Saturday, September 27, 2014

The Cowgirl and Mr. Pickle: In which we are presented with far too much information Part II

“I couldn't possibly have sex with someone with such a slender grasp on grammar!” 
~Russell Brand

With sex issues and bodily functions being the number one topic during sessions, it seems only natural that at some point I would attract clients who work in the adult entertainment industry. Like a giant nooky magnet, the more I talked about sex, the more people wanted to talk about sex with me, and nobody seemed to care that I was not licensed, credentialed, certified or in possession of astounding first-hand knowledge.

As the demand (?) for guidance on sex-related issues grew, it seemed wise to read up on physiology, disease, anatomy and psychology in order to acquaint myself with the geography in question. I haunted online forums where people were candidly discussing everything from torture bondage to the pros and cons of anal penetration to intercourse with silicone love dolls. No topic was off limits and by the end of my "research", I was up to speed on a variety of things I once thought of as bogus antics: having sex while dressed in furry costumes (called "yiffing"), boinking balloons, cake farts (look it up), people who enjoyed being locked in tight places while wearing a diaper, fecal fantasies and folks who were aroused by amputees.

Following are a few of the noteworthy sex workers I've spoken with over the years:

Kitty Hart* (star of Saturday Night Beaver and Romancing the Bone)
Main focus of medical intuitive sessions centers around the physical damage she fears she's incurring with preposterous sex positions such as "the piledriver" or anal sex with a certain well-endowed cast member's member. Also needs to address the possibility of leaving porn to explore an edgy new "intimacy therapy" called Orgasmic Mediation. Kitty explains that for $15,000 she can become a certified coach, helping paying customers learn how to precisely stroke a clitoris (while wearing surgical gloves) for fifteen minutes in a classroom setting. She is quick to add that this is a therapeutic practice but she's worried that people will recognize her from her porn films and won't take her seriously.

Lucy Lewd aka Lucy Lipps* (phone sex operator)
Lucy prefers to be called an "adult conversation specialist" and asks me to "tune in" to why she repeatedly agrees to meet her phone clients in person (believing that each one is her potential soul mate), but then being disappointed when they all turn out to be married and/or skeezy. She tells me about setting up a special Amazon wish list so her clients can send her gifts and then desperately falling in love with anyone who does. When I suggest that she take down her wish list to avoid some of the drama, she becomes an eight year old girl who really, really wants that pony and I'm the stingy mom who won't give it to her (it seems that we have unwittingly begun role playing at this point). As we wrap up our session, Lucy wants me to analyze a recurring dream in which she has three-way phone sex with George Bush and Jesus.

Ginger Wood* (freelance Vegas escort)
Telephone session begins with Ginger requesting past life information, wanting to know if she has been a prostitute previously because she's "super good at it." We discuss centuries worth of sexual exploits and mishaps, much to her obvious delight. Ginger asks if her dead Grandfather will be angry if she writes a book about the information discovered in our session, but before we can delve into that compelling topic, her noon client arrives early. As we are ending our call, Ginger provides one of the most excellent doorknob confessions of all time by asking, "do you think I became a prostitute because I was molested by my art teacher in middle school?"

Rocky Wilder* (Miami male stripper/gay escort)
Rocky has issues. Deeply embedded issues that are not going to be resolved during a one hour telephone consultation. For starters, 28 year old Rocky wants confirmation about George Clooney being his biological father. There is absolutely no evidence of this except that Rocky's mother owns all of George's movies on DVD which she plays on a continuous loop and only smiles mysteriously whenever Rocky asks her who his birth father is. I ask if he resembles anyone in the Clooney clan and Rocky says that he really looks more like Eddie Murphy but his mother owns none of Eddie's movies, so (according to Rocky's logic) it can't be him. Since I cannot confirm that either of these men are his biological father, we move on to other pressing concerns such as Rocky's addiction to plastic surgery and if his upcoming testicle implant procedure will deliver the results he wants.

But the icing on the cake (see previous cake fart reference) is when a male sex therapist from Sedona contacts me for a series of readings so that he can get some fresh perspective on his life and career path. His "professional" name is Himeros* which he borrowed from the mythological Greek god of sexual desire. I learn that his birth name is Emmet (hence the need for an alias) and that he was born in the year of the rabbit which he considered to be a sign from the gods that he was meant to pursue a career as a "Sexual Healer". I can actually hear the emphatic italics over the phone as he makes certain that I understand he has been doing "Serious Work" with the women who seek him out.

You know. Just in case I was thinking he was a man-whore who was banging anyone with a credit card.

Himeros is not particularly concerned with psychic forecasts or messages from his spirit guides, but prefers to use our session time to bounce business ideas around and see what I (as a member of his target demographic) respond to.

Most of our first conversation is taken up by a well-rehearsed explanation of how his service works while proudly reporting that he has trained himself to shout out his intentions in the throes of orgasm, and that it is perfectly acceptable for him to manifest a new BMW or a cabin in the Berkshires this way. His sexual partners, I learn, are quite eager to assist him with his manifestation magic while getting pounded doggy-style on an organic straw bale bed. It is good to note, however, that from a therapy standpoint, Himeros prefers the woman to be on top in "reverse cowgirl" position since he feels that it empowers her to simultaneously be in control and not have to look at the face of her sexual partner.

As Himeros continues to share his philosophies with me, I become acutely aware that he is a world-class manipulator who has tapped into a gold mine by selling his services to lonely, well-to-do women of a certain age and calling it Sexual Wizardry (cheesy tagline: casting spells of love). A one hour "copulation encounter" costs $500, more if you want Himeros to escort you to a restaurant or night club before or after your sex session (you drive AND pay for all meals, cocktails and incidentals because it empowers you and is part of the "therapy").

When I make the mistake of asking if he is willing to minister to women who are morbidly obese, disfigured or disabled, Himeros becomes hostile, stating that he prefers to use his magical healing gifts on women who are alluring enough to go forward from his "treatment" to attract a loving, attentive partner. Thankfully, since this is a telephone session, Himeros cannot see the expression on my face, nor is he aware that I am furiously scribbling notes about his arrogant remarks. As he continues his defensive harangue, I wonder if this is a prank being pulled by a diabolical friend. But sadly, as our session continues, I come to understand that this is the real deal, and Himeros is living in a universe all his own in which I am but a visitor, being paid to help him reorganize his practice in order to attract new victims clientele.

I feel like a mafia consigliere; the Tom Hagen to Vito and Michael Corleone, assisting this emotional sinkhole with his rotten strategies and promotions of fictitious sexual sorcery. I decide to pull the plug on Himeros' original request for once a week sessions which is all the incentive he needs to turn his charm on me by asking if I would like to trade with him for ongoing spiritual support and business consultations. In exchange, he says, I am welcome to come to Sedona and experience the bewitching gift of his sexual prowess. Himeros is certain that I would benefit from a little Sexual Wizardry ("what woman wouldn't", he chortles) and I consider telling him that I would sooner juggle rabid weasels in front of Caesar's Palace than partake of his overworked clam hammer.

I choose, instead to keep it professional and say that it feels as though I cannot be of any further assistance to him at this time. Himeros is disappointed and asks if I know of any other female intuitives who are taking on new clients. I give him the toll-free number to California Psychics and wish him well on his honey wagon hayride.

*Not their real fake names.

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