As a young hippy in the early 1970s I lived briefly in a bedsit on the sixth floor of a run-down pension in Paris. My co-residents were mainly a mixture of female students paying for their studies through part-time sex work and their more ageing full-time compatriots. I remember the period fondly – especially our always-jolly morning after coffees and croissants in the café on the ground floor. The ladies shared their previous-evening’s adventures with this young tame British guy, unexpectedly their neighbour. I always hope their lives since then were at least as happy and fulfilling as mine.
I mention this because, after I left Paris, I don’t think I ever knowingly spoke to an escort again until 2017, in my late 50s. In the intervening years I travelled the world, was relatively successful professionally, fell deeply in and out of love a small number of times, married and raised a family.
After my last broken heart in my early fifties with a younger woman, I totally lost any appetite for all forms of emotional and sexual intimacy – brooding and bitter. As my next big birthday milestone approached, I wondered whether an escort of similar age to my betraying ex might help me banish the demons of her legacy. I had in mind a role play that mirrored her manipulative duplicity but culminated in me turning the tables and dominating a femme fatale now forced to submit to my will.
OK – I’m not proud of myself, but please bear with me…
I actually did find three or four escorts who were comfortable with my neuroses and willing to indulge my fantasy. I got to know, admire and respect each of them as well as periodic sessions allow. I am certainly as, if not more, fond of them as I was with the ladies in my innocent Parisian episodes – and none more so than Imogen Mae.
A ‘great’ escort understands and perhaps even empathises with the deeper reasons that drive a serious client to engage her – and can respond intelligently to this motivation in their sessions.
One of the remarkable outcomes of my relationship with Imogen is how, over approaching eighteen months, she has migrated from being a one-dimensional substitute for my betraying ex to enabling us to develop my fetish and address my demons in all sort of new ways. We have worked through narratives that range from a thriller-genre to a dystopic futures fantasy to even a comic pastiche of a popular game show. Imogen has given me the confidence to enact a role reversal with me in the submissive role- which I enjoyed as much as my very different domination scenarios.
We have got to a stage where we have agreed our next session will be a GFE. In many ways this is much more intimidating for me than the lurid, unlikely, scripted dark fantasies. But I’m over-the-moon at our progress.
Imogen may not badge her services as ‘therapy’ – but I believe that is the most accurate descriptor of the journey we have made from my misery and total scepticism of ever again finding emotional and sexual intimacy to now contemplating a traditional GFE with a beautiful young lady.
I recognise ‘escort therapy’ is not for every client; nor for every sex worker. But I think it is a niche activity in a very diverse industry with an immensely valuable, potentially life-changing outcome. I am in awe and have nothing but respect for those – like Imogen – who are experts at it.
I genuinely don’t know if my GFE session with Imogen, and whatever we choose to do in the future, will enable me to rediscover and sustain a full loving relationship in my sixties. But it is an important and positive staging post in our journey.
I hope our shared experiences have given Imogen useful insights she will value and remember with pleasure and considerable pride. And I also hope sharing this story will provoke some readers to avoid a crucial mistake that I now realise I made when I left Paris. ‘Escort therapy’ is not only for post-mid-life-crisis men. With a skilful practitioner like Imogen it can be part of the ingredients of a rich fulfilling life at all ages. It might even help you avoid the mid-life-crisis altogether!