Tag Archives: dating

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The beautiful London escorts from 24hr Companions are chosen for their poise, stunning looks and sensuality. The modelling knowledge and professional charm of these young women ensure complete client satisfaction and repeat bookings.

The slender curves and pretty faces of these stunning young women are rivalled only by their professional and discreet attitudes to their work. The contract between the client and escort is a special one with trust at the forefront. Your secrets are safe with 24-hour Companions.

For an international businessman looking for a companion to fill his days and nights or an English gentleman wanting a luxury service, elite escorts offer the best. Some international escorts employed by these clients have been known to reside more than 50% of their time in their favourite cities. Others have come over from Europe and America to stay in London permanently, taking residence in some of the most abundant districts in the city. Their Mayfair and Belgravia apartments whisper the secrets of passion and fantasy.

To book an escort, call us 24hrs of a day and tell us what you want from a date you will never forget.

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It is an extraordinary moment when you realise you’ve finally met ‘the one’. Indeed, that feeling you have when it becomes clear your special lady is the woman you’ve been searching for is something more gratifying and all-encompassing than words can describe.

A Boundless Future

To be sure, knowing you will be spending your life with a woman who is everything you ever wanted a partner to be can make the world seem much better. After all, you’ve got everything to look forward to: the wedding, the house, the 2.4 kids, the family Christmases – all of it.

Quite simply, it feels like all the jigsaw pieces have fallen into place, and your future looks as rosy and boundless as possible.

Until things start to go wrong, that is.

The Writing on the Wall

The thing with long-term relationships is that the two people in them inevitably move in different directions over time. Indeed, whilst a couple may have had everything in common in their early twenties, this may not be the case when they reach their mid-thirties.

This can often make both parties feel like they are reading from different scripts, and when this happens, things generally start to unravel. Indeed, the rosy future begins to look less confident, and the family Christmases seem less appealing than they once did.

More often than not, this is the writing on the wall, and therefore, it is a matter of time before those two painful words are uttered: “It’s over”.

Moving On

Coming out of a long-term relationship can feel like coming out of prison – everything seems to have moved on, yet you have remained the same. Whilst you may feel like celebrating your newfound freedom and enjoying all the things you liked doing when you were single, you inevitably find that most of your pals have long-term partners and aren’t the best company to be around.

Female Company

Of course, it is only natural to want female company, even after coming out of a long-term relationship. However, it can be hard to find women who will be happy to spend time with you without developing some emotional attachment (which is ideally something you could without at this moment in time).

Fortunately, our London escorts agency could be just what you need now.

Our beautiful escorts in London can provide you with an attractive, articulate and enjoyable female company which is entirely uncomplicated; therefore, you can enjoy all the benefits of being with a beautiful lady without having to worry about any of the emotional issues which inevitably come with dating.

So, if you’re looking for a gentle way to get over your failed long-term relationship, arrange a date with one of our London ladies here at 24-hour Companions.

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Historically, even though the word sock is at least as ancient in origin, what men typically wore were often referred to as tights, probably mainly when referring to the longer hose at times when they were the fashion for men. The word was used to refer to the bottom “stump” part of the body. By analogy, the term was used to refer to the one-piece covering of the lower trunk and limbs of the 15th century—essentially tights consisting of the upper stocks (later to be worn separately as knee breeches) and nether supplies (later to be worn independently as stockings).

Before the 1590s, stockings were made of woven cloth. The first knitting machines were for making stockings. The socks themselves were made of cotton, linen, wool or silk. Polished cotton called lisle was standard, as were those made in Balbriggan.

Before the 1920s, women’s stockings, if worn, were worn for warmth. In the 1920s, as women’s dresses’ hemlines rose, they wore socks to cover their exposed legs. These stockings were sheer, first made of silk or rayon (then known as “artificial silk”), and after 1940 of nylon. The first pantyhose appeared in the 1940s and 1950s, when film and theatre productions had stockings sewn to the briefs of actresses and dancers, according to actress-dancer Ann Miller and seen in popular films such as Daddy Long Legs. Today, socks are commonly made using knitted wool, silk, cotton or nylon. The introduction of pantyhose in 1959 provided a convenient alternative to stocks, and the use of socks declined dramatically. U.S. sales of stockings exceeded stockings for the first time and have remained this way ever since. BegIn87, sales of the hose with a suspender belt started slightly declining due to the newly invented hold-ups, but it remained a sold sock.

So, if you have a fetish for stockings, look no further than 24-hour Companions, where all our fine young ladies will honour your wishes by wearing only the finest socks for your eyes.

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I am not at home because I am typing this from Italy, L.cky me!!!
My long weekend break, returning tomorrow morning, with Giovanni, started as “coffee soon?” and became “take your passport and meet me at Heathrow at 13:00 hours. Giovanni was born in London’s West End to Sicilian parents and emigrated there in 1990 before making his home somewhere between Tuscany and Paris. He has an ex-wife, five children, three dogs in a villa in the Tuscan countryside and a mistress in Paris with one child. Before you ask how he manages to afford to keep them all, his six-figure salary seems to be that.

How do I fit in? Well, he does like to keep up appearances with the Italian social elite and to rub his ex-wife’s nose in the fact that he hasn’t lost touch with the ladies. Ex Mrs Giovanni doesn’t know about the Parisian mistress or the half-brother of her offspring, so I step in as the model girlfriend. I don’t mind, I love Italy, and I am used to being discreet.

So we came to Italy for proper coffee, ground from good coffee beans, in an authentic restaurant by an adequate barista. I used a small amount of Italian vocabulary on him – enough to say “grazi” – and flashed my most dazzling smile. Red-blooded Mediterranean men do like to feel appreciated by red-blooded British women! And how do I like my coffee? Well, I am partial to a cappuccino, but I do prefer a latte – especially when it is homegrown.

And I discovered that barista training is right around the corner from the hotel. How exciting!

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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.

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