Saturday, May 19, 2007

George Clooney or George Costanza... who's behind Door #307?

Recently someone asked me if I'd ever had a client so handsome that he made me shake like a little girl.

"Well," I started to retort automatically, "I'm not easily shaken. Stirred, maybe." Then I remembered Tony.

A businessman from Canada, he engaged me for dinner and dessert while he was visiting Miami. But when his hotel door opened in response to my knock, I thought, Shit. I must have gotten the wrong room!

While I was mentally backpedaling, he spoke.

"You must be Tabu," he greeted me, his hand extended. I'm afraid I shook it rather mechanically as I tried to re-gain my composure.

Now, here's the part you have to understand. Nine times out of ten, I meet someone much closer to George Costanza than George Clooney. I almost expect a little paunch, maybe a bald spot... it makes me feel at home.

But the gentleman inviting me so graciously into his room wasn't George or George. He was Brad Pitt at the Oscars. Tall. Tan. Aquamarine eyes. Strong shoulders, a sculpted waist, and a tight ass-- all packed into extremely well-fitting slacks and a dark gray cashmere sweater.

I won't lie. All night I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was just too good to be true. Eventually he had to show his true colors-- he'd be impotent, selfish, grabby, something.

But no. He bought me a delicious meal, entertained me with witty conversation, enquired my opinion, engaged my interest... and when we returned to the room, he wooed me as ardently as a long-lost lover.

The moral of this story? Actually, I see two. The first I hear in my mother's voice: Sweetie, handsome is as handsome does. And the second, I hear in my own: Sometimes there is no other shoe!

Friday, May 18, 2007

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Notches in the Bedpost

Sometimes seeing an escort is all about the obvious. Man gets horny, man finds website, man seals deal.

Other times, it's not so simple.

When a polite young fellow sought out my company a few months ago, I hesitated at first. "Rick" was only 27, under my age limit by several years. But he patiently provided everything I needed to feel comfortable, including the names of three escort references. They all assured me he was a charmer.

The night of our appointment, Rick appeared to be everything the girls had said: masculine, attractive, soft-spoken and confident. Still, I wanted to take his measure. Slipping my hands under his shirt, I grazed a fingernail across his nipple. He caught his breath... and the sudden engorgement against my leg told me that I'd struck a nerve.

Soon we had sampled every tasty delight that room service doesn't deliver... and the time seemed right to reach for a cover.

"Um, wait a second, Tabu..." he murmured as he stopped my hand. "I need to tell you something."

I paused and looked up his face: his expression was a mixture of pride, chagrin, and hesitation.

"I'm a virgin," he said.

I pulled back and gazed at him in confusion. But before I could question him, he elaborated.

"I know it sounds strange, but I'm saving that one thing for the girl I finally end up with. It's old-fashioned, I guess... but it's just how I feel about it. I hope you aren't upset."

Wow, I thought. And then I'm sure a moment went by before I framed my answer-- because I wanted to give him the respect of an absolutely honest reply.

"No," I assured him. "I'm certainly not upset. I think it's great that you're sticking with your principles. The girl that does win your heart is going to be getting a man with some real character."

The rest of our time was spent in a lovely cuddle and intimate chat, and soon it was time for him to leave.

"I really enjoyed meeting you," he said as we hugged at the doorway. "Thank you... for everything."

"It was my pleasure," I said sincerely. And as I watched him make his way down the hall, I thought-- there goes one in a million. A man who knows what he wants, what he stands for, and how to draw the line when the line needs to be drawn.

From the mouth of babes.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Paris Hilton, Tiger Woods and Tabu?

While I can appreciate the perks of being rich, I've never understood the quest for celebrity. Sure, it may get you past a velvet rope or two, but what about when you're on the way to 7-11? Do you really want paparazzi dogging your Slurpee-craving butt?

Last week in Tampa, my friend Allie was very amused when I got "outed" on the street. Some poor slob in a pickup- probably an honest hobbyist or lurker- comes rolling up as we're walking back to our hotel, coffee in one hand, Walgreen's bag in the other, in jeans, sunglasses and in decidedly non-provider mode.

"Hey," he yells from the driver's seat. "Are you Tabu?"

I quickly glance at Allie in a bit of a panic. "Excuse me?"

"ARE YOU TABU?!?" he bellows.

"I don't know what you mean," I manage to stutter out, blessing the red light that's keeping him from following us as we turn the corner.

We get all of ten feet away before Allie bursts out laughing.

"Shut up," I mutter. "Jesus! Just tell everybody in Tampa, why don't you, asshole!"

She can no longer contain herself. "Hah, hah, you're famous! I'm so impressed! I'm with a celebrity!"

"Oh, yeah, that's great," glancing back over my shoulder. "What if you'd been my sister, or a civvie friend who doesn't know I'm Tabu? That would be pretty hard to explain, wouldn't it?"

For a nano-second she considers that scenario."Well, yes, that could be pretty awkward," she concedes. Her face sobers, then lightens again.

"But I'm not! And you're so famous he knew you from a single glance! Oh my God!"

Well, dear readers, I do not consider myself famous... at least outside of a small circle of interested parties in Miami, Chicago, DC and now, perhaps, Tampa.

But if in your wanderings, you do spot a certain busty redhead that you're sure you've seen before, do me a favor, please. Wait till I'm gone before alerting the media.

I'll do the same for you.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Missed my "Home" Boys!

Well, the Tampa Experiment didn't really float my boat. The hotel was recommended by several people and turned out to be shabby (not chic). The location- well, I'm used to a bigger city, I guess... and walking 5 long blocks for a decent cup of joe just isn't on the Tabu agenda.

The good part-- several interesting new acquaintances and some VERY fun "catching up" with a couple of old friends. I love how you can pick up right where you left off... ooooh!

So now I'm back in Hollywood and looking forward to connecting with some of my homeboys!
Gentlemen, start your engines!

Monday, May 7, 2007

Packing my bags...

I love packing for a Tabu tour... let's see. Better not forget:

  • Stockings and garterbelt
  • push-up bras and curve-hugging thongs
  • sexy stilettos
  • light perfume to spritz in secret places
  • schoolgirl skirt, Naughty Nurse outfit and other roleplay looks
  • lots of "supplies"
  • corkscrew
  • naughty toys
  • energy bars
  • "Let's Go-for-It" attitude!
See you in Tampa!

Wednesday, May 2, 2007


Do you get an extra little frisson of excitement when you're meeting someone new? I know I do.

Unlike a friend of mine, who confesses to major jitters when she walks into the presence of a stranger, I see it as a sensual adventure. Who knows what I'm going to find under the layers of civility he put on this morning?

Even more titilliating- what secret depths is he going to uncover in me?

As open as I am in this blog- and in my life-- there are always little corners of the mind that veil themselves until someone lifts the curtain.

Will that person be you?