It’s a fabulous life…

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I am not under any illusion that I am not mistaken for a beautiful elite escort on many occasions at the fantastic 5-star hotels I visit clients at; I’m no fool. A woman walking alone through the lobby of a London hotel that the concierge is never seen with a large bag, no luggage and dressed to kill in the middle of the day; it’s not exactly rocket science, but the excitement of giving the attendants a little wink as I sashay past in my finery gives me a sense of power and the man on the door a thrill of sharing something sordid with a gorgeous 24hr Companions lady.

Not only am I a top expensive escort in London, but it feels like I am the creative director of someone’s fantasies. That is so much fun, let me tell you. Working out my wardrobe, makeup and props for making their date one to rebook is such a rush. My fellow elite escort pals and I (all 3 of them are on the same wavelength as me) have a whale of a time swopping tips and showing off our new treasures that have been showered on us by our most faithful clientele.

In my line of work, it will not embarrass me easily. Whether I am acting out an unusual fantasy or contorting my body in various positions to be observed in great detail, I cannot get the giggles nor get all self-conscious and reluctant. Being in public with men of all shapes, sizes, ages and fashion dos and don’ts are other factors I must overlook. I am very open-minded, which is a massive bonus if you want to do this job.

Even going shopping or dining with a much older client who has requested I wear next to nothing and hang off his arm all date is a sure sign to the general public that I am either a hooker or a gold digger. But again, I don’t care. The things I get to experience, like eating in the finest restaurants, shopping in the most expensive of boutiques and visiting the most fantastic countries, is an exceptional lifestyle for me, and I believe I well deserve it with the effort and dedication I put into making my clients time with me a fabulous one!

Now, as you know, I am not just a model escort; no, I have a brain, and I’m not afraid to use it. I love the intellect of some of my “friends”, and it’s not all about the glitz and glamour. But as soon as I head to the beautician and the hairdressers or to Selfridges to pick out some gorgeous couture, current events and world politics slip away and I am caught up in a world of coiffing, bronzing and Gucci.

What can I say, it’s a beautiful life!!

Our ladies can travel…

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My idea of saving is defined as: ‘squirrelling cash away so I can’t reach it’. I have a reserve account attached to my main current account and an off-shore bank account that only you, me and the gatepost know about. I keep that money for a rainy day, but there have been so many rainy days lately that I can’t decide which of them will inherit my money! Some weeks, I can deposit a few hundred in at the bank, especially when dates have paid for my delectable services at a time and a half – or an in-call becomes overnight.

It goes against all my principles to accept cash presents. Of course, there are my regular clients who treat me like a princess and who believe that I am their only and do not take them for granted. We set the ground rules before the date begins and never speak of money again after that… it makes me feel awkward. I am a very independent woman, like it or lump it.

Now I need a hole. I could make it a working holiday, and my London escort agency can arrange this for me as specific clients would love to see me. But I’d like to switch my phone off and read a book. I wish for a large swimming pool, a sun lounger and a dialect I must concentrate on to understand – and somewhere non-touristy. A desert island, perhaps!! I’m feeling a trip to the travel agent happening soon …

But for now, I must close my laptop and concentrate on an evening with Paul, who wants to try out the Cinnamon Club in Westminster. Note to self not to wear white where curry is concerned.

If you’ve ever wanted a travel companion, we will have the perfect lady just for you. Our ladies are well-travelled and love the thrill of seeing new places with exciting clients like you. To book one of our lovely girls, you only need to go to our gallery and choose which takes your fancy. You can discuss your needs with one of our friendly English receptionists, who will guide you on which escort would be ideal for you.

Our Top Italian

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Italian women are fiery and passionate and can entice a man until he is under their spell. Sounds thrilling. Our Italian escort, Kim, is no exception. At 23 years old, Kim has learned enough about life and London to know what makes her clients tick.

At a modest 5 feet 7 inches, Kim is a stunning London call girl who turns the heads of men and women as she wanders. They are often heard to ask each other if she just flew in from Milan for a catwalk shoot. And well, she might have done! Her slim curves of 34C-23-33 proportions make her the perfect example of Italian chic. Not to mention the way they fill the sexy lingerie that hides beneath! Kim tells us her passion for satin and lace makes her a regular visitor to La Perla, which seems to keep the men in her life VERY interested!

Kim is sweet, sassy and sexy and available as one of our escorts in Marylebone. She loves to laugh and dance, and a night out in Leicester Square always makes her smile. Available for outcalls only, Kim adores travelling all over London with her clients and internationally if and when they are called for. Her passport is full of stamps of recent travels abroad, and she loves matching a face to the destination.

To book Kim, look in our elite gallery of lovely Italian ladies and then call us to check her availability. Our friendly receptionists are here to take your call 24 hours a day.

I’m an escort get me out of here!!!!!

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How can I not laugh watching “I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!” – The Bush Tucker Trial reminds me of some of the beautiful cuisines I have tastedworldwider. However, I must tell you about my experience with an actual “foodie” client known for his recklessness and love for English escorts.

I wrote recently about my experience dining at ‘Dans Le Noir’, where I consumed a three-course meal in pitch black. Well, if you thought that was strange, you should have seen where I ended up this afternoon! Archipelago is a central London restaurant where the menu already contains a few creepy crawlies. Yes, folks. We are talking Scorpions, Crickets and Bees. Now, I couldn’t really give two hoots about the former two, but I am partial to watching bees at work, and I rather like the little furry bugs, more so because I love honey.

So I started my taste test with ‘Locusts and Crickets, pan-fried with chilli and garlic and served with spinach and rocket leaves.’ Yum. Crickets are bitter! Yuck. My date, Reuben, advised me to chew thoroughly – which seemed odd when I thought about what else you would do if someone handed you a cricket to eat. Still, the flavours within the meal itself helped to take a little of that away, and I started to enjoy it when the sweet fluid pooled at the bottom of my bowl.

Next was a roasted, chocolate-covered scorpion. Yes, a scorpion, and my word almighty, was that visually unappealing. Well, would you want something with a sting and pincers near your mouth – covered in chocolate or not?! In some countries, they leave the venom in the sting, which can kill you. Brilliant. Thankfully, the UK had some sense to make that against the law. I gulped much water after this to make sure I had flushed it all away.

And finally – the honey bee Brule. Preserved in honey, served to rest on a tuille biscuit, in a white chocolate honeycomb. The rosewater crème brûlée is supposed to accentuate the bee’s allegedly minty flavour. I don’t want a bee to be minty! He isn’t an After-Eight Mint! I don’t know how I will watch The Bees in Hyde Park now without feeling guilty. They are harvested during a swarm to prevent damage to the hive. At what point does the Queen do a quick head count and say, “Hold on, I think we’re missing a couple of hundred workers here!” I was happy to see the plate taken away, which is a pity because Brule is my favourite dessert worldwide, and I think I have tainted it forever.

After the meal, I made Reuben take me out for a stiff drink. He fancied flavoured vodkas. I just wanted something without the frills and fuss where I could order something everyone in the bar would have heard of!

Like Father like Son…

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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…