.

So, it hasn’t escaped my attention that my apartment building in Mayfair has its fair share of resident Arabs. This has proved a bit tricky in the past with client-on-client run-ins in my building, but it has also meant an abundance of new clients right at my doorstep.

Though I am a very discrete London escort, I have been approached while locking my front door to ask what services I provide. It has been more luck than them working on the fact. I leave and enter my home looking more than perfectly coiffed and manicured. The expensive clothes I adorn are not to be mistaken for anything other than lining the body of a model who knows her labels.

Some chance encounters have been a very wealthy businessman’s hired help handing me their gold embossed business cards showing me their master’s work address boasting a skyscraper view from Canary Wharf or private offices in Chelsea, with a number to call for personal appointments. My reply to most of these slip-of-the-hand meets is to slip them my 24-hour London escort card right back. They can work for my hand rather than me chasing a new client.

After going through the correct channels to book my time, I was satisfied when the final details were agreed upon and always sat. I have always described my work ethic as being a chameleon, and behind closed doors with specific nationality clients, I can be whatever they want me to be, and when accompanying them to Dubai or not even out of London,

I can be demure and discrete and worth every penny!

.

Today, I was exhausted; that’s what happens with 24-hour escorts sometimes. Call it the mid-week blues, if you like, but I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Cue an emergency call to The Sanctuary in Covent Garden and an even more vital full-body massage with Yvette.

I cancelled all appointment meetings and took a test at 9 a.m. when I was sure the world was awake. I had opened an eye and thought, “I cannot face today”. This is very unusual for me – I love my job. As an expensive London escort being pampered, adored and treated like royalty – who wouldn’t? But I have been non-stop for the last 30 days. This time last month was my charity auction, so I feel I deserve a break. I’d love a week or two in Dubai, but I’d have to call on one of my contacts for a 6-star luxury hotel, as even my budget doesn’t allow me to rub shoulders with sheikhs without selling my soul to Satan.

Yvette could only fit me in after 11 a.m., which was fine, given that I hadn’t even put a toe on the carpet. It meant I could turn on the TV and see what was going on in London before I wandered through to shower and prepare myself for a bit of R&R.

My mobile was going off nine to the dozen by the time I returned to it. I have often toyed with a PA to handle my busy schedule, but that would make my iPhone and Filofax redundant, and I don’t think I could rely on anyone to manage my life in the same manner I do. I remember Carrie’s assistant on Sex & the City being like her right arm. Is it possible?

So by 11 a.m., I was lying on a bed, naked from the waist up, being heavenly massaged by Yvette to the sounds of crashing waves. Oh my God. She said I had a lot of tension in my shoulders and I should at least try for a massage once a month. I took this as gospel and pencilled in July, August, September AND November as soon as I could!

.

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 were flung open to the public. The rows of seats were immediately filled, the edges of the warehouse flanked by assistants on the phone and other buyers. I recognised a few faces from my regular haunts (Kensington, Fulham and Chelsea) – a few gave me the thumbs up. My beautician was right at the front with her life savings to bid on one of my pink fur coats.

There was an expectant buzz, and then Franco introduced the cause, and then… me! I was waved to the front to say a few words, and my mouth went dry, but I managed it. And after deafening applause, it began…

Money, running into tens, hundreds and thousands, flew across that warehouse. A pair of strappy Jimmy Choos from SS07 went for £900 within the first ten minutes. Scraps of silk, lace, satin and feathers exchanged hands like hotcakes. A few Japanese girls were in the audience battling for Chanel and Chloe, whom I thought might get ugly at one point. Thankfully, James had the sense to hire me some security guards when he was dishing out the employment for the day.

And by 13.30, it was all over. The cash tin was counted, the cheques and credit card slips bundled, and after checking three times, the total for my designer goods at auction was….. £327,089! And no, I’m not kidding. Bear in mind that I have (had!)My collection has some pretty wealthy clients and some retro, authentic pieces; it is still pretty staggering!

Enjoy St. Barnardo’s and SCOPE – two worthy causes.

.

I have been so busy lately that trying to juggle everything is getting a little beyond me – and it certainly doesn’t help that I am well into the holiday spirit. I have a list of things to do pinned on the bedroom door, and there is undoubtedly a lot of planning to do.

Concentrate, girl, concentrate!

So you might wonder what I have to do that’s so important. Well, the first thing is to ensure all my international clients know I am going away soon. That way, no one will try to book me for the beginning of July or schedule a trip to London hell-bent on seeing me because I won’t be here. My luxurious Mayfair apartment will be empty, and I will have left a message with the doorman to divert my post to the charming girl who lives at number 2.

Secondly, I have to spend time seeing my parents – namely my mother. The last time I returned to Swiss Cottage was New Year when we went to that spa. I had some lovely quality time with the family – let’s face it, it’s not often! I have heard from the horse’s mouth (dearest eldest brother) that Mother is pining a little (read: whining) and that she doesn’t see me as much as the others. And on more than one occasion, I’ve heard she is starting to wonder what I DO that takes me away from them so much.

And thirdly… I have to get my hair and eyebrows done again. I have yet to let myself go, but one can do so much self-administration before you need to call in a professional. So, I’d like to tell you that a phone call to my beauty therapist is in order. A top expensive escort has standards, you know.

And they’re my top -3 things to do before July. I had better get a move on.

To book our very organised and multitasking ladies, they are only a phone call away – call 07811 160 160 to make all your dreams come true; whether you want an International escort or to visit an escort in London, we can make it happen for you – sometimes it’s good to book in advance as you can see our ladies are very busy…

.

Sometimes, when a client requests something very different for them to enjoy, nine times out of 10, it is very different for their escort, too.

Jacob is a very successful and talented songwriter and is constantly jetting off around the world on business meetings and hooking up with artists at their swanky homes or hired venues. He tells me this is all well and good, and he gets to visit some beautiful places, but sometimes he wants to let his hair down and go. Being as successful as he is, Jacob only has a little time off, and when he does, he always makes sure he books some girlfriend experience time with his favourite escort. This usually entails hanging out at his vast Belgravia mansion, just chilling together and doing “normal couple” things before he jets off to New York, Paris, or wherever else the A and R lot tells him to go.

So, with a rare three days off, Jacob has asked me to accompany him to a club in Central London and told me to check my e-mail for an essential list of requirements for his favourite escort. I will tell you that when I read it, I headed straight out the door for an extraordinary shopping trip.

Jacob had requested that we go to a mainstream club, with no VIP or guest list, and blend into the crowd, but blend in with me dressed as any other woman in the club…

Now, this may seem simple, but Jacob insists that I adhere to the high street trends of today, complete with hair extensions, fake tan and lots of bling. I am all for dressing up and having a laugh, but I was stumped for ideas on how to blend in when I am more than used to clubs in the VIP section dressed in my usual designer gear and being coiffed to perfection.

I am far from a snob, and usually, I don’t mind where I go or what I wear, but when you’re going to a mainstream club and under the watchful eye of so many others, I know I have to get my look spot on. Cue internet searches and glossy magazine scouring.

Remember I told you, whatever my client wants (within reason), they get, and I’m sure my TOWIE makeover just about fits into the within reason category…