I'm bringing it to your attention. If your own diary is an open book, who knows which of its secrets might be divulged? You could be the next Heidi Fleiss!

Anyway, this is the end for us, Electra, so let me just say this: once the clown costume and makeup came off, in fact when it was all off, makeup, clothes, everything, I did indeed get to live out the fantasy I was looking for last Monday. You are the ultimate girl friend fantasy experience.

Thanks, take care and no more clowning around.

Your verbose, soaked friend,

Bob (aka CheckItOutFirst)