Monthly Archives: August 2014

A Day at the Races

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I love going to the races. Something is exciting about Royal Ascot and Ladies Day (I have tickets this year for 21st June!) in a wide-brimmed-hat-and-suede-shoes kind of way. Half the fun (apart from betting) is celebrity spotting and seeing who came the best and worst dressed. The tabloids can’t possibly love it half as much as I do.

Tomorrow, I am off to Epsom in Surrey for a private hospitality event. I’m being chauffeured there and back by Clive, my well-to-do horsey friend. Clive and his friends breed thoroughbred racehorses and race them publicly and privately for vast sums of money. Put it this way: I couldn’t put a “tenner on each way” in that circuit.

Clive and I met at Newmarket last August. I was sipping Pimms with a group of fellow 24-hour Companions. We weren’t drawing attention to ourselves in any way, but, as if magic, the waiter came over and presented us with three bottles of champagne. As we followed his gaze across the room, we spotted a group of gentlemen (a direct ratio of them to us) laughing and joking together. One of them raised a glass to us, and we waved gaily back. Within ten minutes, we chatted away like old friends and went to dinner with them back in London at Wild Honey on St George’s Street. Each of us was spoilt rotten, and Clive seemed to take a shine to me. Although we don’t spend a lot of time together, if he needs a dazzling brunette on his arm for an event, I get a call. In the interim, I learned a few horse-racing terms and tips that put me in good stead should anyone ever question me. It’s all about learning, you see?

With my well-educated client, I am sure to put on a few bets that will come up trumps for me, and Clive certainly knows that he has a certain chance with me.

So if you needed a special call girl in London to go to the races with you, our ladies certainly know how to dress in their finery, which will never look out of place; they will turn heads with their beauty and sophistication and maybe give you some luck at the races?

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Football Fever

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

With the World Cup well underway, we can expect many of our clients to be watching each game closely, and our escorts in London may feel a little left out, as football has overtaken some of our client’s lives for a short while, but to our companions, it can seem like a lifetime. That is why we are open 24 hours a day, so when your match has finished at whatever hour, you can still have fun with our top girls. You may want to celebrate your win, or you may feel a little deflated, so that is where an exotic beauty comes into play for whatever mood you are in.

Of course, you could be one of that gentlemen who doesn’t care for the beautiful game. Well, you will be in luck this ‘ World Cup season’ as we will have many girls who like to ‘avoid’ football just as much as you do. It may be hard to be utterly oblivious to it. Still, at least you can lock yourselves away and watch ‘old movies’ and generally have a fantastic time together while everybody else outside is going ‘crazy’ for football!!

If you are still ‘football mad’ and can’t quite get enough – but ladies are a close second, why not organise a little adult football party? Imagine the scene where you have booked a beautiful hotel suite, all your friends are around to see the game, spirits are high, and your team is doing well. With all the high spirits going on, you book some exquisite London companion to come to your suite and make your party last longer and indeed even more enjoyable – our girls could wear your favourite team colours and parade in some naughty lingerie and blow your whistle at half time – now that’s worth thinking about?

So why not look and see which girls could come over to your party? We have girls of all nationalities, which you could mix and match and place on whatever team you wanted, and you can teach them all about the offside rule, but our girls never play foul!!!

So remember, don’t forget you can still have fun with our girls this World Cup. Call us, and we can do all the work for you and organise some fun half-time.

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A Cocktail hour (or two)

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Apart from my ardour for champagne and sparkling expensive vintage, I do love Happy Hour at cocktail bars. With my 24hr London escort friends or with a client, there’s something immeasurably sexy about smooth cocktails blended in a clear glass.

So imagine my delight at being given the opportunity to sample free drinks at the Rib Room Bar on Sloane Street. With anything from a “Sloane Street Vesper” (with pink vodka and Gin) to a non-alcoholic “Cricket Tea” amid the luxury of long bars, high stools and a cigar bar for the discerning smoker. And all this with Kieran – my newest client, with bags of Sloane Square attitude.

Kieran speaks as though he has plums in his mouth and well he might seeing as he went to Eton and then to Oxford. Yet despite his impressive education (and inheritance!) he likes the playboy lifestyle and has no intention of making his mother proud and marrying a like-minded Sloane-Ranger. He likes his playboy lifestyle, to dress in fine Italian suits and his 24hr Companions. I am the third since New Year.

Kieran and I were greeted at the cordoned off area for the private party by Alexa, the PR executive organising the event. She handed us our first cocktail of the evening – something orange and smelling intoxicatingly of peach. As I sipped it, I took in my surroundings and became mesmerised by the barman shaking, pouring and mixing his way through the customers leaning on the bar. I was so impressed by his ability to recall recipes at will and charm the clientele that I almost forgot I was there for Kieran and not myself.

Once I had recovered my awe and admiration, I turned my attention to stroking Kieran’s bicep and his ego. I flattered him; made sure I got tipsy enough to giggle like a school-girl and then coquettishly suggested we ‘go back to his place for a night cap.’ We had been there a reasonable two and a half hours; enough to be photographed by the local press covering the event, get his name in column inches (not mine) and be seen by the right people.

And then we were off to Belgravia, chauffeur-driven with a bottle of Prosecco to drink on the way…

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This could be magic…

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Have you ever seen a live magician at a party or show? I have often been entertained by would-be Derren Browns at weddings and occasion-birthday parties – even at the pub on a Tuesday night. I always say “oooh” and “ahhh”, and no matter how closely I look, I can never work out how they do it. In short, I love being impressed by someone who can do something I can’t.

I was introduced to Jerry at a friend’s anniversary gathering. He was sitting on the sofa in their Hampstead home, drinking coffee, shuffling a deck of cards with one hand. Jerry cut and flicked the cards over and under as I stood mesmerised. I didn’t even realise how rude I was being by staring, but I was entranced. He must have felt my eyes on his because he lifted his head and gave me a wide grin—something clenched in the pit of my stomach.

By the end of the evening, I had begged him to show me a few tricks and slightly fallen in love. His long, tapered fingers caressed the coins he vanished; the red foam ball that tripled in my clenched palms was sweaty with lust, and I fantasised about him making my underwear disappear with a wave of his hand. Brazen or not, I handed him my business card as he left and hoped to hear from him again.

I asked my friends about him, as you do, as soon as the door closed. They told me he worked the Kensington circuit and had been performing quietly for friends and family before being taken on by an agent in 2009. Although he wasn’t entirely up to David Copperfield’s standard, he could make things vanish before your eyes.

Well, I don’t want to be big-headed. I knew I would hear from him by today, and he rang me at 09.30m, wondering what I was up to. Was this a typical escort and client date or something purely personal? I didn’t want to throw my hourly rate into the mix, so I hoped he wanted to spend some time with me because I impressed him. We arranged to meet at the South Bank for lunch at 1.00 p.m. I wanted to wear something flowery and floaty, but that weather seems to have other ideas.

I feel nervous as I type this as I haven’t been on a date for myself in a long time. I don’t want a boyfriend, but I would like a new playmate who can teach me something to wow my social circle. It’s never too late to find him.

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Secrets

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

Rule number one of being a top london escort: Discretion. To be able to conduct yourself professionally while maintaining closeness with the client to make him feel he is your number one. In other words – don’t make him feel as though he has paid for your time, rather than it has been an honour to allow him to do so. It also helps of you enjoy your job, which I do.

Sometimes I find I tie myself in knots being secretive about my job, especially when it comes to my family. Having to be vague all the time is tiring because I can never quite remember what lies I’ve told. My mum and dad still believe I’m in PR although my brother is a bit suspicious. He doesn’t know any London PR executive with the wardrobe as vast or expensive as mine. I tell him I have some really high-profile customers who send samples to our offices on a regular basis. He has been to my apartment but never strayed further than my front room – I don’t want him stumbling across the boudoir any time soon!

There are also the concierge and Maître D’s that keep secrets. Bear in mind I have been to plenty (if not most) of the celebrity restaurants, five star casinos and high class hotels across the capital. For those who take their job seriously (and have been doing it twice as long as I have been alive), they merely nod or pretend they’ve never seen me before. This usually applies to Claridges or The Ritz where reputation is everything. These men know what goes on, but they never say anything; they keep their cards played close to their chests. The ones who are younger or who don’t care too much give me a cheeky wink or pass me a note with their mobile number on in case I should need anything. I have taken them up on the offer a few times when I’ve been in dire straits or come across something unexpected. It’s never what you know, but who.

Being a top escort I have hundreds of secrets in my head belonging to dozens of men who trust me. They tell me things they wouldn’t tell their wives, girlfriends, mothers or friends. I tell myself it makes me privy to a world not many women get to see They long to buy them wisps of French lace and satin in any other colour than white to wear anywhere other than the bedroom. As they pour this lingerie into my lap and I parade it around for them, I can’t help but feel sorry for the women missing out. When we act out a fantasy together or meet on the steps of The Andaz for a 5-star experience, I feel like the princess they wish they were treating.

To feel feminine and desired is the biggest secret of all.

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