Here's to popping your cork!

Well, my darling boys and girls, it's that special evening when we all have permission to pop our cork.

Whether you'll be snug at home with your loved ones or out on the town, I'll be thinking of you.

This year has blessed me with the generosity of wonderful friends, the love of an incredible SO, the soul-enriching rewards of hard work and the knowledge that my world is as close to perfect as it can possibly be.

Thank you, all. May your new year take you wherever you want to go. The only thing I ask is to be part of it-- in body or in spirit.

Bless you, and ....

Happy New Year.

A flaming sword: Truth, lies and double lives.

This week on TER, a hobbyist posted a rather repulsive question that's been haunting me like a bad song ever since. (I'm reproducing it here verbatim.)

How many woman live a double life? I've been a hobbiest for about 15 years and meet alot of wonderful ladies and not so wonderful. once in a while I get to know some of them as we talk before or after our session and they start to tell me that their boyfreinds dont know what they do or they have a regular job during the day. thats why they dont show their face. I got to admitte that turns me on a woman has some poor smuck at home thinking his woman is faithful to him or at their job she some teacher or lawer,admin assitant, any way I would love to here from some ladies and what kind of lies they tell thier spouse or freinds.

Wow. I couldn't wait to reply:

It's distasteful enough that many women have to lie to their loved ones about what they do. But to ask for sordid details about it-- for your own sexual titillation-- well, that's a pretty low source of amusement.

Lives can be ruined by lies and by truth. That so many of us have to balance on that tightrope isn't sexy. It's sad.

Several other folks pointed out to Mr. Sensitivity that men often live a double life as well... and the lies they tell their wives and family are hardly a sexy topic.

That's true enough, but let's be honest. The men who occasionally dabble in the hobby may have to account for their time and money with a lie or two... or three, depending on the level of their involvement. But lead a double life? That seems rather grand for the Ohio pharmacist who tickles his fancy at the annual convention in Toledo.

Providers, on the other hand, routinely juggle flaming swords. Law enforcement, psychos and the sexual whims of strangers go up in one throw; ruinous exposure to our family and friends comes down in another; and all the while, the floor tilts under the pressure of our own internal voice, chanting "What if? Then what? What kind of woman are you?"

A double life is almost necessarily a life in conflict. For our clients, I believe, the central conflict is hiding their true sexual nature under the veneer of monogamy. What their wives can't (or won't) give them-- variety, intimacy, excitement-- they find with us. While it's clearly a choice they are willing to make, I doubt there are too many men who really relish the subterfuge involved in seeing their ATF.

For the women who become providers, the conflict lurks under the veneer of our accommodating nature. We're wired to please. So it's a sweet moment to see that poor, needy soul achieve his moment of brilliance in our arms--- until the reality of the cold cash makes its equally compelling appearance.

Are we givers-- or takers? Our love is bought and paid for.... and I believe there exists many a fine provider who secretly loathes herself for accepting any payment other than gratitude. And to compound that ambivalence by half-truths and the emotional distance that secrecy imposes... well, there are many women who find it an unacceptable divide.

I don't live in that morass-- most of the time. In my evolution from a sexy girl to a sexy woman, then a swinger, then an escort, the joy and value of my sexuality has been drummed into me by sheer numbers. I'm thrilled to provide a thrill. And I've never been ashamed of being compensated for it.

But do I want to openly claim it as my birthright-- and with it, the scorn of society? Perhaps no more than my clients want to be labeled as tricks or johns. The unfortunate reality is that even in puritanical America, customers are readily forgiven. Providers are not.

Am I making a case for hookers as heroes? No. Am I making a case for cheating, lies, or bad faith between men and women? No again. But what I am making the case for is the recognition of what drives all of us: the need to be seen, be heard and achieve a sense of accomplishment and worth.

That white-hot sword drives a hard bargain. It's up to us whether it's worth it.

36-24-36, Hut! I was a happy little fan till....

This morning, the highly resistible (as opposed to irresistible) Bill Parcells showed up on the local news amid speculation that he'll be joining the Dolphins front office.

Well, thank God. Not that he's joining the local down-on-their-luck boys, but that he's NOT going to be Coach. Being their Coach would mean a whole new era of forced participation in the Parcellsization of the media.

I've already lived through the "Tuna's" ignominious reign in New England. Then he ham-handed my original hometown team, the Cowboys. And now-- it seems I can't get away from him.

From the moment he shows up, even veteran sportscasters lose their normal equanimity. His bluster defeats rational thought. And when a things don't go the Tuna's way, well, watch out.

Is he an indisputably excellent coach? Yes. Is he an indisputably obnoxious man? Yes again. Can he help the hapless Dolphins regain their balance? I hope so.

Is he a welcome addition to Tabu's world (which does include enjoying men in tight white pants?)

I think you've already figured that one out.

Of course, I'm always a "ho".....

but sometimes I'm a Ho-Ho-Ho!

So today I'm here to declare joy to my own little world-- the world of swingers, hobbyists, my UPS man, Tom Brady, Bear Grylls and Matt Damon. (All of whom I'd like to unwrap under the tree.)

Yup, here in my Hollywood, everyone's getting in the holiday spirit-- and into my panties, I might add. Saturday night I sashayed down the street dressed in red... and from the looks I got from the fellows driving by, it seemed clear that Christmas doesn't come just once a year!

Kissing under the mistletoe, orgies under the tree.... I love the holiday traditions! Spice them up with Tabu twist, of course, and the results are naughty and nice. Mmmm....let me dip my tongue in a pool of creamy eggnog and let it slowly roll down onto my breasts. Sometimes calories just don't count!

Milk and cookies for Santa? Gee, I don't know. There's barely enough for me, the reindeer and all the elves. Of course, I have very discriminating taste in elves.

It just goes to show that in 2007, the holiday spirit still reigns. And even if the Dow is sagging, my favorite cocks are still standing strong. So join me in celebrating a not-so-silent night.... and may you have many of your own!

And the Oscar goes to...

OK, my last blog asked the question-- "Why don't fellows repeat when you have a great session?"

Tokai presented an interesting answer and one, I confess, I hadn't thought of... even though I suppose it's very obvious to the hobbyist. A really good provider makes the gent feel as though it's been great for her... even if it's actually been less than stellar. That's her job. So, he asks, how can a gent tell the difference between genuine arousal and pleasure and a Meryl Streep-worthy performance?

It's a conundrum. But if you want to look at it from another point of view, forget the provider. The flip side is how we've made the gentleman feel. Though I'm no Ph.d in sex, I've been around this phenomenon a few times myself... and I think I can tell when a raging hard-on, star-struck gaze and breathless thanks are the result of genuine chemistry. There are sessions and there are extraordinary encounters.

I believe the extraordinary encounters - the 10/10s - deserve the chance to be repeated.

So here's my challenge, if you care to take it. If you've had a mind-blowing experience with me-- or any lady-- take a chance and see her again. Should either of you expect the same to-Nirvana-and-back experience? Why put pressure on yourselves? The chemistry that kicked your endorphins into high gear will very likely still be there--- and so will the chance to create another delicious memory.

I love my job. And when my most memorable encounters turn into the opportunity to create an even deeper level of pleasure and connection... well, that's simply the best.

And as Christmas approaches, I think this hard-lusting vixen and her friends deserve the best. Don't you?

Love 'em and leave 'em?

Yesterday, a hobbyist brought up an interesting question. When you have a fabulous experience with a provider-- one that transcends normal pay-to-play titillation-- do you repeat with the lady or flee, in fear that you'll develop too much emotional attachment?

I've had several clients with whom I've had totally rocking, over-the-top, mind-blowing experiences. As I said goodbye to them, still panting, I could hardly wait until they returned.

It's a frustrating mystery to me why some never came back.

I'm not the type who usually has guys "fall in love" with me-- I'm sexy and giving, but it's clear that I'm not available for anything more. So I don't think an untoward emotional attachment explains it.

When you're paying, presumably, for a mind-blowing time, why wouldn't you want to repeat? Some of my 10/10 reviews came from just such sessions--- but even those hobbyists haven't always become regulars.

My escort girlfriends and I have talked about this phenomenon many times-- so I know I'm not alone.

Boys-- if we REALLY rock your world, reward us with repeat visits! You wouldn't want us to cry ourselves to sleep!

The Sexiest Spot in Hollywood... Were you there?

OK, boys and girls, please raise your hand for this morning's Hottie Roll-Call. Only those in attendance at last night's TER Meet and Greet may respond.

The boys first. Organizers and hosts extraordinaire Haya and Sofla? Yes, I see Haya, waving weakly from a plump bed pillow.... you deserve your rest for all the work you put in, darling. And Sofla, one of my personal ATFs, already springing into action this morning.... thank you for your delightful and oh-so-delectable presence.

Swimtreker, who accompanied Boca's hottest new babe, Sabrina... welcome to the class! Keystone, I see you smiling at the memory of my decolletage... and another west coast boy, Wilco, hope you enjoyed our chat. TrueBrit, you're a charming addition to this side of the pond... and feisty Bob, your humor spins a wicked web. Tredence, I haven't forgotten your shy smile... and Chivas, I like to save you for last. Yum.

And the girls... what a bevy of booties! I mean beauties, of course... although there were booties, boobies and mile-high legs everywhere I looked.

The MILF contingent came out in all its glory... Jessie, Summer and my special partner -in-crime, Allie... say hello, you gorgeous ladies. I'm proud to be among your ranks.

New York's lovely Laney, what a petite cutie pie you are! The longest legs prize went to newcomer Courtesan Jess. Good Golly Miss Molly, I saw you bring your A-game... and Toni, whenever there's sexy fun to be had, you're in the middle of it. The west coast ladies weren't to be outdone.... thank you making the trek, Kristen and Ellyse!

Kisses, giggles and phone numbers made the rounds... and the only one missing was Sly, our revered Moderator. We missed you, Mr. AWOL-- so you had better make the next one!

So from this other hot spot in Hollywood, Tabu's Lair, I want to say "Well Done!" to our Party Central crew and everyone who made the Hard Rock the place to be last night.

You all rock.

Red Lipstick

I love my luscious red lips. Years ago, when I tried to keep my lipstick in place through kisses, sips of champagne and blow jobs, I was one frustrated diva.

Then one day I noticed a swinger friend of mine whose lips were always perfectly berry-stained, no matter what her horny little mouth had gotten her into.

Well, inquiring lips needed to know. "Oh," she generously explained, "I have this special lipstick called LipSense. Once it's on, it's on."

That day went down in Tabu history. And from then on, my own pout found the perfect orangey-red that suited my auburn hair and ivory complexion. And when I've glossed them up, even I want to stick a dick in them.

So what it is about red, shiny lips that make me-- and most of the hornsters I know-- want to come closer?

Desmond Morris speculated in The Naked Ape that we're genetically coded by evolution. Moist, deep-colored lips on the mouth, he contended, was a strong instinctive reminder of the lips down below. So when the female of the species (and that would be me) wants to attract the opposite sex, a moist slash of deep pink or red serves as a "Hey, you!" to just the right boys.

Now, the current fashion calls for pale lips and a more heavily accentuated eye... so as not to put too much color on the face, I suppose. But those girls look dead to me. So I'll stick with what's working for me... and for those who do end up putting something in my hungry little mouth.

In my case, red stands for "Go!" But then, you knew that, didn't you?