Rebel with a Pause

     Whenever I’m in public I automatically recoil when I see someone I think I know.  If I'm in a grocery store I'll back up with my basket and go the other way, at a bar I'll become overly interested in the conversation I'm having with whomever, at a restaurant I'll stare hard into my menu, or I'll get on my phone and pretend to talk, anything to avoid contact of any kind.  It’s a habit, a reflex.  I don’t like seeing people I "know" unless that’s my intention.   I’m not sure when that started.  I'm fairly certain it's because I think of everyone in a certain context and when I see them out of that context, I'm not sure how to act.  I’m not sure who I am to them.  Is he another parent from my son's school or maybe baseball practice, or is he a current client or one from the old Houston brothel?  Is it okay that I know him?  Shit, half the time I don't even know their real names and they never have known mine.  

     On the off chance that someone were to address me, I would immediately know our association because of what name he used.  Margie, from the underground Texas Hold 'Em games, Jill, the strip club or from when I first started escorting in Austin and then I became Jayne or if they call me Nina that tells me they know me when I ran the escort service and modeling studio in Houston and now I'm sometimes Jayne and sometimes Jill – it depends on when they met me.     

     Of course when the client would show up at my place or I at his I would recognize him with no problem.  But out in public, it's a different situation.  What we do is so secret that in my mind it doesn't even exist before or after our appointment.   

     I’ve had so many occupations over the years that involved secret associations that I always want to be careful and not rat anybody out! Cocktail waitress, stripper, underground poker game girl and dealer, madame, escort, mistress, Domme.  I've done an excellent job of living in the shadows.