To the reader of my diary on a day long from my day, I enter these words. In a time when a woman could not inherit, own, or even earn her own keep, a thought for you...A courtesan is not born but made.

Perhaps you wonder why I have been made.

Having just retired from a very private dinner with a great nobleman, and picking small pieces of vegetables from places they ought not be, I am thinking upon my guest's surprise and glee, as I was being carried into the dining room amidst much herald and fanfare to be served as his main course. Beautiful and sinfully clad as a feathered peacock, upon a golden platter laid I. Smiling wickedly remembering this thought, in which, his Grace, the Duc, could not wait to....unfeathered me. Gasping now, you are probably no doubt!

It is said in Versailles, that gutter girls know their jewels. As the grateful Duc for his sensual meal, bestowed upon me Diamonds, Sapphires, and Pearls. For which with no fakeness nor paste, or artifice, that could be found by me.

Lounging upon my pillowed chaise, as I wait for my servants to complete their task of pouring bottle after bottle of pink champagne, which is such a delicious indulgence for a woman's skin, into my ornate custom made silver bathing tub. My champagne is endless, which the monks send faithfully each month for an exorbitant fee. Such a luxury you sneer, but just every day life for me.

My mind begins to wander back to my beginning, as I was not always so wanton a courtesan be. I was not born to rank, great wealth, or privilege, my how things have changed! At a very tender age, I was sent to a convent, without a second thought of me. My new mother felt I was a unnecessary bother and a reminder of his marriage passed. She wished my father to form an attachment to her daughters and son, what an ill behaving lot of runts they were. The education and decorum I learned at the convent, at first was not appreciated by me, as I rebelled with every step and lesson taught to me. Bitterly recalling that the nuns were quite strict and quick with a slap or a stick. At a time when a child would long for her mother, I longed for freedom for me. As with everything time does pass. The gosling of a girl grew into a beautiful swan. Laughing now, remembers that I was always paying penance for the beauty I possessed, as beauty, to quote the priest, is vanity at its best and a scorn to a woman borne. Languidly stretching is she, I would say I received quite the education, having learned excellent manners, which would later help in my attraction of wealthy men to me. In the vegetable garden I learned more than gardening. It was there that I received my first kiss from a visiting nobleman experiencing the power of attraction of beauty for me. A day was soon upon me, that I would never forget and forever change the events of me. I was ushered into the presence of the mother superior. I knew naught for what. I was told that my father had died and that a decision was required from me as to becoming a nun or being turned out, as funds will no longer be forth coming for me. Which is what they really cared about, the money, not me. I was not allowed time to grieve or to think, as an answer was immediately demanded from me. Since I felt no inclination toward being a bride of Christ, imagine that, and more of a leaning towards being a mistress of sin. I once seen a fabled creature at mass, richly garbed and bejeweled, she rolls her eyes, and insulted by the good women there, we were instructed not to look upon her by the nuns who took us there.

With only my innocence, yes it was still in tact, my meager possessions, and the clothes on my back, for it is for no wonder and I have never looked back, as I set out for Paris and the history of me.

To the reader of my diary, centuries after I have lived richly and loved greatly, I leave my words, in which you will be taken on a journey into a world few are privileged to or are really aware of.

Judge if you wish, it matters not.

I am among the most desired of women...not your friend, servant, or even wife. I am Courtesan. The courtesan is one of the most accomplished of women of our time. The art of the courtesan is often incorrectly and unjustly labeled as mere prostitution, this is far from the truth. Any woman can be a simple streetwalker, but it takes a woman of impeccable beauty and spectacular grace, who has a witty and artistic mind, and possesses a gentle and soothing demeanor to make it as a successful courtesan. A man seeks a courtesan for more than her body, but also for her mind, her grace, and her talents in the arts and conversation. We dedicate our lives to learning to speak to men about topics ranging from the weather to politics, how to play an instrument and sing, to dance, to dress and put on make-up, and how to seduce first with the mind and then with the body. We are well-read, well-educated, and well-mannered at a time when most women could do no more than read a Psaltary and bear children.

The noblest of men, with large....egos and purses to match, eagerly seek and compete for our attention. We are dinner companions, entertainers, singers, poets, and lovers to some of the most prominent men of our time. I and they are trained in many arts, only one being the art of love. We hold parties, and make more than one lord envious of the current patron.

We as courtesans are an attainable dream. I and my sister courtesans exhumed charm, lust, and opulence. Men come to us to experience the fantasy of love and application of knowledge that most of their wives cannot supply. They present us with gifts, and we, in turn, would consider their proposals. We hold power when women were allowed none.

Through my entries you will be given a glimpse...nay...an education of my chosen world in which many women have risen to the rank of immortal and will be remember through the annals of time.

I am every man's fantasy and desire....I am Courtesan.