Fear and Anticipation

Well goodness me! I submitted this to Wicked Wednesday and the Bibulous One has chosen it as one of the top three! He said "My final pick surprised me most, as it soon became apparent that I was reading a blog my a man who sees sex workers! We (men who write about this) are as rare as, well… something very rare indeed and so I really enjoyed Fear and Anticipation from Old Mike. His writing about his fear and anticipation before a meeting with an escort rings totally true for me. I like his acceptance that the meeting will mean different things for her than for him, and yet: “That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure.” Sounds exactly right."  His blog is extraordinary and i'm honoured by his kind words.

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Fear. Fear and anticipation. Pulse racing, guts in turmoil.  Is this a huge mistake? 

I am about to stand naked in front of another human being.  I have not seen her face though her body is familiar from the photographs on her web site.  If it is her body?

I have not heard her voice though her words are now familiar and resonate with what I hope to find.  If they are her words?

Memories of past occasions when my fear was wholly justified crowd in but so too do those of times when the next, short, while was better, infinitely better than I could have hoped.

It isn’t the physical that makes me afraid but the question that cannot be asked in advance – will we connect?  I remind myself that for the woman I am about to meet this is just another encounter with a new client.  For her it will be mundane; her thoughts will be elsewhere.  Once I heard them verbalised and learned that considerations of what the children will be given for supper can cause my erection to wilt in seconds.

Today I have requested a mask to sustain the mystery of the blurred face a little longer.  And to let me play out my recurring fantasy of fucking a complete stranger silently, anonymously and only beginning to communicate when she is already sitting astride me with my cock buried deep inside her.

As my train crosses the river gleaming in the morning sun a text arrives telling me where to find her flat.  I walk back across the same river wondering if any of the people I pass have similar thoughts – are they too planning to seek the thrill that comes with having sex with a stranger and anxious about the fear that comes before the thrill?

I decide that they are not because I need to feel that I am set apart from the workaday world, I am doing something today that few will have the opportunity to do. Of course I know that she will see others later today but as I approach her building I put that from my mind and focus on managing my fear.

I press her number on the intercom and for the first time hear her voice – soft, warm but a little guarded perhaps.  Moments later her door opens and there stands a young, slim woman demonstrating that the pictures are real – this is the body that I will soon be touching, caressing, penetrating and it is beautiful!  She closes the door and for a moment we stand awkwardly – she almost naked, me in my street clothes – she begins to explain where the shower is but then pauses – and says the mask feels strange  - then she laughs – in a second my fear is gone and my desire for her is overwhelming. That laughter has connected us – and we begin to work together to create a few hours of shared pleasure. 
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She is superbly good at her chosen profession and I feel as though I have known her for years not minutes.  The mask is immediately discarded and a lovely face revealed smiling with lips and eyes.  This time I have been lucky, so very lucky – pictures, written and spoken words can be faked but spontaneous laughter is always real – and trumps fear every time!
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