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Fictional Interlude: Necessity

Posted in Fiction, Miscellaneous, Philosophy, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 24, 2011| 30 Comments »

Necessity gives the law and does not itself receive it.  –  Publilius Syrus, Sententiae (#399)

I could tell right away that he was going to be difficult.  To start with, he had put off the appointment four times, and the delays were accompanied by silly questions and “I’ve never done anything like this before” sheepishness.  Then he turned up twenty minutes late, but I had anticipated that and had nothing else scheduled until after dinnertime.  Finally the door chime rang, and I practically had to drag him in to prevent his standing there, hat in hand, as though he were afraid of me.

“Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable.  Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, ma’am, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble.  Is iced tea OK?”

“Sure, that’ll be great.”  Then as I returned and handed him the glass, “You have a nice place here.”

“Thank you, Craig.  I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

A slight pause, and then, “Do you play?” gesturing at the chessboard.

“Not very well, I’m afraid,” I laughed.  “I’m much better at backgammon, but the chessboard makes a nicer display piece and a lot of my gentlemen enjoy playing.”

A slight twitch of his left eye; he was wound so tight I was afraid he’d jump if I touched him, so I didn’t.  “We can play if you like.”

“Oh, no, I’m not very good either, though I’m studying a book on technique.”

“Books are fine, but there’s no substitute for experience,” I purred.  No good; if he caught the double-entendre he gave no sign.  I had my work cut out for me.  “The set was a gift from my grandfather; he was a chess master and hoped that a pretty set would interest me in the game.”

“It’s very nice.  You said was, has he passed on?”

“Yes, last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  He had a rich and full life, and when the end came he faced it bravely and without regrets.”

“How does your family feel about what you do?”

I would like to think my face didn’t register my shock at such an abrupt transition, but I can’t be sure.  “Well, you know how it is; one’s parents often have plans of their own, and they can’t help being disappointed when one goes in a different direction.”

“What did they want you to do?”

“My father suggested I go into psychology and my mother agreed, and since the subject intrigued me I complied.  But while doing my post-graduate work I become interested in sexology, and my doctoral dissertation was on the role of regular sexual activity in alleviating nervous tension in males with high-stress jobs.  After I got my degree I decided to become an applied practitioner rather than a researcher, and here I am.  My folks weren’t exactly overjoyed with my choice, but they respect it even if they don’t understand it.  How do your parents feel about your career?”

“Oh, my dad’s really proud of me, but my mom, well…”

“Mothers never really like it when their children travel far from home, even if it’s for important reasons.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted.  Then, a bit grudgingly I thought, “You’re pretty smart.”

“Does that surprise you?” I countered.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that!  It’s just, well…”

“You didn’t expect brains in a whore.”

“I didn’t call you a whore!” he exclaimed.

“No, you didn’t,” I said with the most disarming smile I could manage.  “Maybe you should.”

“I wasn’t raised like that!”

Aha!  Now I understood his reluctance, and knew how to deal with it.  “Craig, you’re very young yet, and very idealistic.  And while I hope you hold on to as much of that as you can, there are times when one has to be pragmatic.  I freely chose this career because I think what I’m doing is important.  And if a lot of other people didn’t agree with me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“I know you’re right, and I’m actually really excited about being with you.  You’re very beautiful-“

“Thank you.”

“-and I’ve fantasized about our appointment for the last week,” he admitted.  “But at the same time I can’t help feeling guilty.”

“That’s not unusual, honey.  Lots of my gentlemen feel guilty, especially at first.  But men, especially fit and healthy young officers, have physical needs that must be taken care of if they’re going to perform at peak capacity.  And since necessity demands that you be separated from your wife for the next three years, I’m here to fill in for her in the meantime.”

“I know, but I still feel like I’m cheating on her.”

“It’s not cheating if she knew about it and agreed to it,” I said.  “I can bring up a scan of her signed disclosure form if you like.”

“You don’t have to do that, I know.  It just feels weird is all, like she only agreed because she had to.”

“Nobody was drafted for this mission; everyone here is a volunteer, including you and me.  As in any major undertaking, we all have our parts to play.  And for Karen to be able to play her part, she can’t be here for you now.”

He started a little at the mention of his wife’s name, forgetting that I had access to the records of all the men to whom I was assigned.  “It doesn’t seem very fair to you, though.”

“I had a choice, just as we all did, and choices carry consequences.  Since star travel induces an irreparable degeneration in the ability of a woman’s body to carry a child to term, female colonists need to make the trip in suspended animation so as to slow the decay down to an acceptable level.  And that means a few of us need to stay awake to keep you men sane and healthy.  Maybe one day they’ll lick the problem and future couples can experience the voyage together, but for now this is the best solution we’ve come up with.”

“But that means you can never have children of your own,” he said with genuine sympathy.

I took his hand.  “That’s a consequence I accepted.  Besides, if I really want them one day I can always employ a surrogate.  Maybe your Karen will volunteer, and then she can help me by temporarily taking my place just as I helped you by temporarily taking hers.”

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Fictional Interlude: Faerie Tale

Posted in Fiction, Miscellaneous, Philosophy, tagged , , , , , , on April 21, 2011| 5 Comments »

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.  –  John Keats, “La Belle Dame Sans Merci”

“So, where did you hang her?” Humphrey asked over his pipe.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The portrait, man.  The Tudor lady you purchased at the auction yesterday.  After what you paid I expected to see her prominently displayed.”

“Oh, that.”  Llewellyn shrugged.  “It was a whim.”

Humphrey laughed.  “I’ve known you for over twenty-five years and I don’t recall your ever indulging such an expensive whim before.”

“That’s because you didn’t know me when I was young; when I first came to London in the sixties I was quite the rakehell.”

“I don’t believe it; you’re the steadiest man I know.  Perhaps a few youthful indiscretions, but a roué?  Never.”

Llewellyn grew quiet for a time and then said, “I tell you that I was the worst scoundrel in the metropolis.  I was a bounder and a cad, and if not for the timely intervention of the supernatural I should have ruined the lives of many more women than I did.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, which Humphrey eventually broke with, “I have never known you as one to spin yarns, but…see here, Llewellyn, you’re a modern man and I know you believe in a rational, ordered universe.  Surely you aren’t trying to convince me that you were haunted into reform as Scrooge was.”

Llewellyn laughed.  “No, not haunted exactly, and to my knowledge I have never seen a ghost.  But certainly you would agree that Man has much to learn about the world in which he lives.  Ten years ago who would have believed that there existed invisible light rays which could penetrate solid matter and enable a photograph to be taken of the bones inside living flesh?  But then Professor Roentgen discovered them, and now they are an established fact.”

“In other words, your reclamation was due to some mysterious physical phenomenon not yet understood, yet still susceptible to scientific discovery?  I suppose I can accept that.”

“Well…not a physical phenomenon exactly.  I would say that my reform was effected by some incomprehensible psychical power manifested by a human, or at least apparently human, being.”

“Apparently human?  I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You’re aware that in prehistoric times, there was more than one human species, for example the Neanderthal man.  What if one of those races survived into modern times?  They might seem outwardly human but be possessed of different abilities and a longer life-span than ours.”

“Ah, you refer to the theories of your countryman Machen, that encounters with a near-human species might have given rise to legends of fairies.”

“My idea is similar, yes.  Many of the old legends surrounding the Good People may thus have a basis in rational fact.”

Humphrey smiled.  “Am I to believe that you were cured of your dissolute ways by the timely intervention of a fairy godmother?”

“Actually, she was a fairy harlot.”

“Oh, I say!” Humphrey protested.  “This is simply too much!”

“Sit down, George,” his friend gently urged.  “I shall tell you what happened, and then you can judge for yourself.”

“Very well, then,” said Humphrey dubiously.

“As you know, my father owned several mills and was quite wealthy by the time I was born; he and my mother both indulged me terribly and never heeded the scriptural advice about the rod.  Accordingly, I was quite spoilt by the time I set out for the capital in ’62, determined to live my life to the fullest.  My allowance was generous and I was skilled at cards, so I had plenty to spend on drink and women, and spend I did.  Four years I went on thus, and most certainly would’ve ended my days with some brother’s or father’s bullet in my chest had I continued much longer.

“You have probably thought of me as a confirmed bachelor, one of those stony specimens unmoved by the charms of the fair sex, but that was certainly not so in those days; I bedded every woman I could charm or bribe into surrendering her favors, and it concerned me not if she were a professional, a dilettante or a novice so long as she was comely.  But over time my appetites grew more difficult to appease, and I began to patronize specialists and expensive courtesans, and to use the more common sort of girl in a most abominable fashion.

“But finally there came to my notice a woman from my own country, herself recently arrived in town; her beauty was said to be incomparable and her skill at singing and playing unsurpassed, and I decided I must have her without delay no matter what her price.  My friends warned me not to waste my time; she had spurned every offer she had received, or named prices far beyond their means, but this fixed me all the more firmly in my resolution to enjoy her.

“Accordingly, I made an appointment to meet her and found that the admiration heaped upon her was not exaggerated; she was the loveliest creature I had ever seen, with a voice like an angel, and she sang strange songs in a dialect which was unknown to me and yet hauntingly familiar.  And when at last I could wait no longer and pleaded to be allowed her intimate company, the fee she required was quite dear but well within my means.

“That night was like nothing I had ever experienced; I daresay it is not possible to know any greater pleasure this side of the grave.  But when I sank, exhausted and unimaginably happy, into a deep slumber beside her, my sleep was disturbed by strange phantasms and I awoke with a vague sense of dread to find myself lying on a floor in an abandoned building.  I stumbled into the street in a state of great alarm and confusion, eventually finding my way home hours later and collapsing into my own bed, where I slept until late in the day.

“And since that time, my friend, I have never been able to look upon any mortal woman without comparing her to that peerless nymph and finding her as unappetizing as stale bread.  I sank into a deep depression, and only pulled myself from it by devoting my life to scholarship and good works, thus becoming the person you see before you.”

Humphrey sat in silence for a very long time before asking, “Do you believe she came to town specifically to turn you from your evil ways?”

“I do believe that, yes.  Perhaps she owed some ancestor of mine a favor and resolved to repay the debt by saving me from a wasted life.”

“Ancestor?”

Llewellyn nodded.  He rose and beckoned Humphrey into his study, where the 16th-century painting he had purchased stood on an easel.  He then went into a cupboard and withdrew a portfolio containing a number of sketches; they were dated over a period of forty years, and though they demonstrated a gradual improvement in technique over the years they were unquestionably all of the same woman – she of the portrait.

“No mortal artist could possibly do her justice,” said Llewellyn with infinite sadness, “but I had no choice but to try or go mad with the need to see her face again.  I wonder if the poor devil who painted that” – he gestured toward the antique – “went through the same thing I did.”

“Well, the resemblance is certainly striking, but perhaps they’re only related,” ventured Humphrey, but he knew the falsity of his words even as he spoke them.  Even through the imperfect medium of pigment on wood, the subject was enchanting and he found he could not look long into her painted eyes without feeling a strange sense of longing.

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The Pro-Rape Coalition

Posted in Current Events, Perception, Tyranny, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2011| 59 Comments »

It is curious to speculate why pornography is considered especially likely to stimulate its readers into performing the activities described.  The literature of murder is a vast one…but I have never seen it seriously suggested that…[it] tended to deprave and corrupt, or would incite weak-minded or immature readers into carrying out in reality the activities described in the fantasies.  On the contrary…representatives of all the most respected professions have stated that detective stories are among their favorite reading.  Musing about murder is apparently “healthy”; musing about sexual enjoyment is not. –  Geoffrey Gorer

In the commentary following the Jill Brenneman Interviews which was later gathered into the second Jill Brenneman Q & A column, Amanda Brooks pointed out the real meaning behind the prohibitionists’ labeling those who support sex worker rights the “pro-prostitution lobby”; as Jill said, “There is NO ‘pro-prostitution’ as it is represented by the antis.  I don’t know that people without experience from within the anti movement realize the horrible meaning [they] attach to that.  [They] believe that all prostitution is bought and sold rape; what they are saying by calling us ‘pro-prostitution’ is that we are ‘pro-rape’, that we are deliberately trying to get as many women raped, assaulted and hurt as we can.”  But as I pointed out in my column of September 24th:  A number of cross-cultural studies such as this one have shown that in every culture where prostitution is legalized, the rape rate dramatically decreases; the author of the linked paper predicts a 25% decrease in rape in the US if prostitution were legalized.  That’s right, the neofeminists and politicians know what’s best for women, so they allow an extra 25,000 of us to be raped every year rather than bury their opposition to a venerable institution which also provides income for many tens of thousands of other women. But I’m sure all the women who were raped by sex-mad men this year can rest assured in the knowledge that their torture was not in vain; after all, it was necessary to advance the holy neofeminist cause of preventing heterosexual males from having convenient access to sex.

In other words, there really is a “pro-rape coalition”, but it’s not those who support sex worker rights; it’s the neofeminists and politicians who oppose measures which have been shown to decrease rape.  And decriminalization of prostitution isn’t the only such measure; as pointed out in Radley Balko’s Agitator column of last Thursday, widespread availability of porn is also associated with lower rape rates, so of course the Pro-Rape Coalition wants it banned as well:

Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) has sent a letter to Attorney General Eric Holder demanding more federal obscenity prosecutions. The letter was co-signed by more than 100 other senators and congressmen.  Here’s an excerpt:

Last June, an important briefing in the Capitol outlined how pornography has changed, becoming more harmful, addictive, and available, and linked to other crimes.  Researchers, scholars, and other experts explained, for example, how today’s hardcore pornography is typified by extreme violence against women and how pornography consumption can contribute to sexual harassment and sexual violence.  Another expert warned that Internet adult pornography normalizes sexual harm to children, while another addressed the growing connection between pornography and sex trafficking…Simply put, we know more than ever how illegal adult obscenity contributes to violence against women, addiction, harm to children, and sex trafficking.  This material harms individuals, families, and communities and the problems are only getting worse.

Hatch is full of crap.  We don’t “know” any of these things.  In fact, every conceivable social trend over the last 20 years obliterates the idea that porn is causing widespread societal harm.  The rise of the Internet in the mid-1990s made porn increasingly accessible to the point that today, just about everyone can watch people have sex damn-near any time of day, in every conceivable manner, in every possible variety.  If Hatch and his colleagues are right, over the last 15-20 years, we should have seen a massive increase in the social ills listed in Hatch’s letter.  And in fact, every single one of these problems are trending in the opposite direction.  And it isn’t even close:

Sex crimes against children:  Down 53 percent between 1992 and 2006.
Abortion:  The abortion rate has dropped by about 25 percent since 1993.
Teen pregnancy:  In 2009, teen pregnancy hit its lowest rate in the 70 years that the federal government has been tracking the statistic.
Divorce:  The U.S. divorce rate is at its lowest level since 1970.
Domestic violence:  The rate of reported domestic violence in the U.S. dropped by more than half between 1993 and 2004.
Rape:  The forcible rape rate in the U.S. has dropped from 41.1 per 100,000 people in 1990 to 28.7 in 2009.  That latter figure is also an all-time low.

These numbers are overwhelming. What’s more, there are at least a couple of studies suggesting that the widespread availability of pornography is partially responsible for some of these trends, especially the drop in reported rapes.  Of course, like the activists pushing bullshit sex trafficking figures to shut down online escort ads, Hatch and his colleagues aren’t interested in actual data.  This much is certainly true:  There are substantially more people masturbating to pornography in America today than 20 years ago. And that’s really the only figure that matters to people like Hatch. (My favorite example of this line of thought:  Concerned Women for America’s amusing attack on the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue a couple years ago.  Note that the article is titled “Do the Math”, yet doesn’t contain any actual math.)

Expect no one to actually challenge Hatch or his co-signers on any of the letter’s claims…

Balko is of course right; with the exception of libertarians like himself, bloggers like me and a handful of ethical journalists, the claims of the Pro-Rape Coalition will be accepted without question and endlessly re-quoted until they are either marginalized by shifting public opinion or they achieve their goal of reducing every American woman to a state of cowering dependence on those who claim to want to “protect” them by entirely eliminating their sexual freedom.

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The First Time

Posted in Call types, Perception, Philosophy, Q & A, tagged , , , , , , , on March 20, 2011| 25 Comments »

Minor things can become moments of great revelation when encountered for the first time. –  Margot Fonteyn

A week ago Friday (March 11th), I received the following email from a young man who asked to be called “Joseph”:

First, allow me to say that I greatly admire your blog.  I stumbled across it while trying to find out more about that recent CNN special about ‘selling the girl next door’ and found it very enlightening, intriguing and engrossing.  And a bit frustrating, since I am in my mid-20’s, still a virgin, never even had a girlfriend (one high school crush notwithstanding) and can’t envision getting laid unless I found someone like yourself (in your previous job of course).  That’s impossible because of my job (military stationed overseas).

Since I can’t ask you to help me break regulations and find a professional in my area, I have another question.  You’ve mentioned that occasionally parents would hire you to take their son’s virginity.  Would you ever talk more about that?  I’m not looking for lurid details, mind you, but what were those jobs like?  Did the parents tell you why they went to such lengths?  Did the son know about what the parents were going to do?

Anyway, thank you for your time and keep up the fine work.  I read your blog every day.

As I’ve written before I’m especially fond of military men, so I told Joseph that I would be happy to oblige.  Joseph, if I don’t answer your questions adequately please let me know and I’ll try to elaborate in a response!

At the time I received my first such request, my personal policy was not to see men under 21; any younger than that just didn’t feel right.  Not that we exactly had a large volume of requests from men that young, mind you; it’s pretty rare that any man below about 25 has the money to hire an escort.  Once in a while there’s the frat boy type, but that’s about it.  Well one night, I went on what I expected to be a normal call; the gentleman sounded middle-aged, was polite, from another state, staying in a nice hotel, that sort of thing.  And when I got there he was much as I had expected, but before he paid me he told me that he had actually called me for his son, who had just turned 18.  Now, I knew that at one time it was not at all uncommon for fathers to hire prostitutes to take their sons’ virginity, but it’s not exactly usual nowadays and in any event I had never done it.  Still, I’ve never been one to turn down new experiences so I agreed.

The young man was, understandably, very nervous; it didn’t seem to bother him that I was 10 years older than he was (actually 15, but I claimed 28 in those days), but he had never been alone with a naked woman in a well-lit room before.  I asked him what sort of experience he had and it was the usual fumbling through clothes in dark cars with high-school girls, so I invited him to look me over and touch me as he pleased. Like many virgins he was almost too gentle for fear of hurting me, but I assured him he needn’t be so tentative and that if he accidentally hurt me I would let him know.  We didn’t do anything really unusual; I gave him the typical activities most men like, and even though I didn’t usually kiss clients I was happy to show him how most girls like to be kissed.  I kept the pace relaxed and interspersed with bits of casual conversation so he could see I wasn’t all that different from any other women he had known.  Inexperienced men often find experienced women quite intimidating, so I was careful to make everything seem as natural and comfortable as I could.

From my high school and university days I knew that virgins and near-virgins tend either to climax very quickly or to take an extremely long time due to nerves and performance anxiety; he was one of the latter sort, so I kissed and verbally encouraged him until nature took its course.  We then lay together for a long time while I caressed his chest and reassured him; like many young men he was very concerned that he had performed adequately.  I said he had done just great and that if he always strove to pay attention in bed, to give his partners more of whatever they seemed to like and to avoid whatever they seemed not to like, I was pretty sure most of his future girlfriends would be very happy with him.  All in all, I really made an effort to make the experience as special and memorable to him as possible; after all, to me he was only one customer, but to him I was and always would be his first.  And I must have succeeded, because later that evening I got a call from the father thanking me for making his son so happy; apparently the young man was singing my praises after I left!

He was the first young man whom I initiated, but he wasn’t the last; sometimes they paid for themselves, one was paid for by his friends (they took up a collection!) and another was actually arranged by his mother.  The latter was a very cool lady; we talked on the phone for quite a while so she could feel me out, and when she was satisfied that I was the right woman for the job she tasked me to show her son how to make love because she wanted him to know the right way before he inflicted himself on coeds.  What made the date even more interesting, however, was that the boy wasn’t a virgin after all; he just didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings by telling her after she had gone through all the trouble to carefully select and interview an escort!  It turned out Mama had nothing to worry about; he did at least as well as the average man, which was really my experience with most virgins.  It was certainly the case with a young Indian man in his late twenties who had come to America to make his fortune and was about to send for his bride; he wanted to be sure he knew what he was doing so he could make her happy in bed.  And though he asked me to critique his performance, I could find nothing to complain about.

Indeed, this sort of thing happened so consistently with virgins I sometimes wondered if most men don’t start out with good instincts and then tend to lose them over time.  Perhaps as some men gain experience and confidence they start taking for granted that they know what they’re doing, or perhaps they fall into bad habits that none of their lovers bother to correct.  Some men may just be so selfish that once the initial novelty wears off, they just don’t care about what women (especially not paid women) might like, and others may be so mired in the masculine “never ask for directions” thing that they try to teach themselves (by reading books or watching porn or whatever) and end up firmly convinced of their own expertise no matter how wrong they are.  I’ll bet a lot of them even learn from other virgins, and when the blind lead the blind the outcome is not likely to be a good one.  Maybe the parents who hired me for their sons understood that; in the absence of an older girlfriend to learn from, perhaps for a young man to enjoy his first time with a caring and patient harlot isn’t at all a bad idea.

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Fictional Interlude: The Specialist

Posted in Call types, Fiction, tagged , , , , , on January 21, 2011| 13 Comments »

Regular readers know that once per month I publish a little tale about a heroic whore; if you like this one you might also enjoy the others linked here.

Wanda checked her makeup, hair and watch; the client would be there in about 15 minutes.  That really wasn’t time to do much of anything other than catch up on the news, and though that meant ink on her hands she could wash them quickly enough; one advantage to her clientele was that they tended to be either punctual to a fault, or extremely late.  Since the latter circumstances occurred about every fourth date or so, Wanda never scheduled more than one appointment in a given night; she could never get used to the worry when they were late, but the pay was excellent and she really felt she was performing a vital service not merely to her gentlemen, but also to society at large.  Besides, she never got tired of their stories.

The newspaper lay untouched and unread on the table as her mind wandered back a few years to that night she had her first special customer; it was a warm night like this one and she had the French doors open so she could enjoy her spectacular view of the skyline.  Even on an expensive call girl’s income a high-rise penthouse would have been a strain on the budget, but the building’s owner was one of her patrons and it amused him to trade rent for services.  At first she had been wary that he might demand too much of her per week or attempt to take other unwelcome liberties, but he was very busy and couldn’t afford the time even if he had been that sort of man…which as it turned out he wasn’t.

It had been a quiet night; her only scheduled appointment had cancelled due to a last-minute change of plans, and since she knew he’d make it good later she was just enjoying a drink on the terrace while listening to her transistor radio.  Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the abrupt appearance of a well-known public figure on a private rooftop forty-five floors above the street, and had she been the panicky type she would surely have screamed.  Her immediate reaction was to assume her landlord had finally decided to violate her privacy in order to play out some sort of ridiculous fantasy, but as soon as her visitor started to speak she knew he was the real McCoy.

“I apologize for this unforgivably rude intrusion, Miss Danton, but I’m in need of help and a friend of mine spoke very highly of you.”

Wanda was speechless for a moment; “What kind of help could someone like you possibly need from someone like me?”

“The same sort as any other man, Miss.  More so, in fact; there aren’t many people I can trust, and women…”

“You’re wary that women might want to be with you because of your celebrity rather than because of who you are as a person.”

He seemed visibly relieved.  “Yes, that’s it exactly.  But I still have the same needs as any other man, and you have a reputation for discretion.”

She smiled.  “Your visit does me honor, even if your approach is a bit unorthodox.  Would you like a drink?”

And that was how it started.  After that first night he phoned for appointments like everyone else, always booked multiple hours and paid twice her normal rate so she would leave her calendar clear for the evening just in case he was held up by an “unexpected business meeting.”  He laughed every time she referred to his delays thus, but he appreciated the fact that she treated their arrangement just that nonchalantly.  Inside, Wanda still felt a strange mixture of excitement and fear whenever he arrived for a date, but she never let her face show anything more than the pleasure any other call girl would show at the arrival of a favored client.  Certainly, he could’ve visited any girl incognito, but he seemed to need to be able to unburden himself about the unusual pressures of his life to someone who would listen without judging and give him simple human tenderness without the expectation of some sort of spectacular performance in return.

It went on that way for the better part of a year, then one night he asked if she minded if he referred her to a friend.  “I don’t mind at all,” she said, “but may I ask if your friend is in the same line of work?”

He smiled.  “Yes, he’s noticed I was much more relaxed in the past few months and asked the cause.  And since he is a friend I couldn’t very well deny him the opportunity to get to know you as I have.”

One referral led to another, and by the time another year had come and gone Wanda had decided to specialize.  With rare exception, she had referred all of her regular customers elsewhere and now catered specifically to her exclusive, appreciative and generous “special” clientele.  Except for their shared commitment to the cause which united them, they were as different from one another as any other men, so her work never became boring; even their means of payment varied considerably from plain cash to gold or jewels or deposits into her Swiss bank account.  Since it was rare that one wished to visit her in the daytime she became a night owl herself and it was not at all unusual that dawn found her just kissing her evening’s visitor goodbye.  Some were easy to please, some difficult; some were men of few words, and others wanted to talk for hours.  But she considered all of them good customers, and wouldn’t have wanted to lose a one of them; that was why she worried so when they were late.  Though it had never yet happened, she knew it was inevitable that one night an overdue date would never arrive, and then she would have to endure the weary hours until the morning newspaper or news broadcast told her of his fate along with the rest of the city.

It was all worth it; though nobody outside a very select group knew the part she played, that didn’t matter one bit.  She knew, and they knew, and that was enough.  And as that thought crossed her mind, she heard a soft whoosh on her terrace and went out to meet her date, kissing him hello as his powerful arms encircled her and his cape billowed about her in the evening breeze.

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Harm Reduction

Posted in History, Perception, Philosophy, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on January 13, 2011| 80 Comments »

The most absurd apology for authority and law is that they serve to diminish crime. Aside from the fact that the State is itself the greatest criminal, breaking every written and natural law, stealing in the form of taxes, killing in the form of war and capital punishment, it has come to an absolute standstill in coping with crime. It has failed utterly to destroy or even minimize the horrible scourge of its own creation. –  Emma Goldman

My column of January 9th spawned a lively debate about male infidelity among several escorts and other interested parties; the central issues seemed to be whether a husband’s infidelity is different whether he sees a whore or has an affair, and whether it bothers us that we facilitate that infidelity.  Those of you who read that thread probably noticed that, with the exception of the factual issues of comparative frequency, I largely stayed out of the discussion; that was a conscious choice on my part.  When new reader Joyce made her very passionate post, I suspected it would inspire strong and interesting responses and so I decided to keep my big mouth shut for a change and let things develop without my influence.  I was gratified to notice that, despite personal variations on the details, all the prostitutes who contributed were largely on the same page as I am, and I think that’s a good thing for reasons which will soon become clear.

Suppress prostitution, and capricious lusts will overthrow society. – St. Augustine (354-430)

“Harm reduction” is the modern name given to an ancient idea:  Since neither the world nor human beings are perfect, there will always be evil and misfortune, and all we can hope for is to reduce the level of harm caused by those negative factors.  In my column of November 26th I pointed out that the Catholic Church “recognized that human beings are imperfect and incapable of total adherence to any code of behavior.  So rather than setting up impossible standards which many if not most people would often fail to meet (as we do today), the Church fathers recognized the need for safety valves which would allow people to blow off steam and thereby avoid great wrongs and mortal sins by tolerating lesser wrongs and venial sins.”  This pragmatic view fell into disfavor after the Reformation, when Protestant views on “progress” and the perfectibility of man first appeared; those views, reinforced by the many scientific discoveries and technological innovations of the period, gained in popularity throughout the Age of Reason and by the 19th century practically constituted a cultic belief that tomorrow would always be better than today and that mankind and society could be “perfected” just as scientific theories or technological devices could be.  Tolerance for prostitution, alcohol and other “vices” were replaced by a rigid, punitive belief that these “social ills” could be eliminated entirely, and governments (which never pass up an excuse for repression) responded to the popular belief by prohibiting just about every “vice” imaginable and empowering police and courts to harass, arrest and imprison people for behaviors which were previously considered outside the purview of government.

So widespread did this belief-system become that the First World War was commonly referred to as “The War to End All Wars”; many people actually believed that it would purge the very desire for war out of mankind and result in a new world order of peace and prosperity.  Clearly, that did not happen, and many intellectuals realized it even before the war was over.  Throughout the 1920s and 1930s a growing number of people realized that just as the Great War had not eliminated armed conflict, and just as Prohibition had not ended the demand for alcohol, so the war against prostitution had not curtailed it in the least.  And out of that philosophical soil eventually grew the doctrine of “harm reduction”, the realization that our ancestors had it right in the first place:  Human beings are not perfectible and attempts to threaten and beat vice out of them do vastly more harm than good.  The philosophy of harm reduction was further bolstered by the growing popularity of cultural pluralism:  If people have the right to differing ideas, beliefs and political views, what is the moral basis for banning behaviors which harm nobody else and are not even viewed as vices in some cultures?

Those mired in the traditional Protestant or secular authoritarian mindsets argue that harm reduction is defeatist; while they usually admit that neither humanity nor society is perfectible, they argue that giving up on restricting vices “sends the wrong message” and actively encourages such behaviors.  I’m not going to address this position’s underlying assumption that the prevailing idea of rectitude is the correct one, nor the abhorrent notion that any government has the right to enforce its ideas of “correct” behavior on citizens who do not harm others; either of those would be a full column in itself. Instead, I would like to call the reader’s attention to an aspect of game theory called “conditions of victory”; though this may sound esoteric it refers to the simple concept that the participants in any contest may have different criteria for winning that contest.  In a child’s game of tag, the condition of victory for “it” is to tag someone, and the condition of victory for everyone else is to escape being tagged.  More complex games such as war have much more complex differences; King Leonidas knew he could not possibly defeat the vastly larger Persian force at Thermopylae, so he did not try to do so.  His strategy was intended to delay Xerxes, not to stop him, and in that he succeeded.  Thus, though the Greeks lost the battle they won the game; the limited resources which would not allow victory under one set of conditions did allow it under another.  The United States has defined victory in its “Drug War” as the total elimination of all recreational drugs; under these unrealistic conditions victory is completely impossible.  But if those conditions were changed to “reduce the social and economic impact of recreational drugs below x level”, victory is not only possible but can be achieved at a very reasonable cost and in a fairly short time.

Because men are biologically programmed to seek sexual variety, most men will do so; at least two-thirds of married men will at least occasionally seek extramarital sex.  No woman has any way of knowing whether the man she chooses will be a member of the minority who is able to resist temptation, so if she defines a “successful marriage” as one in which her husband never strays she is playing Russian Roulette with at least four bullets.  But if she defines it as one in which her husband’s probable infidelities cause no overt damage, difficulty or social consequences, all she need do is keep him from getting involved with amateurs.  As I wrote in my column of July 21st, whores allow men to cheat in a managed fashion and thereby minimize harm to their wives and children.  Far from being a “social evil” as it usually referred to in the United States, prostitution is a positive good because it provides a controlled outlet for male sexual impulses which might otherwise cause tremendous problems, including (but by no means limited to) rape and broken marriages.  While it’s true that for a wife to discover her husband has been patronizing whores might damage their marriage, would an affair or constant pressure for unwanted sex do any less?  Prostitution is not a panacea for the differing sexual needs between the sexes, but it does greatly reduce the problems; it is the definitive example of the principle of harm reduction.

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Christmas

Posted in History, Holidays, tagged , , , , , , , on December 25, 2010| 4 Comments »

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! –  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

As I discussed in my column of December 21st, there have been winter solstice festivals for at least as long as there has been agriculture, and perhaps longer than that; even hunter-gatherer cultures in the temperate zones would have been adversely affected by winter and would therefore have feared the sun’s “death” and rejoiced in his return.  But the story of the Western celebration we now call Christmas begins in ancient Greece with the festival called Lenaea, whose origin stretches back to the beginning of the third millennium BCE.  At this time the primitive Aegean peoples were still very worried about the coming winter and so the festival we now observe as that of peace and goodwill was at that time anything but.

As JustStarshine explained in her Yule essay, the first solstice-season gifts were not exchanged between humans but rather offered to the gods in order to placate them and thereby induce them to restore warmth, vegetation and life.  And in the ancient Middle East, as in so many other cultures, that meant living sacrifice…and the most valuable form of sacrifice to the ancients was that of a human.  At Lenaea, women (the givers of life and representatives of Gaea, the Earth Mother) would drink wine, work themselves into a religious frenzy and go out into the forest, running wild until they encountered a lone hunter from another tribe, whom they would then literally tear to pieces and devour so as to restore fertility to the earth.  Afterwards, a newborn male baby was dedicated as a symbol of the reborn Dionysos, god of the vines which were their most important crop.  Of course the festival always worked, and the sun soon began to increase in strength again, but as the Greeks evolved they began to find human sacrifice repugnant; the human victim was replaced by a wild bull or goat (the sacrifice must be male to identify with the dying god), and the myth of Tantalus arose to demonstrate the repugnance of human sacrifice and cannibalism to the gods.  Note that the story specifies the time of the abhorrent sacrifice as soon after the rape of Persephone, thus tying it to the mythological origin of the seasons.  But even in its earliest form Lenaea featured three elements which are still essential to the Christmas celebration:  feasting, drinking and veneration of a newborn baby as a god.

Eventually, as the Greeks became confident that sun and vegetation would return without such ghastly appeasement, the sacrifice became a goat which was killed by a priest and then cooked and prepared for the feast rather than devoured raw.  The women became funeral mourners and presenters of the baby selected to represent the newborn god, but the memory of the terrible old ritual was preserved in the myth of the Maenads.  By the 5th century BCE Kronia (the festival of Kronos, god of time) had been added just before the solstice, and eventually most of the solstice celebration became attached to it rather than Lenaea (which became a formal festival rather than a popular one).  When the Romans “borrowed” much of Greek culture and religion, Kronos was identified with their popular and important harvest-god Saturn, while Dionysos was conflated with the Roman wine god Bacchus (who did not symbolize nearly as important an idea to the Romans as he had to the Greeks).  Thus, though both Kronia and Lenaea were adopted into Roman culture (as Saturnalia and Brumalia, respectively), the former proved much more popular and soon grew from its original one day (December 17th) to an entire week (December 17th-23rd).  Saturnalia was celebrated with the usual feasting and drinking, and also with a reversal of the social order (masters waiting on servants, an idiot being declared the ruler of the celebration, etc) to symbolize the reversal of the sun’s course.  It is also in Saturnalia that the tradition of giving a gift to the gods (i.e. a sacrifice) became the giving of gifts to each other.

When Julius Caesar reformed the Roman calendar in 46 BCE, he established the official first day of the sun’s return (astronomical winter) as December 25th; the solstice itself therefore usually occurred on the 24th or sometimes the 23rd.  But because the Julian calendar did not adequately compensate for the slight difference between 365 days and one year, the actual date of the solstice slowly drifted backwards and by the beginning of the 4th century it usually occurred on the 21st rather than the 24th, making the first day of winter the 22nd rather than the 25th.  But the Romans were a tidy, well-organized people and couldn’t let a little thing like that bother them; the birthday of Sol, the sun, had been declared as December 25th by Julius Caesar and so it stayed even when the actual event moved.

The Roman Empire was vast and home to many different local cults, a number of which spread empire-wide thanks to the well-developed Roman infrastructure; the three most important of these for our purposes were the cult of Isis, that of the Persian sun-god Mithra, and Christianity.  We’ve already talked about Isis on November 3rd and December 23rd and we’ll get to Christianity in the next paragraph, but for now let’s talk about Mithra.  Being a sun-god he was born at the winter solstice, springing up full-grown and armed from a rock.  The miraculous event was witnessed by shepherds, and they greeted the newborn god with gifts from their flocks and harvests.  Mithra was very popular with warriors, and his cult became so widespread in the legions that the Emperor Elagabalus (218-222) decreed the worship of a new deity named Sol Invictus (the Unconquered Sun) who was a combination of Mithra with the minor Roman god Sol and the Syrian sun god El-Gabal, of whom Elagabalus had been a priest in his youth.  The god’s festival was (as you might expect) celebrated on the official date established by Julius Caesar, December 25th.  Despite Elagabalus’ short reign the cult of Sol Invictus proved popular and soon absorbed many smaller cults of sun or warrior gods; the Emperor Aurelian later declared him the chief god of the Empire with the intention of giving all Roman subjects a single god they could worship in addition to (rather than instead of) their own gods.  In 274 he declared the festival of Sol Invictus to be a major Empire-wide holiday, and transferred the old Saturnalia celebrations to the new festival.

Christianity was, of course, quite popular in the Empire by this time, and the association of Jesus with Sol Invictus was so natural that it quickly became an established fact, much to the consternation of church leaders.  By the beginning of the 4th century many Roman Christians celebrated the birth of Christ on December 25th, thus giving the public holiday their own private meaning; earlier writings on the subject theorize that Jesus was born sometime in the spring.  And when the Empire was Christianized a few years later, the Sol Invictus festival seamlessly turned into Christmas, with all traditions intact and the Christian nativity myth added to it.  Incidentally, the date of the solstice continued to drift backward in the calendar, so by the time Pope Gregory XIII ordered calendric reform in 1582 it was occurring on December 12th!  When Gregory corrected the discrepancy, he only had it calculated back to 325 (the year of the Council of Nicea), by which time a three-day error had already accumulated as mentioned earlier; but since Jesus was not regarded as a sun god it hardly mattered that Christmas wasn’t on the day of the reborn sun any longer.

The Church fathers weren’t too happy about Christ’s birthday being celebrated with pagan rituals, but there wasn’t much they could do about it; the people wanted their winter festival and they got it despite repeated efforts by priests (and after the Reformation, even more vicious assaults by Protestant ministers) to discourage it.  As the Church expanded into the Germanic and Celtic countries, their native celebrations merged with Christmas and brought in such traditions as the Yule log, Christmas tree, holly, mistletoe, etc (which we already mentioned on the 21st) and also caroling and the Christmas pageant or pantomime (which we’ll talk about tomorrow).  We also discussed the origins of Santa Claus on the 6th and the modern commercialization of the holiday yesterday.  And so arose Christmas as we know it, the end product of a long series of transformations from a terrifying ritual enacted to avert ecological disaster to the traditional celebration of peace and joy to the modern commercial festival of consumerism.  Personally, I think we should’ve quit while we were ahead, so I’ll just keep observing the traditional love-and-goodwill way and leave the frenzied fighting for holiday bargains to the modern Maenads.

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Whore Goddesses

Posted in History, Philosophy, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 23, 2010| 12 Comments »

The scientific mind is atrophied, and suffers under inherited cerebral weakness, when it comes in contact with the eternal woman—Astarte, Isis, Demeter, Aphrodite, and the last and greatest deity of all, the Virgin. –  Henry Adams

In ancient Rome today was Larentalia, the festival of an apotheosized courtesan named Acca Larentia; she was referred to as the “most noble whore” and was sometimes associated with Lupa, the she-wolf who nursed Romulus and Remus.  As I discussed in my column of November 3rd there were a number of Roman goddesses who were associated with prostitution; Bona Dea’s rituals included what we would now call “two-girl shows”, Flora’s involved public orgies, Fortuna Virilis was worshipped by dedicated acts of low-class prostitution in public baths, and Ceres and Isis allowed streetwalkers to entertain their clients in the temples.  But the most important Roman whore-goddess was of course Venus, goddess of love and beauty and, in her aspects of Venus Erycina (Venus of Eryx) and Venus Volgivava (Venus the Streetwalker), patroness of all whores.

The Roman Venus was a complex goddess of many faces, including Venus Felix (Lucky Venus), a protective aspect, and Venus Genetrix (Ancestral Venus), one of the patrons of Rome due to the Caesars’ descent from her through her son Aeneas.  It is likely that this complexity is due to Venus actually being a fusion of a native Italian goddess with the Etruscan goddess Turan and the Greek Aphrodite, who had a much more unified sphere of influence.  Aphrodite was the goddess of love and sex and the patroness of prostitutes, and her temples were home to some of the last true temple prostitutes in the Western world (though it is possible the institution existed in a limited form in Roman temples of Venus and Isis).  Though in the classical era temple prostitutes were mostly slaves, in earlier times they were free-willed priestesses in the ancient tradition.  It is certainly possible that some of the lore taught to young hetaerae in the gynoecia had been handed down from the sacred whores of the Homeric period, and was in turn passed on to the venerii of Rome.

Yet though Aphrodite was unencumbered by the wide range of duties which befell her in later days as Venus, she still partook of the darkness inherent in sexuality and some of the myths surrounding her hearken back to a time when sex was bound up with the fertility of the crops and sex-goddesses were also vegetation goddesses.  The most important of these was of course the myth of Adonis, the young and virile lover of Aphrodite, who was gored in the groin by a wild boar and died; the goddess mourned over him, then descended into the underworld to restore him to life.  Adonis of course represents vegetation, cut down in the autumn by the scythe, then restored through human nurturance in the spring.  As you have probably already guessed, the winter solstice was the time at which his cult changed from mourning his death to looking forward to his rebirth; it may also interest you to know that the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is built over a cave that was originally a shrine to Adonis.

Students of mythology will recognize the close resemblance between the myth of Aphrodite and Adonis and that of Isis and Osiris, but this may simply be due to the fact that they represent the same natural process; Aphrodite was previously called Astarte, under which name she was worshipped all over the eastern Mediterranean (especially Phoenicia and Cyprus).  Sacred prostitution first entered the Greek world via her cult, and though as Aphrodite she was only the lover of the war god (Ares), as Astarte she was a war-goddess in her own right.  But Astarte was really only the Phoenician form of the goddess’ older Babylonian name: Ishtar, goddess of love, fertility and war and the courtesan of the gods.

Though Ishtar had been worshipped by sacred prostitution in her earlier incarnation as the Sumerian Inanna, the practice reached its height in Babylon (which is perhaps why the goddess is remembered in Christian mythology as the Whore of Babylon).  Besides the many full-time temple whores (ishtaritu), some sources indicate that every Babylonian woman was expected to perform the rite with a stranger at least once in her life.  But unlike the popular modern view of prostitution as degradation, the ishtaritu and other women who made this spiritual pilgrimage were honored as following in the footsteps of the goddess, who is quoted on a tablet as saying “a compassionate prostitute am I.”  One of her bynames, Har, is said to be related to the word “harlot” and possibly even “whore”.  The act of sacred prostitution was a way for women to identify with the goddess and thereby receive her blessing of fertility, and for men to be blessed via conjugation with Ishtar’s representative, the sacred whore.  And though the fertility aspect was in later times assigned mostly to other goddesses, in Ishtar’s time it was her responsibility alone; one of her most important myths tells how she descended into the underworld to rescue her dead lover, the vegetation-god Tammuz, who was either killed by a bear or, in some versions, by a thoughtless act on Ishtar’s part.

The whore-goddess became less cruel as she aged; while Venus was merely capricious Aphrodite was fickle and catty, Astarte was actually warlike and Ishtar could be downright treacherous; clearly this cruelty was tied to her fertility aspect, because it decreased over time as she abdicated those duties to other divinities.  So as we might expect, in her earliest remembered form (the Sumerian Inanna) she is so volatile and callous that it is she who causes the death of her husband Damuzi and thereby triggers the death of the vegetation.  Inanna was held so responsible for fertility that her high priestesses regularly had ritual sex with the king in order to make the crops grow and to anoint the king with Inanna’s blessings.  But they were not the only ones doing so; sacred prostitution in Inanna’s service was so celebrated in Uruk that it was called “the city of the courtesans”, and was believed to be particularly blessed by the goddess.  And every Akitu (New Years Day), which fell on the vernal equinox, the high priestess would prostitute herself to some lucky young man and attempt to conceive a sacred child by him.  This later evolved into a tradition that all married couples would have sex on that day in order to conceive children under the goddess’ special blessing.

But though the goddess named Inanna, then Ishtar, then Astarte, then Aphrodite and finally Venus is the best-known and most widely-worshipped of the whore-goddesses, there are others as well.  Besides the Roman ones mentioned in the first paragraph there was Basileia, a minor goddess who protected prostitutes and courtesans in Pandemos; Cotytto, who performed the same function in Thrace, Illyria and Dacia; Belili, a minor goddess of Sumeria & Babylon (sister to Damuzi/Tammuz) later worshipped by the Canaanites as Belit; Bebhinn was the Celtic goddess of pleasure and was worshipped by pre-Christian Irish prostitutes, and Xochiquetzal was the Aztec goddess of both prostitutes and pregnancy.  In addition to these, the Hindu god Shiva and his wife Shakti have been worshipped for millennia by the devadasis (“servants of god”), who are both temple dancers and sacred prostitutes who convey the divine female energy to male worshippers through ritual sex.  Devadasis were highly respected; like Catholic nuns they were considered married to the gods, and like courtesans had education and privileges denied to other women.  Some were essentially high-priced “temple courtesans” who entertained an exclusive clientele.  And though thanks to British influence India has made numerous attempts to prohibit temple prostitution (the devadasi system was completely outlawed in 1988), thousands of devadasis continue the practice today anyway; they are the last remnants of a once-respected tradition, the only true sacred prostitutes left in a world which prefers to think of sex as dirty and humiliating rather than recognize it as a gift of the Divine.

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Yule

Posted in History, Holidays, Miscellaneous, tagged , , , , , on December 21, 2010| 8 Comments »

O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
Not only green when summer’s here,
But also when ’tis cold and drear.
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging! –  Traditional translation of the German “O Tannenbaum”

Tonight is the night of the winter solstice, which will occur at 11:38 GMT; it is the longest night of the year, and tomorrow is thus the first day of winter.  The sun appears directly overhead at the Tropic of Capricorn today, so for those in the Southern Hemisphere it’s actually the first day of summer!  But since most human cultures arose in the Northern Hemisphere (including most of those who now inhabit the Southern), our traditions about this time all derive from the apparent aging and “dying” of the sun and the cold weather and dead vegetation which follows for the next several months.

The ancients were in awe of the natural world; they did not have access to the information since accumulated via centuries of observation and inquiry.  The weakening of the life-giving sun and the death of vegetation was thus very frightening to our distant ancestors, and they developed rituals to ensure that the sun would be “reborn” and the vegetation return.  In a number of cultures evergreen trees were considered symbols of hope for the return of spring, since they alone of all plants stand steadfast through the cold of winter.  In some cultures evergreen branches or small trees were brought into the house to remind the family that spring would indeed come again, and these were sometimes adorned with candles to symbolize the returning sun.  These were of course the first Christmas trees, and we still practice the custom though few modern people remember why.

As human civilization matured and people became confident that the sun would return as he always had throughout recorded history, these rituals took on a joyful character and blossomed into celebrations, usually marked by feasting, music and drinking.  The celebrations often included the giving of gifts as an act of sympathetic magic to encourage Nature to once again give mankind Her gifts in the spring.  And because these festivals were intended to celebrate the return of the sun rather than mourn its demise, many of them were eventually shifted to days or even weeks after the solstice (such as Chinese New Year, which can occur as late as early February).  Our modern Christmas holiday occurs on the day which was once the Roman festival of Sol Invictus (more on that Saturday), and its traditions are a fusion of Roman ones with Celtic and Northern European ones.  The Germanic version of the festival, called Yule, was so much like the Christian one of Christmas that the two simply flowed into one another when the Germanic and Scandinavian countries were Christianized, and to this day the words “Yule”, “Yuletide”, etc are popularly synonymous with “Christmas” in many countries.  Most modern pagans refer to the festival by its Germanic name, so without further ado I present our regular holiday feature, a short essay by my friend JustStarshine on the spiritual significance of the day:

The Significance of Yule

Through the ages faiths have linked the solstice with the birth of their god/gods.  In the past the descent into darkness, with no certainty that the wheel would turn or that light and life would ever come back to the world, was a time of fear and uncertainty and made  those of different beliefs adopt similar ways attempt to placate their gods/goddesses with gifts to ensure that the wheel would turn and life would go on.  These would take the form of lighted bonfires, offerings made of greenery and red berries, decorations of the living areas and gifts exchanged to show generosity of spirit.

We do the same today and many people would be surprised at the pagan origins of some of these practices.  One example is the Yule Log.  Traditionally this log had to be searched for or given as a gift – but never bought.  Placed on the hearth it would be decorated with seasonal greenery, doused in cider and flour and then ignited using a piece of log save from the previous year.  It would be kept burning and then allowed to smoulder for twelve nights before being completely extinguished, with a piece of the log being kept safely for use in lighting the next year’s log. Today pagans without an open fire will often use a small log, seasonally decorated and sprinkled with flour, with three holes bored in it to take three small candles.  This symbolises the sentiment without the need for a hearth.  Alternatively, there is the chocolate log, which can be decorated with three candles and consumed over the twelve days of Yule.

For witches the ritual of Yule celebrates the birth to the Great Mother of the new Sun King, sometimes called the Child of Promise, the Child of Hope or the Star Child, who grows one year each day up to the end of the celebration of Yule – 12th Night.  We light a candle to the newborn sun and rejoice that we share in the renewal of life with all creatures.  Although we no longer have the uncertainty of whether the wheel will turn and the darkness gradually recede we still drink a toast to the fact that the longest night has passed.

I ask that God (however you conceive Him, Her, Them or It) bless all my readers with health and prosperity in the new solar year, and that all your winters (both literal and figurative) be mild ones filled with the hope of renewal.  Blessed Be!

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A Yuletide Fictional Interlude

Posted in Call types, Fiction, Philosophy, tagged , , , , , on December 19, 2010| 11 Comments »

As my regular readers know, once a month I publish a little fantasy tale whose protagonist is a whore.  These have mostly been stories of conflict and courage, but since this is Christmas I wanted to do something a little different; this one is probably best described as “whimsical”, perhaps even (dare I say it?) “cute”.  Some may find it a little bittersweet.  Please don’t judge it too harshly; while most of my stories are multi-layered pastries, this is just a Christmas cookie.  If you like it (and even if you don’t), you may be interested in my other stories.

Christmas Belle

Dear Maggie,

You’ve been pressing me for an explanation for months now, and since you are my best friend I believe I owe it to you.  Everybody thought they were funny with their jokes about “Saint Noel” until somebody realized that I was giving most of my income away, and in the past few months I seem to have developed a sort of aura which genuinely intimidates some customers.  Well, I’ll tell you how it started; you probably won’t really believe me, but I swear it happened just as I’m going to tell it to you.

I don’t need to tell you how much I love Christmas; I was born on Christmas Day, and I’ve always paid my bills in advance all year so I have plenty to give to charity in the Christmas season. My stage name isn’t “Noel” by accident, you know!  Well, on the day after Christmas last year I had an appointment which started out wrong by all reasonable standards; I don’t do same-day appointments, and I never work Christmas week, and he had no references whatsoever.  But when I checked my emails that morning, feeling lazy and just a little depressed as I always do that day, it stood out from the other messages in my inbox:

Dear Noel,

I know this is very short notice, but I’ll only be in town tonight and you come very, very highly recommended.  I’d love to spend the evening with you, and I’m more than willing to pay extra for having inconvenienced you.  Please let me know as soon as you can, and I’ll understand if the answer is no.

Very Truly Yours, Peter

All in all, it was no different from lots of other emails I get, but somehow I knew this was not a typical appointment request, and my intuition told me he was fine.  But even so, I’m no dumbbell; I replied asking for references and a phone number.  Within minutes he shot this back:

Dear Noel,

I’m afraid I don’t do this very often, and the last lady I visited has long since retired.  My phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx, and if it would make you feel more comfortable we can meet for tea this afternoon first (I’ll pay you for that time as well, of course).  Thank you for considering me!

Very Truly Yours, Peter

I searched the phone number and it turned out to be a prepaid one; he could be anybody.  But my instincts told me he was a sincere and lonely gentleman and that I wouldn’t regret meeting him.  So I picked up my phone and called the number.

“Hello?”  What a strange voice he had!  Definitely an older man but with an odd timbre, and I couldn’t place the accent at all.

“Peter?  This is Noel.”

He couldn’t hide his excitement.  “Noel!  I’m so glad you called!  I apologize for the irregularity of my request, but as I said I have to leave town in the morning.”

“That’s all right,” I said; “I usually don’t see people this week, but you seem very nice.  You said I came highly recommended; did you mean by reviews or by a personal friend?”

“By my employer, actually.  He’s never seen you professionally, but he’s familiar with your reputation.”  The conversation went on for a while; he was unswervingly polite, asked no leading questions, did absolutely nothing to set off even the smallest warning bell.  And I have to admit my bank account could definitely use an all-nighter with a bonus right then!  So I decided to go for it, and we set the appointment for 5 PM; he reminded me to dress warmly and asked me to wear comfortable shoes.

He was extremely punctual, and when I opened my door I could see why he had requested flats; as short as I am, I was still a head taller than he was!  He was somewhere in middle age, with a full but perfectly-groomed beard and dark, smiling eyes.  He had a swarthy complexion, yet didn’t really have the features or accent of an Arab, and he wore a three-piece suit of dark green velvet in a very old-fashioned cut; I could see a watch chain at his vest pocket and he had a Homburg hat in one hand and a pot of poinsettias in the other. All in all, he presented quite a spectacle! I invited him in, gave him a hug, thanked him for the flowers and placed them on my table; I then asked if he would like something to drink but he declined politely, and handed me a very small gift-wrapped box. It was surprisingly heavy for its size; I sat down next to him, opened it and found it contained my fee…three one-ounce Maple Leaf coins, which at current gold prices is a generous gift even for an all-nighter.  He smiled at my astonishment and suggested I put them in my safe before we went out.

I’m not exaggerating when I tell you it was my best professional date ever; we went to my favorite restaurant and he urged me to order whatever I wanted, and we didn’t leave for a long time.  Not that the staff minded; he was an amazingly charismatic little gentleman who called the waiter by name, thanked him for his service and sent a complimentary note to the chef.  After dinner we had coffee and dessert, and I noticed his generous tip was left in old silver certificates.  When we finally left the restaurant we walked downtown for a while, looking at the decorations and listening to the Christmas music coming from the audio systems of shops and cafes; once we came across some kids building a snowman and neither of us hesitated to pitch in and help.

Eventually we got back to my place, and though it was past eleven and we had walked for what must’ve been miles in the snow I wasn’t tired at all; my hands and feet were frozen but my heart was warm, and I asked him to relax by the fireplace as I made cocoa.  Then we sat there for hours, sipping cocoa and eating Christmas cookies; we talked about morality and altruism, about consensual reality and the power of belief, about planes of existence and the truths that often lurk behind legends, and other such topics.  And then at some point we cuddled up together quietly before the fire, and I fell asleep in his arms.

When I awoke he was nowhere to be found; he had quietly cleaned up the cups and plates while I slept and stolen away sometime before dawn, leaving nothing but a short note:

Dearest Natalie,

There are no words in any human tongue to describe what a wonderful time I had last night.  I work very hard all year, and my holidays are rare; thank you for helping me to relax and for affording me the company of such a beautiful soul as yourself.  With your permission I’d like to see you again next year on this same day.

Very Truly Yours, Peter

As I looked at the note, two things dawned on me; the first was that he had addressed me by my real name, though I had never given him any other than “Noel”.  And the second was that, though he was obviously totally satisfied with the date, neither of us had at any point completely disrobed.

Ever since then I’ve been inspired to try to keep the Christmas spirit all year long, and though it’s been tough at times it’s also been tremendously rewarding.  Yes, I’ve given a lot of my money to charities, but I make so much that even the part I keep is more than most people outside our profession earn and the feeling I get in return is better than anything I could get from more jewelry or another designer dress.  Well, a few days ago I got another email from Peter; his boss has heard of my efforts and is so impressed that he’s offered me a full-time job.  The money’s not as good as in escorting, and I’ll have to move way up north, but I’ll be part of one of the biggest charitable organizations in the world and the fringe benefits are literally fantastic.  I’ll miss you sweetheart, but don’t worry; we can exchange emails as often as you like, and I’ll come to visit every December 26th.

Love, Natalie

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