click photo for my video

http://generosa-goodhand.com/chicago-courtesan/?attachment_id=429

Go to this page and click on the text that says gg movies.. you will quickly see a movie of me ! Enjoy! I FINALLY learned how to do it !

Hump Day is here. Blago ‘s book isn’t even out and is on sale. I do not know if i will read it or not. Usually when I am at Borders or Barnes and Noble I stand and read a line form the middle or beginning of the book. I can tell immediately if I will like it.
I’ve been fairly busy lately. I’m filming a new clip today after yoga. Reverse cow girl. NOw that’s I’ve learned movie editing I dont know if I want to go higher and get Final Cut Pro and master it or if I want to move on and learn something else. Never forget everyday is an experience to learn.
I am looking for an investor(s) for my awesome and cheap to manafacture adult item. It is guaranteed to sell.. it’s an easy million…. anyone ready to become involved in a small and fun business investment help me out! We could work out a % to split.

He sits there in the pretty escort’s bathroom quietly taking a shit and contemplating the difference between good and evil. To the left, over the tub is a block cube glass window, making up a deep square -block window with warped light trailing through. It had a foot long edge,and the ornate way in which she had adorned it lent it the feel a holy place and sent shivers running down his arms and the back of his neck . The escort has arranged living bamboo in separate glass containers on the window,all in a row . Tiny bits of root entwine between soft pebbles, the kind that let time wear over them.In between the bamboo plants stood grandiose catholic candles..The Sacred Heart Of Jesus, The Virgin De Guadalupe. A fish swam in its little watery confinement in the midst of all of this on the window ledge and he couldn’t help but think how erotic yet simple the window layout was. How such a plain scene could be spun into such a vivid lving thing.. a shrinery….It seemed supernatural and spiritual,yet erotic and mocking.He wondered breifly if she possessed a mind,had to..to create this feeling..Suddenly the saints eyes and the Sacred Heart of Jesus had him wondering if it was a sin to take a shit in front of such a temple.. he remembers it is NOT a temple..just a hooker’s bathroom with a bit more splendor than he anticipated. Wake the fuck up. He wiped his ass and washed his hands, carefully drying them on towels made available on the back of the toilet and not the hanging ones. He knows chicks hate that even loose ones. He hoped this was the last he would see of his nerves, and that he could perform his duties without shitting piss out of his ass like some scared animal.. He heard her laugh through the closed door. He wondered if she were laughing at him.

——————————————————–
—————————————————————————————————————————–
dec

He couldn’t figure out what it was about the escort that made him nervous. Usually they just disgusted him. Five years on the vicesquad himself had personally put together had warranted him the title of “det. Hardass ” to say the least. He had seen everything from crackheads with a chimps ability to check email to save itself the bother of walking the streets to slightly smarter girls who thought they were courtesans.Women that entertained the notion that they were some rich mens mistress when they were only a woman with no pride, no lasting relationship. Older women claiming to be a mature mans aphrodisiac, younger women claiming to be college students who wanted to be naughty with the business man and his fantasy.Yeah,yeah. I’m your fantasy and all that. Set ups for disapointment.
But this one made him nervous. Right from the get go, right when he walked through her door.Just Routine. But. But…something about the eyes.. almost hypnotic charm of her eyes , drawing you in, drinking volumes while you stood there helplessly. She seemed to have an aura about her , seemed to enshroud herself in it like a debutante’s dress from southern past .
He’d be glad to get this one over with, glad to pull out the cuffs and turn her around, tell her to place her hands behind her back. He would notice her wrists were alabaster white, shot through with tiny blue veins. As he cuffed her he could not help but feel the unusual silk of her inner wrist. An electric spark hit him in the gut. The cuffs felt unusally cold in his hands and to his complete and fantastical shock something stirred within his groin and he felt the itchy urgency of a hard on setting in.He smelled her hair then and wondered what it would be like to shove her down on the bed, and enter her from behind. He shook his head to clear it and wondered if the new coffee at HQ had an ill effect on him.Yes he would be glad to get this one over with. OVERWITH. Yep, she nothing but paper work.
———————————————————-
Josette sat in candlelight combing her hair with an ivory comb carved in form of a naked man and listens to Brahm’s Lullaby. Vague memories of a mother rise to the surface of her mind like bubbles in a pond ,slowly,condenscing. Josette hadn’t known her mother,was taken , yet carried this straining aching memory of a lullably with her. A mother, breastfeeding her in kerosene light, swaying back and forth on rudders of a well built rocking chair, hair streaming,murmuring. Josette is warm, rosy and feeding contently. Wagon’s wheel straining against their wood bindings fills the air urgently,screeching. … with a horses whinny the full air freezes and become still and still air knocked out the lullaby.

——————————————————————————————————
(moonlightsonata 3 as she runs)
She remembers the lighthouse looming ahead as she ran, tripping over stones larger than her head, running,fast,faster then she could of imagined. The shock of what he wanted to do to her had caused her to behave so, to leave such drastic consequences trailing behind her like the tail of a kite on fire.Spending your life as a child concubine she had accepted ,but not this. Jos kept running a frantic young figure in white cotton streaking thourhg the night, bare feet gripping the ground and pushing off of it. Then suddenly there is light and air and no more dirt .Wind. Stark cliffy sand beaches menace from below and Jos elicits a scream that could wake the living dead. Something stirred inside her then as she fell and suddenly instead of descending, she pushed off the the air current beneath her hands like a bodysurfer and soared up into the sky. She had become something else, but was no longer HIS.
Five months later
After the kid had emptied himself in short pumping bursts of “oh Ba-by, oh AN-gel,oh daDDY’s going to CUU–um ” the rising and falling pitch to his voice lessened to a drone and he rolled off of her and onto his back,panting in syllables. Le Boursier quickly reached over and wrapped her hand around his shrinking dick, pulled the condom off and walked the short distance to the candlelit bathroom and flushed it, germ-exed her hand and crotch. She smiled as the alcohol sought the deilcate skin and stung. By the time she returned his eyes had glazed wistful and she could tell he wanted to paint a picture for her. Supressing a sigh and a grin she lie on the duvet and pretends to listen. As she wrapped an arm around his scrawny torso she noticed he had a weeping cock, one of those ones that cried on long after coitus had expired. She smiled, running fluids excited her.But this boy, did not.
——————————————————————————————-
chap 2

The unbelievably arrogant dectecitve close in on Jos. Of course she knew way before he made an appointment he was a cop, but this was of no consequence to her ” Are you attempting to arrest me?” Jos breathes, her smile curling upwards towards yelklow green eyes. Avoiding contact with them Dec BOurdain says ” You’re a smart one aren’t you ?” dryly and turns her around. He doesn’t usually turn them around, but he had an aching need to put his hands on her again. More than a feeling an inherent desire . He looks at her finally then and notices the sarcastic smirk on her face. For some reason he has failed to signal his team . She had long hair in natural spirals and once again he was stuck in her eyes, which seemed to shapeshit like a kaleidescope. He smelled his own sweat, fear. What the hell was he afraid of ? His heart thudded in his chest. He got the distinct feeling she was a devouring raptor and he was a mouse extended in fates hand. Such peculiar attire for an escort, an old cotton gown with a bow at the top. Reminded him of something Laura Ingalls would wear though her lithe but ripe form yielded it a whole other look though.
” I don’ t think I am in the mood to be arrested.” Jos says. She tilts her head slightly and intensifies her gaze at Bourdain,immediately casting a spell on him. As he watched in stunned fascination perhaps like a deer in headlights,he became high off of her .Jos smiles and with a gentle pull of her wrists, snaps the cuffs in half. She reaches a hand up to caress his face. A five o clock shadow had set in. ” But I AM in the mood for a new friend . We need each other . ” She closed the short distance between their bodies and pressed her lips to his, licked the surface of his lips with tiny darting movements of her tongue. He went soft in the head about the same time he went hard in the pants. Jos threw him onto his back on the Marriot King bed and climbed atop him,purring. She sat directly atop his hard on and pinned his hands to the bed. Her stregth was unbelievable. He felt helpless, but felt her rocking back and forth on his hard cock. She broadened her beautiful byzantine smile, and two sharp little protruding teeth came to rest on her bottom lip as she bent down towards him.

Lacy

Cute, sweet, and compassionate!

Call me!

Lacy
773..577..3702

This is a wonderful blog demonstrating just how helpful providers can be through all of life’s proccesses and just how they can become close friends. A true story written by a beautiful lady I have had the pleasure of dining with, MS. Beverly Fisher of Denver, CO. I’ve always enjoyed her blogs asnd articles and hoep she doesn’t mind me sharing one. She’g got some grat articles on sites, but I cannot remember where . D’oh ! Anyway/….:

His wife’s funeral

Okay, another new experience… how delightful, I can still have them.

I’ve been seeing a client, “Tom” for nine years now. Nine years, once a month. He’s an older gentleman — in his late 70s, now.

When Tom first came to see me, he informed me that his wife had some physical problems (cysts or some such), and was incapable of intercourse anymore.

So Tom’s wife, “Sara,” actually TOLD him to go find a professional that he liked, to take care of his “needs” that she was now unable to handle herself.

From some clients, I’d think they were lying, but not from Tom. A sweet old gentleman, and more open soul, you’ll never meet.

In some ways I saw Sara as very progressive — being open-minded and trusting her husband enough to let another woman touch him — and in other ways, very old fashioned — in that she sought to take care of her man’s needs.

Over the nine years I’ve known him, I’ve heard a lot about Sara, and their children and grandchildren. I’ve sent him “congratulations” e-cards when his grandchildren were born, listened to him when he was frustrated with one of his daughters who was making bad choices.

Tom’s Italian. Twice he’s shown up at my house with a big pan of pasta and heavenly spicy italian sausage.

And over all this time, his love for Sara has been so clear. He talks about her all the time.

In the past two years, as he’s become more computer savvy, he’s shown Sara my website, and they’ve talked about me.

It may seem strange, but in these last couple years, when Tom arrived at my incall, I’d inquire after Sara’s health, and he says, “Sara said to tell you hello!” I always told him to send Sara my love.

He says, “Sara is glad that you’re my friend. She thinks you’re one of the best friends we have.”

And maybe he’s right. I’ve chatted on the phone with Tom when he was low, I’ve encouraged him to get involved in a volunteer organization — which seems to be keeping him young, giving him something to do. He takes great pride in his service.

And I’ve given him physical affection that Sara could not provide, which may have kept their marriage together… how many men leave a loving relationship, because they don’t get that physical touch? And how sad that one small thing like sex can ruin an otherwise perfect, long-term partnership? Sex is not the most important thing in a marriage… but without it, tension can drain the life from a relationship.

Sara was hospitalized a few days ago. She was in intensive care, had to have major surgery. She told Tom to tell me that she was glad he had me in his life, and that I was a good friend to both of them. Not long after, she went into a coma.

Yesterday, they took Sara off life support.

I spoke to Tom today. He sounded good, considering.

He wants me to come to Sara’s funeral. I said I wasn’t sure that was appropriate. He was insistent. He said “Only Sara and me know what you do. As far as the rest of the family is concerned, you’re just a friend.”

He really wants me to come. We’ve had many years together, and have developed a friendship that goes beyond the sexual relationship we started with. And I really care about him, and want to support him at this difficult time. And I know in my heart that Sara wouldn’t mind — no, she’d be happy I was helping Tom.

But I also feel a little uncomfortable. True, the family won’t know I’m an escort, but if they did, they’d be shocked and horrified, not understanding the nature of the relationship I have with Tom.

Nor would they understand the strange, faceless friendship I had with Sara. Though we never met face-to-face, we respected one another. I enjoyed hearing about her, her life, her joys and sorrows. She enjoyed hearing about me, too. I had so much respect for a woman who loved her man enough to let another woman touch him, and trusted him so deeply that she knew it wouldn’t matter, knew it wouldn’t diminish their love. And it didn’t.

I want to give my respects to Sara. I want to support Tom. But I’m not sure if my hesitation is based on some kind of shame I thought I’d gotten over, or a fear of doing something to hurt the family, though how that would happen I’m not sure.

Should I send a bouquet and my respects, and face Tom’s disappointment at my absence?

Or should I go and pay my respects in person, sit in the back in a dark dress and keep quiet?

This is a dilemma I never envisioned when I started escorting.

Sara, wherever you are, tell me what to do.

xxxooo
Beverly ;-*

P.S. When I was a little girl, when I saw sunbeams breaking through dark clouds, I used to believe that it meant someone had died, and God was sending down a path of sunbeams so the person who had died could find their way up to heaven. Sara, these sunbeams are for you.

Website: http://www.beverlyfisher.com

Hello all…. Happy Friday!