Raincheck

I was going to make a post on some ponderings I've had recently about the Devadasi, and I still intend to write it, although probably tomorrow morning now, because I have just sat down to watch 'Desperate Housewives' and suck on some deliciously creamy caramel that I boiled up because ...

... my date for saturday has just postponed.

I am disappointed, but by the sounds of it, so is he. Such is life. He has been called upon to entertain business colleagues who are down in London for a few days, and whilst I cheekily reminded him that I can look just as delightful in an evening dress as out of one, he doesn't think he will be able to behave himself and act professionally with a beautiful girl there to distract him and his little friend!

So now I start afresh. Again. And as must be evident from my previous posts, I am not yet clear on how to go about enticing my first clients, as a result of my aforementioned 'Catch 22'esque situation.

I'm afraid today's posts haven't been very exciting, maybe to the point of boring, in which case I apologise ~ as I'm sure you can tell, there has been a lot on my mind.


But my readers' patience is about to be duly rewarded, and I will leave them with a choice of which lascivious gift they would most take pleasure in reading this weekend ~ Would Lily's readers like to hear about:

1) Her little run in with the priest at her Catholic boarding school (yes, I'm afraid it is indeed true, although as you may find out ~ she didn't last there for long!)

... or would they prefer

2) The tale of Lily's naughty escapades at a secluded chateau in France, where she discovered the true value of foreign tongues?!

The decision is in your hands! x

Rolling Balls

So after much deliberation, perhaps more than neccesary, as to which I should choose, I have placed my profile with an escorting website and have already made my first booking ...

... for Saturday, in case anybody was interested(!).


Responses have been surprisingly polite and mostly genuine, with fewer timewasters than I anticipated! I don't think I will keep my ad there very long, as it is not really how I want to go about things, but until I get started, it will suffice.

Now all that remains is for me to complete the last week of my current job and make sure I am prepared for anything and everything - Now is where it really starts ...

I'll keep you posted on how it all unfolds, if you wish to follow my story. For the moment, I am just excited and apprehensive.

Lily x

A Long Awaited Meeting

She stepped from the train, glancing calmly behind to see if you stood on the platform, she didn’t know where to expect you. As she walked towards the stairs she looked up while negotiating the steps in her stilettos – your favourites, high, black with gold trim and gilt metal doves on the sides – and saw you stood there, your old coat turned up against the expected chill, chocolate eyes turned towards her in anticipation. She waved a shy greeting and continued down, heart fluttering just at your presence.

‘You look beautiful’
‘Thank you,’
‘I should have made an effort - you’ve made feel scruffy now’
‘No, I like it when you don’t shave’

Never had she told you how she prefers the days when you show up to work with a dark shadow outlining your sharp jaw line, contrasting with your smooth latte skin and transforming your laughing eyes into deep pools of intensity. Then with a second glance she realises you meant the simple white t-shirt and cargos you’ve thrown on, an escape from the usual.


.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.


Hours later, sitting on the bed behind her as she leans over the table to retrieve your headphones, you reach forward and lift the hem of her dress, gazing at the creamy round buttocks presented pertly before you as she slowly straightens up and turns around to smile coyly at your cheekiness. She sits again at the keyboard and plays out a few phrases. Just as she starts to ask what you think, you are behind her, your hand slipping into the top of her dress, flicking her nipple as you reach to massage her ready breast.

‘So now you’re getting horny’, leaning back she turns and looks up at you.
‘I’ve been turned on since I saw you step of that train’ you reply, moving your hand across to enjoy the other side, reaching closer, your breath warm and sweet against her bare neck.

You lead her up out of the soft leather and towards you where you stand in the centre of the room. Facing each other the air is still and fragile in anticipation of this long awaited moment – her timidity makes her wait for you to give her the permission for that which she has waited months for … at your gentle smile and almost imperceptible nod, she lifts her dress over her head to reveal the slim, toned body you have traced beneath her clothes at work; the smooth tanned skin you have stroked in stolen moments when you passed each other at the bar; the small but full breasts and large dark nipples you have so often imagined from her beautiful silhouette. Calmly you bring her towards you; hooking a finger into her black scallop-edged thong you pull it gently down and toss it onto the floor when she steps out. You drop to your knees and delicately peel off her nude stockings, caressing her calves as you do so. Straightening up, you take her hand, falling slowly onto the bed with her small frame enveloped in your strong embrace. You kiss her for the first time, tongue gentle against her giving lips, but it is not enough and you move your mouth down to her neck, her shoulder, her chest before taking a hard nipple in your teeth, savouring every mouthful of her musky taste you lick, bite, suck her supple skin as your bodies entwine, each aching for immediate satisfaction of your lusting senses.

Finally you flip her over, pulling her ass upwards and back into you, your cock ready, you spread her cheeks and exhale in awe, your every dream embodied here in this moment as you gaze down at her glistening, expectant cunt.

'Beautiful, such a pretty little pussy, ... ' you muse, stroking it gently, you grab her hips and ease yourself into her, savouring each second of sensation, amazed that you are finally here, at last inside her sweet body, she moans in tune to your reverie. Your hands pull her back again and again, thrusting in and in, slowly at first as she gets used to you, then more aggressively.

‘Arch your back baby, arch it for me’

She raises her buttocks, arching her back into those primal contours you love so much.

‘That’s it, there, hold it there, ohh’.

You grasp her neck in your strong grip and turn her face to look into yours, she moans with pleasure, her mouth parted slightly with each breath, a wry smile playing across her lips as she enjoys taking in your expressive eyes. You hold her there, intent that she should see what you are doing to her, but her head slips out from between your hands, she tries to hold the position, tries to please you, turns to look as far around as she can without your help.

‘Look at your shadow, look at that, look at the sensuous shape you’re throwing into the shadow, look at me in you, baby, look at that, that's your silhouette, you are doing that, don’t you like how you look baby?’

She bites her lip and smiles in agreement, silently pleased that she finally succumbed to the incessant pressure you placed on her, pressure to let you taste her charms, to indulge your ache for her delightfully pure body.



Now she spasms, small sharp intakes of breath, her hips pulling away from you in jagged movements then resting back against you briefly before jerking away from you again, repeatedly.

‘Please tell me that was lots of little ones …’ you murmur.
‘Mmmm …’ she purrs, lifting herself up to lean her back against you, reaching across to stroke your cheek whilst she nibbles the opposite earlobe and kisses the skin on the side of your neck. You stroke her thighs, her waist, her breasts, taking in as much of her as you can with just two hands, stroking, caressing, your fingers dancing over her curves.

'Good girl' you soothe, warm breath and lips brushing against her temple, before slowly lowering her body, arranging her limbs how you want them below your admiring stare.

You continue, pausing and pulling out every now and then to admire her dripping wet pussy, angled so finely for you to gaze at. You calmly massage and separate her buttocks, pushing them apart to open up her ass and her glistening slit. You cannot resist licking her juices. She squirms, pushing backwards, yearning for you to enter her again, and you concede, thrusting harder this time you grab her hair with one hand and pull her head back roughly towards you, slapping her taut muscles firmly with the other palm – she gasps with delight, you hit more sharply, this time resting your hand there to massage her butt cheek, now gripping it, stretching it outwards to watch yourself moving inside her sweet form.

‘You’re doing so good baby, taking it like a soldier, oh, my little soldier girl …’ you tell her as you push her head sharply down into the mattress, causing her pert backside to rise in that refined shape.

She pushes herself up again, onto her elbows, hands out in front, crouched there like a languid little sphinx for you and you alone.

You don’t like it when she doesn’t stay put; ‘Show me how I like it’

She moves her legs to position herself.

‘Is that how I like it?’

At your commanding tone she raises her ass, lowers her shoulders slightly and arches her back, struggling to find the position you are expecting. You laugh, a low, self-indulgent chuckle that makes her feel clumsy and inept as you manipulate her, pulling her hips up higher and her legs closer together. You hold her into you as you pause for a moment, eyeing her hot skin, flushed with exertion and arousal. Oh, she is doing so well. Pushing down firmly on the small of her back you move with a renewed force, faster, almost violent, ravaging her tiny frame, determined to keep her like this until you empty yourself at last into her cunt. Her breathing becomes uneven, she begins to take loud, shallow breaths as a guttural, animalistic moan rises up in her throat and she grinds back onto you, reaching out to take as much of you in as she can, shuddering as the convulsions ripple through up through her body.

Smug, you groan at the release you finally permit yourself now that she has sated her own appetite. Digging your nails into her flawless skin in your elation you draw five tiny spots of rich crimson blood, marking her as your own.


To Be Continued .....

Sweet Sigh

I feel every piece of music I hear, every note I play, every beat that pulses through the air, I feel every layer. A piece of music can make me laugh out with pure, anadulterated joy or bring tears to my eyes at the pain it invokes ... music is my everything.



Whilst playing Chopin's 'Sospiro' this morning, I suddenly realised how it is the musical incarnation of an orgasm. Not those sudden explosions of passion, but the ones that creep up on you in slow intense waves, radiating softly out from your core until they reach your toes, causing them to curl and flex and you feel that the pleasure is too much for you to bear, that all you are is writhing at the mercy of this pulsating nub at the centre of your body ... when it realeases you it is not once, but in convulsion after sweet shuddering convulsion, over and over, every nerve ending burning, on fire, ripple after ripple of molten heat, engulfing your body in it's relentless embrace until it finally allows your skin to cool down, gradually relaxing in a satisfied pool of sodden, breathless relief.

I wanted to share with you, how I felt as my fingers stroked each inspired note of Chopin's aptly named 'Sigh'.

Lily x

What To Do ... ?

As Lily stood in the shower this morning, letting the scalding water stream over her neck and shoulders to run in swift rivulets around breasts and nipples, down to a little bellybutton where it swirled gracefully before flowing away under her feet, she contemplated her business plan ...


... and wasn't at all surprised to realise that she doesn't have one. Because that has always been her way - doing before thinking. Lily has a high regard for the primacy and validity of human passions and its role on man’s life and I suppose this reflects itself in her highly impulsive nature.

So the website is in the capable hands of her graphic designer friend who is "constructing" it out of complex formulae and a language of codes which Lily has no hope of ever understanding, a photo-shoot session has been booked for after Easter with an acquaintance at London School of Fashion whose graduation project is, fortuitously, on tasteful artistic nudes, and rates have been decided upon, after much perusal of discussions on this matter. Can there be anything missing?

Ah yes. The small matter of marketing.

Lily would never be silly enough to think that as soon as she began her venture, men from all corners of the globe would be dashing to their phones to call and arrange appointments. No, unfortunately the world doesn't quite work like that.

So Lily thought about business cards - they would be easy enough to produce and leave 'lying about' in appropriate opportune environments. The venue to leave them in would have to be carefully considered to attract the necessary type of clientele. But would they actually be seen by anybody? And if so, could they inspire an initial interest in some of those people who they are noticed by? On top of this, for those men who are seeking a courtesan in addition to their wife and/or family it is not really so discreet to have the escort's card in your wallet. But then again, if designed correctly, it could be just any other business card ... but this then leads back to the fact that they might not be recognised in the first place ... oh the dilemma!

If anyone has any conclusions, they would gratefully received! x

Time Out ... To Explore

I would like to share with you some of the timid treats that, 'quelle surprise!' an incredibly coincidental issue of Time Out Magazine has provided us with this month ...

I first discovered their array of delights when I followed on a link on another webpage about how to lead a double life when you have your own secret hidden world. But I didn't finish the article as my sight was soon attracted to a far more interesting link at the side on double penetration - ooooh delights! we meet a first timer! We also have an introduction to 'splosh' (for those of you more versed in these types of shenanigans ... have you seen the Splosh Website recently?!) There's also a woman who tells of when she wanted to try out a fucking machine and many more people chronicling their fetishes and new experiences.

Just a little reminder that we should all try new things every once in a while, branch out of our comfort zones and test out our tastebuds!

I haven't read all of the articles, and a lot of them are really quite tame ... but there is the odd one that will surprise you ...

I will keep this post short and sweet, sometimes a good thing ;) -as I don't want to waste your precious exploration time, but allow me to share with you just one more thing ...

"SiFeet Pussy Foot is the ultimate fantasy sex toy for foot fetishists. This size 6, 100% silicone foot is cast in pure silicone from a real life actual, beautiful female foot. In the sole of this lovely foot is a fully functional and totally fuck-able silicone vagina."

- Enjoy!

Lily x
P.S.. I would be excited to hear comments or emails about some of my readers' sexy little explorations and any interesting sites to peruse would be most welcome!

Flitting About

I was surprised to find, on reading my favourite blogs this lunchtime, that Ex-Courtesan Gillette had written an eloquently insightful post about what monogamy means to her, because in the dark hours of thursday night exacly the same strands of thought were wisping though my sleep clouded mind ...

Whilst lazing in bed and grazing on grapes and shortbread of an evening, as one does(!), I had a call from a good friend of mine, who in fact I haven't actually known for that long. We engage in a lot of indepth conversations and tend to share similar views on many a provocative topic. Especially alike are our ideas about how to conduct relationships with men. Last night was no different, and after a while the talk moved to her current despair at the male population (which is understandable as she recently suffered an unexpected betrayal). To support a particuclar point she was making, my friend asked, with the intention of a rhetorical question as she was sue I would agree, to pretend for a moment that I am married - would I be ok with my imaginary husband sleeping with another woman?

- Yes, I replied, as long as he shared it with me.
She paused.
- But wouldn't you hate that he felt the need to have sex with someone else? Wouldn't that make you feel insecure?
- No. You can't get everything you need emotionally from one person. Thats why we have different friends and colleagues and partners. Besides, you can't have a relationship with double standards, can you.
- What double standard?
- Well I can't conduct relationships with other people and forbid him from doing the same! Thats just rude!
- But why would you be sleeping with other people?!
- Why wouldn't I be?!
- Because you have a husband! Why do you need relationships with other men when you married somebody who you thought was the perfect person for you!
- Because different people fulfil different needs and appeal to different parts of your nature ... you can't get everything from one person. *a little aside*
- But why would you jeapardise your relationship and, most of all, neglect the time and effort you put into your children just for a guy that doesn't even mean anything to you? That is just completely selfish! How can you say it's ok to betray them like that?

By this point, I felt the need to remind her that it was a hypothetical situation which is unlikely to ever arise because, actually, I don't believe in marriage because I am an atheist and I also don't have any children just yet! That calmed her down a bit as she fumed silently, but I too was now shocked because it seemed to me that in my friend's eyes, polyamourousness (what is the correct word for this?!) clambours into bed with neglect and deceipt of those who we love. I can see from my fairly flippant and un-thoughtout responses that yes, what I was implying did seem selfish - that I wanted as much as I could get of what pleases me. But then again, so what? And it was this which sparked Ex-Coutesan Gillette to pen this lovely, more thought-out post here, on the very topic of selfishness.

Now to be honest, I haven't cast my ideas in iron just yet ... which would explain why they are somewhat inarticulate when voiced ... I am not confident that I have an entirely coherent or even backed-up argument ... which brings me to another thought - in matters of the heart, is it necessary to validate our decisions to ourselves? Western philosophy is largely based on a Greek tradition of science and reason which, whether we like it or not, will always inform our thoughts and actions. [a bit like being an atheist with a catholic background - I may not believe in god, but I damn well know I'm going to hell for it!] For the sake of others, perhaps, but for ourselves - that is more complicated.

It is no coincidence that on perusal of a couple of english language dictionaries, the only synonyms I can find for monogamy are chastity and marriage and that adultery, lewdness, nymphomania and promiscuity are the only antonyms provided. No wonder us 'polyamours' are considered by many to be being unfaithful to our partners. And no doubt among those who have subscribed to a life of committed partnership with one sole other, to take part in plurial relationships would not be faithful to the agreement they made. But in a situation where both parties are open about their values and intentions, like in the relationships I have engaged in, to engage with other partners would be in fact remaining true to the mutual agreement, n'est pas?

I did feel I should add something more substantial to the little comment I made in response to Ex-Courtesan Gillette, even if it has become quite tangled in the process of trying to write everything down in clearheaded manner! En effet, I suppose I was simply trying to concur with The Recovering Voice.

It just seems to me that somewhere, at some moment in time, someone altered the common consciousness to accept that it is a virtue to strive for mental and emotional fulfilment in all parts of our lives, with the exception of sexual relationships. The attitudes of both men and women from all walks of life in this, the 21st century, towards sex honestly astound me... but lets not get me started on that for now ... !

Enchanté

As a newcomer to these parts, allow me to enlighten you a little about myself ...


I am 22, 5'9", 32B, size 8-10 (UK). I am the mixed race daughter of 2 entirely disparate cultures - tribal Africa and conservative Anglo-Saxon, thus my luscious locks are dark and curly, framing eyes of big bright blue. This in itself is a clue that I have managed to create a life for myself in which their contrasting elements tentatively balance and somehow fuse to allow two different worlds to gracefully co-exist. With my family I flitted from sea to sea and so have never lived anywhere for longer than 3 years. But on my travels through citadels as far and wide as Morocco, Jordan and India to Malaysia, Australia, Zambia and Botswana I have encountered an array of colourful characters without whose influences I would not be the person I am today.

Like I said, I have spent the most part of my life travelling.
I have been told I am a perpetual aesthete, though it is true that I take pleasure in all forms of beauty; words and water, fire and flowers.
I am a writer, I am a musician.
I am passionate about literature and poetry - be it avant garde french works, feminist writings, folklore, ancient myths, 19th century romanticism, medieval poetry, fairytales. John Donne, Carol Ann Duffy, Angela Carter, Marguerite Duras, Rumi, Marquis de Sade, Salmon Rushdie, William Dalrympole, Albert Camus, Chinua Achebe, Anon.
I love glancing at the stars as a solitary cloud floats across a dark night, and watching dragonflies land on my toes in yellow grass fields.
I love the textures of silk, lace, petals, creamy skin, goat hide, soft down, creases in lips, juicy earlobes, gleaming locks of soft dark hair, leaves under a bare foot, the smell of rain in the desert.

As a result of my constant voyaging (or perhaps due to the fact that to be monolinguistic would be inconceivable to my mother as she speaks 7 languages) I speak good French and a couple of other mostly-unheard-of-except-to-scholars african dialects. It also means that I am always open to new experiences. In fact I doubt I could survive in a stagnant environment ... I thrive on change and renewal, and start to get restless after spending a prolonged period of time in any one place or condition, but I have never known any other way of life and am content to float with the winds ...

Musings

I think that at heart, and of course to varying degrees, there are some people who are naturally 'feminists' and some who aren't. One can alter and amend one's morals and beliefs to adhere to a philosophy that you have decided makes sense to your life, but peoples' instinctual perspectives will always and inescapably veer towards one plane or another.

I guess you explain it like food: I love vegetables. Cabbage, green beans, lettuce, sundried tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, cucumber, leeks ... I’ll eat them all. Except mushrooms - these I despise above anything else. I have no valid reason for this feeling of utmost disgust towards a plant that has never done anything wrong to me and in fact adds a quite delectable flavour to stews and stroganoffs, but I cannot put them in my mouth. It is not a matter of personal choice, but of natural predisposition and no matter what anyone has tried, I am unable to like mushrooms. I can tell people I do and I can eat foods that contain them, but really. I hate mushrooms.

So I believe it is with your own personal 'philosophy'. There are some of us who, without any inclination, or even awareness, of doing so, hold in our individual set of morals and beliefs that are as much a part of our personality as which colours we prefer, values and fundamental principles that would have so called "female liberators" rushing over and hugging us for "taking control of our own minds and bodies". But 'feminists' have always existed, throughout the ages. Many women may have 'seen the light' or 'awakened their sexuality' with the help of modern social movements, and this did help a lot of women truly liberate themselves from oppressive situations. But the fact of the matter is that since the Middle Ages and before, there have always been 'feminist' females who held the same, if not stronger, ideals as their modern counterparts. You cannot change the fact that some don't believe that humans are inherently monogamous, and never have done. Or that whilst many of us consider our bodies to be 'sacred vessels', some will indulge it in activities perfectly acceptable to them which others would find abhorent. Or that some peoples' views on women and sex will never be reconciled with those on the other side of the table.

Lily Cordially Invites You ...

I was never a normal child. Even my mother always told me that, but she didn't need to; I knew it for myself. I took the clothes off all my Barbies and wrapped her in lace instead and hated watching Scooby-Doo. I read Albert Camus, Jules Verne, Marquis de Sade, Sati and Ursula Le Guin and understood the socio-political nuances in each. Whilst my friends shopped for sweets and puzzles, I lusted after silk stockings, vintage jewelled hatpins and delicate underwear. I wore subtle eyeliner and tinted lip balm in place of the usual glittery eyeshadows and garish nail polishes. I had a fascination of female sexuality and sex. When I was about 11 the craze in the school playground one summer was marbles. I played it every now and then but failed to be riveted by the rarity index of the different sizes and throwing those pretty little glass balls at walls just didn't do it for me. Instead, I put a few up inside of me in the shower one morning and wandered around all day amazed at the feeling of those pretty little glass balls massaging my vaginal walls.

I haven't ever felt that I live in the right place. My views on life, how I interpret people and situations, even how my tastes and decisions are informed, what I believe about relationships, all seem ill at ease with the society in which I exist. It seems unnecessarily complex to explain, so I shan't, but suffice it to say - I see no wrong in taking money for giving a sexual experience. In fact, I think it is a valuable tradition that is greatly overlooked in our society. We pay for please in other forms of pleasure and entertainment so why, in a 'liberated' western society, should sex be any different? There is arguably more taboo surrounding the sex industry and even, on occasion, casual sex in this century then there has ever been, despite the fact that everyone is telling each other (and themselves) that we are freer than ever before. Ha.

I had entertained the idea of being some sort of courtesan from the age of about 9. The idea that the job itself existed on a concept of social transgression enticed me alone. But it was more than that. It is about passion, pleasure, delighting the senses, the mystique of character, challenging each other and oneself, the exploration of self and form, erotic artistry and the beauty of the spirit. It is about invloving each other in the playful essence of life.

Anyway, this post was not supposed to be about all the above. It was supposed to be an invitation. An invitation to join me on a voyage of experience and discovery. A voyage that begins with me, in London, in the spring of a new year. A spring which, for once, will fulfil its intentions of growth and renewal with the cultivation of a different Lily. One who blooms out of her previous habit of uneasily conforming to what is expected of girls of a certain age and who finally embraces her own hopes, wishes, ambitions and desires. A Lily who finally lives up to her own expectations of herself.

This is an invitation to share with me the highs the lows of my new life in London as a social escort and courtesan.