Not many who read my blog are either sex workers or their clients so let me explain: GFE stands for Girlfriend Experience, which is not to be confused with PSE (Porn Star Experience) or indeed the myriad of other experiences offered by the creative, intelligent, wonderfully empathetic people who call themselves sex workers.
A man hiring a sex worker for GFE is looking for the antithesis of the filmic cliché of the brassy “prostitute.” Once the envelope has changed hands, he wants to spend time with an unintimidating, friendly woman who behaves as if their relationship is romantic rather than transactional and the more these lines are blurred, the happier he will be. Above all, he is looking for intimacy and emotional engagement to add spice to their physical interaction.
I’ve never signed up a sex worker for a GFE, looking instead for kink focussed sessions in many and varied forms. Indeed only recently has sex (in the conventional, penetrative meaning of that word) formed any part of my encounters. However, a recent comment from a sex worker, retweeted into my Twitter timeline, caught my attention and got me thinking.
She postulated that a liking for GFE could be thought of as a kink for authenticity.
It made me think about little things that have happened in my sessions with Miss S, seemingly nonchalant actions that touched me at the time, and created the sort of memories that trigger a soft smile alongside a raised heart rate.
I let her into the rental dungeon with her suitcase. As soon as the door is shut she puts her arms round my neck and kisses me slowly on the mouth as if she’s missed me.
We’ve had sex and I’m lying back on the pillows enjoying the shuddery aftershocks. I become aware that, rather than rushing around looking for wet-wipes, all end-of-session brusque efficiency, she’s lying still beside me, her head on my shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I stroke her hair and she moves closer, letting her arm fall across my chest.
We’re having dinner after a session. As we share a memory of some particularly erotic act, she reaches across the table and takes my hand, smiling into my eyes and making me melt a little.
Our sessions have centred around kinky games where I’ve introduced her to bondage and spanking, where she has willingly submitted to my will as a dominant, exploring the varied emotions and sensations that BDSM has to offer. I’ve felt a sense of wonder that she should choose me as her guide through these new experiences.
When I look back on our several meetings I remember the glorious sight of her over my knee, nervously waiting for her spanking; I remember her yell as the flogger bites into her bottom; her low moan as she feels the sharp, focussed pain of nipple clips for the first time. But, to my surprise, the stronger, deeper, longer lasting memories are born from the total lack of artifice in her gaze across the dinner table, the naturalness in the drape of her arm over my chest and from the freedom with which she lets her lips brush over mine.
I realise now that the artless authenticity of these actions, coming as they do in between all the spanking and the flogging, have created for me a wonderful girlfriend experience. I think I might be ready to add that authenticity to my list of kinks so for our next session, rather then show her some yet to be explored corner of BDSM, I’ve asked HER to show ME a full-on, no safeword, girlfriend experience. I want to walk into her apartment and have her greet me like an old friend then dance around in her bare feet to her favourite playlist while I take the cork out of a bottle of Champagne.
And as we eat Sushi with our fingers, I want her to lean across the table and kiss me softly, all unspoken invitation and twinkly eyed promise.