They’re Not Even Real, RIGHT?
It’s not unlike me to peruse Tryst and see who is out there, what she stands for and what she charges for her time. I’ve noticed in the last year, maybe longer, there’s a bunch of ladies that have like $200-300 hourly rates, but the contact is limited to Tryst messaging and Only Fans. It’s also not unlike me to persuade a client for a double of my choosing. So, exercising that, I reached out to three of the women that have these attributes- the low rate, and contact on OF and Tryst only. I am heartbroken, but not surprised. Not one of them responded to me, so I gave them the benefit of the doubt— maybe they just don’t want to talk to another provider. No problem. I can use anonymous emails and phone numbers just like the best of us. Still not surprised that there are never responses on Tryst messaging. Because I am a novice journalist, I am also a novice research scientist and the curiosity didn’t end there. I took just one more step to OF and see what the deal is. And here’s the deal. These ladies aren’t even in the city you’re looking at. Do a Google search, folks. These girls are only making money on the subscriptions people sign up for to just have that conversation about whether this woman is an escort. It’s just another tricky situation that makes the rest of us look bad. Is it any wonder why there is a constant power struggle on information? Providers want enough info to feel comfortable that she isn’t going to find herself in a situation that’s not easy to get out of. And he is protecting that very information because there are FUCK-Tards that extort innocent men. And there are those evil men that give the good guys a bad break. If everyone ha integrity, there would be no power struggle. There would be no reason to be a novice researchist. There would be no reason for this wordy, thought-out narrative. Why oh why can’t we just all get along?
I’m On A Roll. A Tootsee Roll.
The butterfly? Uh-uh, that’s old, Let me see the Tootsee Roll. Yeah, 199Quad, 69 boyz backed up by the Quad City DJ’s —One Time- Cotton Candy, sweetie go, Let me see that tootsee roll.
WHAT THE FUCK just happened? I might have reached back in my brain-files to emerge with a 1994 hip hop classic that I shouldn’t know the words to at this point in my life, but it could have easily have been ‘Whoomp there it is” as well. You down with OPP? Bitch Better Have My money. OMG I’ll turn off the 90’s rap on Spotify. It just doesn’t bode with the image I’m going for.
The image of classy, sassy and Boombastic. There I go again. This is the dumbest blog I’ve ever come up with. But I’ll leave it. Maybe there’s someone out there loving 90’s novelty rap too. If not, if you’re a Rod Stewart guy, or Mt Joy, Dave Matthews, Tame Impala, Chance Pena or Vance Joy fan, I’m right there with you. Elton? Let’s go Rocket Man. Mr. Phil Collins? IT takes two hearts….Blondie? REO? CCR? I can dig it all so don’t judge that this white girl is familiar with most music, but the best music of all is on my BLOW JOB playlist. You want to know what’s on it? My number is 512-694-6494. Until then, my mouth is ajar.
So How About This Economy?
NONONO. I refuse to get into politics, but nobody can deny that we all are holding our purse strings. Most of us have cut out some luxuries, like eating. Just kidding. I am not eating because I am always battling 4-5 lbs. Hey, it makes a difference! Don’t judge or criticize. I believe that there has never been a day since I was 8 years old that I didn’t think, worry or obsess about my weight. Hold up. That is not the subject of this blog, and that just proves my inability to stay focused, Daniel-son. If you catch that reference, we are now friends, if not, you’re too young for me and go away. Also kidding.
So back to the realities of money. I have had my rate at $500/hour since 2022. It always worked out just fine no matter where in the country I would travel to. And although I have sworn to never lower my rates, I was gazing on Tryst checking out the competition and a beautiful lady jumped off the page. Honestly, I didn’t go much further in scoping, because the first thing I noticed was this beautiful lady has her hourly at 400 and in addition…just sounds so fun. I can’t emulate everything about her, but I am considering modeling my rates after her. I guess we will see. Of course I want my phone to ring. Of course I want to be competitive. Of course I want my profile to jump off the page. So what am I going to do about this? I’m going to call on her and see if she wants a date. With me.
I Too Fell Victim To Thinking My Shit Don’t Stink- Better Known as GPS or Golden Pussy Syndrome
Are you laughing at me? Are you judging me? Are you thinking, what is she talking about? Here, calm down. I’ll explain.
Once upon a time, in a faraway place called the internet, a term was born in the Hobby. What hobby? Oh my God. Let me back up again.
Once upon a time, there were websites that escorts could put their ads on and simultaneously interact with the clients for screening, greetings, posting on forums etc…these guys got together and decided that it would be safer for the guys if the ladies of the industry were discussed, reviewed and disparaged. These guys spend a lot of time on these sites expressing themselves, visiting as many girls as their budget allows, and tallying up the scores for daily talks. These are guys enjoying The Hobby. A ‘hobbyist” is one who indulges in escorts. There truly is value here. There is no doubt that all of us want safety, and the guys that participate in the “not nice part” of disparagement, are better known as “Slobbyists” because their mom’s didn’t teach them well. There are many, many blog posts in this very sentence. But for today, I am pledging my sincerest apologies for GPS in my earlier years.
Golden Pussy Syndrome. I had it. Let me explain, defend and continue my apology. It’s not too complicated. An escort suddenly is being paid for not just sex. But time spent. So this combo makes for an ugly equation. The more sought after a girl is-whether for her appearance, her abilities, her rate or availability—the more important she feels… unique, superior, young, beautiful, and the kicker? WELL PAID. So this is how it goes down. Girl decides her rate, what she will do to get this rate and all the rules that fit her and this rate. And she gets paid. Inevitably, there are some that hang out too long, text too much, call too much, show up unannounced, act too possessive, starts saying weird shit, and the girl feels taken advantage of because in her head, she’s thinking if this dude would just leave, someone else could also come and pay me. And before one knows it, the girl thinks way too highly of herself and her time and starts pushing away nice guys that just want to say hi. Nice guys that stay a bit longer, text more often, (no. no you can’t call me anytime. no.) and only want to pay the verbal tip. (I know, tips are not expected, but they sure do make us feel special) or worse, they don’t want to pay anything. Just a compliment.
LOOK OUT. I’m a changed woman. I don’t know what happened in cancer, but everything changed for me. And if I could put my finger on the cause…I’d either bottle it for humility, or implode it for insecurity. And that’s the pendulum I find myself caught in. Swinging back and forth-good to bad. Bad to good. Whatever. It’s a weird place for me. I don’t know if it was the long break without working, I don’t know if it’s because during that hiatus I missed everyone, even the bologna. Or is it deeper and that I came to a place where shelving the attitude became easier when my life drastically changed- in the most precarious way. Nevertheless, I am excited when I get the unexpected “hi”. I am happy and feel validated with every inquiry. I feel closer to my company than I ever did before. Flattered is a huge understatement. Grateful. Hopeful. Ready to shine. And the best part, is there’s no volume. (ok best and worst) I see so few, because I have to be selective. I have to choose the guys that are going to be sweet to me. I have to avoid the pooper scoopers that have porn in mind and not sensuality. I have to drop the guy that wants to — and I quote a recent reject, “I’m going to pound that pussy”. Oh. That doesn’t sound like fun. On to the next. The one that brings wine and flowers. The one that loves me for the time we have together. The time I have to fall in loive in with you. And then he gets ready to leave, he pats his pockets-wallet, keys, phone- and he hugs and kisses me and walks away. I smile as I close the door because that person just made my year. Because the volume is low, I have the luxury of remembering everything we t alk about. Every place you like to be kissed. Every secret that’s shared. I’ll have put notes in your contact info- date of first encounter…because I’m all about anniversaries. It’s always a reason to celebrate when you return. Back to the flattery, the validation, the removal of those insecurities. And you know what I’m thinking? “I miss you already.”
What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar?
Do you hear the jingle? What would you do-oo-oooo for a Klondike bar?
This damn song has gone around my brain for the last 30 years. I seriously remember smoking weed with my high schooler friends, never in my car because I didn’t have one, and finding myself in the backseat because I failed to say “shotgun” fast enough, and I thought it would be oh-so-cute to sing that, in the driver’s ear. Fool be me. I have never thought it was cute since because it plagues me. Let me share some other things that I cringe at.
My sphincter was nuked by radiation and the doctor was suggesting I gently massage the area, but I thought it would be funny to suggest instead that I bounce on a toy. Oh and this was after I asked the nurse for the edible thong instead of the paper gown and shorts I was given. “what? Don’t tell me I’m the first to ask?” But I was the first.
As JB, way early on, so early on that it was my very first incall we are reminiscing about, I had a client come visit me and I asked him if he’d be so kind as to put a rolling desk thingee together for me because it had been attempted assembly, but was all kinds of wrong. So he (Cowboy something or another on ECCIE or OURHOME2) graciously obliged and then after that and festivities were done, he asked what he owed me and without thinking even for one moment, I said whatever my rate was for the entire time he had been there, not the time we were scheduled for, not taking into consideration that this dude helped me. WTF was I thinking? That deserves something. And I failed big time. But this is a perfect segue to my next blog post— I Too Was Victim of GPS!
Two Favorite Blog Posts From Volume 1
Dirty Dicks and Sweaty Ass
By
Jellybeans
You know who you are. And if you don’t, take a whiff. Use the side of your hand to wipe your ass and lick your hand. Oh! That’s sounds gross to you? How do you think I feel when all my intentions are to make you feel good and you complicate that with being unclean? Again, if you haven’t showered in the last 2 hours, do us a favor. Use my shower! Because if I get downtown, and your balls smell musty and a post-poop hasn’t been taken of, or you’re uncut and I discover enough yeast on the under-skin tip to bake a loaf of bread, I will personally see to it that you DO go take the shower, and now you’ve made it incredibly awkward now that it’s been said out loud. If you had just taken the liberty of doing me a solid, I would be giving you the most rewarding experience ever, but you have made this memorable in the worst possible way. I promise you, you would have been staring out your nursing home window, still remembering the best blow job ever, but no. You’ll cringe because you didn’t shower and I made you feel.. well, dirty. If you haven’t showered in the last two hours, just go take the shower!!
A Bad Streak
I’d bet my left boob that every provider will stand behind me that we have “Bad Streaks”. I guess it would be comparable to hating your whole week following one shitty day, right? It happens to everyone, but providers have to be actresses, along with being sexy vixens. It is a guarantee that if we follow through with an appointment after getting pissed off at him during the booking process, he won’t come back because although we provided our bodies as promised, we were unable to provide an Oscar winning performance. At least for me, I don’t just fuck up that session, I carry that irritability to the next contact with a potential client. I’ll tell you about the bad streak I have been having.
Business is always slow for me in December. Saving for gifts and time with family, I always assume. And I was prepared for that. But January was pretty bad too. I had a few trips to various cities and pretty much sat in my hotel or Airbnb, staring off into space, disillusioned by the lack of social interaction. In addition, I may sound paranoid – but I have been encountering someone(s) fucking with me. Setting up no-shows, sending harassing messages, even going to the lengths of setting up email addresses and burner numbers for the sole intention to be mean. Oh yeah, someone also set up a Twitter account, and the only activity this person has on his/her timeline are nasty comments on my tweets and replies. Who has the time for this? It was the beginning of a bad streak.
Bad clients are the poison that seeps in every ounce of my being. It’s exhausting… hating them. Aside from being tormented with no-shows, the clients that were coming were not up to par; there have been a couple decent ones, but not enough to bring me out of the bad streak. I had a couple of dirty dicks and several more that needed to scrub their ass and arm pits and oh! The halitosis. Guys, just take a shower. Rinse with mouthwash. I have every possible soap, moisturizer, toothbrushes, spray deodorant, hand sanitizer, available razors, clean towels and hot water. If you haven’t taken a shower in the last couple of hours, please, for the love of sex workers, go wash. (blog entitled Dirty Dicks and Ass to follow this post) I guarantee you, I have showered. Please reciprocate.
Beside the smelliness, there has been major tardiness. Like, waiting an hour after the appointment was set and not being compensated for it. Not even a tip. Then there are the guys who refuse to pay the $25 deposit that I had to implement to stop the fake appointments. Screening didn’t prevent it, but $25 seems to. If discretion is the concern, I even have the option of sending a $100 Amazon gift card to show their intention. Even if they can’t do that via joint accounts, they can run to their local Walgreens or whatever and buy a gift card in cash and send the code to me. I only want to know you’re coming. How hard is that? (Thank you to the guys that do) Then there are the relentless phone calls. Phone calls without warning are invasive. Text first.
I should tell you now about the night I was scared recently. A guy, extremely late and drunk had just pissed me off by being stupid and unable to see a freakin’ high rise in Miami. I would normally have gone back upstairs and not have him in but I hadn’t had very much business and I was bored. The smell of foul beer breath was sickening. On the ride up the elevator to the 43rd floor, he became Mr. Handsy. We got in the apartment, and he paid me. I attempted to have a chat with him, but he was so bloody trashed, he couldn’t formulate a sentence. It was Showtime though, and we went into the bedroom. I started going through the motions and almost immediately after the blow job commenced, he started pushing my head down and gagged me. I pushed his hand off. He did it again and I said, “Let me be clear. You will not push on my head.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me down on top of him, and I was forceful and pushed myself up. I said, “I do not want to be pushed or pulled. I’ve corrected you three times.”
He squeezed my arm pretty hard, and I grabbed for his arm and Indian burned him. I jumped up and told him he had to leave. I told him he was totally scaring me. I got dressed and told him to do the same. He did leave. But it could have ended differently.
So, it’s been a bad streak for about a month. And then a new client visited. He was having a rough time—worse than my bad streak. 6 years ago, he separated from his wife. 4 years later, they reconciled and then soon after, she committed suicide. The guilt he has been carrying is immense. He is raising two boys by himself with some help while he did his traveling for his business that his family owned. Here recently, his father passed away and a month later so did his uncle. This left the business and family ranch to him and his sister. He felt that was one too many responsibilities for himself, so he decided to sell the business. I questioned this. Why couldn’t he hire someone to run the business? But it was already done. But he seemed to feel that he needed direction. What should he do now?
I mentioned that sometimes when I need clarity or help with decisions, I seek Tarot cards. I told him when I got home, I’d ask that question and draw his cards. I won’t go into the entire spread, but his response was “Holy Moly!” It truly was right on point. Basically, this guy ended my bad streak. I was able to provide my naked therapy that I love to do, and I was useful to this guy. And that made me happy.
Then there was “Alan”. He took me to a very nice dinner and came back to my place. He’s an all-around great client. He’s fun and a gentleman. No pushing or pulling, wasn’t tardy and he smelled good!
Followed by one good client after another. I’m good again! I was feeling so burned out. So worried about everything. The bombed trips. The lack of business and bad clients. Being scared and the house hunting I’m doing. Oh, my goodness and then I find out how much closing costs are!
But that will be another addition of Sexcapades. Until Dirty Dicks and Ass, we shall meet once more.
Sexcapades Volume 2 (includes Volume 1 recap)
Lindsay In ATX Official Blog
June 15, 2026
AHHHH …The catharsis of journaling can really help to maintain composure, show some insight into the author, clear up misconceptions and most importantly … make the reader laugh. Well, I can try.
Brief “about me”- I am Lindsay in ATX aka Lindsay LeFave aka Jellybeans aka JB—
I know that’s some shifts and I’ll explain the rebranding: Jellybeans, the fun, naïve playful gal was overjoyed to be the new girl on the block and I dove into escorting without a lot of research. After growing into being a companion and getting sick of spelling out “Jellybeans” a million times, I shortened to JB.
JB was pretty well thought out. I had had a couple of re-do’s on my website, adding Sexcapades, the blog on my personal website, I was traveling quite a bit and shedding Jellybeans, and all of the local, Texas escort sites, pretty much after when all of the websites shut down in 2018 (I think). There was some malarkey to get around, which I will probably touch on again, as I progress in the rehash, recap, and overall timeline.
I really enjoyed traveling, going all over the country meeting super duper awesome people, and then things evolved. I got into a pickle in Boston with a bad date which made me stricter in selecting my dates, and again, further evolved my business. I was now stricter in selection, but due to a huge amount of Bull Shit- I started collecting deposits and screening way too much. That’s a great way to lose business, but what do you do when you’re dealing with poo? You figure shit out.
Let me tell you about poo. If you see my ad anywhere besides Tryst, you are a victim of Tom Foolery. Oh the stupid. There once was a provider who had business with me and then after that one double, I had to excuse myself from that poo, and that move led to being stalked, harassed, defamed, but dammit, not physically confronted. Just online slander, phishing expeditions, fake appointments, fake ads, threats and promises, but mostly just one sick individual who just cannot get enough of yours truly and can’t stop herself from trying to get my attention, whether it be hijacking my social media, derailing my business practices, stalking my daughter and her small business, lying about me as a provider, how I am sexually and the activities I will engage in, and honest to God—the fact that I allow this female in my headspace, to even creep into my blog, kinda makes me want to vomit on her. I’m awesome, but I am not worthy of a decade-long obsession. She needs to get a life, but her pesky felony charge prevents that. Yes, she told me the first time I met her that she had assaulted her mother in one of her episodes. “eeeek. I shall exit stage left”, but there has been no escaping this malignant woman.
Malignancy-
Back to the story- So this brings the story to a critical place- When I met Ryan. Just like many guys, Ryan took a minute or four months to pull the trigger, and by the time I met him, he had my website, particularly the blog that he was tickled by, memorized and fully invested in me, even before we met.
What a pickle. Here was this amazing guy that already thought the world of me before seeing me, and showed me a life away from escorting and it wasn’t a dream, no. He made it a reality. He retired JB. I was in love and I was moving to Houston to be with him.
But then I woke up and was told I had stage 3 colorectal cancer, and I looked at him, the guy who loved me from afar, who was supposed to just be my driver that day, but suddenly became my caregiver throughout my cancer treatment in Houston. He saved my life. He took me to chemo and radiation every single day; what a guy, right? Thought he was getting some awesome woman, but instead he got nausea and diarrhea and a whole lot of tears.
But like I said – he saved my life, my mind, but just like my favorite prose title- A Reason, A season or a Lifetime indicates—he was a reason. He was a conduit in my life, an answered prayer, and a GODSEND, but then it was over and after I was in remission, he stayed in Houston and wiped the sweat from his brow and I got well and formed my new persona- Lindsay LeFave (named after one of my butthole oncologists) and started to tread lightly.
You know what? I should totally add that prose right here so everyone can see my headspace in writing-
I have lived by these insights for 20 years….
People come into your life for a reason,
A season or a lifetime.
When you know which one it is, you will
Know what to do for that person.
When someone is in your life for a
REASON, it is usually to meet a
Need you have expressed. They have come to
assist you through a difficulty, to provide
you with guidance and support, to aid you
physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to
be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your
part or at and inconvenient time, this person
will say or do something to bring the
relationship to an end. Sometimes they die.
Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they
act up and force you to take a stand. What
we must realize is that our need has been
met, our desire fulfilled, their wake is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered
and now it is time to move on.
Some people come into your life for a
SEASON, because your turn has come to
share, grow or learn. They bring you an
experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never
done. They usually give you an unbelievable
amount of joy. Believe it, it is real.
But only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons,
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional
foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and
put what you have learned to use in all other
relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is
blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Here’s a place to pause-