Secret Confessions of a High-Priced Call Girl

By Dimitra Ekmektsis

Being a call girl isn't really about the money and the sex - it's about the excitement and the experiences... A high-class call girl in New York City at 21, the mistress of a much older sugar daddy at 24, and later working in a legal brothel in Nevada, Dimitra has a tale to tell about the sex trade. In "Secret Confessions of a High-Priced Call Girl" she draws back the sheets to reveal the whole story. Written in her witty style and coupled with some very explicit entries, Dimitra portrays her estranged family, her drug use, and her adventures with men. Part autobiography, part erotic fiction, "Secret Confessions of a High-Priced Call Girl" is also a self-empowering, astute look at the oldest profession in the world.... Review (Hustler Magazine): Dimitra became the Happy Hooker of the 1990s. Now she shares some of her juiciest anectodes in a tell-all book that promises to be a bestseller, if not a celluloid shocker...

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Adult
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781849891851

Book preview

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Chapter One

Jake is on his way to my apartment. It’s time for me to get ready for our appointment. Jake likes real boudoir beauties wearing spike heels and see-through camisoles as well as he loves push-up bras, frilled panties, and stockings on legs. All my clients do.

I shower, slip into my four-inch stilettos, and walk toward the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I bring the sheer black tulle-edged thong up over my hips. Then I adjust the matching bra over my breasts. It barely covers my nipples. It’s like wearing no bra at all, but more provocative. I apply lip gloss, spray my skin with Prada Infusion d’Iris, which is my favorite scent, and look at my watch. It’s seven p.m. exactly. Jake calls from his cell phone. He’s here and has already parked in the lot behind the building. I stay on the phone until he reaches my apartment. Then I open the door.

Hi, sexy, he says.

Hi, Jake, I say, and kiss him on the cheek.

I take his hand and lead him through the living room and into the bedroom. He places a plain envelope on my dresser. I know what it contains. I don’t need to ask my regular clients for the money, and I really never have to count it. Jake, do you like my new outfit? I tease.

You know that I do.

He is rendered speechless and unable to look away. I start to undress him, while his hand slides down my back to my ass. He gets rock-hard as I unbuckle his belt and pop open his fly, and his pants fall to the floor. He’s wearing boxer shorts with a colorful pattern of martini glasses on them. His hard-on is pushing against a martini glass. I pull the shorts off, take a condom from my dresser and roll it down on his hard dick. Then I suck him off, working my mouth up and down the shaft, with my tongue swirling all around the head.

You do that so well. Don’t stop, don’t stop, he says, while his hands roam my thighs.

I continue licking and sucking his dick and rubbing his balls. He squeezes my tits through the delicate material of my bra. His breathing is really heavy.

Take it off, I tell him.

He finds the bra clasp, opens it, and helps me get the garment off my body. My nipples get hard as he squeezes them. Suddenly, he pulls his dick out of my mouth, putting it between my breasts and squeezing them together. He starts fucking my tits, the head of his cock appearing and disappearing close to my face. (My breasts are large for my body, and they are real.)

I want to go down on you, he says after a while, and peels off my thong.

My legs are open wide to give him easier access. He leaps between my thighs, burying his mouth in my pussy. He finds the right spot with his tongue and makes me come. After I come in his mouth, he kisses me from my lips down to my belly button. Then he stops, grabs my legs, and turns me over, onto my stomach. He grabs my ass and pulls it in the air so that I’m on all fours. Getting on his knees behind me, he slips his dick into my pussy and starts fucking me doggy-style. Slow at first, then faster. It feels really good. I gaze in the mirror and watch our sexual interaction. He turns me on; I come for the second time.

We keep going in this position for ages. Suddenly, he comes with a loud moan.

In a moment, he gets up and puts on his clothes carefully. Is everything straight? he asks, looking at himself in the mirror. Then, he hugs me and walks to the door.

I’ll call you soon, he says, and then he’s gone.

Let me explain: I’m a call girl. My talent lies in providing desirable companionship and pleasure. I like providing this pleasure, and I hope that by reading my story you will come to better understand me and why I do what I do. Although I’m not in love with my clients, I think sex is an important event worthy of all the planning and effort most people spend on other special occasions, such as holidays or birthdays. I don’t do anal or deep throat, but I like sex and make pretty good money.

But being a call girl isn’t really about the money and the sex - it’s about the excitement and the experiences. The majority of my clients are successful men: one is a fund manager for a bank, another is a founder of a high-tech company. A few are in property, and most are entrepreneurs. Men often feel secretly oppressed by the role they have to play every day; by having to be rational and responsible. Call girls offer an escape and release from the limitations of life - even if only for a few hours. The men I meet are very intelligent people, and it’s a mutually stimulating environment.

They pay me well for my time, be it for one hour, an evening, a weekend, or more. I am a professional girlfriend, if you will. I like to think of my time with clients as dates and I treat these men like dates (or boyfriends). So much in our society is not clear. If you go on a date, is the man supposed to open the door for you, or not? Are you supposed to offer to pay? In this kind of relationship, each party’s responsibilities are clearer. I enjoy that.

You have to have a great deal of empathy to be a call girl. I sometimes see myself as a psychoanalyst. Fifty percent of my clients are repeats who tell me a lot about their personal lives and problems. If you look at it that way, I’m not actually that expensive.

Bill is my second client today. He arrives less than thirty minutes after Jake leaves. I barely have time to get ready for him. He brings me a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino, the rarest and most expensive wine in all of Tuscany.

Bill has been married almost twenty years. He confesses that his wife wants to have sex only once a month. He’s a hopeless romantic who says he loves his wife so much he would never get divorced. Other times, he jokes that if he had killed her when they first met - instead of marrying her - he’d be out of jail already, which I don’t think is funny. But, he says, call girls are cheaper than wives and cost no more than a date.

He takes off his clothes and goes down on me. I’m shaved completely bare and my clit is pierced.

Ah, you have a fun pussy to eat, he says.

He’s really good. After I come, I sit up enough to put a condom on him. He stands on my bed while I play with his balls and suck him off. He has a very big dick. I get excited sucking him. About five minutes later, he flops down on the bed. I get on top and ride him. In a little while, I have him change to various positions. I blow him some more, squeezing his balls with my free hand, until he comes in my mouth.

Before he leaves, he asks me for some pointers. I tell him I like it when a guy talks dirty to me and takes more control; however, I explain, every woman is different. He even gives me a nice tip.

It’s funny, but my selling point is my intellect. Some men actually prefer talking to sex. It’s essential to be able to converse with them on their level. Sex is not only about the body and physical sensations. I think great sex engages the mind as well. Intellectual stimulation has limitless potential that can be accessed, regardless of physical limitations such as age or health. Most men are aroused by a woman who is intelligent. My nature is playful and sweet, and typically, the men I meet treat me with warmth and respect. But if the chemistry is not there, I don’t bother.

I have a regular, Michael. He is a corporate lawyer and my least favorite client. He called this morning.

Hello.

It’s Michael.

I cringed.

Hi, how are you? I said, unenthusiastically.

Fine. Do you have some time today?

Um, listen, can I call you back in five minutes? I said.

Michael is so pompous and self-important. When we talk, it’s like I can never say anything right; as if he knows everything and I can barely think for myself. What a pain. I hung up the phone and sat on my sofa with my Persian cat, Kenny, curled up beside me and tried to relax. I was sure he’d call back. I didn’t feel like seeing him. After it had been twenty minutes since Michael’s call, I went back to bed. Men who treat me with respect and courtesy are treated in kind.

I think it’s a common female fantasy to be in this business. I get lots of e-mails saying: I’ve always wanted to do it. Anyone can do it. You don’t need to be a supermodel - I’m a lovely, slim redhead, but there are more beautiful women out there. The men who contact me want someone intelligent and very well versed in life. My clients feel comfortable talking to me about anything, whether business or their family.

Most men find me through my website. The World Wide Web has become the main venue for a potential client to find a match. Via the Web, a man can browse hundreds of pictures and ads with phone numbers and rates for women in his area. Actually, the Internet makes meeting a call girl as easy as ordering a double cheese pizza.

Sometimes, being a call girl can be as stressful as boot camp, but there are plenty of upsides. I live and work in Reno, Nevada, where the desert is harsh and dry. But I never have to sit in traffic during rush hour, and I’m not trapped in a cubicle or chained to a desk in a nine-to-five job.

The downside is that at times you have to keep your profession a secret. Believe me, when your landlord asks you what you do, you think quickly to come up with a respectable line. This is especially true if you have developed a crush on your landlord, such as the one I have on mine. I told him that I’m a writer.

I don’t tell many people that I’m writing about this business. But those I do mention it to, especially my best friend, Amber, say, Very intriguing! (Amber is a call girl and advertises on the Internet, like me.)

Regarding my landlord: I recently entered a real estate office while going about the task of apartment hunting. I stepped into Vincent’s office and nearly lost my cool. This man was what I can only describe as delicious. And he looked like he’d be good in bed. He didn’t appear very tall, though, maybe five foot seven. I’m only five foot two, but people always say good things come in small packages. He was arguing with someone on the phone. I stared at him. Everything about him was sexy, even the way he argued. Then he glanced at me. I instantly thought that I wanted to fuck

Reviews for Secret Confessions of a High-Priced Call Girl

[praj05_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

If we lived in a world where every man could get at home all the sex and love he needs there probably would not be any prostitutes. But we don’t live in that type of world.
I’m not a drug addict. I’m not a victim of childhood sexual abuse or suffer from low-self esteem. I always say getting rewarded for being physically attractive is not an obvious barrier to self-esteem.

A candid, guilt- free, stimulating and extremely fascinating memoir, free of all the clichés and melancholic sagas.