“…but you look so…. normal.”
I’ve been working my ass off to get new clients, and make the existing ones into regulars. On top of my full time job, and the little men. And the relationships. So, the old plate is feeling somewhat full. When that happens, I try to do little things to make myself feel good; usually, I take a taxi. It’s not much, but for a little while, I just relax and have a good gab with the driver. Nobody will talk to you the way a good taxi driver will. They’re better than therapists, because they have their own input and experience. It’s lovely.
This taxi driver is picking me up after a client. After THAT client, another one stopped by for a bit of a slap, just as an impromptu sign of submission, and if you’re not into BDSM, I really don’t know how to normalise that last mental image for you, but think of it like someone needing a hug. But with your hand to their face at somewhat excessive speeds……. and maybe three or four times. I….. let’s not get caught up on the details, ok? Right.
So, the conversation started off with the driver asking, “so, you just finishing up from work?” I’ve thrown my big bag o’kit into the back seat and flopped down into the cushion. When they ask, I always debate, “to be honest, or spare their delicate sensitivities?” I was honest.
“I work two jobs. You’re picking me up from my second.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” He’s not really listening; he’s looking at traffic.
“I’m in technology by day, and a Professional Dominatrix by night.” Yeah, you’re listening to me now, aren’tcha?? His head whips around to look at me when we hit a red light.
“You don’t say!! ….but….. you look so normal…”
“What did you think we looked like?”
“I… maybe more leather or something. What’s that shiny stuff?”
“Yeah, more of that.”
“Man, it is HOT AS HELL outside. I’m not into THAT kind of discomfort!!” We both laugh. The fact is, I prefer when people ask. Ask me, because then I can tell you, rather than have you assume something.
“So, do you….?”
“No. I don’t have sex with my clients.”
“And how did you end up in this?” I feel a bit sad when people ask me this. Some folks honestly are curious about your story, but sometimes, even clients want to hear that you were forced into it by some terrible life situation, and that if you had your ‘druthers, you’d rather be, I don’t know, at home, knitting or something. The truth is that I do this to make money and a part of that need stems from Deadbeat Dad, but I authentically love what I do. It’s interesting, and it forces me to grow, as a result. I tell the driver a bit about my story, but focus more on who I am and what I gain from my chosen profession. He’s fascinated in the kind of way that makes you feel flattered and almost like a celebrity.
“Is it always sexual??”
“I had a client who liked Puppy Play, and I don’t consider myself into bestiality, so, no.”
“How much do you charge?”
I tell him.
“JESUS, THAT’S NOT AS BAD AS I THOUGHT!”No, I explain. You might spend that much on a few nights out with the lads.
“You just…. you seem so NORMAL. I can’t get over it. And you’ve got a great sense of humour.”
“But I would have to, wouldn’t I? I mean, look at what I do for a living. If you can’t laugh and enjoy it, your client isn’t the only one who suffers!!”
I love these taxicab confessionals. I don’t get much of a chance to talk about this stuff with a vanilla person and change some perceptions. When it happens, I feel like the Mother Theresa of BDSM… in fact, I bet I could buy that outfit in latex!!