tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14083957233301117562012-02-16T14:36:51.390+11:00I was Julietta, that night... A little secret between you and me...Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.comBlogger1961100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-19810383123414819622012-02-07T08:05:00.003+11:002012-02-07T08:17:50.585+11:00

Situations of endurance. Does not necessarily mean they have enduring qualities. This also does not infer good qualities. Ethics, morality, what is right and wrong. None of this means anything in my particular situations. To see Eugene and Jack. To Eugene, I play the break up, the petty love, the intellectual theatre of discourse, and there is nothing quite like having things in common with

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-17275214104839028212012-02-07T07:56:00.001+11:002012-02-07T08:05:47.309+11:00

It's not that I take the stuff. It's what my body does to me about a week per month now. Makes me feel no emotion, no desire, no regret, no fear, no vanity, no energy.I used to get uncontrollably horny before my time, now I get sedated. I drink three pots of tea a day and have no motivation to change my world, to leave my luxury, to make love, to stay awake.One of my doctors will attribute it to

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-86101149363582000792012-02-02T08:38:00.000+11:002012-02-02T05:42:51.769+11:00

Sharing is Caring.It really means, I can't be bothered with you anymore. You're hard work. You're not worth the effort, and she won't realise until I'm gone. Wives do it. Girlfriends do it. Mistresses do it. The blind eye. The not fussing over it. I do believe it's the natural world's way of giving us a breather, giving us the chance of doing something else with our lives other than fuck and

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-16598530002046376302012-02-02T05:35:00.000+11:002012-02-02T05:43:46.946+11:00

Diabolical habit of expecting everyone knows what is happening in my life, how I run it, and lying incessantly thereof.The construct of my lie is really not with purpose to fool or discredit, but to avoid hurting people's feelings, to avoid bearing my soul and giving too much away. And often because I am sick of explaining myself over to strangers, associates, acquaintances and new friends.Today

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-53775746463321961862012-02-02T05:27:00.002+11:002012-02-02T05:35:33.349+11:00

Between Big Ben and Laduree, there's nothing much between of any consequence, but Dior and Gucci, for which I remembered my voucher this trip. Dior, my dreamscape. My darling new Englishman will treat me to a dress, a suit and a couple of bags. Of course, the man of my dreams. My Double Oh Seven.Gucci voucher. To a handbag or to shoes? Life's important questions.Back in reality, oh yes, my

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-50371456252469313922012-02-01T21:52:00.006+11:002012-02-01T22:43:06.862+11:00

Terminal of LoveAbout me right now, again.Having my third caffeine hit in four hours. In the flowering Osmanthus form, which is pretty yet light.Fighting with Jack about a text I oversaw on his overseas phone. Saved as UK Girl. "Did you get in contact with that girl again?" "No, which girl?" "The strip club girl from couple years ago" "No, I haven't talked to her for ages" "Why are you lying?" "

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-1583003589281575112012-01-29T23:24:00.004+11:002012-01-30T00:12:58.198+11:00

About Me Right NowEating stale almond fingers as I refuse to buy sweets while grocery shopping. So scrounging around for something snacky.Hair appointment tomorrow, so I need to make up what I do for a living again, something not too glamorous or exciting.It's a new hairdresser, so I also am scared the 'do isn't going to last for my client and my long haul.Up late again, so I dearly hope I will

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-78264646444521220942012-01-29T12:01:00.002+11:002012-01-29T12:06:52.811+11:00

It's becoming a cliche, my worries, the pattern of my life. Every day is a Sunday, every wave is tidal. A Mistress' expectations of her Keeper are very disjointed from those of a girlfriend, a wife, a lover. Her love is based on a fallacy, her touch is a given, her life is separate from her Keeper's. She makes the rules, he makes the boundaries. She dreams of another way, he dares to maintain

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-59508337052162046812012-01-16T16:31:00.001+11:002012-01-16T16:32:47.394+11:00

Seductress in her sheets, panda eyes to match. Don't you cry, it's only a device. And soon you'll be free from your everyday loathing.Underneath the coating, your bare flesh writhes. Don't let her sigh, it's only for a while. And soon she'll escape from the months of toting.Pull away the hinges, sand vinyl from the doors. Don't watch the transition, help only picture dreams. Soon they will smile,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-38992459150133329092012-01-15T12:49:00.001+11:002012-01-15T12:52:34.738+11:00

Nothing like a spot of a real sunshine tan to add to your own lust-worthiness. And nothing like no man's attention to really get your ego going. I may be forced back to the bed-top trade due to fucking frustration. Next week, a few bookings may ease the pressure to press against Jack. I do want him badly, and we did have a nice session, minus the tears, this week. But, he never wants me to cum

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-70385961088246085682012-01-13T11:20:00.004+11:002012-01-13T11:59:55.713+11:00

What is happening? The week of no sex. Men all over me with nothing to show for it. Serge, Liam, Jack. Are they all telling me to find someone new? Is this a challenge? I should be up for it, as the Summer needs another lover before it's over. Let's see if I go out this week…The date with Liam. Dinner at the usual Japanese and funny movie. No sex, just slept in his bed, respectfully untouched.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-33354632340279037322012-01-11T12:26:00.000+11:002012-01-11T12:27:39.734+11:00

As for Celebrity Holidays in this week's Grazia, looks like holidays for the lonely and the eternally photographed.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-69517860667065284882012-01-11T12:13:00.003+11:002012-01-11T12:25:49.692+11:00

Jack climbed his way into my pants and came right out of them. In no literal sense did he ejaculate. Barely a standing acknowledgement from the bastard. I knew not to go opening any zippers. He threw me to the couch after a kiss of passion, lifted my tee shirt from my naked tan back and kneaded what he could in the way of the remaining skirt. Massage in the technique of the masseuse he has been

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-63857844917031529172012-01-05T22:15:00.003+11:002012-01-05T22:42:16.811+11:00

Summer is love and it's all about. Sunshine, sex and kisses on the neck. No money changing hands since December some time, and I feel free to love my Jack. And ignore my work phone. Pretend I don't exist except for a list of to do's and reading in and out of Diamonds are Forever. Groceries - done. Sex with young guy - done. Sex and sun with Jack - doing. Dishes - to do. Eating - forgot. It's not

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-88749155050389856772011-12-16T00:21:00.001+11:002011-12-16T00:23:39.696+11:00

Charity begins in the home. Or someone else's. Apartments, hotels, incalls, outcalls, airline lounges. My place. Time starts, now. Time is money, and I'm so generous. LiamCooked Liam dinner a couple of weeks ago. He must have wiped on pheromones, because there was a lot of me that was trying so hard to stop giving him a nice charity fuck. But I couldn't do it to my joie de chat. While chatting

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-14491288393983619472011-11-18T19:27:00.003+11:002011-11-19T20:29:09.499+11:00

Eugene claims he finds it easier to chat up women, since seeing girls like me. He used to feel ugly and shy. Thanks to us, the Eugene's of the world are germinating the seeds of Alpha Male ego. A mole of a human, even his wife is doing him a favour by allowing him to play with her. But these Eugenes are not satisfied. They too want to take over the planet of pretty apes.Men are becoming

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-80984192433747956222011-11-18T15:20:00.002+11:002011-11-18T15:25:17.805+11:00

Smart men rule the world. Whether their decisions are intelligent, or motivated by politics and personal interest, is quite beside the point. Strategy is the key. Goal, motivation, players, pawns. King and Queen. Who is the fairest of them all?Lost chances, losing opportunities, loose cannons. I have a theory, that when you leave one to the shelf, a few more come down. Aware of the plunge into a

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-10392422465305149852011-11-17T05:09:00.003+11:002011-11-17T05:16:55.131+11:00

YasminaI meet my girlfriend at a bar infamous for expensive girls. Call girls. Prostitutes. Escorts. Hookers. Party girls. Well, I shouldn't have brought her there. One of my best friends, recently privy to my life in detail, Yasmina is amused but not tempted. Her legal profession gives her enough dosh to never need to do it. In fact, she can afford to have affairs for free. Something that I am

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-4227878743759441132011-11-14T11:19:00.001+11:002011-11-14T11:22:16.187+11:00

Late evening call-out, pre-booked for ten pee em. Vidal, Savoy. For hours and hours I stressed. How much do I charge for extras? Can I ask the agent this? Well, I'm sure. Don't ask. Just handle it, like any other. You've done it before.Slept two hours pre-appointment. Beauty sleep. Maybe. I wake up at nine. Why the Hell am I a prostitute? How the Hell did I get in this position? No control over

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-14735683439446950312011-11-13T16:02:00.002+11:002011-11-13T16:16:27.834+11:00

Tall, thin young gentleman, oversized sunglasses to his right, hat on his head, tiers of petite-fours to his left. Pours Venezia 1720 from a white tea pot into a matching cup, and answers a call on his phone, like he's the agent of a film star, himself. Surely, he is interesting and not a joke. His face could be educated in smiling, and it could go further than his bald scalp. Mister Venezia

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-91171460492246565922011-11-13T02:19:00.001+11:002011-11-13T02:50:46.087+11:00

Umbrellas with HolesJack and I fought so much over the weekend. We had great sex. However, it was the promise he made to me before I allowed him to seduce my ass with his oversized cock. "I'll get you the dress," the peach one I kept seeing in the window at a gorgeous boutique. "I don't want the dress, I want boots. YSL ones. Harrods has my size." Jack lubed his thumb and proceeded, his cock

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-8344223301168633922011-11-02T01:58:00.000+11:002011-11-02T01:59:34.346+11:00

When I feel like being glamorous I will put on make up, step into a dress, stockings and boots, choose shiny earrings, and listen to Astrud Gilberto on the way to Woollahra.It looks like I'm being glamorous when I go to meet a client, but I'm just being Julietta, That Night.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-72151429805051851882011-11-02T01:42:00.002+11:002011-11-02T01:46:59.345+11:00

Is the spelling reflective of how one really feels? Or simply the education? Luv. Love. LOVE.Does it mean anything? Do you say it at the end of a call? Always, or prompted?Does it mean much, when you're making love? I say it to make him ejaculate.It's only a feeling that goes away when you don't feel it anymore.I love you. It's a responsibility. It's luck when it stays. It's a thrill when it pays

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-53564943798958097432011-10-26T17:21:00.001+11:002011-10-26T17:24:00.290+11:00

We're still a love story, probably always will be. It hasn't been difficult avoiding him at crucial points, during my busy schedule, because I've been catching up with friends for lunch. It's often true, like the day I had four bookings in a row, after having long high tea at the Victoria Room. We're dressed up as flappers, for one of my friends' birthdays.Tea, cocktails, and a stream of

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-46121510243037103472011-10-26T17:16:00.003+11:002011-10-26T17:20:51.246+11:00

Warning: Content of a Sexually Racist natureThe problem with Agency 'Private', is that if another girl has promulgated a reputation for the profile, then others after her must concede to expectations. Clients talk, mostly on forums. But almost worse is word of mouth. The girl before me did all extras all inclusive. Whereas, I do not. There is a premium for anything outside the ordinary, and I may

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-62176669770380390722011-10-26T17:08:00.004+11:002011-10-26T17:15:51.657+11:00

Talking about my work. Talking about last times this time and next time. Talking about things that aren't important to me. Not talking about like literature, history, interesting facts or taking a faux political stance. Talking about escorting. Talking about forums. Talking about creeps. Talking about what I do and don't do. Talking about all the clients I have. The usual clients. The typical, to

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-5890705791149531142011-10-17T22:08:00.004+11:002011-10-17T22:56:58.732+11:00

Woke to three bookings before one p.m. Yawning my way to the bathroom, I bathed in bubbles and made drowzy dress decisions, considering I opened the curtains to a sunny Sydney morning. I whizzed a breakfast of yoghurt, blueberries, egg and malt, and boiled water to make a pot of my favourite The Vert. By the time I was in the car, on the main drag, all bookings were reduced to one. And that one

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-50729451182822759122011-10-15T21:45:00.002+11:002011-10-15T21:51:02.232+11:00

Woke after midday. Laundered dark smalls. Cooked brown rice. Watered plants with green compost. Laundered quilt cover and pillow cases. Ate brown rice and salmon. Welcomed a sunny day. Spoke to Jack. Put on track pants, sneakers and gym top. Answered Cindy's phone call. Took off sneakers, pants and gym top. Ran a bath. Shaved and douched. Put on track pants, sneakers and gym top. Ran to car.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-77696638587185308312011-10-15T21:17:00.000+11:002011-10-15T22:17:54.483+11:00

Driving through the rain, I saw one fat ugly man eye-peeling the shorts off a very sexy Latino boy on Oxford Street. Smoking a cigarette, with a come-fuck-me attitude, the boy took his chances by not looking back at the fat man. He could put up his price, if the fat man returned.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-22757193680920679282011-10-14T22:20:00.003+11:002011-10-14T23:06:53.226+11:00

"How was he?" to escorts has the following points of reference: the 'He' in question is a client, and the 'How was' part questions the ease of payment, cum and gone. To which, we would respond: "Yeah, nice." Civilians wouldn't know, but "Yeah, nice" with an inflection at the eye in nice, means: Mid-forties, paid in hundreds, tipped without requiring extras, didn't try anything strange, came

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-18095809319198414312011-10-14T22:15:00.000+11:002011-10-15T22:16:55.135+11:00

Jack and I had make up sex, kinky style. He forgot all about my whinging and tantrum when he saw me dressed in a tiny strappy little number. I threw him the cuffs and gave him a paddle. He threw me on the bed, bound but not gagged. I refrained from speaking so he had a good go at me from behind. He slapped me a little, but avoided hurting my skin. How I love our sex. After he came deep inside me,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-8746464906559297622011-10-14T22:08:00.000+11:002011-10-14T22:21:03.091+11:00

A sudden shock today occurred: I have almost enough to buy a little of what I dreamed. My own house in the country, or apartment in the city. Somehow my new car, thank you Jack, for responding to my last month's whinge about how massive your mansion really is and what a fleck my life seems in comparison, and the prospect of my own driveway bore a hole in my heart. I suggested to Jack that we

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-23043209111078018572011-10-14T21:50:00.000+11:002011-10-14T21:51:13.898+11:00

Every few weeks in the past six months, I have been balancing my bank accounts and cash stash. The pile was just not getting any bigger, despite Jack pushing more wads into my Ferragamo than I have ever been used to. From him, that is. I discussed it with my friends. My boredom since returning to Bondi had just about outdone me, but the bottom line was what really heaved the dusty rug from under

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-44568780133726935072011-10-14T20:55:00.000+11:002011-10-14T22:08:20.911+11:00

Jack was really shocked and put off by my outburst the other evening we were on the Gold Coast. I had to blame it on pee em ess, but it wasn't. It was me coming down. I get so depressed and worried after, and so utterly paranoid about one of the nice young pee ayes who works for him. She seems like such a nice, innocent girl that he would like her. And I am so jealous that I look at her Facebook

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-86444395312611204792011-10-12T13:57:00.003+11:002011-10-12T14:18:28.800+11:00

The constant narrative reiterates the take on my life. Funny, false, fantastic. Imitation of what it is like to live. The Spring Chase is on. I run to see Jack, he comes and he runs home to the mansion wherein lives his family. Would I cherish a family? Or fake a facade, to keep a household and a man on the side?Ken, who is not as handsome as he sounds, is smitten with me. Older man, mid-fifties,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-6990883613218411192011-10-10T14:43:00.000+11:002011-10-12T14:45:57.296+11:00

Since convincing Dia of my split from Jack, I have had to embellish my love life, and avoid her questions pertaining to my financial and emotional situation. She wanted me to break away, well, I broke. I broke into a web of lies, each one fit back into its place through a system of insinuation and evasion. In other words, I was leading her to believe my life is without indulgence and completely

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-34482359961863786192011-07-17T01:52:00.003+10:002011-07-17T02:14:58.503+10:00

This was the most heated fight we have ever had. It started as me asking for points to upgrade my twenty-four-hour journey to business earlier this week. He said he'd try to get the points from his Visa, but he couldn't promise. He only had twenty-five-thousand points at the moment. Then it turned into blaming Jack for booking first class tickets for himself, knowing well that I would not ever

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-65211466949950561152011-05-27T07:57:00.001+10:002011-05-27T08:08:32.944+10:00

Being bullied by the man who says he loves and misses me. Seeing emails to and from his wife proclaiming love and wishing and missing and sending photos. So is it she who taught him to send Blackberry love hearts? Pollen in my eyes. But I'm wearing Prada, Hugo Boss, Salvatore, Max Mara and Chanel. And I'm living in Mayfair for a week. Life can't be that bad.I had the foresight to go shopping with

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-54559173212312709662011-04-19T19:55:00.000+10:002011-04-19T19:56:41.836+10:00

So the charade begins again. At a higher level. My 'fiancee' is already lying to me. 'Sick at home' photos I tricked him to send me, remind me of soirees at the low ceiling rooms of the Metropol. Dark brown feature wall without cornice gives it away. Oh, wife is looking after you? She's taking the dog for a walk? In Melbourne? Enjoy Maze.I know he is in Melbourne because you can't collect

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-82572151642498998072011-04-06T05:11:00.000+10:002011-04-06T05:12:21.133+10:00

London CallsJack is a bull at a gate. Promises dress and diamond shopping because he has to take his clients out. I am just happy I'll have time to see my friends this time. Weather will be fine and we can go out for tea. If anyone else will be in town, book us high tea at the Ritz and I'll be there. Do email me so I know to expect it. Tuesday Wednesday after the Wedding is perfect.Gigi for

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-4598339233956384152011-04-05T05:52:00.000+10:002011-04-05T05:54:54.977+10:00

One of my exes said you don't really know the other person unless you've lived with them for four years. And I expect that is true if the two people have made a concerted effort to exist together under the one roof. Not if they go on endless and meaningless dates together, or travel around the world at intervals. Why bother going out with someone if it's not fulfilling, if you're not in love, if

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-2091667283527458632011-03-31T07:18:00.002+11:002011-03-31T07:45:37.938+11:00

Well if flatulence has ever been rewarded it's been signified via text and email to me.I express my deepest concern for Jack's grand illusions and eagerness in the art of war and seduction of his Mistress, Julietta. What am I now? A bimbo?After growling at Jack for suspiciously not calling me from his room last night, and telling him I'm 'over' playing, eh hem, his games, he made my day by

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-52061650599999535792011-03-30T07:56:00.002+11:002011-03-30T08:06:30.772+11:00

Snow outside in a cool wind. Hopping from high fashion to cosy cafe mid city, the weather doesn't bother me. Foreigners bother me. Italians, Moroccans and the French bother me. Invite themselves to comment on my hair, my shoes, my face and my tea. And nowhere in sight is a tall handsome Swedishman. Aren't they around ever at two p.m.?What is wrong with H&M this season? Moldy green and yellow,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-14453545889858740952011-03-22T04:55:00.005+11:002011-04-01T03:46:38.168+11:00

It must be that time of the month. I'm eating cardamon scrolls, drinking cups and cups of percolated black coffee, and Assam in between, and I've dumped Jack for probably the thirtieth time. Over five years, and almost every month we go through the same thing. This time it was a combination of using my beautiful black dildo to my pleasure. Having sex the way I want to, without having to talk

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-55404550634763022752011-03-20T05:31:00.001+11:002011-03-22T05:47:38.847+11:00

After insisting Liam looks for a local lover, he Skypes me today. All smiles. Then shows me how he knows what time it is: the iPhone World Time machine shows it's 12.30pm Friday in Stockholm, and 6.30am in Los Angeles. The same place, oh, an ex of his lives. Well, well. I'm one of two. But then he tells me, after I cheekily show him my pre-purchased dildo, that we can have Skype sex, like that.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-63611830439373636742011-03-19T00:10:00.003+11:002011-03-22T05:46:34.821+11:00

What kind of people are about at two p.m. on a Tuesday? I don't see any businessmen, just the homeless in preparation of attack, the aging in collection of bath products, and the lonely, riding on trams until the cows come home.Strong black coffee and the chatter of people. The clinking of cutlery and dirty glasses. Who is about on a day like Tuesday, at a time like two p.m. and a place like a

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-23626033547440800582011-03-12T01:57:00.000+11:002011-04-06T05:26:44.172+10:00

A new year. So much has happened to push me to March already. I have been longing for an escape for the unsavoury yet luxurious lifestyle in Sydney. I took the first excuse that came along. Family crisis in Stockholm. And I took it as a sign. Packed up my apartment, thanked stars I didn’t adopt a homeless miniature duschund, and reviewed my finances. All in a week. And didn’t run anything but the

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-54742775794227986402011-02-18T12:56:00.006+11:002011-02-19T00:07:35.448+11:00

I have made a brew of Quatres Fruits Rouge (green tea with berry) and black English breakfast. So beautiful, after weeks and weeks of black coffee and late nights. I'm doing the 'taking a break' thing. It may be ages, it may be forever, it could be until I have figured things out. Jack is more than ever, Boris is a no-go weirdo, Serge is around for some strange reason, and Liam is as unsightly as

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-80910467211349344492011-01-23T13:57:00.004+11:002011-01-23T14:15:54.435+11:00

Overgrown for weeks, a hairy pussy brings me to realise I don't want the life of a supermodel. I want to move forward to have a credible c.v. in order to have a fulfilling job. I am sick of strange cocks entering me, I am actually getting sick of cocks altogether. Maybe it's because I have had my fair share. I had great sex with Liam and Jack in the last week. So good, that I feel claustrophobic.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-16031039896196784552010-12-17T10:58:00.003+11:002010-12-17T11:26:36.911+11:00

One of my pet hates is realising that an asshole only wants a nice girl. I could name a few:LiamBorisJackSergeFuck them, I am nice. They just bring out the worst in me. So it looks like I'm a cow.The Bar at WorkMy lawyer said I'm too young to receive benefits as an estranged Mistress. "You're young, you can still get out and make something for yourself. He didn't force you to stop work, you chose

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-84438907141853143602010-12-15T21:19:00.002+11:002010-12-15T21:31:24.855+11:00

Twenty-eleven: Mortgage, Jack, workTwenty-twelve: Jack, workTwenty-thirteen: Third world aidTwenty-fourteen: Live abroadTwenty-fifteen: Live abroadTwenty-sixteen: Meet the man of my dreams, James Bond.Twenty-seventeen: Start making gorgeous babiesThis means I can stop expecting so much from myself. This means I can relax a little, as it's what I do best.I paid my lawyer to tell me what my mother

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-51809247092439942362010-12-15T21:17:00.002+11:002010-12-15T21:18:29.637+11:00

If marriage is legalised prostitution, prostitution is consented rape.

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-32356551676196979662010-12-10T02:08:00.008+11:002010-12-10T03:19:30.595+11:00

The tiniest beam of light has been shed onto the reason as to why escort agencies in Sydney sent girls to a known psychopathic client, Dr. Suresh Nair. Jodie Minus of The Australian, one of the Nation's newspapers, she admits, had printed bogus photos of escort Agency owner Anna Monaghn. Monaghan testified in a certain wig and a certain dress on Monday in Downing Centre Local Court, only to

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-4491459550533442862010-12-06T21:06:00.002+11:002010-12-06T21:56:03.478+11:00

This is the shit we Sydney girls put up with. Agencies are fucked here. They have no shame, and neither do their/our clients.http://au.news.yahoo.com/a/-/mp/8458472/sydney-escort-having-fun-before-death/In the hours before her death, Sydney prostitute Victoria McIntyre told supervisors she was "having fun" and was happy to keep working, a court has been told.Using the working name "Lisa", 23-

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-67395179138341446332010-11-20T16:11:00.003+11:002010-11-20T18:55:58.828+11:00

Not for the feint heartedWarning: For the alpha male only. Do not use this on a Nice guy or a clingy man. Otherwise, this will give you more than you're bargaining for.When making a request, for greatest authority, do not provide a reason. Reasons give an opening to be refuted, and an insight into your headspace and thought processes. This allows for weakness.Request without reason"I would like

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-3302091327239282262010-11-16T20:10:00.002+11:002010-11-16T20:39:59.878+11:00

I told Liam we could just be friends for now, and so now he has cute friendly pet names for me, rather than the usual Hot Legs, which make me turn back and want to be in his arms. Still en garde. Still persevering on that. He came out with civilian friends of mine and his on the weekend, and now he's calling and asking me out. Like he misses me. Alright, I'm a sucker for a romance. Especially

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-9226002752261716672010-11-08T20:41:00.007+11:002010-11-08T22:19:00.711+11:00

Define care. Okay, define not care. Not caring is not having a knot in your stomach when you want to tell Liam that it's over and that it never was in the first place so why bother? So I do care.I have this great knot there and it won't go away. The more I think of it the worse it gets. I like him in my life, as a friend. I'm just not attracted to him, and haven't been for a long time.Define not

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-81865590868808216302010-11-07T21:42:00.003+11:002010-11-07T21:46:55.909+11:00

Interviewer: Your success as a writer, you say, far outshines your past success as a lady of leisures. How does this compare, JDM?du Monde: The difference is that, while I was much more creative in life than I was in my writing, I have something to show for hard work in my writing. I have left my mark in history, rather than left a hair in a hotel room or a notch on someone’s bedpost.Interviewer:

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-4265676382011064622010-11-05T17:05:00.001+11:002010-11-05T17:11:06.591+11:00

Day wear: look a little like you've come from the officeWinter in Europe, I would love to be warm in that furNight on the town with client and a lot of disposable bar/restaurant tabsAn outfit for my gorgeous friend too, s'il vous plait

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-7702825490933036922010-11-03T22:10:00.006+11:002010-11-05T16:51:10.158+11:00

Parked outside the hot chocolate cafe in the city, around nine-thirty p.m. Cindy just picked me up after her job.Julietta: "How was it?"Cindy: "Yeah, easy. We just chatted for the hour, which was good. I really like him. Easy cash."Julietta: "Two Danish Toffee hot Chocolates, please."We sit and organise our handbags, take out our phones, like good working girls do, and ask for some water. Because

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-73840924788692497372010-11-03T21:34:00.003+11:002010-11-05T16:50:10.643+11:00

Great for teenagers, a 'fun' way to broach sex, start discussions with best-friends and send in an envelope to a crush. It was a futile attempt at getting laid, just so you know.Bad for working ladies with in-the-know and unsuspecting boyfriends, for one main reason: "I love your sweet pussy," boyfriend approaches pussy to lick it. "Why does it actually taste like banana/peach/strawberry?"If your

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-50189282743197875302010-11-03T21:19:00.005+11:002010-11-05T17:21:06.386+11:00

The tribe: Boris, Sergio and Liam.Boris has been taking me out on dinners, of which I am very unsure as to their purposes. Why would he come back, after all this time, and want to start dating me? Because he can't stop thinking of the one time we had sex, after I told him about why we never had. He saw a vulnerability in me that I do not see, unless I use it to my advantage. And I do not play

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-55875392828742445032010-10-27T18:54:00.003+11:002010-10-27T19:33:08.962+11:00

I woke with a sore back. Apparently bending backwards over the sofa is not in the schedule of Aleksandre.I blow dried my hair, applied another coat of nail varnish, smoked my eyes with Chanel Kaska Beige and their new mascara, lined and filled my lips with Mordore Nude, fitted myself into business attire and my new heels, and walked out the door and into the city. In disguise as a corporate

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-89606384170381364782010-10-18T12:46:00.004+11:002010-10-18T22:00:56.178+11:00

Girls like me are found everywhere. Drinking our rations of "Champagne or juice, Madam?" on business class flights across Australia, to Asia, from European capitals, to NYC and back again. Back to our very temporary homes in gorgeous leafy inner city streets, greeted by unsuspecting neighbours and discreet doormen, carted around by drivers in Mercs, or if we have true independence, sport our own

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-89938192614073006402010-10-18T12:26:00.004+11:002010-10-18T12:46:26.146+11:00

Only the corporates lost in their corporations and corporate travel eat breakfast at their respective hotels. They expense everything straight to their corporate credit cards. They leave with exactly the same amount of cash in their wallets as they arrived. The corporate mindset is ego-driven, albeit built with fear and awareness. Fear of the lack of receipt or invoice. Calculating what a

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-50538684992549036002010-09-11T22:15:00.002+10:002010-09-11T22:32:15.835+10:00

Don't mess with the Holy Grail of GraceI was in Chanel, when I watched the discreet hooker mistress girlfriend, wearing Tahitian print dress, try the three thousand dollar pearl belt as a necklace. The obviously-a-drug-dealer boyfriend nodded approvingly, from his standing position in board shorts, tattoos, high Parramatta glare. Both incessantly chewing on gum. Obviously some people, like SJP,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-10770860935530203752010-08-22T20:33:00.007+10:002010-10-18T22:44:54.784+11:00

The most selfish person I know is me. Yes, I am in self-analysis mode. It is the first few months of my most recent endeavour for a civilian relationship-type-thing, and I can't help but think about everything. Text messages, calls, remember every single word he says. Forget what I said. Did I say something so stupid? Blame it on the blonde. I never ask how someone is, except out of habit. My

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-45490250324425233382010-08-08T21:37:00.002+10:002010-08-08T21:43:20.088+10:00

Q: When to moan?A: Kissing, teasing, foreplay and main course.Playful moans and hmmms during the pre-intercourse are standard. But, how much should we do for the main event? The part when cock is going into pussy, I put on the moans. Initial, realistic yet fake moans. It’s to say that ‘Oh yes, I enjoy cock’ and it’s such a relief, because I haven’t had cock for such a long time. I remember back

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-55571044969494933772010-08-08T20:08:00.000+10:002010-08-08T22:09:15.205+10:00

I’m not going to pretend I don’t get anxiety and depression. I used to get them maybe once every three months. After starting smoking a lot of pot, I am used to rethinking my entire life every two or three weeks. Usual ‘dramas’ include recluse behaviour, and fretting that I will never be able to afford to live without Jack or working, and will never be free from the ties that bind. My life is too

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-70533618747552761052010-07-19T00:08:00.001+10:002010-08-03T00:16:41.976+10:00

Thick PaintI was sitting in the quiet lounge of ill repute, thinking to myself that I would enjoy a nice cocktail and a worldly chat. In opposition to remaining quiet, and not making any money. No one had entered the parlour for an hour or so, and I didn’t have a book to read. I can only check my emails, facebook and flight schedule so many times before I go insane. The dead plants could need

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-4804697518189384362010-07-18T19:19:00.003+10:002010-07-18T19:33:10.119+10:00

Tall, glamorous, up and down sequins. Thousands of shiny sharp discs, tacky and pink. Blow out hair, crusty with a little of Jack’s cum from the sleepy sexy night before. Lipliner shade one, lipliner shade two. Fake lashes. Blush for effect. Step through the doors. Smile. “Hi Darling, I’m Vanessa. How has your evening been? Lovely. Oh, you cheeky thing. Just follow me to reception.”Another city,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-5290762105124331852010-07-17T18:09:00.003+10:002010-07-17T18:16:00.211+10:00

I needed a change of scenery, and I thought this would be the perfect place to work my newly fully functional pussy. Jack let me stay for a few extra days on our next trip, all expenses paid. Potential for pure profit.How did I manage that? Well, it’s all thanks to Jack’s wife Anita. She decided at the last minute to come to town too. Visiting relatives. He felt a little guilty about not staying

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-57758140734360619572010-07-13T01:07:00.006+10:002010-07-13T01:28:37.168+10:00

I think I have rediscovered my inner-player. Since the Dry Pussy Syndrome went away magically, the Wild Pussy is back and ready for action. Sometimes.Telling dates and boyfriends about my job gives me no better excuse when taking up a better offer. Sugar daddies, clients, clients who want to be lovers. If I’d prefer to sleep, go out with my girlfriends, see my boyfriend, avoid sex, have

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-73102437284061429122010-07-06T14:17:00.002+10:002010-07-07T18:38:26.764+10:00

Princess of DiamondsI always seem to have three cards in my hand. King, Joker and the Jack. The King has enough money to look after his Mistress, and has the romantic idea that she will only ever be his. The Joker is on top of his game. He can be replaced with any playing card, providing suspense and entertainment. The Jack is the Prince, shining in amore and could sweep a Princess off her

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-87947328674845692272010-07-05T03:53:00.001+10:002010-07-05T03:56:23.831+10:00

All I want is passionate sex. No talking, really. Unless it’s dirty. Why do civilians go through the ordeal of dating? Insisting on dating? How tiresome. I could cook my own dinner, and maybe meet you at yours fifteen minutes after. We could fuck for an hour or two, and I could go home.I don’t know how to get it to work like that. With no speech, it clears the possibility for a relationship. We

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-23573387086235390232010-07-04T13:54:00.004+10:002010-07-06T18:42:53.360+10:00

“I like where we’re at. Casual is good for me right now,” Liam said.I got off the phone after an exchange of diplomatic, yet privately disdained pleasantries. Uh hem. Great. Okay. So, let me get this straight: Not serious? Not anything more than getting along so well and semi-okay sex? Not a chance to say I love you in the heat of the moment? And still, no sexy text messages? Nonsense.Just to get

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-27731879863219879532010-06-28T03:52:00.000+10:002010-07-07T18:34:47.320+10:00

Usually, I’m a juggler. Playing catch with a lot of balls in the air, and a lot of money. Some weeks I would be fucking at least one guy per day. Jack twice, three clients, and a boyfriend or two on the side. I’ve been so lazy lately with work, being very well supported by Jack and being quite instep with my new boyfriend Liam. I had just come back from overseas, where I could not have as much

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-67520300423399785692010-06-15T14:53:00.000+10:002010-07-07T18:31:12.951+10:00

The Momento of Incurable Romance“I can’t handle the separation,” Jack texted me at six a.m. I was three days into my incurable high of being independent. I had already picked the ring for the occasion. A cocktail size citron with diamonds on rose gold. Bvlgari would be happy I didn’t opt for the Tiffany and Co model, or the Shanghai Moon Chanel two point five five. Every time I’d look down at

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-90508213218047791642010-05-21T22:52:00.004+10:002010-07-06T18:43:52.838+10:00

I am just the face and the body attached to his sex.He fucks easy and he leaves easy. He gives money easy and he lies easy.He shows me how to treat people with as little respect as possible.He knows me when I am his little treat. He forgets me when I'm human.I am the smile and the moan attached to his sex.He shies easy and he comes easy. He gives time easy and he lies easy.He shows me when to

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-31986499193488678702010-04-01T01:49:00.000+11:002010-07-07T18:36:28.186+10:00

I had met Liam at Easter, twenty-ten. On the airplane flying across the Nullarbor Plain. I was on the way to see Jack for an evening, and to spend my hooker-holiday time away for the long weekend. He was on the way to see his folks. I had changed my seat by the trolley-go elbow-no-go zone to the window, so I could sleep on the side with the little cushion you can ask for and receive if the

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-41340971194997022612010-02-27T16:35:00.004+11:002010-07-06T19:17:20.144+10:00

Quarter to two, the busiest hour of the day, and in it I stumbled upon a gold mine of socialising opportunities, to be quaint. Outside, the locals were bitten by what they cursed as the bitter blizzard. Stepping inside, I was able to entirely forget the slippery wet stones that gambled the elegance of my entrance into this dark, warm bistro, alight with candles spotted about the tables, the fire

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-92028765250646971022010-02-16T10:32:00.004+11:002010-07-06T20:20:15.457+10:00

We were queuing at Laduree, stepping closer to the front of the line, minute by minute. This maroon velvet adorned, salon de the is an institution, I explained to Jack. Every self respecting tourist must visit once, whether in Paris or London. The May green and careful gilt title says it all about the place really, Nineteenth Century kitsch, romantic Spring Afternoon Teas in Versailles and fit

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-35684331433647323652010-02-13T08:23:00.006+11:002010-07-06T20:37:43.545+10:00

I don’t feel like working anymore. I spent the entire time with Jack during our trip. It’s not to say I didn’t try minutely to obtain work, but if I really wanted to work, I put in a big effort. Agencies, I dig up my private clients, my friends with old clients here, soliciting. But I was comfortable. Hanging out with good people, being romantic with my beau in Covent Garden, teasing myself at

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-2763211478322360582010-02-13T06:33:00.005+11:002010-07-06T23:53:28.157+10:00

Everyone in Paris is in the business of romantic scams. Anyone selling something, old furs, new socks, designer bags, designer rip-offs, their own body. It’s all at an inflated price. The time it takes for me to find two Euro centiemmes is enough for the supposedly homeless man to determine how worthy I’ll be for a second hit. Tonight or some day later. By him or a friend of his. A quick

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-66512020912016777152010-01-29T21:26:00.000+11:002010-07-07T01:32:41.433+10:00

I had a full day planned on Wednesday, and it started around nine a.m. Somewhere between seeing the client and seeing Qais I had to see Jack, because “I haven’t got any money left.” I had calculated all the possible expenses in the past week, since his last cash injection, and figured I should be broke by now. I begged him to meet me. He was available just before I was supposed to be ready for my

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-5260513727623231092010-01-29T20:18:00.005+11:002010-11-08T22:39:12.230+11:00

Cindy had pulled in a fair bit of cash for a Sunday. A couple of weeks ago I let her know the benefits of a Rub and Tug: you can charge what ever you like in tips for extras, so I heard from my good friend Stephanie. Standard fee includes sensual massage, body slide, Spanish and hand relief. For those of you who have a question mark on your face, sensual means naked, slide means tits and pussy

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-84438924887536106762010-01-24T21:32:00.004+11:002010-02-13T09:00:11.889+11:00

I am the laziest girl when it comes to cover stories. "What do you do?" Even if I was still working my office nine to five, even if I was still selling dresses to tourists and artists alike, I would still feel like I am covering for what I really do. "Nothing really!"My latest attempt at a normal relationship is as healthy as sustenance from a 'nothing really' job. He is really nice, I like him a

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-91060532270820875372010-01-21T21:01:00.002+11:002010-01-21T21:12:01.746+11:00

Okay, Okay, so I haven't posted in a few months... or so...I am disjointed, to be honest, I wouldn't know where to start.If there's anything I can't stand, it's not writing and not keeping consistency...A lot has happened since then.Now, I'm happily dating a guy (second date was last night, he doesn't know what I do) who is keen on me, not sure about the 'lack' of attention via sms though (at

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-51711839484394121132009-11-10T21:21:00.002+11:002009-11-10T21:37:24.689+11:00

The last human words I heard. The housekeeping supervisor. It's 14:22 and I have an appointment at 3pm.The room of this five star, high ceilinged suite looks like somebody lives in it. And I'd like them to hurry the hell up, because shortly nobody will live here. Just a call girl and a paying body will inhabit for a couple of hours. I hope it is like yesterday's two hour A-level that lasted a

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-64243857069994769482009-07-26T16:40:00.005+10:002009-07-26T17:14:36.413+10:00

I'm not going to lie to you, I lied to Jack. Again. As usual. Well, I have to be one up on him, and have something to keep the cogs ticking. Always remember your lies, as he says.My latest lies:1. "Baby, when are you going to get me a car?"I have a car. A beautiful car. All these random and generous men paid a little bit each towards it. And for that, Jack will never know. It is better for him to

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-68123165346572727662009-06-16T02:11:00.001+10:002009-06-16T02:14:52.112+10:00

Black strappy stilettos, short black dress, Agent Provocateur lingerie. Every day. Same middle of the range johns, too. A cross section, and their faces are a blurr:- Sweaty New Zealander. Sexy as hell. Too hot in the room for that man. Blew in a matter of minutes, much to my delight. Sweated all over me, a clean, friendly sweat. Nevertheless, wet.- Ginger local. Very funny. Took me from behind

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-10784297505221141922009-06-16T02:10:00.000+10:002009-06-16T02:11:46.941+10:00

Every day was a struggle to fight off a tantrum. Normally, with a normal client, presents are no big issue. They are bought, without a question or a gulp at the price. With Jack, however, he balks at any gift. So, I told him the pearls were eight thousand pounds. I thought I was softening the blow for the one point five set in Tiffanies. To my surprise, it put him off centre, he avoided our chats

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-16305362560523232242009-06-16T02:09:00.001+10:002010-07-07T18:46:48.750+10:00

They impress no one and make us women figure different ways of constraining the breath of the offender:
1. Cocaine. Hard and soft. Great for extending time, bad for a time limit.2. Shopping for himself. In front of me. It’s like shoving my head in a toilet, especially when he invited me to go shopping.3. Shopping tomorrow. Procrastinate the Service too?4. Alcoholism. Bad temper is bad mood. No

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-68489175138139379932009-06-16T02:06:00.002+10:002009-06-16T02:09:09.931+10:00

Burning over BorisStuck in the office most of the day, trying to get everything done before I left for London. One trip to the post office, past Boris’ daily commute. Feelings I still can’t seem to resolve. No call, no text. I saw him from my car another day, at our favourite restaurant. I still go there too, the owner is always surprised at my presence. He knows we both love his place, the food,

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-61792364366289923442009-06-15T23:07:00.002+10:002010-07-07T18:55:43.843+10:00

Vogue of TransportThe difference between being a high class escort and a sugar bunny is the mode of transport. Both have a standard of luxury attached, paid for by the recipient of the service. The first travels business class with her chin high and her extra baggage catered for, and the second takes what she can, avoiding being a prima donna at all cost, to avoid being too obvious about being

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-70676828364936815852009-05-06T18:07:00.002+10:002009-05-06T18:13:57.794+10:00

Midnight calls. I never take them normally. Always the same drunk horny breed of rude rascals. Their inebriation equates to lack of cohesion and directive, therefore the wrong address and the wrong amount of cash. But I took the call, because I was awake, and curious. “Tomorrow night? Will you remember? I’ll book my tickets in the morning, after you’ve sent through the hotel confirmation. Me?

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-11611957299470132322009-04-23T19:57:00.000+10:002009-05-03T13:13:23.861+10:00

I was meeting Sergio for a drink in between dinner and cocktails with friends. By the sounds of his texts, he was expecting a pash and a grope. But with a lounge bar full of civilians, I thought better than engaging intimacy with a man twice my age. He had already made me wait half an hour. During the date with anticipation, I had the VIP manager organise my friends to be seated elsewhere, for

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-88396275192482493782009-04-20T00:31:00.006+10:002009-04-20T08:50:39.877+10:00

I was actually being myself with him. I don't know how long I can keep it up! I arrived late, forty minutes. Almost an acceptable excuse, the pouring rain. I would never be plus tard on a paid date. For a real date, however, I was pretty impressed with my ability to stick to who I am normally. We discussed every day things, told stories of old, swore on occasion, didn't fill any awkward silences

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-61331753599575929942009-04-14T18:30:00.001+10:002009-04-20T08:51:16.309+10:00

“Ask and you shall receive”My stress about not being able to go on tours in Asia, travel to France for my year’s wages and flirt in London at will, was instantly unjustified when a couple of things happened.ONE: I asked my office boss for a few weeks off in May. ‘Creative Projects’ was my prerogative. I dressed it up with a possible meet with head office. Instantly granted. Three weeks. That

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1408395723330111756.post-14413789761217052922009-04-07T13:44:00.001+10:002009-04-20T08:52:07.069+10:00

Not being able to jump on a plane at a drop of a hat is killing me! I see years of salary before my eyes. Emails of it. The problem with being all the way down in Australia, and working in an office and having ties to obligations here is that I am missing out on my best opportunities. My main Euro Money is an existential egoist Franko, so dubbed by his French counterparts and his Francophile

Juliettahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05658979453778287186noreply@blogger.com0