Monthly Archives: August 2014

A well deserved day off…

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What does a London escort do on her day off? Well, you could argue that every day is a potential day off considering she might spend her time being wined and dined in a fabulous 5-star restaurant or entertained in the suites of some of the plushest hotels in London. But I mean an actual day off.

By definition, a day off means starting and ending the day doing nothing or entirely as you please. When was my last day out? Oh my word, now there’s a question. It might have been when I was ill and convalescing at home last month, but I don’t call that a day off as I was booked to see a client. I couldn’t make it. So, I might have to go back a little further.

Maybe it was my last haircut day? No, not that either, as I think I saw someone that evening go to a show at the Bloomsbury Theatre. So when was it?

OK, I can’t remember, so that should tell you something about me. I’m a) a workaholic, b) utterly spoilt for work, and c) knackered.

I should probably book myself in for a day off soon. With the summer holidays nearly ending, I need to have a day to myself and book a lovely week away and maybe see some friends I haven’t caught up with for a while. But is that an actual day of rest, considering I will be beating the pavements as usual, just under another guise? Does that mean I have to stay indoors in my apartment all day? Alone? That could get seriously boring. Well, I suppose I could rent a few DVDs or download some music while lobbying for something comfortable. It would also mean I could actually (horror!) switch my phone off until 8 a.m. the following day…

Do you know what? I think I am going to do it. Quick! Before I change my mind.

Posted in Posted inBlonde, British, New Tagged Tags: , , , , , ,

Groundhog Day…

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

Do you ever have days where everything goes wrong? Whether you forgot to switch the hot water on, so you wake up to a cold shower, or your phone freezes when you’re trying to return an important phone call. Well, I am having one of those 24 hours.

Let me take you back to where it all began:

06:00 hours today – I wake up in a plush hotel room with my client for the evening/overnight. We had been out to a Japanese restaurant in Knightsbridge and taken a stroll in the August evening air afterwards back to the hotel. Well, nearly… my client is a regular of mine, and we have been on many dinner and hotel dates without a hitch until now,

23:00 hours last night – I was not feeling right after coming out of the Japanese restaurant, but to not disappoint my client, I agreed to a stroll arm-in-arm back to the hotel, which by usual standards was not far away. By feeling terrible standards, it seemed like 100 miles. I felt sick and quite dizzy and had to give in to my pride and tell my client that I was not feeling quite well, so he didn’t think me rude at mumbling my responses half-heartedly as he discussed his current ventures. He was the complete gentleman I know him to be, and promptly called his driver to take us the remaining distance to the hotel.

23:20 hours – Upon arriving at the 5* establishment, the hot and cold waves of nausea overtook me, and I could not control my reflux any longer as I stumbled past the blooming shrub outside reception and watered it with Ise Eb! My lovely client didn’t even bat an eyelid at my decorating the £4,000 marble-boxed plant. He just brushed my hair back and helped me up the steps, past the completely gobsmacked maitre’d and steered me carefully to the lift up to our suite. He was a complete angel and super sympathetic, as every half an hour or so, I would rush to the stunning en suite to unload more of my Asian delights.

Fast forward to 06:00 hours today – I am feeling fine now. I creep to the bathroom to scrub everywhere (my body and the tiles) and hope to salvage what I and my client missed out on last night.

07:00 hours – I am gleaming and smelling gorgeous, so I pop into the bedroom to show my client that I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye correctly. Still, he was already up and getting dressed, informing me of a crucial meeting he had to go to in Canary Wharf. So, no make-up on, and I leave feeling sheepish.

08:00 hours – I return to my apartment, which is like an oven. My heating has done something crazy, so I have to call someone out, and of course, they can’t give me a time, so I have to wait all day and re-schedule another client, George, for our shopping and lunch date.

Noon – Still no sign of the repair man, so I’m sitting in this sauna I used to call home, and I receive a text from Jordan, my evening’s client. It read…

“HI BABE, SO LOOKING FORWARD TO TONIGHT. THINKING NO TO THE ITALIAN RESTAURANT IN CHELSEA B4 THE SHOW AND YES TO THE JAPANESE PLACE IN KNIGHTSBRIDGE. I’M DESPERATE TO GO…WILL BOOK NOW. SEE YOU THIS EVENING GORGEOUS X”

I cry…

So, no matter how many fabulous dates I go on or how lucky I am in my 24-hour London escort world, I feel like I am experiencing Groundhog Day. Help!

Posted in Posted in24/7, Central London, Incall, Knightsbridge, West End Tagged Tags: , , , , , , ,

London’s Soho

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

I love the whole Gay scene around the Capital. Although I don’t see a lot of gay men in my line of work, I wander through Soho, inhaling the vibe and the atmosphere with a smile.

And it was at G-A-Y that I met Lucas. Just for once, I had Saturday night free to sashay with my girlfriends among the queens of London. Tight tops, designer sunglasses and skinny jeans abound (and that was the men!). The crowd spilled out onto the pavement.

Soho is recognised more for its pubs, bars, nightspots and the fabulous West End than the seedy sex trade. We danced through the lanes to all the tunes carried along with the evening breeze, slightly intoxicated. And there in the shadows, I saw him.

Average height but better than average build, he was standing, looking bored with a cigarette burning at his fingertips. As we passed him, he took a drag from it, and something in me tingled. I persuaded the girls to stop ‘for a drink’, which worked because nobody spotted him but me. And quite a good job, too as I was, with many of my fellow delicious 24-hour escorts. What he was doing at one of the campest gay haunts in Soho, I do not know, but my Gaydar didn’t start beeping, so I thought I was OK. I looked at him over my shoulder as we stood in the queue, and he winked at me.

“What’s your name?” I mouthed. He responded with Lucas. I like to get straight to the point; maybe it’s my profession. There is no point skipping around the obvious for hours. I fancied him; I let him know it.

I liked the fact we were an ordinary boy and girl meeting by chance on a Saturday night. I also liked I hadn’t set this date up in advance and wanted to be me for a little while. Lucas had no expectations of me, and it was worth a kiss in a dark corner if nothing else!

Posted in Posted in24hr, Bisexual, Central London, Duo, Escorts, Fantasy, Fetish, West End Tagged Tags: , , , ,

All weather shoes

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

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,r 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 he 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 hot-footed over to me from Bayswater in a taxi. As he shook out his umbrella, he complained that the stormy weather was playing havoc with his bike riding. “I just don’t trust these London motorists”, he said as he bounded up the stairs to my apartment. “They’re absolute maniacs!” I tutted my sympathy, handed him a mug of my finest coffee and pointed him toward the cupboard.

Honestly, you’d have thought all Marcus’s birthdays had come at once. He dropped to his knees and fell upon the boxes of heels, boots and pumps like a man dying of thirst on the banks of an oasis in the desert. I hardly got a word out of him for ten solid minutes.

Between us, we caressed and licked (Marcus), sorted and stacked (me) the contents of my shoe cupboard in readiness for the auction. We managed to weed out the ones I wear from the ones I definitely would never again, and I let Marcus keep a couple of pairs for the odd lonely night. In return, he told me to grab my coat as it was past lunchtime, and he wanted to treat me to “something delicious” from a celebrity restaurant. Armed with my Burberry Mac and designer umbrella, how could I possibly refuse? I’m a very lucky escort 😉

Posted in Posted in24 hour, Bayswater, Incall, Mayfair Tagged Tags: , , ,

Like Father like Son…

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

Once upon a time, there was a man named James. James was 27 and an heir to a fortune from his daddy. James’ daddy, Bill, was a successful businessman who, at 52, was taking a very early retirement and passing on his business and knowledge to his only son.

Bill was a regular client of mine, and though being married to James’ mother and living with her in their spectacular home in Hampstead Heath, he wooed and wowed me in his secret apartment in Kensington and took me on business trips worldwide. We visited Sydney, New York and Dubai on many occasions, and his business associates were the epitome of discretion. Mum was the word regarding his escort companion because they had their international companions to worry about.

One day, one of Bill’s business acquaintances (Paul) approached me and told me he knew someone who would like to impress a new set of colleagues with a proper woman by his side. I told him to go through the correct channels to book and thought no more of it. A few days later, while lounging in Bill’s fabulous pad in Kensington. I overheard him on a conference call discussing Paul and how he had betrayed the company. Shame, I always got on with him, but, again, I thought no more of it.

So, let me bring you to the present. I had a date lined up with a man who wanted to take me to a farewell party for his company’s founder, and he wanted to make a grand impression. He asked me to dress like a lady! I could immediately tell that the man I would be accompanying would be young and inexperienced and, without doubt, would be losing his escort plates to me. I dressed in a fabulous Pucci gown and wore my hair loose and curly, immensely grown up and elegant. I met my date, James, and though he was handsome and polite, he was very nervous as we entered the Crystal Room at the Mayfair Hotel. As I held onto his arm to make him feel more at ease, I stiffened in nervous fright as I saw the stage set up with a slideshow of the man whose farewell party it was. Bill, James’ daddy himself – clever Paul.
I have never been in a situation so close with a client… more so, a client who is my client’s father! Thankfully, I recovered myself quickly, and when James introduced me to his mother and father, I smiled politely, and my eyes told Bill (who was frozen with fear) that everything was okay. We didn’t stay too long anyway, which I thought was strange, but James wanted to take advantage of his suite.

And I can safely say, as weird as it sounds, it was a case of like father-like son…

Posted in Posted inAgencies, Central London, Kensington, Naughty, New, Outcall Tagged Tags: , , , , , , ,