Sitting at my vanity, I see an array of creams, powders, pencils and brushes. Glittering jewels shine back at me. Perfumes rare and expensive are off to the side. Tools in the art of beauty are these. My reflection you see in the mirror now will not be the reflection of me others see later. Ordinary in my nakedness and vulnerability now I am; mysterious in my skills of the craft later I will be. You will see.
Experience hones my skills and makes me wise in pleasing a man. Reading their needs involves not only the physical, sensual aspects but intellect and an almost spiritual sensitivity comes into play as well. It is my role in their lives to speak to their need(s) and send them out again satisfied. Some are driven and demanding. Some are timid and confused. All expect me to complete them, even for that brief half hour of time. It has less to do with their sexuality actually but most often everything to do with a crisis of belief in their own identities.
My face is now carefully and delicately brought to life. My skin is now deliberately and seductively smoothed and moistened. Baubles strategically falling into enigmatic locations, drawing the eyes to places of promise. Rising to step over to the wardrobe, it only takes a minute to complete the process of transformation physically. The mental transformation now takes but minutes too, but that was a long, hard process to conquer. Corsets, sheer bits of lace, stockings and heels are the last tools to weld in the art of beauty. Now you see.
If I am careful, you will not see everything that has experience has honed into me. I have learned to be numbed to my own desires, dead to my thoughts and hardened in feelings. I dare not give of myself personally and I dare not receive into myself personally. I have a role to play and in playing that role, I am slowly buying my freedom. One day, oh yes, one day I WILL walk away from all this and return to being a woman and worthy of respect. The quiet knocking at the door tells me I’ve just punched in. Time for me to go to work so that one day I can go free.
“Well, hello there! My, my, my … what fine-looking men you two are. Please come in and tell me what I can do for you today.”
“Ma’am, what we want you to do for us is not nearly as important as what we want to do for you,” Joshua said. “We’ve come to offer you freedom, but there is a risk involved. Will you accept it?”
With quizzical expression and racing heart, I opened the door further. Stepping aside, the strangers passed through the door and I firmly closed it behind them.