Monthly Archives: August 2014

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I am not at home because I am typing this from Italy. Lucky me!
My long weekend break, returning tomorrow morning, with Giovanni, started as “coffee soon?” and became “take your passport and meet me at Heathrow at 13:00 hours. Giovanni was born in the West End to Sicilian parents and emigrated there in 1990 before making his home somewhere between Tuscany and Paris. He has an ex-wife, five children, three dogs, a villa in the Tuscan countryside, and a mistress in Paris with one child. Before you ask how he manages to afford to keep them all, his six-figure salary seems to be that.

How do I fit in? Well, he does like to keep up appearances with the Italian social elite and to rub his ex-wife’s nose in the fact that he hasn’t lost touch with the ladies. Ex-Mrs. Giovanni is unaware of the Parisian mistress or the half-brother of her offspring, so I step in as the model girlfriend. I don’t mind; I love Italy, and I’m accustomed to being discreet.

So we came to Italy for proper coffee, ground from good coffee beans, in an authentic restaurant by an adequate barista. I used a small amount of Italian vocabulary on him – enough to say “grazie” – and flashed my most dazzling smile. Red-blooded Mediterranean men do like to feel appreciated by red-blooded British women! And how do I want my coffee? Well, I am partial to a cappuccino, but I prefer a latte – especially when it’s homegrown.

I discovered that the barista training is conveniently located right around the corner from the hotel. How exciting!

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What a miserable and wet day here in Mayfair, far from yesterday. The sun was shining and beautiful, but we were in England, I suppose. I did think about taking a trip down to Oxford Street to see my sister, but the size of the raindrops falling into the puddles convinced me that staying indoors was a better option.

And what a good job too! I received an in-call from Marcus at 11.30 a.m. asking if I was at home as he desperately needed to see me, and I was all too eager to a) have the company and b) know his fetish for women’s shoes, have him come over and help me. Maybe he could persuade me to keep some and donate others to my auction. By the way, I’ve decided to do that on the last Friday of the month – the 27th – to allow for payday and credit card payments.

Marcus hurried over from Bayswater in a taxi. As he shook out his umbrella, he complained about how the stormy weather was disrupting his bike rides. “I just don’t trust these London drivers!” he exclaimed while bounding up the stairs to my apartment. “They’re absolute maniacs!” I expressed my sympathy, handed him a mug of my finest coffee, and pointed him towards the cupboard.

You’d have thought it was his birthday the way he dove into my collection of shoes. He dropped to his knees and eagerly rummaged through the boxes like a thirsty traveller discovering an oasis. For a solid ten minutes, he hardly said a word.

Together, we sorted through my shoe cupboard, lovingly assessing each pair in preparation for the auction. We separated the shoes I wore from those I definitely wouldn’t wear again, and I let Marcus keep a couple for those lonely nights. In return, he insisted I grab my coat because it was past lunchtime, and he wanted to treat me to something delicious from a celebrity restaurant. With my Burberry Mac and designer umbrella in hand, how could I possibly say no? I consider myself quite lucky as an escort! 

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I have an acute sense of smell. Most women do, let’s face it, but my nose could smell a rose in a perfume factory. This brings me nicely to today.

I have a client who works as a perfumer in Fulham, manufacturing on behalf of Gucci, Prada and Chanel – my three favourite brands. When asked what his profession is, he describes himself as a ‘Nez’ (nose), which incites confusion in the uneducated and a look of delight in others. As an expensive escort, I have many gentleman friends in high-end professions, but nothing compares to Harvey.

As Harvey describes me as a “special friend,” he decided to craft a signature scent uniquely for me—something that embodies my essence in a bottle. I was overjoyed and excitedly joined him in his workshop, eager to create a truly intoxicating fragrance that I could wear on nights out.

As a girly-girl, I adore scents like Emporio Armani ‘Diamonds’, Prada ‘Candy Girl’, and Givenchy ‘Truly Irresistible’. Admittedly, my collection of perfumes on my dressing table rivals a Selfridges counter, but who can resist when clients love to spoil me? When we shop together, it feels like a guaranteed purchase, curated by me. I always keep a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 in my overnight bag because it complements most clients and brings to mind icons like Katherine Hepburn and Grace Kelly.

We spent the day indulging my senses, sampling as many fragrances as possible. Harvey had me sniff coffee beans between scents to cleanse my palate, much like a sorbet between courses.

While I have a sweet tooth for fragrances, I discovered my true attraction lies with warm, oriental scents. By the end of our session, I had a stunning amber-coloured liquid infused with musk, vanilla, exotic resins, wood, and a blend of floral and spicy notes. We named it “Chameleon” to reflect the many facets of my personality and my adaptability. Harvey definitely earned some major brownie points in my little black book!

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Now I’m not being biased, but I must say I do have some damn good ideas when it comes to pleasing my clients and those of my colleagues. I have been known to wow my peers on my own, which has led to them asking me for advice on all sorts of things. Whether they are new to the company or have been with it for a long time, I get pounced on during our monthly catch-ups, and no more so than during the one we had today.

One of the team’s newer members, a sultry Blonde, asked me not only for advice but also to join her on a big client date. Dan, the client in question, is a regular with everybody! He loves women, and in his eyes, the more, the merrier.

He also likes to have a mix-up from week to week, so he may book you twice a month and then not call you for a few months. So, when you have a date with him, it’s essential to keep his interest and make him want to return for more. “Dan” is an international playboy in his spare time and must have a few girls in every city.

I accompanied him to what he initially called a business meeting in New York, followed by a cocktail party at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. However, it turned out to be Dan’s private ‘cocktail’ party with two escorts while he watched us.

A strategy designed to impress.

My platinum friend then asked me to devise a plan to impress, amaze, and tire him out. He has booked a suite in one of Knightsbridge’s most upscale hotels and has given her an open budget for the evening. We decided to go shopping together, chatting as we browsed. After all, we’re women; multitasking is our forte!

Dan, 42, is stunning, loves women and wealth, wields power, and owns 14 businesses, including a fashionable restaurant with a beautiful dining room in Sloane Square, overlooking Tiffany and Links. Being a busy man, I aimed to pamper him so he wouldn’t have to lift a finger, unless we placed something strategically within his reach. So, we headed to Harrods to buy some exquisite champagne, chocolate truffles, and other luxury treats to spoil the testosterone-fueled gentleman!

He won’t know what hit him after we finally paused to admire our purchases and exchanged a well-deserved high five. We’ll keep you updated!

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Today, I am going to an Auction. Well, it was an early start. My right-hand man, Franco, was in Mayfair with a cardboard carrier of Americano coffees and some croissants to go. As I had my hair in a towel and my stress head on, this was a very welcome sight! My door was wedged open with a shoe – not being auctioned off – and some burly and tasty young men were moving in and out of it. Sometimes, I almost said, “Oh, not that one,” but Franco shook his head wordlessly at me, and I had to let them go.

And then we were off to Oxford Circus! I could feel the adrenaline as we watched the crates and rails being unloaded by a team of highly organised young women. I have no idea where they came from, but they had something to do with James and his abundant knowledge of fundraiser organisers. They treated me like royalty, and I could almost taste the palpable aura of garment lust. “If you want it, you’ll have to bid on it, darling, Franco said to one young, sexy blonde pawing a limited edition Pucci silk jacket.

At ten o’clock, the doors swung open to welcome the public. The rows of seats quickly filled, with assistants on the phone and buyers lining the edges of the warehouse. I recognised a few familiar faces from my usual spots in Kensington, Fulham, and Chelsea—some even gave me a thumbs up. My beautician was right at the front, ready to bid her life savings on one of my pink fur coats.

A cause truly worth supporting.

There was an electric buzz in the air, and then Franco introduced the cause—followed by my introduction! I was called to the front to say a few words; my mouth went dry, but I managed to get through it. After a wave of deafening applause, the auction began.

Money, amounting to tens, hundreds, and even thousands, flew around the warehouse. A pair of strappy Jimmy Choo shoes from SS07 sold for £900 within the first ten minutes! Scraps of silk, lace, satin, and feathers changed hands like hotcakes. A few Japanese girls in the audience were fiercely competing for Chanel and Chloe, and I thought things might get a bit heated at one point. Thankfully, James had the foresight to hire me some security guards for the day.

By 1:30 PM, it was all over. The cash tin was counted, and the cheques and credit card slips were bundled together. After checking three times, the total for my designer goods at auction was an astonishing £327,089! And no, I’m not joking. Keep in mind that my collection includes affluent clients and a selection of retro, authentic pieces; it’s still quite impressive!

Enjoy supporting St. Barnardo’s and SCOPE—two truly worthy causes!

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