The Dakini Chronicles has moved to!

The Dakini Chronicles website has moved to!

Please link on over to my NEW WEBSITE to continue reading my sassy BLOG on Sacred Sexuality, FBSM, Neo-Tantra, Dating and Relationships for Spiritual Hipsters…

Lots of new info on my UPCOMING BOOK SERIES “The Dakini Chronicles”! Check it out…

Also PHONE COACHING with Scarlet Amor and The UNIVERSITY OF YUM online education series!

SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER to continue receiving blog updates and love letters from yours truly!

Plus tons of photos and eye candy! See you over there… xox ~miss scarlet

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Posted by on May 1, 2012 in Blog


Introduction to the Dakini Chronicles

The Dakini Chronicles: Enlightening Adventures of an Erotic Masseuse

By Scarlet Amor

Red Dakini ImageWell, first off you should know the state of Dakini-dom in this modern world:

This is a secret diary.

(Do the math.)

We are moving closer to cultural maturity around accepting the oldest profession on earth. But until the day comes when I will not get burned at the stake for my work, I will have to keep my identity secret.

I will have to hide my excellent profession from my parents and most friends. I will continue to hesitate and tell a shifty mysterious story when people ask me what I do for a living. Or why I am going to the city again. Or whats up with those sexy pictures you accidentally saw on my hard drive last night. Or why I have two phones and only answer the red one in the bathroom.

But my story will be shared loud and clear regardless. Because it needs to be heard. Because we all can grow from clearing our judgements and stigmas around our sexuality. Me too. I still have my own issues. And I am willing to be completely transparent about my “stuff” behind the veil of this blog. Allow it to enlighten you.

Thats the true purpose of a “Dakini” anyways. To inspire transformation. To transfer ancient wisdom through the grace of her dance. To receive the records of the Universe through her eyes. To be healed and renewed by her loving touch. To be skyrocketed into infinity and back by her sexual essence. To discover who you truly are in her divine reflection.

She is a sky dancer, a visitor from the stars, taking residence in a human vessel from time to time on Earth. She is cosmic, baby. Her purpose is to inspire transformation in her seekers. Here for just a moment, and then suddenly…she flies away.

And you will never be the same.

I am not a prostitute. I am not a whore. Although some will judge me as that.

I am a sensual healer. I am a tantric masseuse. I am a sexual phenomenon. I am your wet dream and your savior. I am your guide into bliss. I am your friend unconditional. I am your true love.

I am Miss Scarlet.

And YOU, dear one, have just opened up the pages of my most secret diary.

Welcome to The Dakini Chronicles.

xox ~miss scarlet


Posted by on November 7, 2011 in Diary Entry


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Misperceptions, Memes and The Case of “What Tantric Dakini’s Actually Do”

The Tantric Dakini. As sacred sexuality bubbles to the surface of modern erotic culture and more woman chose the path of spiritual sex work in the name of the divine, this catch phrase is beginning to make Backpage headlines and viral Facebook memes.

Calling oneself a “Tantric Dakini” is a badge of honor worn by women who work as sensual healers and muses in the Western sacred sexuality industry. She practices meditation, breath work and yoga inspired from ancient spiritual cultures with a New Age twist. Images of Shiva and Shakti are plastered on her walls like pop star idols. She purrs through her daily practice of pelvic curls and wiggles during Vipassana to adjust her jade egg situated up her vaginal canal. There is a glow about her because her kundalini flows effortlessly during yab yum and on the dance floor. She is a sexy yogini, dedicated to her path of reclaiming divine pleasure through the art of conscious loving and has been known to chant Sanskrit mantras when she orgasms.

There are plenty of courses you can take to be trained and certified as a Tantric Dakini in a matter of a weekend, IF you have a thousand dollars or so stashed under your bed (she prefers to call her bed an “alter to love”). But no training, guru, text book or thousand dollar piece of certified paperwork can transform you into a Dakini over night.

The Dakini is a force that resides deep in her soul memory begging to come out. When she goes to her first Tantric Puja at the yoga studio in Marin and stands eye to eye with a creepy grey haired man who is breathing onion mouth in her face something wakes up inside her precious yoni heart. She remembers. She sees this man as an embodiment of God Himself. She loves him unconditionally. Her eyes brim with tears, places her hand over his heart chakra and blesses him with her presence and holy love. He starts convulsing, hears angels singing in his ears and falls to the floor on his knees kissing her feet.

The trademarked practices the Western Tantra teacher is offering in the workshop gives voice to what she has naturally been doing all her life. Consciously moving energy with her breath, healing those around her with her touch and embracing the grace of divinity itself at the peak of orgasm as kundalini sparkles shoot out the top of her head when she comes, even though no clothes came off. Over time she guided her male lovers and consorts on how to hold his seed, make love to her for hours on end without ejaculating, and helped him find that sacred spot inside her pussy temple that when massaged just right makes her squirt all over the bed…soaking it.

She has an epiphany one day. She has found her gift. Her purpose in this world. She quits her job as a waitress, sets up a massage table in her dining room, lights some candles and incense and hangs her virtual shingle on the prostitution website message board as a Tantric Dakini for hire. Full body sensual massage is her cover, but once the client walks through the door he is in for a surprise. He is about to be touched by a Goddess.

Finally she has found a vocation that will pay the bills and allow her to eat out at raw food restaurants on a daily basis. But no matter how proud she may be of her new line of work most people don’t understand it. She teams up with a small group of other Dakini’s for support, but when she mentions the “T” word in public she gets tarred and feathered. She is faced with misperceptions, judgements, name calling, and frustrating assumptions. Everyone wants to know what a Tantric Dakini actually does…

What my friends think I do…

My friends think that I spend my time at all girl Tantric orgies with neutered man servants as we gorge ourselves on amirta cocktails.

What my mom thinks I do…

My mom still thinks that I am a yoga instructor working at an all girl therapeutic massage studio. She doesn’t understand why I work the night shift.

What society thinks I do…

Sex work, no matter how much new age spiritual fluff we try to dress it up with, is still sex work.

What my clients think I do…

Clients assume I will dress up like Cleopatra for a game of role playing, do anal, feed him grapes from my cleavage and allow him to “worship my Goddessness” with his tongue.

What I think I do…

A picture speaks a thousand words. This is my intention at least.

What I actually do…

Get up at 8am to post ads on the internet, tweak my text and get frustrated that another massage ho stole my tagline but is charging half as much, sit by the phone for thirteen hours a day waiting for calls to come in, lay around in my pajamas wasting my time on Facebook making silly meme photos in Keynote, read the Dakini Chronicles for shits and giggles, and once I finally decide to hit up Cafe Gratitude for lunch and am walking out the door a client calls and wants to see me in five minutes because he is waiting down the street and needs to get back to work for a meeting so I rush back inside, work my magic, blow his mind, educate him about non-ejaculatory orgasms, provide a happy ending anyways, ring my Tibetan singing bowls, kiss him on his brow, usher him out the door and decide to have Thai food delivered so I can spend the rest of the day in my pajamas on Facebook so I don’t miss another call.

Well, now you know the truth. Don’t assume all Tantric Dakini’s are like this. It’s simply how it worked for me.

P.S. Join my fan page on Facebook. It’s almost like laying in our pajamas together on my bed.

xox ~Miss Scarlet



Posted by on February 16, 2012 in Blog, Photo


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“Phone Etiquette” How to Book a Sensual Massage like a Proper Gentleman

A perfect client would say something like this:

“Hi Scarlet, this is John Jones, MD, from Jones and Associates here in Hollywood. I saw you ad on this weeks listing of LA Weekly. I’d like to book a two hour tantra massage session tomorrow at 2pm, or whenever is convenient for your schedule. Here is my LinkedIn profile along with a name and phone number of a local provider who can vouch for me. Also, here is my Redbook handle. I am looking forward to (quote my ad text verbatim) and giving you a raving five star review after our session. Do you like wine and roses? Just checking to see if it is appropriate to bring you a gift. Thank you so much for your time.”

A fantasy, really.

Unfortunately, most calls go like this:

Me: “Hello?”
Him: (heavy breathing….) “Uh, hi. Who’s this.”
Me: “You called me, sir.”
Him: “Uh, yeah. I’m calling about the ad.”
Me: “Wonderful. Where did you see it listed?”
Him: “Uh, on the internet. Your photo is really hot.” (his breathing gets heavier)
Me: “Are you calling to book a session?”
Him: “Can I come right now?” (grunting, probably choking the chicken)
Me: “What is your name, sir?”
Him: “Uh…..Bob.”
Me: “And what type of session are you interested in, Bob?”
Him: “Uhhhh, I dunno. Can you tell me what you do?”

It goes on like this for ten minutes. No guarantee that he will actually book. Or show up. He obviously did not read the advertisement or he wouldn’t ask the loaded question: “What do you do?”

If I can get past the “what do you do in session” and “how many releases do I get” and “do you do extras” and “will you wear that sexy black lace thing I see (OMG I think I am about to come) in your photos” and “do you shave cause I like hairy girls” and “can you do fifteen minute massages” and “if I bring my toy will you fuck me in the ass” and all kinds of other bullshit I get on a daily basis and he actually BOOKS the session, verified, with a legitimate name, business URL and phone number, well, then we are in business.

Don’t get me wrong. There are some civilized gentlemen out there that know how to call a provider and book a session with her like any other massage therapist. They dot their “I’s” and cross their “T’s” and are very gentlemanly over the phone. These are my super star John’s. My knights in shining armor. These are the guys that wrote the book on “Phone Etiquette” for sensual massage and licked the edges to turn it gold.

The rules are pretty simple:


Straight up, number one rule, that so many men miss, is READ THE F’N AD. Follow the links if she has them. Check out her reviews. Stop staring at her ass. Read the content! These girls put a lot of work into the copy. Remember her name when you call. If you really want to be charming, somehow slip some of the text from her ad into your conversation. “I look forward to receiving some of your ‘ravishing delights’ this evening, Miss Scarlet.” Like sugar sprinkled on top of the cherry, baby.


Most likely her ad is in code filled in with a bunch of gibberish poetic fluff that never gets to the point. Use your private investigator skills and dig deeper. Is it listed under “Escorts” or “Bodyrubs” or “Tantra” or “BDSM”? Does it say “No FS or mutual”? Any mention of “Prostate” or “Goddess Worship” or “FBSM ++”. Get on google and break the code. Know what you are getting into BEFORE you call.


Once you get on the phone all you do is politely BOOK THE SESSION. Don’t ask risque, crude, demanding or revealing questions. Due to legalities, if she is SMART, she won’t answer them. This is a good sign. Sure, ask her about the weather or if she had a good holiday, this is YOUR chance to vibe her out too, but never get too personal. Be professional, kind and sweet. Oh, and guess what, don’t ask her anything once you arrive at her place either. Just give her your biggest smile, slip those greenbacks onto her altar, and let her take the lead.


What, you thought that if you called at 12:34am after getting out of the bar that she is waiting in her healing sanctuary, fully shaved and showered, dressed in lingerie and nibbling on strawberries waiting for your beckon call? Dakini’s have lives too, bro. I know the horny hits ya at a certain hour and you finally get the nerve to call her, but give her at least a few hours notice, buddy. Even better, a day. And for Christ’s sake, LEAVE A MESSAGE on her voicemail. Stop being a pussy. Book in advance.


Some girls will just go off your vibe on the phone (so be nice!). Others will ask for your full name and double check your ID when you arrive. Some require full on work verification, websites, LinkedIn and Facebook profiles along with photo ID, business card and DNA sample. Or she may ask for another provider’s name and number who can verify your good standing, although that may take days. Just say yes. It is HIGHLY unlikely that SHE is a cop OR will call your wife. TRUST. If you see her a second time, you will never have to go through the grilling screening process again.


80% of the time her price is listed on her ad. If you’ve read it over thrice and still don’t see a requested quantity, or “roses”, then you may kindly ask her the fee for her services over the phone. NO, sex workers do NOT take credit cards or personal checks, stupid. Go to the ATM ahead of time and take out extra for a tip. NEVER try to talk her down once you arrive. In fact, never mention the money at all. Just drop it on the altar. Girls always remember big tippers. They black list bargainers and cheap skates.


Kind. Considerate. Thoughtful. Polite. Relaxed. Confident. Suave. Complimentary. Generous. Peaceful. Nurturing. Charismatic. Charming. Calm. Presumingly Handsome. Dapper. Clean Shaven. With your boxer shorts freshly pressed and pocket watch wound upon arrival. Be a gentleman. Please, for the sake of Yum, DO NOT be a douche bag.


Even if you’ve “done this sort of thing before”, never make assumptions or come into the conversation with heavy expectations. Every girl is different. She may use the same lingo as one girl but offer something totally different. She may be even more smoking hot than her photos in person, or (dear lord I hope this never happens to you) an old hag that stole her sixteen year olds sexting shots to put up on her ad. She may say Tantra on the phone but never even mention it during session, or give you a regular sensual massage that took you beyond the fifteen years you sat in ashram. Expect nothing and you will come out ahead.


So be one of those John’s that leaves a smile on her face after you hang up the phone. Be the one that she rushes out to buy new underwear and incense before you arrive. Be the guy that she recommends to her girlfriends. Be that knight in shining armor, on the phone AND in session. And I bet if you started treating EVERYONE this way you will eventually be the King of the World.

xox ~Miss Scarlet

P.S. I will be releasing a full online course “The FBSM Etiquette Guidebook” through the University of Yum this spring. Stay tuned!


Posted by on January 25, 2012 in Education, Video


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Horny Dakini’s, Masturbation and The Case of “The Celibate Love Affair With My Angel”

I’m on call at the office and am totally exhausted after rocking out three sessions this morning. I decide to curl up on the luscious sofa upstairs in the waiting room while the other girls are working down below. I drift into a lucid state, not really sleep as I am still anxious to answer the phone and jump right into Dakini mode if I get a call. But I have my eyes closed, my mind drifting as erotic lucid dream visions start tossing and turning in my head.

Its the Beloved, of course, my Angel Lover. He is laying next to me, wanting to make love. I can feel his arms around me, caressing me, gyrating his crotch into my back, kissing me on the neck, telling me how much he loves me. I smile and breathe the energy in, allowing the dream to pull up my vibration and my mood shifts. What is that uncomfortable sensation down there?

Oh my God. I’m horny!

Its not a superficial horny, or a raw sexual primal I need to fuck something now kind of horny. It seems to be coming from deep inside my soul. I can feel my yoni pulsating with life force, my clitoris standing erect, but when I reach down there and put my hand in my underwear my pussy feels sort of bland. I’m not turned on sexually, I feel no arousal to my touch, I’m dry down there, but the Shakti is rising, the energy of my passion, deep within my second chakra.

Half asleep, just holding my hand on the outside of my pussy, I dive into my breath work and starting pulling the energy up, sending ripples of shivers all over my skin and can feel my body temperature immediately rise. I squeeze my Kegals, pumping the kundalini up my spine and my breath gets heavier. Just at that moment, I can hear the client downstairs release. I hope I am not making too much noise?

I can’t remember the last time I masturbated. I haven’t had a private space in months, and my vibrator is in storage, so it just hasn’t really happened for me. Fucking myself with a vibrator just leaves me horny and disgruntled, not relieved. Even when I do it in the most sacred way. I have a big blue rubber cock I call “My Shiva”. I smudge it with incense, bow to it and honor it like a God, and then I put it inside of me while chanting mantras as I watch myself in the mirror. Tantric Masturbation.

But I wouldn’t call what I am doing right now as “masturbation.” I have no desire to stimulate myself sexually. Yet here is this very vivid image flashing in and out of my lucid mind of a beautiful man making love to me. The energy gets so intense that I need to take a break, drawing the Shakti up and then grounding it into the earth so I can rest in the plateau. I let one finger slide into my folds and I am dripping wet. I haven’t felt THAT in a while.

I wonder if I am getting frigid? I have tons of sensual energy, but I have been avoiding every and all situations where my sexual desires might get stirred outside the Temple. I guess you could say I’ve been celibate, more due to circumstance since I don’t have a real lover and I work sixty hours a week as a Dakini. I’m all about moving the energy. Any urge to get fucked for the sake of fucking is the last thing on my mind after yanking strangers off all day and then feeling sad that there is no one special lover for me.

My issue has been one of longing for a dream. My perfect mate. A fantasy.

And its not even that I am saving myself for my True Love, which is a story I have been telling myself. I am saving myself for myself. I am savoring the practice of keeping my kundalini contained, allowing it to move through my dance, my heart, my touch, my voice, but not through my primal sexuality.

I want to share this with someone special, not another one night stand. I know I really could use a good roll around, in terms of simply releasing all the sexual energy pent up in there, but that is not what my soul needs. This woman needs to be made love to, by a purified man, with the highest intentions in a sacred container of divine love. But that, my friend, is all but a dream.

So I make love energetically with my Angel and keep it at that.

I hear my Temple Sister get out of session so I pull myself together, feeling a bit more energized after that Tantric quickie with myself. When she comes back upstairs I ask how her session was.

“I’m so damn horny!” she responds.

Isn’t that ironic? My Temple Sister has just started a month long vow to celibacy as part of a Tantra training she is taking with a teacher here in the city. For one week she is not allowed to touch herself at all, or move the energy, let alone have sex with anyone else. Then for the next three weeks, she can only touch herself while reciting a mantra. She’s on a sexual fast, which apparently is not very amusing to her new lover in town.

I guess I am celibate too, but it is not a vow, or an ultimatum. Its more about waiting for the right timing, and the right lover. I have no desire to make any vows against making love with myself, but manual masturbation just ain’t doing it for me anymore.

I’m all about the intimacy, the love, the passion, moving the energy, playing with Kundalini. And all of that can be done with clothes on. I feel my Angel slowly slip out of me. He kisses me on my neck which sends shivers down my spine. I guess I will continue to keep this love affair secret for now. Because in the meantime there is another client to serve. Celibate or not, my Shakti needs to get rolling.

xox ~miss scarlet

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Posted by on October 5, 2011 in Diary Entry


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BDSM, Sexual Healing and The Case of “I Fell In Love Once He Cuffed Me”

“Get down on your knees,” he says.

His eyes were commanding yet full of fire and adoration. It wasn’t a request. He was so grounded and assured of his power that I could only blush in response. Hesitating for a moment I wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed silly, a command that normally would be reprimanding, yet the way he said it I somehow felt honored. I knew that once I knelt in the spot he was pointing at on the hard wood floor facing the wall I would no longer have a say in how our night was going to proceed.

It was our third date, if you can believe it. We met on an online dating site, the only man I chose to respond to because it just felt “right”. Upon our first meeting we spoke casually about sexuality over an expensive brunch, me mentioning my work as a Tantrica for the past six years, he mentioning his interest in BDSM. At the time I gave him my rant that I have no interest in the dark arts or to play fake bedroom games pretending to be beaten by my lover. It was a turn off to me, although I admitted that I have yet to fully dive into that world so my judgements are jaded. On our second date we had our first kiss and he mentioned it again. I didn’t take it seriously.

Yet somewhere in the back of my mind I was intrigued. I give all the time as a Dakini. I hold impeccable space and adamant boundaries. I serve with only their pleasure in mind. And I get to call the shots. When my clients are on the table I am in complete control. Subtle domination I guess, yet without bondage. I am a Dominatrix of Divine Love.

But deep down inside I crave a lover who I can trust to top me, so I can surrender, so I can receive. A man like that is hard to come by.

Here we are two weeks later after our first date and he is punishing me for standing him up last night. Rightfully so. We made plans to spend the weekend together, drive up to his house on Friday evening to “hang out” and “get to know each other” before an all day adventure he had sketched out for us on Saturday. But a work call came in, it had been slow all week and I desperately needed the money so I made a fateful choice to postpone our date until the morning. I needed to rake in $300 to pay my overdue bills. And I felt like we were moving too fast. I didn’t think it would phase him much. I was wrong.

With a nervous smile I submitted to him and took the position.

“My time is valuable,” his voice boomed behind me. “I felt disrespected that you cancelled two hours before we were to meet. You are lucky that I am forgiving.” I heard the sound of chains rattling and the soft thud on leather on the couch. Before I could open my mouth to respond he bent down to my ear and said, “Take off your dress.”

I had planned ahead for this moment, wearing some sexy lace black panties and a matching bra. I thought he was kidding around on the phone about giving me a spanking but I prepared nonetheless. I figured he’d just put me over his knee. Once I made it over to his house that afternoon he was calm and casual and didn’t mention anything about it until now.

I was tingling with excitement as I pulled my black cotton dress off over my head and laid it on the floor next to me. I felt humbled as he walked around the apartment in his heavy leather boots making it loud and clear who is the boss in this situation. This wasn’t a game. He had every right to punish me. I know had done him wrong and this was my way of making it up to him.

“Put your hands on the wall and bend over.”

I did as he said. Somehow my ass craved his steady hand, longing for his touch. But instead he kept me waiting as I heard more metal and heavy items shuffling around behind me. The anticipation was torturous, my muscles tensing up as his boots circled around and then stood silent about a foot from my shaking tail. I could feel him sizing me up. My pussy started convulsing.

Breathe, Scarlet. Remember your practice. Just breathe.

There was so much energy in the room it was tangible. I kept waiting for that sweet sting on my bum that I desperately deserved but he just stood there. I wanted to resist. I wanted to turn around and hug his knees and beg for forgiveness. Everything was shifting inside of me.

The built up resentments in my mind about all the men who have fucked me over, stood me up, canceled our dates at the last minute, left me hanging without an apology…it simply left with my breath. The old story I was hanging onto didn’t make any sense anymore. I had no excuse to do what I did last night. I was a douchebag for not honoring this man’s time.

The layers peeled off, one by one, like pages of a heavy book I’ve carried around all my life regarding “the men that let me down.” When I broke our date last night I had felt self-righteous. Now I am feeling the agony of waiting for retribution. It is as if the loving force of his hand will clear all the anger and resentments from the past in one clear stoke. And now I have to wait for it.

I didn’t feel ashamed. I felt empowered.

He waited until my last sigh was so heavy that I nearly collapsed. All the energy that has been stuck in my gut faded. I felt empty yet full of longing. Twenty years of therapy is nothing compared to this moment. The power was back in my hands, sweaty against the bare wall.

“Thats a good girl,” he says. Without mentioning anything of my process it was as if he felt my release. Sticking my ass back up in the air I took another breath in, my chin held high, and presented myself to him. But still he made me wait. There was another layer coming to the surface, one I thought I had let go of years ago.

Flashes of my childhood abuser came into my mind, of how he’d make me take this position with belt in hand after he forced me to strip down naked in front of him. Although I was only twelve years old he was my Dom. Punishment by him was belligerent, heavy handed, tinged with verbal abuse and inappropriate kinky innuendoes. He raped me of my power. I never considered that we had a BDSM relationship until this moment. No wonder I was always closed off to this world.

The realization made me laugh. Another key to my healing unlocked. I get it now. Fucking A, I am finally free.

That was when my date smacked me across the ass with so much love it made me squeal with joy. It resonated across my flesh and made my pussy tremble. The burning sensation on my skin was exquisite.

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

He grabbed me by my chin. “Thank you, WHAT?!” He had complete control over me. This man could strangle me if he wanted to, but the force of his hand that now slipped down to my throat felt comforting and safe.

Regardless, I didn’t want to say it. He clenched my neck tighter and smacked me on the ass again. My pussy was dripping at this point but I couldn’t move. There was a frog stuck in my throat, years of not being able to tell my secrets without getting in trouble welled up inside of me. I knew that once I spoke his name that old spell would be broken forever.

“Thank you….sir.”

I felt uncomfortable saying it. I had reached my edge. I felt like a little girl and started to contract. Without a moments hesitation he released my throat, bent over and kissed me so tenderly on my cheek that I nearly cried. His love for me was astounding, as was his sharp intuition that I started losing my power of surrender. Turning my face towards him I finally was able to look him in the eye. All I could see was love, tenderness, respect and complete confidence. His gentle kiss sealed the deal.

“Stand up and put your hands behind your back.”

As he slipped the leather cuffs onto my wrists I knew that I had finally found my man.

xox ~miss scarlet


Posted by on September 5, 2011 in Diary Entry


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Boundaries, Hot Clients and the Case of “The Kiss That Pushed the Dakini Over the Edge”

It’s 11pm in New York City. The front door buzzer rang and I was able to catch the image of the dude slipping through the door before I could ring him in. Oh my, THAT guy! The cute Harvard boy. My heart starts racing and suddenly I am nervous. Its funny that I am more comfortable seeing a complete stranger than working with a repeat client, especially the one that I remember having quite the crush on last time he saw me here earlier this winter. He was the only client who’s phone number I couldn’t find, and the only one that jumped to see me as soon as I returned. Funny that. My palms are sweating. What in the world am I going to do once he arrives?

Blush. I blushed when I opened the door. Dear lord, he is really REALLY cute. I remember everything about our session in a flash, not details, more of the essence of what it felt like to lay on top of him, the warmth of his skin, the instant friendship I felt when he was last here. He was nervous too, in the typical New York City rush into the door. “Hi,” was all he could say. We just stood there looking at each other, me holding his hand, staring into each others eyes. “You look different, Scarlet.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know what it is. More tan? Different haircut?” I feel a bit uncomfortable as he checks me out. This time he blushes, “and even more beautiful than I remembered.” I hug him. We are both really nervous. Its kinda cute.

We sit on the bed to talk and catch up for a while. He’s my age, maybe even a bit younger, seductively charming in his shyness, and I just want to kiss him right then and there. My personal heart is getting in the way, the one that wants to take it slow and just get to know this fellow, hold hands and walk around New York City together. But I snap out of it and remember why he is here. He hired me for a 90 minute Tantric massage. This is a client. I send him into the shower to switch gears before I accidentally fall into his arms and lose my momentum all together.

But my heart nearly leapt out of my chest when he came out in the towel with his perfect body and that irresistible smile. He did a quick turn around to leave the towel in the bathroom giving me a flash view of his butt. Dear Lord, I am in trouble! Stay focused, Scarlet! Stay centered. This isn’t personal, remember? He hired you for your love. I get him to sit with me yab yum on the table and our bodies melt into a hug. There is this unexplainable electricity in between us. I am feeling more comfortable now but his nervousness is adorable and I’m instantly turned on. It was too intense to look each other in the eye. In a minute he was putty, slowly breathing off the layers, opening his heart to me. “I’m so glad you are back,” he says. “I missed you baby.”

Whenever I did get him to look me in the eye he’d get almost defensive. “What.” he’d say. “What does that look mean?” I get this all the time, not just from clients but from men in general. I shine my love light, I adore them, I love them unconditionally, I have not a thought in my head, and they always squirm and question me like I have some secret trick up my sleeve. They don’t trust me, and it hurts. Why does my love have to be received like this every time? I’m just loving them, plain and simple. Why do they squirm? Is there a single man in the world that is confident and open hearted enough to receive me and not make me feel like there is something wrong with my love light?

I flip my guy over and get him on the table, nearly gasping at the pallet I have to work on, and his perfect ass. He didn’t want to lay down at first, saying that just hugging me was all he really needed, although I know he wanted to kiss me too. Thats why I got him to lay down, so the temptation is not there, because for some reason I want to make out with this guy as if my heart depended on it. Is is okay to work out my personal needs with a client? Is it imperative that I keep my guard up and my boundaries firm and my personal heart shut down so I can serve him properly, like a professional? He’s paying me $300 an hour. Thats a lot of money. My loving touch is valuable.

So I laid it on him. I kissed his body all over as I rubbed him. I licked his ear. I pulled his arm over the table and put his hand in between my thighs and kissed his elbow with the utmost love and tenderness. I lay on top of his body and melted into him. It was ecstasy, for both of us. Pure romance. If this was my boyfriend there really wouldn’t be much difference in the energy I was sharing. It was real, authentic, I absolutely adore this guy. He felt it too, reaching out for my hand to hold, never grabbing at me, just absorbing my grace. I was enjoying the experience through and through. I love my job.

I took my time, our session was about over, but I was in no rush. I finally asked him to flip over face up and jumped on top of him immediately. Normally I stand back and let them adjust for a moment, but with him I couldn’t resist leaping into his open embrace. He looked into my eyes. I melted. His arms felt like heaven wrapped around me. I put my hand on his cheek, caressing his face, getting lost in his eyes. And then I did something I rarely do, without even thinking about it, going against all my professional standards. It was irresistible. I leaned in and answered his unspoken prayer. I kissed him.

It was all over after that.

You see, there is a good reason why I don’t kiss my clients. Its pretty standard industry wide that lip to lip contact is off limits, at least in FBSM. First off, most of my clients are unattractive and I am not into them in that way. Plus you have no idea where this strangers mouth has been. And quite frankly most of these guys suck at kissing. All forceful tongue in the back of the throat, no soft inner lip that makes your thighs quiver. Its a super intimate gesture in my world. Sure, I give strangers sensual massage for a living, sure I can hug them and gaze into their eyes and assist them in their orgasms, but swapping saliva? A no go. A kiss is personal, not professional.

I’m a cuddle slut, a kundalini junkie, wired to share my love with the world, but in the long run I am a total prude. A kiss is like sharing pieces of our souls, swishing our tender insides together and swapping DNA stories. A real kiss renders me unguarded, weak in the knees, totally submissive, if its a good one. A man can win me over completely if he does it right. I have to admit I am a damn good kisser, full of passion, uninhibited love, I can make a man hard in his pants within seconds with my lips against his and crack open his heart into infinity. I don’t mess with that power with clients. It can really make them confused and fall in love with me instantly.

This time, it worked the other way around.

I was gaga for this guy. I pulled back for a split second, wondering if this is appropriate, knowing that if we continue I can pretty much guarantee what will happen next. But it felt so good. He felt good. From a therapists point of view, we obviously both need this for our healing. I’m not in the Temple anymore. I don’t need to hold my boundaries for the sake of the other girls. This is MY space, my heart, its my call. I need a lover before I completely lose my shit, especially if I am going to rock New York with non-stop Dakini action. Its time to fill my cup. Dear lord, what should I do?

Open your eyes. Say YES, Scarlet. Its okay.

I gave in. Our kisses melded us together. It was soft, sensual, full of love and tenderness. My god, its been weeks since I kissed a man, months since I made love to anyone. Our bodies fit together like perfect lovers, as if we were made for each other. All control I had over the situation melted away. Eventually he rolled on top of me and took the lead and I was grateful for this. I completely surrendered to the magnificence of his lips, the striking presence of his eyes, the simplicity of holding hands. Our session was over in my opinion. Finally I caught my breath and said to him, “we are off the books now darling, just so you know.”

It killed the energy for a second, but I had to say it. I wanted him to understand that this was not part of my services. That I was no longer in control of the situation. That he had full power to step up as a man, as my lover, and woo me. This feeling of sweet surrender in the arms of a man I intuitively trust was just what my heart needed, what I have been longing for all along. Its exhausting holding space and playing power games on the massage table with my business. I want to be in a mans arms that I can melt into, a man big enough to hold me energetically. It wasn’t that he was macho or anything, I just trusted in his love. My cup was instantly full.

Things started getting hot and heavy after that. His cock was in between us, sliding on my wet thigh, our lips inseparable. We made out for quite a while, he respectfully holding strong to our mutual boundaries, but our bodies undoubtably wanted to make love. We never said it out loud, but we both knew what we wanted. Eventually he suggested that we move onto the bed on the other side of the room. “Thats dangerous,” I say. He laughs, “Is it more dangerous than being on this table three feet off the ground? Lets get comfortable baby.” Another split second of hesitation. If we go on the bed we will surely have sex. I try to override the passion and ask my heart what is best in this moment.

Say yes, Scarlet. The Beloved is right here.

I want to. We are already making love energetically and he is so damn sweet with me. Yes, I want this. I pull back for a moment so our brains can have a moment to think and not be absorbed in the utter bliss of our loins wanting to merge. “A few questions,” I say to him. He smiles. “Do you have a girlfriend or anyone special in your life that would be hurt if she knew this happened?” He appears broken hearted for a moment then looks me straight in the eye, honest and true. “No, I mean I use to, but we broke up a few months ago. I work ten hours a day. We, I…just lost interest.” I question him with a raised eyebrow and he continues. “I know this may sound strange, but I’ve been changing inside, very quickly. I guess you could say I am evolving and she wasn’t. Suddenly I released that I wasn’t in love with her, so what was the point?” He’s spilling his guts here. Its just as intimate as the sex.

“I of all people can understand what you mean about evolving. Thats what I do for a living, I assist in people’s evolution.” He squeezes my hand. I really love this guy. “And you?” he asks. “Ha, no boyfriend.” I cant look him in the eye when I say this, mostly because I don’t want him to see my pain and have to process about that issue. “You already know my biggest secret, what I do for a living, but again it rarely ever gets personal like this with my clients. I give, give, give everyday, and I need this, this kind of loving, to refill my cup.” He nods his head, “Yeah, me too, at work, I give non-stop. Thats why I come to you.” I am uncomfortable and blushing. “Look,” I tell him, opening up more, “you are the first guy I’ve made out with in over a month, and, well, I haven’t been made love to in a long time.” He lifts my chin, looks at me in the eye and kisses me, deep and lovingly.

“It would be my honor, Scarlet.”

Well, what would you do in my situation?

xox ~miss scarlet


Posted by on July 25, 2011 in Diary Entry


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