I am not a dancer…

I am not a bartender…

I am not a s*x worker…

I do not work the house…

I own the house…

And, everything that goes on in my house remains in my house. We service the wealthiest clients in all of Clarke. They come for a good time, not a long time. But, then there are those who don’t come for the fun itself. They come for the community. The connection. The Chemist. And, in that regard…

I am the connector…

I am the piece of a larger puzzle…

I am the rite of passage…

I am the ticket to the next stop…

I am the gateway….

In my line of work, many men pass me by. All colors. All sizes. All walks of life. Many catch my eye but only a few keep it. I’m surrounded by greatness. I, myself, am greatness in a 5’11 frame and 6’1 on a good, stiletto-influenced day. Which leads me to believe a couple of things:

I’m far too much woman for one man.

Monogamy is far from natural.

Liberation is my first, middle, and last name.

My freedom doesn’t end with my sexuality.

Neither did my lover’s. However, we had rules. And, when those rules were broken, hell split the earth’s crevice. He did me dirty. Instead of crying myself a river, I made a home with the worms. I didn’t surface until I had done him dirtier. Fortunately for me, I emerged unscathed and well-f--ked with a new suitor on my arm. One that my ex-lover considered a father figure.

I am not one to play with.

I am the one who plays.

I am Madam.

The Madam.

But, Big Fella calls me Princess.