escort diary® of Sixta: A Cautionary Tale
There’s a breed of caller that’s almost laughable — the cheap manipulator. He rings and rings like a broken alarm clock, hoping I’ll slip up and offer luxury for pocket change. Spoiler: I don’t.
He started sweet, like they all do.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“I just want to talk.”
Then the real game began:
“Can you give me a discount?”
“What about just a quick one?”
And my favorite?
“If you really liked me, you’d understand I’m struggling.”
Oh, baby — I’m not a charity. I’m a service. A fantasy. A luxury.
Not here to be emotionally blackmailed by someone whose wallet is lighter than his ego.
He called.
Then called again.
And again.
Cheap, pushy, desperate — the trifecta of block-worthy energy.
So I shut that circus down.
Blocked. With pleasure.
No refunds. No regrets. No tolerance for time-wasting broke boys.
This goddess doesn’t do “budget bookings.”
I only entertain those who pay... and obey.
