The Art of Joy

Lately I’ve been inundated with gifts. From lovers, of course, but also from complete strangers who liked the words and images I share, were moved by my sensitivity, or simply felt the need to make me happy.
Just the need to make me happy…
With nothing asked in return.
Every time I unwrap a new present, my cheeks flush, my heart warms, and an immense emotion overwhelms me. It isn’t merely excitement or contentment; it is gratitude mixed with a sudden, deep sense of fulfillment that floods me at once, and that profound happiness – this joy – stays with me throughout the day and the days that follow.
These small (or sometimes large!) gestures change my life. They brighten it, and they also give me strength because I feel profoundly encouraged, supported, and accompanied.

Am I happy simply because I receive gifts? That sounds a little foolish, doesn’t it? Am I just a vulgar, greedy person? I wonder that as I walk along the quays in this oddly warm December month (yes, you’ve probably guessed it, I walk a lot, and I think while I walk, and I walk while I think, as Rodolphe Burger almost sings… – I never take public transport and only hail a taxi when, under the name of Anna, I’m meeting a lover; even then, most of the time I prefer to walk. Walking stimulates the brain, but that’s not all. It pulls you back into the present moment, into the concrete reality of the distance traveled between two places. Walking is as much meditation as it is a stroll; it grounds you in reality while allowing day-dreaming. – Sometimes I tell myself that one of the things my lovers find most appealing is that I walk to our dates, even if I have to cross all of Paris to do so, a rarity for a courtesan. – “Wait, where are you coming from, Anna? You really WALKED AN HOUR AND A HALF?” – “Of course! And without wearing knickers!” – A spark ignites. Your eyes darken, your jaw relaxes slightly. I see excitement in your gaze, and seeing that excitement excites me. Fire. Fire. – Or perhaps my greatest allure lies in my quick wit – my “staircase wit.” Anyway, enough rambling…)

Why am I so happy about presents? I ask myself as I wander the quays toward the Beaux-Arts, with no particular plan in mind, just feeling my body in motion and seeing where it would take me. They are just gifts, material things. I don’t care about material things; I’m above that.

I have lived several lives before I identified my kink, a simple one that conditions my entire sexuality and the rest of my fantasies: what titillates, excites, and deeply moves me is experiencing timeless moments with men so generous that I want to return the favor.
What turns me on are The Meetings of Anna.
It is the excitement that builds during the first email exchanges, swelling before the meeting, amplified by the attention and care my lovers devote to making our encounter as wonderful as possible. It is the careful preparation, choosing the outfit that best matches what I sense of you, or slipping into the lingerie you gave me beforehand, unveiling it for your eyes. It is the nervous anticipation of finally seeing each other in person, the smiles that turn into laughter, the connection that forms, and the desire that takes hold. There we are, two human beings facing each other, strangers a few minutes ago, now embracing, caressing, defying time and whatever others might say.
I have always found human interaction most authentic during these secret rendez-vous. Knowing, without prior acquaintance, exactly where we are headed (nude, in a bed – sorry for the spoiler!) paradoxically makes the encounter simpler and more natural, stripped of the artificial veneer that so often burdens us in everyday life. The shared intimacy is wildly free, plus that priceless extra spice: mystery and the forbidden.
When we part, we return to our lives. Days pass. When we arrange another meeting, the excitement remains, though it has shifted slightly: we now know each other, and we know that our mutual exploration is only just beginning. I can’t wait to see you again, to give and receive news and kisses, to tumble, to drown in cuddles and orgasms. The bonds we forge are intense yet unburdened, based solely on our sensitive, sensual understanding, free from societal expectations and, above all, from judgment. We can confide everything, dare anything, and say what elsewhere we would not.
These spaces we create, between you and me, free of any obligation are fiercely genuine, infinitely light.
Little by little, we have become regular lovers.

You are my part-time paramours. I am your professional mistress, your polyamorous, venal lover, engaging but without engagement. “I don’t pay you to sleep with me, but so you won’t call me back!” a lover once told me, half-joking. Rest assured, he still calls me, and he has done so for years.
I love being surrounded by this tight circle of exceptional lovers – mostly men from other countries, other cultures, other generations, fascinating and exciting people I would never have met in any other context, with whom I have so much to share.
Why do we live, if not to cross paths with others, to discover personalities beyond our own? Why do we live, if not for the unknown and the extraordinary? Together we push the limits of existence, we live more densely, more intensely. We share far more than sex: an exchange of energies and visions, mutual respect, lasting affection. Attachment without attachments. So many extraordinary memories flash across my mind, each one coaxing a smile, quickening my heart anew. It’s because we’ve done so many crazy things together, you and I!
My dear lovers, you belong in my life as my close friends, my family. Even though I know you can disappear overnight. We owe one another nothing – that’s the rule we both respect: not penetrating each other’s lives is the only limit – yet who cares, when there are so many other things we can penetrate?

I arrive at the Invalides and continue toward the Grand Palais. My brain has once again taken a detour. Multiply exceptional encounters? What a lovely program! I feel like a modern day sailor, a man in every port – a sailor in suspenders, of course, generously rewarded for the beauty of the gesture!
But let’s get back to the gifts! It was the joy they bring, which I wanted to contemplate. The fact that they are the fruit of generosity and kindness brings light and giving back to the centre. It isn’t about money; gifts can be modest. It is the attention, the positive energy, that does me so much good.
And according to the most elementary law of abundance, the more I receive, the more I want to give. Because I love giving, too. I am generous and kind, too. In truth, I cherish kindness – a quality often despised, yet one of my guiding lights.
I love being pleased and loving to please. I love spreading joy, literally being a girl of joy. In my small way, I try to illuminate this dark world.

Without noticing it, I found myself on the Champs Élysées, illuminated in grandiloquent splendor. It is late December, and as Christmas approaches the streets are draped in fairy lights. I recall the fierce excitement I felt as a child at the approach of this holiday – a feeling that faded with age, as most intense childhood emotions do.
Have I rediscovered it lately, thanks to you?
Yes, because of you, it feels like Christmas all year round!
Thank you for making me dream! For making me feel unique and precious, just like everything you give me!