Attention Whore

I come by my label honestly. I love the tenderness of touch and lingering electricity of a kiss. I love skin-to-skin passion and snuggle knots that don’t have a beginning or an end. I love attention and affection and the freedom of getting lost inside a feeling. Passion. Pleasure. Fulfillment. Sensory exploration is fused in the foundation of who I am as a person, as a female, and as a sex worker. Paid companionship affords boundless opportunities to play with my own senses while heightening those of my lovers. I enjoy guiding the expedition where others can get lost in inhibition. I get off on this shit. It feels good to let someone come into my space and take a hit off my soul. Smell me, feel me, touch me, taste me - listen to me scream when I cum.

I satiate my pleasure-seeking appetite for attention through sex work. It’s one of many perks I indulge as a sex worker. Yes, I crave intimacy and connection and affection, probably more than your average female. It’s my rocket fuel, and makes me a sought-after companion. I love having my hand on the heartbeat of pleasure. I love to feel pleasure, in every capacity a human can feel. Scent, the strongest trigger to memory, the taste of salt on a lover’s skin, the sound of rain against a window and the feeling of her heartbeat against your cheek as your head rests on her chest. The feeling of excitement, lust, desire - the whirlwind of limbs tangled between cotton sheets. Yes, pleasure.

I also enjoy flirting with strangers and captivating their attention. I love feeling the heat of a stare, melting into my skin at the places where wandering eyes linger - my curves, typically. And then the game of cat and mouse - will he (or she) say. hello? How are you? My name is…? I already have their attention. Armed with wit and skilled in banter, I’ve learned my playful nature can easily disarm any meet-cute nerves and effectively, quite literally, charm pants right off. Which is a practice that entertains me, a lot. Nerves are just uninvited butterflies prepping their host for excitement of an unknown - and who doesn’t love the sensation of butterflies? I find the rush of their wings especially pleasing.

People are puzzles I will never grow tired of solving. If I can make you comfortable, I can help you connect - after all, I’ve already made you feel. Otherwise, why are you here? Unlike meeting strangers in the wild, companionship sets the scene with a built-in John or Jane Doe. On its surface the arrangement implies a guaranteed outcome, but I’ve always wanted more than just an ‘outcome.’ If I only wanted to fuck I would be on Tinder. But I don’t, and I’m not, because my time is too valuable to be wasted on shitty sex. I want an experience, so I become the experience. I still want to examine your jigsaw edges and piece together an intimate connection. I want to enjoy sex without the emotional impediment and fear of rejection that accompanies traditional dating. There is honesty in sex work: sharing fantasy establishes a safe and non-judgmental space, ripe with exploration. My palette is more sophisticated than some random hookup on a race to the climax. I want to charm you, disarm you, and light your soul on fire.

Attention makes me buzz. I like getting drunk on lust and the feeling of being wanted. Sensation is a beautiful reminder that we are alive. We are pleasure-seeking creatures - how or why is that wrong? How, when to experience pleasure you can simply brush the skin of another human and watch as goosebumps populate your wake? Man, I love goosebumps.