Mostly how alone you are when you think you could be at the end and how little your employer cares. — The Universe provides. She always has. It may not be exactly when you want and it may not be exactly what you ask for (it is, you just have to learn how to word your requests), but in most ways, it’s what you need and when you need it. …

Here’s another place where your number shouldn’t matter. — I have a sister-in-law who, until maybe a year ago, was in love with a new person every couple of weeks. Do I think this is accurate? No, I really don’t, but also, it’s quite frankly none of my business. It’s like I told my husband at the time, my…

Am I Still Allowed to Tell Sexy Stories? — There are people who love to say sex educators or sex confessional writers have to be a certain thing. We should be experienced in our niche, right? Who’s to say what that means, though? Not me, I mean, my ‘number’ is up there, but does that mean I’m experienced? No…

That’s just not how it works, folks. — We recently hired a transgender woman at my job. I have been struggling with this for a number of reasons, not one of them being because she’s a transgender woman. It’s my co-workers. Not one of these people knew A before she started working for our company. So I don’t…

I was straightening up the counter space in one of our executive suites the other day when it dawned on me. The work I’m doing now isn’t a lot different than when I was an escort. Hear me out. Spending my entire day in a hotel. Check. Making sure the room was neat…

With real examples that should make you wonder about your fellow humans. — While I may come at this topic from a position of bias, considering my job, I have to feel that people, in general, are decent. Otherwise, I’ll start tearing my hair out in clumps and rocking in the corner pretty soon. …

There’s a fine line between being a bitch and being a Domme, and I tread it finely. — I’ve always enjoyed straddling the lines society places. Not just society, but people too. I was the tomboy who wanted ribbons in my hair, usually streaked with mud because I had been playing in the creek with the boys, in a frilly top that was paired with overalls. You know…

My personal “Maid” story doesn’t end in financial freedom…yet. — My paternal great-grandmother didn’t come to America and expect to become a housekeeper or maid. I don’t actually have any idea what Nana wanted to do once she arrived here in America. She was young and idealistic, like most immigrants. Meeting my great-grandfather on the Amsterdam, where he was serving…