There is so much secrecy, taboo, hidden sanctums and holy of hollies in the embodiment of an escort that those from the outside of either sex can only speculate on assumptions drawn by fleeting moments of partial interactions. Any conclusions about understanding or shedding the light, seeing through the shroud of mystery and psychoanalyzing the mechanics of her mind is a futile attempt to understand or see behind the border line.

The only way to know who the escort is, is to be one yourself. There is no other way inside the tabernacle of the source that is full of secrets.

If anybody thinks that being an escort is easy, think again.
And if anybody believes that she or he knows the “escort“ think again and again and again. If you are coming from the outside, keep digging and do it fast as in a life time you will run out of time.

Escorts simply fascinate, and their lives are so intriguing and rich in content that it spikes human curiosity and constantly challenges our need to know behind the scenes, to read the script and follow the story board as of one of a movie.
She the escort on the silver screen, bigger than life and stellar, and everybody else the supporting cast led by the silver queen. But it’s a script written by you… and she plays the role well for you.

Independent escorts, those escorts from escort agencies or brothels, they are all beautiful and each possesses that eloquent exclusiveness that sets them apart from the crowd of commoners. No wonder the attention of the many that you find in the audience of the academia elite, bohemian ateliers, cafes, forums and every parkland, alleyway and social gathering are drawn in a predictable but not least fashionable way upon them.

What do they like and dislike, do they fall in love like the rest of us does? Do they really love sex or is it the money…. are they real agents of pleasure, or manufacturing the scenes they play so well? What is what and how much for how long, the mind endlessly turning in a subliminal tango with fantasy, and from time to time reality is manifesting itself only as a precautionary measure for thought re-alignment.

They, is everybody and Them is the escort, interactive parts that never touch or relate to each other except for the purpose they are drawn for a moment.

And so for the many articles and myriad publications and all the light awash interviews, and photo shoots, the cheeky stance and the intoxicating gaze, you will know nothing more than what you are told and their eroticism and their mystery will forever continue calling your name.