Category Archives: Naughty

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.

Posted in 24/7, Agencies, Busty, City, Naughty, New, Tagged Tags: , , , ,

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.

Posted in Agency, Cheap, GFE, Naughty, Outcall, Tagged Tags: , , , ,

Feeling Feisty

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

One of my favourite words in the English dictionary is ‘passion’. There’s the passion you show your partner between the sheets when you just want to grab them and bite a chunk out of them; an intense appreciation for the arts or music and the passion of a couple arguing in the middle of the street (or wherever they happened to be when the first voice was raised). Without passion, the world would be a very boring place and no one would become excited about anything.

I consider myself to be a passionate girl in the most obvious sense of the word. None of my clients or past boyfriends could ever dub me an Ice Maiden. Good God, no! I put as much energy into my emotions as I do every aspect of my life. However, I’m not particularly confrontational so my newest client, Jon took me by surprise. He was a referral from a fellow London escort who was too poorly to make her date. She told me that Jon was a bit of a character but she thought I would be fine. “If you get stuck,” she said hoarsely, “text me.”

So I entered into our arrangement with my eyes wide open. Dressed for the summery weather and with a beaming smile, we met on the South Bank, outside Temple tube station. The first thing that riled me was that he looked me up and down before shaking my hand. And even though, for the most part, he as a gentleman, he kept trying to wind me up – bordering on rudeness. As the sun went behind a cloud and the wind picked up, my mood became equally as overcast. Jon started to irritate me. We walked and talked from Park Lane to Piccadilly, without holding hands and at least three feet apart. Now, being the professional I am and bearing in mind I’ve heard worse over the years, I started to reply through gritted teeth. I so wanted to be nice to him but I could have cheerfully strangled him. We ate a meal at The Cinnamon Club where the conversation was littered with insults. He criticised the food, the service, my table manners and those of all around him. Eventually I could take no more. With a slam of my napkin and a scrape of my chair, I turned on my heel and fled.

I was absolutely raging as I arrived home. My neighbours must have wondered what all the commotion was about as I slammed my front door shut and kicked a chair across the room. How dare he! And I was so annoyed with my colleague for giving me such a vile client. I text her and asked why she thought I would enjoy a date like that. I got no reply but Jon text me the next day and explained that he arranged dates with our 24 hour escort agency to have a really good fight with the lady. He was aroused by a fiery woman and I had left him speechless. Although when I didn’t come back he had worried that I’d been briefed before agreeing to stand in. Well, that explained it and after that I stopped giving him a hard time. So, slipping into character, I made my voice as petulant as I could and asked what the hell he thought he was playing at being extremely rude to me and his voice immediately animated. Before I knew it he was yelling all sorts of obscenities and asking if I spoke to all my boyfriends that way? It was rather surreal but oddly satisfying.

Now Jon wants to book my company at least once a fortnight so we can really scream at each other – in a completely controlled environment, of course. He says he enjoys the company of the other escorts at the agency but that I really get into the spirit of things. I told him he should see me with PMT!

Posted in 24hr, British, Clerkenwell, Fulham, Naughty, Role Play, Tagged Tags: , , , , , ,

The exclusivity of Hampstead…

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

Hampstead, commonly known as Hampstead Village, is an area of North London, 4 miles north-west of Charing Cross. Exclusive to a point and home to more than one or two millionaires, this elegant Victorian district is genuinely something to behold – especially in summer when many open-air attractions are on the agenda to bring in tourists from far and wide.

As well as being home to the rich and famous, Hampstead Heath has also been the locality for the 1980s films “Labyrinth” and “An American Werewolf in London”. Regents Park and Primrose Hill are right on the doorstep, as well as many long-standing restaurants and traditional pubs.
With all this splendour around them, is it any wonder that our stunning gallery of Hampstead escorts is among the most beautiful and clever in London?

Our North and central London escorts know all about out-calls in Hampstead and where to go for some “quiet time for two”. Ladies from Fulham, Chelsea, escorts in Baker Street and Kensington, such as Sandra and Elayne, will delight and enchant you with their European accents, sweet personalities and sensual curves. Whatever your preference, both girls are available for home and international assignments.

If these ladies don’t tempt you, then we have many more on our books who are willing to travel to Hampstead; they will never be longer than 35 minutes. So, if you thought Hampstead was a little out of the way for our ladies, then fear not – they love this upmarket area.

Have we convinced you yet? For a touch of elegance and a sophisticated date you won’t forget in a hurry, call us on 07811 160 160 or email us. Our ladies work around the clock, and we will always have a suitable lady for you, whatever time you call.

Posted in Baker Street, Central London, English, Naughty, Outcall, Tagged Tags: , ,

A British BBQ

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Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

What was I saying on Friday about not wanting to do this barbecue on Saturday? I couldn’t have been more right.

I wouldn’t say I like family get-togethers. I’m forced to sip warm wine and converse with maiden aunts and weird uncles whilst scanning the room for one of my many cousins, who may rescue me. It is, as I extricate an errant hand from my behind, that I realise they managed to bow out gracefully. How is it that my excuses of actually having a life never wash with my mother?

It was my Dad’s 60th birthday, so to be truthful, I would have endured Uncle Simon’s mauling just for him. I arrived at my brother’s in Swiss Cottage with a gift basket from Selfridges and a bottle of something more substantial than Lambrini. My mum kissed me, noticed my lack of a date, and I felt for the entire world like Bridget Jones. All I needed was a turkey curry buffet and Mark Darcy in a reindeer jumper. I wanted to scream at her that I was a London escort with more admirers than Cleopatra and a more-than-attractive dowry for any suitor. However, under my guise of a £20,000 a year job in PR, I had to endure her steely gaze.

I noticed my sister hopping from foot to foot in the background, and in my haste to reach her, I was tripped up by my niece’s skipping rope and landed at the feet of her boyfriend – ‘ginger Gerry’, my ex-client. He helped me up, and as usual, neither of us looked into the eyes of the other. I’ve seen (and heard!) more than enough of him in the past for this to ever be forgotten. I said “hi” and fled.

There are four of us in our family – my eldest brother, myself, my younger sister and my baby brother. I noticed, with distaste, that my little brother managed to get out of the party unless he was late, as he often is. My mum will forgive him anything, and it makes me quite ill.

Being the “middle child”, I have always been very independent and somewhat of an enigma to my parents. The eldest brother is married with 2.4 children, an excellent job in Canary Wharf and a five-figure salary. His wife is a stay-at-home super-mum who only feeds the kids the best organic foods and comes out in hives at the mention of Wotsits or Wagon Wheels. My little sister has decided to shack up with “Ginger Gerry” and whom I hoped wasn’t about to tell me what I dread… they’ve got engaged!!!!

So the rest of the afternoon/evening/next morning was spent admiring her rock, planning colours and what would be fabulous on me as the maid of honour. It pained me to think I would soon be related to someone who has paid for my time and company, but I know neither of us will ever mention it nor burst her bubble.

On a lighter note, my thinking time kept me up during the small hours on Sunday, so I managed to finish my book – yes, it was brilliant. And I need a little BDSM to help clear my head. I have a somewhat willing client who likes to clean my toilet with a toothbrush – maybe I’ll call him.

Posted in Escort, Naughty, Tagged Tags: , ,