I’m looking forward to the 25th of December. I’ve already written to Father Christmas, stating that I’ve been a good girl all year. I’ve paid my MasterCard on time and brought joy to many clients. That I’m entitled to a sparkly something-or-other from Selfridges or an 80ml bottle of Lady Million by Paco Rabanne; I also fancy some silk stockings to put on my mantelpiece on Christmas Eve.
Speaking of which…
Today, I bought some candy-striped stockings with fluff and ribbons. These are at the request of George, an older client of mine who would like me to sit on his knee and tell him all my wants and desires for the festive season. To complement them, I have red French knickers and a red bra.
George fancies himself as the young St Nick of Belgravia. His fashionable 1820s terraced house sports a Christmas tree from Harrods in the huge bay window and a thousand tiny white lights from Knightsbridge; I scarcely hear from him all year until December rolls around, and then we make a booking for early December and Christmas Eve.
What I cherish most is the thrill of unwrapping a present with my name on it. I take my time, enjoying the feel of the ribbon and bow, and watching as George’s careful gift choice unfolds, especially when it reveals my red lingerie. This year, I might even treat myself to an Ann Summers satin wrap or a red bow wrap for that extra flair.
So, tonight is marked in my calendar for an early December date. We’ll be at The London Eye, sipping mulled wine and nibbling on mince pies in our private capsule. As the wheel ascends for half an hour, I’m hoping for a clear night so we can gaze at the cityscape below. With the South Bank and Westminster nearby, George has arranged for us to dine at Brasserie Joel, a charming French restaurant close to the Houses of Parliament and the National Theatre. As you might expect, there’s a £75 set Christmas menu, though I’m curious to see what delights await us.
George has a way of bringing out my inner child. I adore Christmas, and his unique flair makes it all the more special; his enthusiasm is simply contagious. I sometimes find myself wishing I could spend more time with him, beyond our Santa Claus moments. The only thing that gives me pause is his quirky fixation on letting his beard grow until it turns grey. But, I suppose if we’re indulging in a red velvet cake, everything will be just fine!
