Giving Pleasure

The curtains wave softly, the fresh spring scent of lilacs blowing
in through the window. The scent just exists, neither demanding notice
nor escaping it. The soft hues of blue and violet wrap the room in a
peaceful cocoon of quiet. I study the room with great care. I want
everything to be perfect. I light the tubular candles, placed
strategically around the room. The dancing flames cause the room to
appear to shimmer. The music of the Masters waft softly through the
room. Satisfied the room is now perfect, I go down to await your
arrival. Tonight I wish to give only pleasure. It shall be your night.
The night that you surrender only to the sensations of your body. And,
in the giving to you, I know I shall find rare delights to satiate my own
needs.
Your knock on the door brings my mind back to the present.
Taking the glass of chilled wine, your favorite, I meet you at the door.
The sheer pale blue negligee swirls around my body when I open the
door. Ahhh. The look in your eyes tells me you are finding the view
enjoyable. A smile tugs at your lips as you pretend not to comprehend
this unexpected greeting, or its significance. I take your hand and draw
you into the foyer. You draw me close to you, bending down to cover
my mouth with yours, your tongue gently probing. Our tongues twirl
about each other, sending thrills down my body.
My fingers toy with the buttons on your shirt. Oh! it opened.
Still kissing you, my fingers slide down to the next. Your hands sliding
over my body, moving the soft silky gown across me trigger the nerves
to full alertness. As your shirt opens, I nestle closer to you. You can
feel the hardness of the tips of my large breasts rubbing through the
gown.
Step by step, we have been moving further into the room. A slow
rhythymic dance that leads us closer and closer to the sanctuary I have
prepared for tonights pleasure. Freeing your shirt from your trousers, I
help it to slide from your body, holding the kiss … only now returning
the probes with my tongue. Accepting the caresses of your hands, I
still avoid allowing you to actually begin the strokes of passion. You
are doing enough. My own motives for the evening as yet unknown to
you.
We enter the sanctuary. Your clothes now leaving a trail between
the front door and this very private of places. The bed occupies the
center of attention, we are drawn to it by magnetism from deep within
our beings. Lying across the bed, we hold. Caress. Stroke. No words
are exchanged. This is not the time for words. We pause to sip the
wine, sharing the glass.
I stand. With the movements of a slow-motion film, I reach to
untie the ribbons that hold the gown in place. It descends to the floor,
first revealing my breasts, the protuding nipples now fully erect.
Slithers over my tummy and finally reveals the dark triangular thatch of
hair before dropping to a graceful pile on the floor. I stand for a time.
Just accepting your gaze as you caress my body with your eyes. My
eyes stroking your manhood, so fully erect. My eyes travel over your
body. Our gazes meet. The mutual delight and anticipation register.
Without looking away, I move back towards you. Lying down next to
you. I lower my face to yours. Our kiss locking. Holding. Stoking
the fires from within.
Deftly I avoid allowing you to take command. Tonight, My Love, I
shall be the conductress. Tonight the art of giving pleasure shall be
mine to exhibit. You need only surrender your mind to fully receiving
all the sensations your body will transmit. Tonight, you must be the
receiver, not the giver. For my deepest need to be fulfilled, you must
succumb to just receiving. Your mind must not be distracted for a
moment, not even on the giving of pleasure. Subtly by moving my body,
you finally accept the terms of surrender. Your soft smile and the light
in your eyes tell me you are willing, for this moment, to allow me to
have my way with you.
My lips begin their tour. Moving against your cheek, I slide
towards your ear. Lips, moistly touching. Walking.
With my tongue, I lick the contour of your ear. Probing. The
warmth of my breath slides across the surface of your ear. It seems to
wrap around your neck. You sigh. Down your neck, my lips and tongue
continue to navigate. My fingers blazing the trail in light caresses
along your torso. Stopping to toy with a firm nipple. My mouth
quickly follows. I draw the tight button into my mouth.
Time passes. Your breath is now more shallow. The tenseness is
falling away from your body. Your body is taking control of your mind.
My hands stroke. Caress. My mouth slowly moves further down your
torso. The descent is unhurried. Each area is kissed. Licked. Caressed.
Finally I feel the brush against my cheek. The firmness slides
along my neck. My own passions are sweeping through my body. My
own excitement urging me to hurry. But no. We shall not hurry.
There is no need. The evening is ours.
My hands stroke the inner thighs. Slowly. Purposefully. You
respond. Your legs parting to allow my hands more area to pet. I turn
my face. The tip of your crown brushes my moist lips. My tongue
slides across its smoothness, delighting me in the feel and taste. With
great care my tongue explores the entire crown. No area is omitted.
Smiling to myself, I feel you pressing to gain entrance. Impishly I
glance at you. Nope. Not yet anyway. With one hand I continue to
stroke your inner thighs; close to the fork of your body. I stroke back
and froth across the bridge … down one thigh; back up; sliding across
your marshmallowy cushions; down the other thigh; and back.
My lips begin to walk down the length of your throbbing Staff.
Oh. The feel of it against my lips and tongue. Surges of thrills attack
my consciousness. Just the sensations. My lips become my being. My
body telegraphing messages throughout my being. Licking. My tongue
finds the shallow groove running the length of the Stiffness. Ahhh. Up
and down. down and up. My free hand holds you steady as my tongue
caresses and strokes the groove. The boiling within my groins becomes
intense. Your thrusting assures me of the pleasure you are accepting,
increasing my own desires even more.
Turning slightly, I allow my mouth to seek the small hollow at the
base of your Spike. I probe with my tongue. Discovering the firmness
of the inner structures. Sucking. My hand stroking your Member;
tongue probing; the other hand now sliding across the orbs that are so
firm. Your moans tell me you have surrendered to just accepting the
sensations. Your body, like mine, is now one with your mind.
Very, very gently, I draw the Orbs as far into my mouth as I can.
Exploring the sliky smoothness of their surface, the tactile messages are
imbedded into my memory for recall when we are apart.
Now. Now, I slide even further back. My tongue pressing as it
tiptoes across the bridge behind the orbs. Probing. My tongue
lubricates the tight opening. You lift upwards to me. My lips follow
the crevice. My tongue massaging the crack.
Eventually, I begin to retrace the path I had followed. My fingers
following behind. Finding the tight cavern, one finger begins to just
press against it, just pressing. rotating. stimulating. While my lips
again slide over the orb, along the staff, back to the crown.
NOW. Now my mouth parts and I begin to draw you into my
mouth. Down slightly. Pulling my head up. Now drawing you in a
little further. And pulling away again. I use the suction of my mouth
to draw you in; my tongue to push you back out. Repeating the process
with such slowness that it seems almost as if we are suspended in time.
Each time, my own body wants me to draw you fully in; however, I
resist the urge; the sensations alone preparing allowing full relaxation so
as to eventually take your member fully within my mouth.
Time no longer exists. There is nothing but the sensations
sweeping through our bodies. Then. Then you are fully into my mouth.
The crown pressing into the tightness at the aperture of my throat. I
swallow. The motions massage your Member. I feel it throbbing against
my tongue and mouth. My own body is responding with torrents of
moisture.
I can feel the orbs moving so slightly as I suck deeply; drawing on
your very inner being. Your moans of pleasure fill my ears. My own
murmurings of delight muffled by the fullness in my throat.
No longer can I prolong. My own body demands full release.
Surrendering, I slide my hand through my own thatch to help bring us
to the mutual climax. Faster; harder; deeply; …. holding …
drawing … …. …
The sweetsour taste of your essence fills my mouth as my own
body releases its torrents. Our voices blend in unison as we crest into
that universe of passion where only the fervor exists. There is nothing
except the nerves which are now divesting themselves of energy. We
are one. The throbbing of our hearts beat the primitive sounds of
passion and rapture as nature intended.
There is no perspective of time. It has stopped. Until our bodies
release the last drops of our passions, we are bound in this world of
delight.
At long last, I turn back to you. Our chests heaving in unison.
We kiss. And wrapped in the safety of each other’s embrace, we drift
off to dream of other times yet to be.

Alone

It was the middle of the night, clear and cool. I couldn't sleep. There was a restlessness inside me, easily identifiable...I wanted him.


I arose from my bed, fully nude, and walked slowly to the window. The blinds were pulled open. The moon was full and bright shining upon my skin. I wondered if anyone was watching. My skin was burning, my nipples taunt. I closed my eyes and imagined that HE was watching me at the window from below. Slowly my hand glanced my breast's fullness. I shuddered. I could feel hot wetness between my thighs, pooling and thickening in its sweetness. I knew he would want to see me touch it so I reached down with my fingers into the silk below and moaned.


I imagined him stroking himself as he gazed up at me fingering my sweetness that was all for him. I pressed my breasts against the window glass and was electrified by its coolness against my flesh. I rocked gently against my hand, causing my nipples to graze the glass again and again, tantalizing and arousing me further. I knew he would be enraptured by this, purely male and beautifully erect for me, stroking his member expertly. I wanted to taste myself, the sweet juice I was making for him. My finger went slowly into my mouth and I sucked it. I imagined it was him in my mouth, his hot hardness pulsing in reaction to my tongue and the milking I gave. If only I could taste him...


I felt the explosion start to build within me, deep inside. All of my fingers entered my wet pussy as I held onto the wall, fucking myself hard - and I came.


In the aftermath, trying to catch my breath, slowing my pulse, I opened my eyes and in the moonlit grass below - he was there.

The Challenge

As she walked through the entrance, she was relieved to see the pool was almost empty, except for the old lady slowly paddling back and forth across the water. She smiled to herself, she preferred when no-one was in so she could have more space. That's why she always went when most people were at work. She quickly walked to the edge of the pool, her juicy butt reverberating hypnotizingly as she moved. She got into the diving position and glided into the water with ease and skill.


As soon as she resurfaced she instantly started making way to the other end. After one length, another followed. This repeated itself until her tenth length, when she stopped for breath. She breathed heavily, wiping sweat from the top of her forehead, then she made sure her long, black hair wasn't a mess. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't help but think about what it was that made her go to the pool everyday for the last two weeks.


Just a couple of weeks ago she was leading a wild lifestyle, out all night, sleeping all day and waking next to complete strangers. But after telling her friends she didn't think she could cope with much more partying, they shunned her from their group, leaving her with no real friends. It had led her to question whether for the last few years it was her that people were interested in, or just her wild ways. Over the last two weeks she'd become lonely and bored. So, she got a membership with her local pool in the hope to make a hobby. She had succeeded and in the process toned up, leaving her with a healthy looking stomach which complimented her C cup breasts and round ass perfectly. But she wondered whether it was all really worth it. Overall, though one question scared her most of all.


"What if people don't think I'm hot anymore?" It was definate that throughout her life, she had had it easier then most because of her beauty. Her full lips, olive skin, enticing eyes and long burnette hair that ran down her back always kept the boys interested, not to mention her killer body. Although she tried not to think about it, she knew that if she didn't look as good as she used to, life was going to get a lot more difficult. Without her friends, she didn't meet as many guys. Without any guys, none was complimenting her anymore. Without the compliments she felt unwanted and unconfident.


Her train of thought was broken as she noticed the old lady leaving the pool. She had the pool to herself. But before kicking off for another ten lengths, she looked down at herself. "Am i still hot?" she questioned. Looking at her body, she couldn't fault herself, her booty was to die for, being hugged tightly by her costume which she'd purposefully chosen because it was just slightly too small, and therefore highlighting all she was proud of in her body. It was then that she only just realised him.


She looked over to the lifeguard' s chair and had to keep her mouth from dropping as she saw the guy sitting there. A dark, handsome guy of around six foot with black, spiked up hair sat watching the clock. Her eyes ran down his body. He was muscular, it was obvious even when he had his life guard shirt and shorts on. He ticked all her boxes. "Right," she thought to herself, "if I can make that hottie check me out just by walking past him, then i must still be hot. This challenge decides it. Hot or not, he decides."


She slowly walked out the pool, brushed her hair back and began walking across the pool side. She could feel each droplet running over her curvaceous body with every step she took. As she walked past him, she looked up, bit her lower lip and gave a cheeky smile. "FUCK". He didn't look. He didn't seem to notice her at all, just kept staring at that clock. Her scowled as she made it over to the hot tub.


"What is it with me and gay guys" she muttered under her breath as the bubbles began. But she was proved wrong as a female co worker of the lifeguard walked past, he made no secret of the fact he was checking her out. She couldn't help but stare in horror. "No. This doesn't make sense," she thought almost shaking with jealousy, "that girls so thin and her face..." She stared at the body guard. "This isn't fair." She suddenly realised something. This was the first time in her life she had experienced not being acknowledged as good looking. In the past, she only ever noticed a guy when he was making a move on her. So, for her not to get the lifeguard' s attention tore her apart.


"He doesn't know what he's missing" she thought as she played out how they'd meet, how he'd chat her up, how they'd go back to his and how he'd fuck her. She felt a wave of feelings as that last thought entered her mind. She craved for him to be inside her. Never before had she felt like this. She always got what she wanted and the fact that this time was different drove her crazy.


She practically jumped out of her skin as someone tapped her shoulder. It was the "skinny bitch". "Lunch." she stated rudely, "You gotta get out".
"OK." She stated, standing to get out. But as she stood she realised something she hadn't before. Thinking of the life guard had made her wet. Extremely wet. Because of her tight swimming costume, she didn't know whether it was noticeable, so she kept her back to the "skinny bitch" as she got out and walked away. She quickly walked towards the changing rooms on the far side from the lifeguard so he couldn't see her problem. Just before leaving, she looked over at him. He still wasn't looking. She was nearly stopped in her tracks by the surge of heat towards her pussy as it moistened with the need for him. Trying not to draw attention, she quickly paced towards the showers.


When inside, away from the staff of the pool, she hit the "on" button to start the shower. Glad to be alone, she cleansed herself of her moisture before beginning reaching for the soap and lathering her body up.


"See you in an hour, I'm gonna grab a shower" She heard a man say. She stood deathly still. "Surely," she prayed silently," surely it can't be him." She tried to act normal as she heard whoever it was enter the room. She peaked out of the corner of her eye. It was indeed "him". You better believe she was wet. She kept her eyes forward as she scrubbed her arms robotically in a failed attempt to act as nothing was happening.


"Mind if I use that?" He said as he reached for the soap. Her eyes widened as he hand brushed her arm, reaching for the soap. In her shock a wave of emotions and thoughts washed over her. The wave only stopped when she realised she'd accidentally let out a moan. A moan that was too loud for him not to notice. She looked into his eyes, praying to god that by some kind of miracle he hadn't noticed. From the look on his face, he most certainly had. His eyes were wide and his jaw had slightly dropped. In an attempt to hide her self, she covered her wet patch with her hands. She closed her in embarrassment as she realised her mistake. When she opened her eyes, she saw she must have made a lame attempt, as he was staring at her now very noticeably wet pussy. Even through her costume it was still blatantly obvious how horny she was. Tears of frustration with herself filled her eyes as she just about managed to utter the word, "sorry" vaguely.


She looked into his eyes as a grin spread across his face. "Hey don't worry," he said, "it happens to all of us." She looked at him quizzically. He took the hint and pointed towards his own crotch. Slowly, she watched a generously sized lump grow in his shorts. She looked back up at him, trying to express how she felt, but he had already begun to pull her towards him. They kissed passionately under the beating water, each exploring the others mouth with their tongue. His arms wrapped around her as she bought her body closer to his. Needing more, she pressed her pussy up against his now rock hard cock. After about two minutes of kissing he pulled away, revealing a string of her juices that had made it through her costume onto his shorts. He gave a giggle as the string broke. "Thanks for that." he said, about to turn to walk to the changing rooms. Her face showed how horrified she was at the thought that they weren't going to fuck.


She tried to talk, but her words became jumbled. "No. please... i need the... crave it badly..." He looked confused. She dropped to her knees and pulled down his shorts, revealing his cock. She wrapped her fingers around it, looking up as if to make sure he understood. He nodded. She wrapped her full, plump lips around his cock. He put his hands on the back of her head, groaning as she sucked on his cock. She had to control herself, to make sure she didn't suck to hard. She desperately wanted to please him. She used all the tricks she knew on his lucky cock. She rubbed her tongue against it while it was inside her mouth. A cock so big had never passed her lips before. She continued her sucking as she felt his hands move down her back. She smiled as his hands rested on her ass. Desperate for him to explore she tried to pull down her pink swimming costume.


She scowled as she remembered the bottom and top half of the swimming costume were connected, so she couldn't pull it down. She didn't care about her costume anymore, she simply grabbed the area around her pussy and ripped it with a very hard tug. It snapped off, she pulled it off herself, threw it to one side and bent over, as she slipped his cock back inside her mouth. But his hands stayed on her ass. To give him a clue, she leant further forward, taking his cock deep into her throat as she revealed her pussy to him. He took the hint and slowly eased his middle finger inside. A loud squelch erupted as his finger entered. She took his cock out of her mouth as an idea sprung into her head.


She stood up, pushed him back and slid two fingers inside herself. She smiled at him as she began to let her fingers play around inside. It wasn't long before juices began to drip down her fingers. Satisfied with how wet she'd made herself her pulled the fingers out, walked back towards him, separated her fingers and asked, more confident now, "One each?"


The both licked, sucked and slurped on her fingers, swapping them every so often as they let their tongues run over the other's. Feeling her confidence grow she decided to try to distract him. With a grin she looked into his eyes as she wrapped her free hand around his cock. He wasn't phased at all, he didn't even look up from her fingers as he began to rub her pussy in return. She began to tug on his wet cock, almost in a competitive way. He looked back, still not showing any kind of shock as he slipping two fingers inside her.


Both kept treating her fingers as the continued to jerk and finger harder and harder competitively until both were on their knees almost shaking with pleasure. "I can't take it!" he exclaimed as he pushed her onto her back. She spread her legs for him as he shoved his now throbbing dick into her sopping pussy. She wrapped her legs around his waist as they began to fuck. She looked deeply into his eyes, as he did the same and she began to say a breathless "yes" with every rhythmic thrust he gave her. He kissed her, rubbing his tongue on hers as she returned the gesture. As their lips parted she gave a shivery "more".


He fucked harder, deeper, faster. Her pussy giving a loud juicy squelch with each movement of his dick inside her. As her pussy squelched on his dick, her ass squelched on the soapy wet floor. "More." she began to whisper every now and then until she couldn't help but almost scream it in pleasure. Somehow he managed to keep her teetering, kept her just on the edge of cumming on his cock. It was almost as though he was trying to prolong it. She couldn't take it anymore. Pushing hard on his ripped six pack she looked at his juice-covered cock as she told him to "Let me taste my pussy on your fucking amazing dick." But she could barely stand to have his cock leave her pussy without making it cum.


She pushed him hard onto the floor and slid her pussy back onto his pole. She pressed her tits against his stomach as she bounced on his cock. She moaned as she moved her pussy up and down on his vein dick. The heat slowly returned, that same heat she felt in her pussy when she walked on the pool side. But stronger this time. Sensing her excitement, he grabbed her ass, helping her bounce and making his dick slide deeper inside. She kept going until she couldn't take it any longer, she took his hands from her ass, layed them on her tits as she moved her pussy up and down on him EVER SO slowly. He began to rub her nipples as she tilted her head back and moaned, her pussy clinching tighter then ever and her cum leaking all over his cock.


Barely giving herself a chance to catch her breath she began sucking her cum off his cock vigorously, needing every drop. "HEY!" he protested, "I wanna taste too." she smiled. She turned around and slowly slid her pussy across his impressive chest up to his mouth and into the 69 position. She strained to continue sucking as he grinded his tongue on her ridiculously sensitive clit. She moved her head round, looked at him and said, "I want your cum. I want it in my mouth. I fucking want your cum" He slowly said an eye brow and replied, "Believe me, you'll come before I do". Without another word the pair began to lick and suck furiously. They became a pile of olive skin surrounded by lather, sucking, moving and moaning together.


This continued for five minutes. Five heated, sticky, wet, breathless minutes. By the time the fifth minutes passed both were shivering with pleasure, about to cum. But neither would give the other the satisfaction of knowing they'd beaten the other. Sensing this, he managed to utter a muffled "Three...two... " she knew what she meant as both got ready to cum. As he lay down, looking up at her tight, dripping wet pussy he noticed how lathered her ass hole was. He grinned as he said, "one." He slid two fingers inside her pussy and vibrated them as he slid the index finger from his free hand in her sopping wet ass hole. Both came. He smiled as plenty of juice dripped down to him, running over outstretched tongue as it gently tickled her clit. She smiled as shot after shot of cum erupted inside her mouth. By the time both had stopped cumming they could barely move. Over a matter of minutes, they retrieved the tongues and fingers. She lay on top of him as he lay below her. Both stayed that way for quite some time, trying to catch their breath.


She was the first to move. She stood up slowly, finally able to breath evenly. He copied her, smiling as his cock continued to throb, a mixture of cum and water running down his leg. He outstretched his arm, reaching out his hand. "Tommy," he said. She grinned, shaking his hand. "Tori." Both knew they didn't have to say anymore. Nothing could make this experience any better.


She nodded, turned and walked towards the changing room. But before turning the corner she looked back at the man that gave her the best fuck of her life. Tori watched him, pick up his lifeguard now soaked life guard shorts and pull them back on. "Swimming is definitely my new hobby" Tori thought to herself. She had most certainly won THAT challenge.

Welcome Ladies and Gents! I am your Hostess for the duration of your time aboard…..

Welcome Ladies and Gents! I am your Hostess for the duration of your time aboard…..

......Would you care for a drink ?

...and nibbles?
The ‘In Site Movie’ showing today is

...One Million Years Before Lustfultori…
If we experience some turbulance…........

Ladies and Gents…Please Buckle up ...

We will be in for a bumpy ride!

If you need my attention please press the over head call button
Catch me if you can........

Safe travels !


An exchange between two friends about a successful Courtesan:

"In the first place, she dresses attractively and looks neat; she's gay with all the men, without being so ready to cackle as you are, but smiles in a sweet bewitching way; later on, she's very clever when they're together, never cheats a visitor or an escort, and never throws herself at the men. If ever she takes a fee for going out to dinner, she doesn't drink too much--that's ridiculous, and men hate women who do--she doesn't gorge herself--that's ill-bred, my dear--but picks up the food with her finger-tips, eating quietly and not stuffing both cheeks full, and, when she drinks, she doesn't gulp, but sips slowly from time to time....Also, she doesn't talk too much or make fun of any of the company, and has eyes only for her customer. These are the things that make her popular with the men. Again, when it's time for bed, she'll never do anything coarse or slovenly, but her only aim is to attract the man and make him love her; these are the things they all praise in her."

I am Courtesan Lustful Tori , an Exotic companion reserved for the most selective and refined gentleman; those who appreciate a woman of infinite variety. As an entertainer, confident, muse and luxury travel companion. I bring a sublime experience to each and every encounter.

Some may ask what makes this Courtesan different from any other. I feel that life experiences have played their role in creating the Courtesan that I am. The same true for the gentlemen who appreciate my unique gifts. Just as I am an extraordinary woman, my friends are extraordinary men.

As a Courtesan, I am a mistress of sensual delights. Dangerously provocative, seductively beautiful, hedonistic, curious, playful, generous, witty, pasionate and sensual. I am a lady, quietly confident of my own femininity, charming and graceful, demure in my speech and capable of engaging in an intelligent conversation. I share these qualities and charms not only to delight and enchant the gentlemen in my life, but also to cultivate my soft, enduring nature. I understand gentlemen, and they enjoy and appreciate my company.

In order for me to provide consistent, high quality companionship , it is pertinent for me to be well read and well versed on a multiple of diverse subject matters. My thirst and hunger for knowledge is strong. I strive to learn and absorb all that surrounds me. I pride myself on having a strong academic background and having achieved many personal accomplishments, as I believe that these attributes make the time I spend with a gentleman that much more rewarding for both of us.

The gentlemen that I meet with enjoy the fact that I bring them into a world where they can feel free, playful, and at ease from the stressors of life. Together we enjoy a discreet liason for a few hours or a few days. Conversations that linger over an aperitif to stimulate the appetite, playful pillow talk, mutual exploration of the mind, the body the soul and more. I am genuine in my attentiveness, anticipating a gentleman's needs before he even expresses them. I enjoy entertaining both in and out of the boudoir, giving all pleasures to the gentlemen with whom I choose to spend my time.

Found worldwide, by appointment, I prefer to see a select few and do not limit myself to a certain 'class' of gentlemen but to gentlemen with class.
Welcome,
I am The Courtesan Lustful Tori

Lustfully Yours,
Tori Blake
619-559-9196
www.lustfultori.com

Tori sighed.

Tori sighed.

It had been a hard day, and as usual she felt as if nothing had been accomplished. There were still orders to fill, phone calls to make, emails to read, and all she really wanted to do was head home and go to bed.

Actually, what she really wanted to do was go to bed with him, the handsome temp secretary who had worked in the office for the last few weeks. Ever since she’d met him she’d been lusting after his well-built body. It didn’t help that he was also a very sweet guy with a cheerful smile. She always felt happier whenever he was nearby, not to mention an awful lot hornier.

Master.....

Master.....
i look at You and see the strength i yield
i lie here, Your willing sub, awaiting Your touch
i try to speak and You smile to me and tell me hush
You produce a silken sash, and with it cover my eyes
Your hands move like an artist's across my body
Your lips grace mine, tasting, touching
i feel Your lips as You move down me
i feel Your breath against me, hot and damp
i reach a hand out, but You say no, lie still
You reach my center and begin kissing softly
Your tongue like a tiny whip, each motion a sensual lash
i arch my back and present myself to You
i am needing You....wanting to feel You
Your movements quicken, and i feel my body responding
as i reach the height of my pleasure, You remove the sash
You gaze into my eyes and flash a brilliant smile as You watch me
afterwards, You kiss me tenderly, and i am elated
there is but one word that crosses my lips
Master.....

I AM SUBMISSIVE!

i am a submissive woman.
i am not weak,
nor i am worthless.
i am a submissive woman.
i am intelligent,
and possess a strength
and perseverence that withstands
the trials of life.
This strength which i possess
and cherish
is my gift to You.
When life breaks You down
and makes You
question the man
you were intended to be...
allow me to allow You
to suck my strength from me.
Make it Your own.
i do not
nor will i ever
give my submission to a man
just because he claims dominance.
But to You,
i give all of me...
and Your ownership
completely
sets me free.
i trust in You to cherish the gift,
embrace my trust in You...
to protect me.
i have opened up my heart
and my mind...
the very core of my soul to You...
and invited You in.
i have
given You the book
entitled "Me"...
and invited You to read.
You know i have suffered
and
You know i am scared
but You...
You have endeavored
to erase the memories
and
replace the pain.
You are my Master
and
i am Your slave.

i am not to be degraded
nor ever dishonored
yet
i recognize
i am not Your equal,
nor will i ever be.
i was created
to compliment You...
i was created to make You whole...
for without the portion of Your heart
that contains my soul...
would not be complete...


Lustfully Yours,
Tori Blake
www.lustfultori.com
619-559-9196

I love to dream. Wandering, Exploring, Experimenting…..Fears.

I love to dream. Wandering, Exploring, Experimenting…..Fears.

I dream often as all of us do and yet I wonder what it all means. At times when I wake I find myself wanting to go back to the place of which I left.

This dream.

Have you ever found yourself interrupted from a dream, awaken by something and wanting so badly to return to that dream.. that moment? To absorb it.. to live in it?

I often have.

The other night, I had a strange dream. This dream, for some reason for the most part was difficult to remember and now even harder to explain. But it had such an impact on me that when I woke, I felt as though I was still living in the moment.

The Moment.

A ring of fire, I am given the choice between a lover and a friend. So strange as the lover and the friend seem as though they are the same person, even though they were not. As the dream goes on, the two people become dimensions of people I have met before, both people who are living and those who have passed on.

Choose one.

And, as I stand there trying to figure out how I could possibly choose one and why I have to choose one, I realize that the person who is asking me to choose.. is actually me.

Awaken yet wanting to go back.

I love to dream, at times it terrifies me, yet somewhere in my mind I know it is just a dream.

I love to dream. Trying to figure out what it all means…


As Always,
Lustfully Yours,
Tori Blake
www.lustfultori.com
619-559-9196

Evening Floats

Evening Floats
A Clandestine Encounter.

I follow your voice and whisper your name.
Offering all of me to you. My heart, mind, body and soul.

In quiet I listen to your passions, and yearnings, truths, and desires.
Your words stimulate the pleasure centers of my mind.
They send shivers of sensual delight. A deep longing for connection.
I welcome your touch.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I feel a tingle of excitement running up the back of my neck.
Exploring endlessly.

Becoming emotionally exposed.
The basis of true intimacy.

Delicious dimensions of the physical, mental and emotional.
In search of the magnificient and the mystical.

Rising in and out of fantasy and ecstasy

You and I. Aroused again. Evening Floats.

Lustfully Yours

Tori Blake

619-559-9196

www.lustfultori.com

Undeniable Sex Appeal!

Tori’s a striking exotic brunette with undeniable sex appeal, yet more importantly has been complimented on numerous occasions for having intelligence!

Tori describes herself as "a harmonious shadow that walks delicately yet aimlessly beside you, awaiting to experience joys that time allows us."

Tori is an elite woman with elegance, sophistication and intelligence to match her sex appeal, a woman who understands the needs of men and is their biggest fan, a woman who is dying to meet you, seduce you and make you feel alive in the most graceful fashion you can't possible resist-- but more importantly, a woman who will redefine your impression of what a professional is all about. :-)

Lustfully Yours,

Tori Blake

619-559-9196

www.lustfultori.com

BIOGRAPHY

Lustful Tori is a beautiful, elite Sicilian/American Indian courtesan, providing discreet, uninhibited companionship to elite professionals and high profile gentlemen who are seeking beauty, class, quality and simply the epitome of Girl Friend Experiences! Lustful Tori is an upscale independent courtesan based in Sunny San Diego and is available internationally as well. Ms. Blake has had an extensive career in entertainment and corporate America.

In her mid thirties, Ms Blake truly takes pride in her exquisite appearance and works diligently to maintain the utmost beauty and physical health. She is 5'6", 130lbs with a athletic and elegant figure (36C-24-35). Above all of this, Ms. Blake will captivate you with her charm and poise, leaving you yearning for her presence on a consistent basis. Ms. Blake is an excellent conversationalist who can handle herself in any type of environment from black tie to a relaxing private evening by candlelight. You will be pleased in any setting with her. Allow yourself to indulge in the ultimate fantasy of Ms. Tori Blake… Confidential incall is limited to those that Ms. Blake has already become acquainted with. Outcalls are available to upscale hotels or residences with advanced notice only. Serious inquiries only!! Lustfully Yours Tori Blake 619-559-9196 www.lustfultori.com lustfultori@yahoo.com

ETIQUETTE!

When emailing me, I require your absolute professionalism and respect at all times. Please do not discuss money, sex acts, or use foul language. IF YOU INSIST UPON THIS I WILL SIMPLY IGNORE YOUR E-MAIL! It is appropriate to tell me a little about yourself, your interests, and a little about your needs without getting too specific or graphic. Please keep in mind that my compensation is never discussed once you enter my presence. This information is taken care of prior to meeting. Be on time for our scheduled appointment. If you are going to be late, please take the time to call me. Please place my compensation in a sealed envelope and sit it in plain view. Please have a valid ID out and available for my verification.

Finally, all I ask is that you respect our time together by properly cleaning yourself. Hygiene is very important to me and if there is a problem with that, the appt will be terminated! I am in the business of providing world-class companionship to those who desire the essence of passion, beauty, and intellect…cum fly away with me… Lustfully Yours, Tori Blake 619-559-9196 www.lustfultori.com lustfultori@yahoo.com

INTRODUCTION!

Thank you for visiting my cozy cyber space. Please make yourself at home. As a courtesan, my goal is to make you feel as euphoric as possible while indulging in the ultimate companionship with me. In addition, this area is designed to inform you initially about what the appropriate steps are here so that your pursuit of me is as smooth and enjoyable as you could possibly imagine. If you are fairly new to the idea of courtesanship, I encourage you to view an excerpt from "A Book Of The Courtesans", by Pulitzer Prize nominated author Susan Griffin. I hope you find this information as provocative as I did.

If you are fairly unfamiliar with modern day etiquette when meeting with a courtesan, Please read my blogs. This will greatly assist you on your glorious quest. I look forward to hearing from you very soon. Please be aware that reading the entire website will answer most of the questions that you have for me. I spent a great deal of time preparing this site to allow for an even flow of the dissemination of information. I do have an available contact number listed here. However my preferred method of initial contact is via my email. When calling, please understand that I do not answer blocked or anonymous calls under any circumstances and I don't answer calls after 10pm. If you simply dial *82 along with my contact number, that will allow me to view your number. If you are pleased with my presentation and would like to set a rendezvous, please use my email as stated earlier. I do require that the entire form is completed as incomplete forms will be discarded. I am confident the information I have provided will help you on your journey to find fulfillment. Now that the sticky tid bits are out of the way, I would like to invite you to relax, enjoy, and indulge. Sincerely, Lustful Tori Blake www.lustfultori.com 619-559-9196 lustfultori@yahoo.com

"Early Spring Morning"

I wake my hand between my legs, I’m wet I have been playing with myself in my sleep, as I open my eyes I continue stroking my pussy, I kick the covers off and spread my legs allowing me easier access. One hand between my open legs while the other gently teases my nipples I trace a figure of eight over my breast as I recall a treasured memory.

The memory I’m using is the first time I had sex with an old boyfriend, he took me away for a week to the Keys,Fl, and he made love to me on a secluded beach.

I slid one finger between my puffy pussy lips the heel of my hand pressing over my clit, I rocked my hand my finger entering my pussy pressed on the front of my pussy, I sighed as the finger pressed on my g-spot.

He ran his hand along my thigh, till his hand was just brushing the crotch of my swim suit, wetness flowed from me and dampened the strip of material my breathing quickened, he was kissing me all the time and then he edged his finger under the leg of the swim suit, he ran his finger up and down, my legs fell open as he gently pulled the material, he put another finger under which touched my mound making me shudder.

I slid a second finger inside and curled it, then I rolled on to my tummy and bent my knee up, as I reached back and with my free hand I stroked my puffy pussy lips while grinding my clit against my hand now trapped under me.

He pulled my swim suit aside and ran his fingers freely over my exposed pussy, I felt his cock on my legs and reached down and my small fingers traced his bulge still encased in his swim trunks as he slipped a finger into my wetness I began stroking the hard cock, up then down, then I felt Him removing his fingers and he climbed up on to his knees and moved up till he was kneeling at my shoulders, he pulled his trunks down revealing to my inexperienced eye an enormous cock, he stroked it once twice three times and offered it up to my lips, I stuck my tongue out and touched it to the tip, He sucked in a breath at my touch.

I slid my finger into my pussy against the two from my other hand and moved it in and out, I gasped and my breathing became shallow, as I masturbated moaning into my pillow.

He pressed further my mouth as wide as I could I accepted him into my mouth, my tongue flat as He began to move his hips, I wrapped two hands round the base of his cock, he fucked my mouth with just 2 inches, I felt he would chock me if I let more in, but He reached down and slipped two fingers into my pussy and I removed one hand reaching down and grasped his wrist, he slipped another 3 inches into my mouth, I puffed out my cheeks as he rode my face, and fingered my pussy I was in heaven.

I felt the familiar warmth spreading through my body as I fucked my pussy with three fingers; my masturbation grew more erratic as I was on the verge of cumming.

He removed his cock and moved down flipping me on to my tummy he clambered up between my thighs and lifting both legs under his arms he positioned his cock at the entrance to my inner haven and in one deep hard thrust he entered my driving breath from me and stretching my pussy it felt like he was splitting me I two, but I was also in ecstasy my lover pounded his cock in and out I heard the blood pounding in my head my body seemed to be on fire and then lights flashed in my head my body convulsed as I came and came hard on my lovers cock, he came deep inside me cum and girlie cum mixed, we both collapsed with him still inside me.

I stiffened and my orgasm swept through me, my fingers beneath me still inside me while the other I took into my mouth and sucked, as I slipped back into a happy sleep.

Morning Love!

mmmmmm ...... i love seeing you laying in front of me naked ...... smiling at me ...... you're so sexy ...... i draw my finger over your lip and groan as you suck on it ....... damn you make me throb ......

i run my fingers slowly down your body ...... taking you all in ...... you have an amazing body ...... lean over and start to gently suck and nibble on your flesh ...... mmmmmmmm ...... you taste so good too ...... start to move down your body ...... kissing ...... licking ...... sucking and gently nibbling ...... groaning as you feel so good on my mouth ...... stroking your hard body ...... move further down and open your legs ...... nuzzling on your thighs and leaving a trail of kisses and sucks along your groin ...... my hair brushing against your cock ...... i can see and feel it twitching ......

i kiss and lick around your balls ...... love that you are breathing harder ...... love that you are enjoying this as much as i am ...... lick my tongue over your balls and slowly up the length of your cock ...... love how hard you are but not ready to eat you just yet ...... take a ball in my mouth and massage it with my tongue ...... sucking gently ...... then on to the other ...... massaging and sucking again ...... then raise your ass a little and start to lick and suck my way to your ass ...... suck a little harder on your flesh as my hand gently runs up your cock ...... flick my tongue over your ass ...... then suck and push just the tip inside ...... before sucking back to your balls ......

love that look in your eyes ...... desperate for me to suck you and stop teasing ...... but enjoying the sensation too much to force me ...... suck your balls into my mouth again ...... groaning at how yummy you taste ...... lick up your cock and run my tongue all over ...... making you nice and wet ...... but your cock doesn't enter my mouth ...... just lots of wet licking and slurping ...... suck back to your ass and encircle it with my tongue ...... my hand strokes slowly up your cock ...... at the same time i force my tongue deep inside your ass and grab your cock firmly ...... twisting slightly to make your foreskin tight ...... i start to rub my hand up and down your cock ...... fucking your ass with my tongue ...... sucking and vibrating there as i groan at your groans ...... run my hand firmly up and down your hard cock ...... love the noises you are making ...... and your ass is so wet ......

slide my tongue out and replace it with a finger ...... finger fucking your ass ...... move my mouth to your cock and start to devour you ...... no teasing ...... no ...... just sucking and eating your cock while i finger your ass deep ...... move so that i can take more of you into my mouth ... sliding up and down using my other hand to massage your balls .... burying my chin in your balls as i groan and gag ... i think my mouth was made for you ...... sliding up and down your cock feels so right ...... taking you all in as my tongue rolls round your hardness ...... love how you touch my throat ...... love how my eyes are watering ...... and i know the noises drive you mad ......

this isn't a one off baby ...... i want to make you cum ...... i need to make you cum ...... then i can keep coming back for more ...... addicted to you ...... slide my lips off your cock and straddle you ...... no messing ...... just slide all the way down your cock ...... throw my head back and moan ...... soooo loud ...... arching my back and grabbing my breasts ...... i start to ride you hard and fast ...... screaming your name as i bounce up and down ...... soaking your cock and balls with my juices ...... need you deeeep inside me ...... balls deep as i cum ...... rocking and grinding ...... i squeal as your finger enters my ass ...... makes me fuck you even harder ...... i must look possessed ...... but don't give a shit ...... i'm lost in my orgasms ...... oh damn ...... i am gonna cum ...... bite my lip ...... ................................... screaming your name as i thrash about on your hard cock ...... OMFGGGGGGGGG ........... struggling to stay on you as your thrusts make me SCREAM ...... feel your cum filling me ...... collapse on your chest and grin up at you and say ...... morning baby...

Lustfultori the Courtesan

Lustfultori the Courtesan

When lust for gold falls on a man he'll travel far and wide
But rarely does he think to take a woman on his ride
Now Lustfultori's a lady who can see a perfect chance
Sets out to travel West with girls, who'll sing and love and dance

Her Father was a Minister who preached a moral line
But Lustfultori's of different cloth she seeks a life that's fine.
She knows that men will pay to see a lady's smiling face
And if they pay for something else, it's really no disgrace.

She builds a bar and keeps it clean, the men must show respect.
The ladies who will work for her will never know neglect
Each man who comes must wash and shave, or not get through the door.
Another thing to bear in mind, is none of them are poor!

A man strikes gold and wants a wife, so goes to Lustfultori;
A girl for life or just one night, she'll find and charge a fee.
And no-one minds her history, all girls are valued here;
To find a wife without a past you'd have to walk a year.

The sheriff never interferes, he's paid to look away
And Lustfultori rewards him with her love each Saturday.
And when the hills are stripped of gold she'll start another life.
With all the money she has made, she'll make a perfect wife.

The girls will always think of her with love and fondest thanks,
As all of them have husbands and deposits in their banks.
So many towns were founded by the likes of Lustfultori
But services they gave the West are missed from history.

For men with guns killed Indians, and all the buffalo
But the real winners of the West are never put on show.
For men alone can't build a state, it's wives that set men free.
So join us in the song we sing "Three cheers for Lustfultori!!!"

COURTESAN!

COURTESAN!

At first glance, the word seems to sit almost coyly on the page. But first impressions can be misleading. The slightly risqué connotations which come to mind hardly reveal the abundance that is hidden here. What was a courtesan, really? As with any tradition that was once alive, the meaning is far too rich for a simple answer. Dictionary definitions will hardly suffice. Where one edition says the courtesan was a prostitute who associated with wealthy men or aristocrats, another refers to her as a kept woman. Yes, she shared characteristics with both. But she was neither.

To claim that courtesans were prostitutes would be deceptively simple. It is true that Madame du Barry, favorite of Louis XV, was once patronized by upper-class men who paid nightly for her favors. And we know that Céleste Mogador, who eventually became a countess, worked in a brothel when she was very young. But their stories only make what may seem a subtle distinction on paper more clear. To become a courtesan was a promotion of great proportions, a fortunate leap into an unimaginably better life. Unlike a prostitute, a courtesan did not live in a brothel, never walked the streets, nor did she, strictly speaking, have a pimp to control and bully her.

On occasion, usually early in their careers, some women did have procurers, but it was their mothers who played this role. Sarah Bernhardt, for example, was given her first liaisons by a mother who, being a courtesan herself, looked to her daughter to provide for her in her old age. This arrangement was common in sixteenth-century Venice and Rome, where mothers who had once been courtesans would, as a matter of course, procure for their daughters. The relationship between mother and daughter is entirely different from that between pimp and prostitute in many significant ways, including the fact that unlike the prostitute, who enriches a pimp more than herself, while she supported her mother, a courtesan could benefit from her own success.

But the distinctions are far greater. With some legendary exceptions, the agreements made with courtesans were hardly quid pro quo. It is probably true that la comtesse de Castiglione was given 1 million francs for a twelve-hour orgy with Richard Wallace, natural son of the fourth Marquess of Hertford. And the rumor may be justified that Liane de Pougy was given 80,000 francs by Henri Meilhac, the librettist for Offenbach's popular operas, just to see her nude (or so Edmond de Goncourt writes in his Journal). But the usual arrangements were like those made with mistresses and even wives -- longer lasting and more subtle in nature. And in distinction to the support given mistresses, who were often modestly kept, these relationships were far more lucrative. Soon after their liaison began, for instance, Louis XV presented Madame de Pompadour with an estate, one of several she was to receive in her lifetime, including the mansion known as the Palais Elysée, now the home of French presidents. A hundred years later, following the same tradition, in addition to giving Marie Duplessis a splendid coach, a team of the finest horses, and a monthly allotment to pay for a maid and a cook, le comte de Stakelberg bought the courtesan her fashionable apartment on the boulevard Madeleine.

The splendor in which the great courtesans lived is fabled. At times their riches grew to exceed those of their protectors. They accumulated town houses, châteaux, villas, all decorated with frescoes and sculptures by important painters, with wood embellishments carved by the best craftsmen, endowed with precious materials -- gold gilt, silver, crystal, marble, and onyx -- and furnished with the finest antiques, silver services, porcelain vases, the most select china, and priceless tapestries. Their coaches rivaled those sported by the elite. Their wardrobes, made from the most luxurious fabrics and by the most celebrated designers -- Charles Worth, for instance, or Paul Poiret -- were envied by respectable and titled women who copied the styles they wore. And above all, courtesans collected jewelry: strings of diamonds and pearls, diamond tiaras, sapphires and ruby rings, emerald brooches, which they displayed with a good measure of pride and also canniness. In a memorable scene from Colette's novel Gigi, the daughter of a courtesan is carefully taught to tell the difference between a canary diamond and topaz; a cocotte's cache of gems served both as an emblem of success and as a fund for her retirement.

The rivalry between courtesans over jewelry had occasional dramatic moments. A story is told about the competition between Liane de Pougy and the Belle Otero which is true, though the setting is disputed. Some say it occurred at Maxim's; others, such as Janet Flanner, the correspondent to The New Yorker in the early twentieth century, place it at the Opéra; and still another, Pougy's recent biographer, places it at Monte Carlo. But the essence of the action is always the same. First, Otero makes her entrance, dripping with diamonds and precious gems in every form: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, anklets, layered and piled in a glittering display of astonishing abundance. Then, shortly after, Pougy enters, wearing only one very elegant diamond necklace, but she is followed by a maid who carries a high pyramid of her priceless jewelry stacked on a red pillow.

The goods would have come from many sources. If, as with a mistress, an affair with a courtesan was rarely just a one-night stand, that is where the similarity ends. Courtesans could be both less and more than mistresses. Less because they were by no means always faithful. Usually, they had several lovers, some who contributed to the household expenses and some who did not. Like other Venetian courtesans, Veronica Franco had many protectors. Sharing in her support, each was pledged a different night of the week in her schedule.

And unlike the mistress of a married man, who is often kept hidden, just as the courtesan was proud of her jewelry, she too was proudly displayed. She was expected to accompany her various lovers to public places and events, café s, restaurants, balls, parties, the theatre, the opera, even hosting gatherings of her lover's friends at her own home. In sixteenth-century Rome, when the powerful banker Chigi entertained at his villa near the Vatican, his lover, the courtesan Imperia, was usually the hostess. It is thought that her beauty inspired Raphael's famous fresco of Galatea that still adorns one wall there. During the Belle Epoque in Paris, among the wealthy playboys, aristocrats, and businessmen who belonged to the exclusive Jockey Club, it was considered de rigueur to keep a courtesan -- so much so that even homosexual men felt they had to do it for show.

But perhaps the greatest distinction we must make here between kept women and courtesans is that the latter were personages. They were, indeed, what we call today celebrities. Friends of kings, regents, emperors, statesmen, financiers, famous writers and painters, they were the constant subject of columns printed in weekly journals, gossip about their romances, what they wore and what they did providing continual fodder for public curiosity. Flaubert, Zola, Balzac, Colette, the Goncourt brothers, all based major characters on the lives of courtesans. And of course, from Praxiteles to Titian to Manet, they were favored as subjects by painters and sculptors.

For this reason, a courtesan had to be highly cultivated. Often born to poverty, with no education and lacking upper-class manners, a young woman would have to be taught many skills in order to play her new role. As in Shaw's play Pygmalion (or the musical that followed, My Fair Lady), she would have to learn to speak with an upper-class accent, dress well if not lavishly, arrange her hair fashionably, walk gracefully, dance, and play the piano. She would be required to know table manners, of course, but also different protocols, including at times the protocols of the court. A woman who may not even have been able to read very well would now be expected to know the plots of operas, recognize literary references, and have some familiarity with history. Only the brave and intelligent would be able to survive the course.

Many courtesans exceeded these requirements. Some, such as Céleste Mogador, who wrote novels, or Tullia D'Aragona, three hundred years earlier, who wrote a philosophical text on Eros, were writers. Veronica Franco was a respected poet. A great many wrote their autobiographies. More than can be counted were notable actresses, dancers, singers, music-hall and circus performers. A few, such as Sarah Bernhardt and Coco Chanel, became far more famous in other professions. An even smaller group, the comtesse de Loynes for instance, gained titles when they married their aristocratic lovers, then having learned to behave well enough and after acquiring sufficient wealth, they slipped past the arbiters of class into high society.

But if these women were remarkable in their accomplishments, they were exceptions among the already exceptional. Altogether, there can be no doubt that courtesans were extraordinary women, not only considering their talents but because, as Simone de Beauvoir writes, they created for themselves "a situation almost equivalent to that of man... free in behavior and conversation," attaining, "the rarest intellectual liberty." For centuries courtesans enjoyed more power and independence than did any other women in Europe. To understand why this was so, we must consider the history of women in Europe, a history that is by no means always the same as the history of men. The consideration is crucial, especially because outside the context of the larger narrative of women's lives, the word "courtesan" loses much of its meaning.

For the several centuries during which courtesans practiced their skills, women were far more confined and regimented than they are today. Except among courtesans, if a woman had wealth, it was almost never her own, but hers to use only through the beneficence, permission, or parsimonious allowance of a father, brother, or husband. Thus it was rare even for women born to wealthy families to be financially independent. Though a luxurious dependency may sound attractive, economic dependency implies a loss of freedom. An upper-class woman did not own the houses she inhabited, could not in fact purchase a house if she wanted to, nor even furniture, china, jewelry, clothing, or food without approval, nor could she travel by her own choice or alone. She was controlled by those who controlled the purse strings.

This circumstance was coupled with still another condition that served to keep upper-class women dependent. They were not fully educated. According to the century in which a lady lived, she might be taught to embroider, to sing, to play the piano, and to dance; she would be instructed in religion and given the rudimentary skills of reading and writing, but what she knew of history, literature, philosophy, or politics she would have had to glean by inference from listening to the conversations of the men in her family. And until the latter part of the nineteenth century when, because of the influence of feminist movements, a few women were admitted to universities, medical, law, and art schools, women were denied the training they would need to enter a profession. Thus the ways available to upper-class and respectable women to earn an independent living were very few. Lacking either inheritance, a family wealthy enough to sustain her, or a husband, an aristocratic or bourgeois woman might become a governess. For the most part, her only other option was to join a convent.

The purpose, therefore, of a young girl's life was to prepare her to attract a husband. She was taught to dress and dance and curtsy so that she might be presented at court or at a debutante ball, where it was hoped she would meet her future husband. But though she was required to enter the rituals of courtship, neither her feelings nor her preferences were considered relevant. Most marriages were not made for love. They were, rather, thinly veiled financial agreements, arranged to benefit a young woman's family or the family of her future husband, while conferring prestige on one or the other or both.

Even the instructions she was given to be pleasing to men had unnatural limits. Given almost no sexual education except the advice to behave with a modestly flirtatious deference to men, her efforts to catch a husband were supposed to be innocent, just as her limited knowledge of the worlds of finance and politics was thought to add to an air of innocence, lending her an attractive naïveté. We might say that, paradoxically, by the rules of this social world, her dependency was her chief asset.

But this state of being could also easily prove her downfall. A descent of this kind has been painfully captured by Edith Wharton. In her great novel The House of Mirth, Wharton depicts the financial and sexual naïveté of Lily Bart, a young woman who is upper class by birth, with only a small inheritance, whose ignorance leads her to commit several social follies that leave her both penniless and unmarriageable. By painful degrees of descent, she meets the worst fate imaginable for a woman born to privilege -- she is forced to begin life as a working woman.

The fact that throughout centuries of European history the majority of women had to work is often omitted even from accounts that purport to focus on women's lives. Peasant families depended on the labor of women and children alike to eke out a living. And among those who lived and worked in the city, apart from the nobility or the wives of the professional classes and the bourgeoisie (who only began to grow to significant numbers in the eighteenth century), whether women took in laundry, worked as chambermaids, charwomen, seamstresses, or weavers, they were wage earners. Married or not, the income they earned was necessary to their own survival as well as that of their families, yet they could earn only a fraction of what men could. In Paris in the early nineteenth century, for example, when peasant economies in France began to collapse and the cities, especially Paris, were flooded with refugees from the countryside seeking employment, even the salaries of workingmen were barely sufficient for survival. Though they worked long hours, often sixteen hours a day, many women could not live on the salaries they were paid.

Thus the word for a woman working in the garment industry, the most common form of employment for women, grisette, which derived from the dull gray of the muslin dresses she wore, acquired a second meaning. Even into the mid-twentieth century, dictionaries still defined the grisette as "a woman of easy virtue." Earning 1 to 1.5 francs a day for work that was seasonal, the garment worker had to turn to other sources for her income. Some walked the streets; some lived with casual lovers, oftentime students, who helped to pay the bills; others attended the many public balls that were popular then in Paris to search for wealthier men who might pay for their favors for a night.

It was for this reason that so many courtesans began as grisettes. If they were lucky enough or extraordinary in some way, they could climb the rungs of a ladder that could lead them further and further away from penury and a grueling schedule of hard work. At a public dance hall, a young woman might meet a man who would set her up in an apartment. A woman who had this good fortune was called a lorette, the word for a would-be courtesan, a woman who was kept only modestly. She did not habituate the elevated circles in which courtesans traveled, though she was a social fixture of the bohemian world. Mimi in Henri Murger's Scènes de la Vie Bohème was a lorette. But the story is better known as Puccini's opera La Bohème.

Only the few who were the most talented among lorettes would ever become courtesans. The heroine of another famous opera, Violetta Valéry in Verdi's La Traviata, was modeled after Marie Duplessis, a real woman who started as a grisette, became a lorette soon after, only to ascend with remarkable rapidity to the rank of courtesan. Her story is typical of the rags-to-riches ascent that was both as desirable and improbable then as is the dream of becoming a sports hero today. Born to near poverty in Normandy, Marie's mother died early. After a period in which her alcoholic father, an itinerant salesman, hauled her with him about the countryside, offering his daughter at least once as merchandise, and after being abandoned by the same father to distant and unwelcoming cousins in Paris, she began work as a grisette. That she was poverty-stricken during this period is verified by the testimony of Nestor Roqueplan, director of the Opéra, who spotted her a year before she became famous, on the Pont-Neuf, dressed in dirty, ragged clothing, begging for a taste of the pommes frites that were sold on the bridge. It did not take her long to meet a restaurateur who established her as a lorette in her own apartment. But this tenure was equally brief. She rose quickly to become one of the highest-ranking courtesans of her time. Well fed and housed, considered to be the best dressed woman in Paris, the woman known as "the divine Marie" had acquired great fame, not to speak of a title, before her death from tuberculosis at the age of twenty-three.

Class is an essential ingredient in the history of courtesans for many reasons, including the dramatic transformation that occurred in the life of a woman who was elevated thus. According to accounts from the eighteenth century, Madame du Barry, who herself experienced a spectacular rise from grisette and sometime prostitute to become the favorite of Louis XV, spoke far better French than his previous mistress, Madame de Pompadour. Since the celebrated Pompadour had been educated by her bourgeois family, she spoke a French that was at least passable at court. But because Barry's working-class language was entirely unacceptable, she was compelled to learn an upper-class grammar that was far more correct than that of her predecessor.

Still, the plot thickens. The issue of class cannot be understood apart from issues of morality. For several centuries in European cultures, with some variations, it was thought that a woman should be chaste before marriage, and if not absolutely faithful, she should at least behave with enough discretion to protect her reputation. The requirement was not uniform. In certain periods and places, especially those in which the poor were driven to desperate measures, a woman's chastity had less significance among working people than it did for the aristocracy. But this division of sentiments was not consistent. The peccadilloes and open liaisons of nobles, kings, and emperors were known to incite wrath from the less privileged public.

What remains relevant to this history, however, is another condition that fostered the tradition of courtesans, the simple fact that as with Edith Wharton's character Lily Bart, a wellborn woman could fall, and in falling not only lose any chance for marriage but be shunned by society as well. In that case, one of the better options open to her would be to become a courtesan. There were so many women who chose this solution in Paris at the turn of the century that a special word was used for them: they were referred to as demicastors. Because of a scandal that had ruined her reputation, one such woman, Laure Hayman, was ostracized until she made her way back into society in another role, as a courtesan. She counted among her lovers many powerful men, including Louis Weil, the uncle of Marcel Proust. It was probably because Proust had known her since he was a boy that he took Hayman as a model for Odette Crécy, the fictional courtesan whose story threads through A la recherche du temps perdu.

The tangled skein of double standards regarding both sex and money, gender and class, creates an interesting controversy over whether or not certain historical figures ought to be classified as courtesans. Agnès Sorel, favorite of Charles VII of France, is generally not considered a courtesan, nor is Alice Keppel, longtime mistress to the Prince of Wales, though both were given financial aid by the monarchs who loved them. One might answer that they did not take money from any other lovers. Except that Pompadour, who took remuneration from no other lovers either, is called a courtesan by almost everybody, probably for the sole reason that she came from the bourgeoisie. Rather than probe the justice of this reasoning, the hope is that these controversies might be resolved by the chapters to follow, which in general use the term "courtesan" as a favorable designation.

Yet it should not be construed that The Book of the Courtesans attempts to argue that its subjects were virtuous in a moral sense. No effort will be made here either to defend or condemn their behavior. Rather, the virtues in the title take their definition from an older usage -- one that was once applied exclusively to men, but which, though it has been out of fashion since the Renaissance, this book revives and applies now to women. In this older definition, virtue has nothing at all to do with chastity. It refers rather to the strengths and attributes that characterize as well as distinguish a person.

Though circumstances must and will be summoned so that these stories can be better understood, the emphasis here will be on the creative response each woman showed to the conditions she confronted. For this phenomenon to be entirely explained, we must explore the considerable magic of human ingenuity here. There are so many kinds of genius to be found in these stories that were we not to place our focus on virtue, we would be squandering a treasure that belongs to all those who are the inheritors of this history.

For history it is. Although the many virtues that courtesans possessed were employed to defy circumstances, the role they played depended on the same circumstances over which they triumphed -- conditions which today, fortunately for modern women, no longer exist. At least within modern European cultures women are not expected to be virgins before they marry, nor do they have to be dependent on husbands, brothers, or fathers for their economic survival.

And there is still another reason for the disappearance of this tradition. The temper of the times has shifted, too. Technically speaking, many women today do what courtesans did; it is quite common still for a married man to support his mistress, and a whole population of highly cultivated and elegant women serve today as escorts, call girls, and modern hetaerae. But just as surely as the role of the courtesan was created by historical conditions, she was also inextricably linked to a historical mood that had come to an end by the third decade of the last century. In 1948, after visiting La Belle Otero, Anne Manson wrote: "When Otero departs there will depart with her the last symbol of an epoch, superficial, light and at the same time virtuous and cynical, covetous toward others yet madly extravagant in its pleasures, full of faults but not without its splendors."

To become a courtesan, a woman required a setting. Though she was center stage, she was not alone. Nor was she hidden. Almost by definition, she was surrounded by scintillating activity. She was inseparable from the demi-mondes she inhabited -- slightly rebellious, risqué, or naughty worlds, alternate societies where a certain sophistication, including carnal knowledge that was banned from proper society, was allowed to thrive. The Belle Epoque, the period that Otero symbolized, was famous not only for its writers, artists, playwrights, and actors but also for the glittering social scene which was staged almost continuously on the Grands Boulevards in Paris, the epicenter of the atmosphere, and the stage on which the courtesan played a vital and charismatic role.