You’ll need a date in Notting Hill…

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When it comes to shopping in London, a true reveller would be unable to resist the charms of Notting Hill. This exclusive district in Central London is uber-expensive and uber-chic – no wonder we have the most beautiful 24hr Companions living and working there.

Hyde Park, Bayswater, and Holland Park surround Notting Hill. Each area has its weight of luxury hotels, residences and shops; however, the heart of it all stands Portobello Road – the jewel in the crown of consumerism. Famous worldwide, its shops, bars and restaurants are visited by tourists froworldwides it any wonder that our escorts love to spend their time there?

One such escort is Adele. This European blonde has green eyes and slim curves. Even at twenty-one, Adele is a fun and charming companion who would be the ideal date choice for any London man. She’s one of our top Notting Hill Gate escorts.

If you are unsure what to do for fun and entertainment in London, we recommend browsing (or spending in!) the designer brands running along Bond Street. Or maybe dedicate a few hours at Harvey Nichols; allow your companion to lose herself in Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik and to Prada stores. The district also has some of London’s most renowned restaurants – like Babylon at The Roof Gardens – chic bars and clubs. How could you ever be bored?

We guarantee booking the beautiful European escort Adele will leave you with a smile for days afterwards. Call or book online. We are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. All calls and enquiries are confidential, and we will never share your details.

Groundhog Day…

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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!

All weather shoes

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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,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 😉

Busy, Busy, Busy…

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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…

Wet and Wild…

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From a saucy French maid and a 50’s housewife working naked to a serving wench, I have been the most domesticated servant in some category. My clients seem to enjoy the sight of a scantily-clad sexy agency escort working in their home. I can’t think why…

However, the polite request to be a ‘washer-woman’ left me slightly dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure how to proceed, given that I don’t have muscly arms and a belly over my waistband. I had visions of some cartoon-esque dame a la Tom & Jerry, and I can’t say it did much for my libido or self-image. So, I asked what my client meant for the first time in ages.

This client was Henry, a divorced father of two in his mid-fifties. As a resident in the affluent area of Bayswater, Henry described himself as having a natural thing for water, especially water splashed all over the place on a willing participant. He asked me to wear white, tie my hair up and not to wear a scrap of makeup. With these instructions, I arrived right away at noon on Saturday and was ushered to a high-walled garden with an immaculately cut lawn. In the blazing sunshine, in the centre of the patio, was a wooden tub full of suds and, next to it, a scrubbing brush and board.

Henry was reclining on a sun lounger, sunglasses on, regarding me as I stood in the patio doorway. He waved me over and stretched out a hand. As he passed me a glass of Pimms, he explained that he wanted me to scrub the clothes in the tub and get soaking wet. “Plenty of splash, my dear! Give those old flagstones a soaking! And make sure you get it all down your front…”

Well, thank God for the small mercies of a brilliant sunny day. I hauled the sheets out of the suds and gave them a good going-over, slopping water everywhere and mostly over myself. My underwear went see-through, and Henry leaned forward. My top in his view to get a better look. I used my arm to brush my hair out of my eyes, soaking my face and letting it run down my neck. I figured I resembled a drowned rat, but Henry was delighted.

“Peg them on the line when you’re done, will you?” he called gleefully as I stood up to wring out my long white skirt. I was drenched and longing to lie in the sun to dry off. He chucked me a towel and invited me to do just that. Thankfully, his sun-trap garden had me drying off within twenty minutes, and I was able to chat a little about the job I’d done. “Splendid effort…” he said, beaming.”I will have to call you again!”

After changing clothes and getting a hair dryer, I went home to Mayfair to glam up for my evening date with Oscar. It just wouldn’t do to let too many people see me in that state; I have an image to uphold.