A Client's Perspective: Sex in the City

By Maisie Summers

Are you considering utilising Mark’s services? But nervous about contemplating your first date with an escort?

If you’re reading this, you’ve already started the journey to sexual empowerment. Want to know how it ends? Read on for my own transformation, which will hopefully inspire you to continue on your path to personal pleasure.

I’m female, 55, and I like sex. If you’re here, you obviously feel the same way. Whatever your

situation, this is a non-judgmental space. It doesn’t matter why you’re here. Only that you are, and that you therefore believe you deserve to be able to explore your sexuality.

Why am I here? I have a ten-year dead bedroom with a husband I love but who is chronically ill. His libido and interest in sex has vanished, and because of that, so has our intimacy. We’re like roommates, and in many ways I’m almost a carer. It’s devastating, both physically and emotionally. There are many reasons why I choose to stay. They’re not important for this

blog post. All you need to know is that it’s my choice, but it’s very, very hard.

If you’ve been there, you know how easy it is to assume a dead bedroom is at least partly your fault. I’m no longer as young, thin, smooth, or toned as I used to be. That’s one reason why he doesn’t want me, right? And therefore, presumably, neither would any other guy. I told myself I was too old for sex. But despite this, I longed to be intimate with someone again. I was desperate to be touched, and to touch someone else. To be wanted.

My journey began with reading other people’s experiences in the /DeadBedrooms subreddit on Reddit, which was a revelation. So many people were in my position, and felt the same way—lonely and unwanted, frustrated and resentful. I commented on posts and received many DMs from guys as a result (even though they weren’t supposed to—but they were lonely too). I didn’t mind—I wanted to talk. It felt like a safe environment to me as long as I didn’t reveal anything personal, and I could just block them if I was worried.

I chatted to them all, and 99% of them were really great guys from all over the world (I blocked only one out of several dozen). I had a great time! Yes, they wanted to talk about sex, (so did I!) but many of them were also keen to talk about their own experiences and emotions, which were similar to mine, and that really helped me. But the most important thing I learned was that none of these guys gave a hoot about their partner’s changing or aging bodies. They didn’t care about soft tummies or stretch marks or cellulite. They didn’t expect their partners to stay looking twenty. Many felt the same self-consciousness about their own bodies. All they wanted was their partner to want them, and to be enthusiastic in the bedroom. They loved the way I was interested in sex and found me attractive because of it. That was revolutionary to me, and totally changed the way I saw myself. And I started wondering what options were available for me outside my marriage.

I didn’t want an affair. I didn’t want the emotional or practical complications. I love my husband, and he needs me, and I didn’t want to leave my marriage. But I was so incredibly touch-starved. So physically lonely. Ten years is sooooo long. You can’t understand unless you’ve been there.

We all know that many guys aren’t shy about paying for sex. They seem to understand more

than we do that it’s a physical need. And so I wondered what was available for women. I

googled escorts and companions. And the search turned up hundreds of rent boys, most of

whom were gay or bi, and very young. If that’s your thing, go you! You’ll have plenty to choose from. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. And then I found Mark!

Right from the start, I was impressed. His website had excellent spelling and grammar (which is the biggest turn-on for me, lol), and classy photos. He was in his forties, which I much preferred, clearly intelligent, and compassionate. He understood my situation. I found out later that it was because he’d been in my position, and he knew how hard it is to be in a dead bedroom.

I’m very old-fashioned. Incredibly naive and innocent. I’d only ever had sex with one man - my husband. Yes, you read that right. I wasn’t considering this as a serious option. Paying for sex was seedy, right? And dangerous? Meeting a stranger and letting him be intimate with me? Oh my God. There was no way I could do that.

But the thing is, Mark didn’t feel like that. His website made me feel that it was a sensible, safe option—much safer than meeting a stranger on a dating app. I read all his reviews, which stated how much his clients had enjoyed their appointments. It was just too bad I lived at the opposite end of the country. And then I found out I was going to Christchurch for a work conference.

It didn’t matter; I couldn’t possibly do it. But I contacted Mark anyway—not to book him, but to tell him I loved his website and how much he seemed to understand women in my position.

He emailed back the same day, and he was polite, respectful, warm, and funny. We chatted for long enough for me to agree to meet him in my hotel—ostensibly for a drink, as he offers

platonic dates too, and that felt unthreatening and safe—but we could take it further if I felt

comfortable. I told him I was nervous and that I wasn’t the type to show up in an evening gown and high heels. Okay, hoodies and sneakers it is, he said, which put me at easy immediately. I decided if I was too terrified or didn’t like him, I’d be polite, finish my drink, and head back to my room alone as fast as my legs could carry me, and no harm done. I was fully prepared for that to happen.

But the thing is… the moment I saw him, I knew I was going to go through with it. He was tall, good-looking, slim, athletic, well presented, clean-shaven, and he smelled great. He was as warm, funny, charming, and charismatic as he’d been on email, with a slight wicked streak that I adored. He didn’t seem turned off by my nerdy, dorky behaviour, and he teased me for knocking over the coffee table, which I loved. I liked him, and at that moment, sitting there with my money burning a hole in my pocket, I knew that I deserved this.

We headed off to my room and shared an amazing few hours of talking, kissing, and intimacy that blew my mind. We’d talked about what I missed and what I did and didn’t want. I’d told him that I didn’t need anything fancy. For me, this wasn’t about exploring kinks (although he does that too!) It had been so long for me that I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to do it! I just needed to be intimate. I craved to be wanted. Just for an hour or two.

He was patient, and respectful, and oh my God so incredibly sexy. He looks like such a good

boy, but he really isn’t when his clothes come off. He knew exactly what I wanted, and h

delivered it 100%. He checked in with me from time to time to ensure I felt safe and comfortable, but equally, he was passionate and made me feel as if he wanted me. He was perfect.

Oddly, paying for it made me feel in control. He made it clear it was about my wishes, my

desires, my pleasure. It wasn’t about him getting off—although he did, LOL, because I wanted that more than anything. I wanted to pleasure a man too, and he was more than happy to let me! He wanted to make it special for me. And for the first time in ten years, I felt desired. This was about me; it was essential, a moment purely for me that went much deeper than just sex and made me feel validated as a person and a woman.

If I had my time again, I would try to take advantage of his Return to Intimacy programme,

because it was a lot to expect of myself to go from nothing to full intimacy in the time we had together. I was so nervous and needed a good deal of warming up, and five appointments would have been perfect. Meeting first to talk about what I was and wasn’t looking for; a platonic date to get to know one another; a sensory session and maybe some kissing; exchanging massages and getting to know one another’s bodies; and then a full intimacy session sounds absolutely ideal. I had to cram it all into four hours, LOL. But I was only in the city for a limited time, and it says something about his talents that he put me at ease enough to move through all the phases in that time. (A glass of wine on an empty stomach mixed with all that adrenaline might have helped!)

It had nothing to do with my marriage. I didn’t—and still don’t—feel an ounce of guilt, and you shouldn’t either. Why you’re here doesn’t matter. It’s nobody else’s business. Nobody knows or understands your situation and how much you need this like I do. You don’t need to explain it to anyone.

So if you’re on the fence, I’m here to tell you that it was the highlight of my year and one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. No, it hasn’t led to me having an affair or leaving. I’m still

married. In fact, it helped me to stay. And no, I’ve never told my husband. I keep the memory locked up inside me, and when I need to, I take it out and cradle it like a precious, rare gem. It reminds me that I am special. My needs are important. I matter. And so do you.

Maisie