I was listening to a podcaster the other day—Exotic Vivian of The Sexy Escort Podcast. She was letting us listen in on a conversation with Chantelle Etwahl, another paid companion, with whom she occasionally travels with and shares time. One topic they explored struck a chord: how much more romantic men tend to be in paid dynamics than in traditional dating environments like online apps.

Since stepping into this world last October, I’ve refined not just my offerings—but the energetic boundaries that allow me to thrive.  I’ve been asked periodically how much I charge for a 30 minute session.  My response is always the same:  $600. 

I can’t get enough of people telling me I am their fantasy.  No, I’m not talking about the fantasy bookers who ring my phone hoping for free phone sex.  I’m talking especially about men who’ve had an experience with me, and are looking forward to their next opportunity to connect with me physically. 

I first heard these words spoken by Dr. Andrew Huberman on his Huberman Lab podcast. Although I don’t recall the exact topic, I know the episode was life changing. Until then, I had never encountered the concept of covert contracts.

In the world of open relationships and professional intimacy, “Condoms Required” has long been the standard. It’s a phrase that offers comfort, creates a sense of safety, and attempts to draw a clear line between responsible and reckless. I abided by it for years—both personally and professionally. I also lived by another unspoken rule: herpes-positive partners were typically vetoed before the conversation even began.

In my last blog post, I explore the journey of embracing sex work—not just as a necessity, but as a unique profession for talented and unique providers. Looking back, I’m deeply grateful for the lessons my last relationship gifted me—the kind that reshaped my understanding and softened my perception of connection, light work and purpose. Human connection is an undeniable force, sometimes presenting itself in ways that can only be understood through the lens of experience and knowledge.

For most of my life, I felt uneasy at the very thought of sex work as an intimate exchange. I couldn’t fathom that anyone would willingly trade money for such a personal experience—except, perhaps, out of sheer desperation. I still remember a trip to Vegas when friends suggested we visit one of the brothels. Both my then-husband and I were utterly mortified. Why would we ever pay for something that felt so intimate? We didn’t go, and the idea quickly fell by the wayside.

I can’t pinpoint when I first began to prefer the company of older men. It was sometime after we opened our marriage—when desire became expansive and discerning. My husband, close in age, had once been the entire landscape of my affection. But as my gaze began to wander, it wasn’t drawn by age so much as presence, and I found myself increasingly drawn to men who carried the weight of years with elegance.