My perfect date…

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Rob was six foot one and had the perfect body, toned and ripped in all the right places. He was every girl’s prince charming. Rob had the whole package when it came to the perfect man. He had great looks and charisma and was hugely successful. Most would probably wonder why he’d chosen to go to an escort in London for satisfaction, considering he could easily pick a girl up at any bar he walked into. Unfortunately for every woman falling in love with Rob, he had a specific type of woman and a few particular needs they usually couldn’t fulfil. I, on the other hand, happen to be just what he’s looking for.

Rob has always been a guy who likes to live a flavour-filled life, and this carries on into his choice of women. Being from Russia and having flame-red hair first drew him to me. He told me the second he set eyes on my picture, relaxing in a chair in only my lacy emerald green lingerie that he felt things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He told me he sat and stared at that picture, and every so often, he still looks at it, too. I know it took him a little while to pluck up the courage to call me, but I’m glad he did. He’s my favourite clie; he gets me excited in ways no other man does, and I know I call him just as excited, too…I can certainly see it through his tight jeans, anyway. He tells me I’m a lot sexier than my pictures, and I have to say that many of my clients say the same.

Finding out a bit about my clients before I meet them always helps me prepare, and I’m glad I did before I met Rob. He had me assume a company instead of an interposition bed, not something all my clients get me to do, but I’m very open-minded, so I like to try new things. He stood back and took me in, admiring every inch of my naked body. I loved every second of it, but the second he put his hands on me, it blew my mind. His soft fingers traced my thighs, turning me on and putting me in the perfect mood for a passionate night. The way he kissed me, his tongue around mine…all of it made me feel like I would lose myself in him, and the night had only just begun.

From then on, the night was just insane. We spent every second wrapped around each other, sweaty and breathless…my favourite way to work up a sweat. Just one night with me, I proved to him that turning to me for affection was the best decision he could have made. Now, every time he has a spare evening in London and feels the need to be satisfied in ways he knows only I can, he calls. When I hear his name, I always do my best to make myself accessible, too. What can I say? I must give him precisely what he needs.

Adorable Anya

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September has sprung upon us, and it is time to introduce our autumn beauties, starting with Anya. This lovely brunette escort in Kensington is 23 years old and beautiful!

With long chestnut hair to her waist and mouth-watering 34C-22-34 statistics, our young elite is a real head-turner. Look into her sparkling brown eyes, but do not be misled that you see innocence there – Anya is undoubtedly not backwards about putting herself forward. She knows her mind and is not afraid to show it. Naughty, adventurous and open-minded are three hot credentials on her CV. She loves to have new fantasies explained to her in great detail and is never shocked by what she hears. Anya lives by her motto: “Never regret what you have done; only what you haven’t done”. Indeed, that is a tempting prospect for any man.

Anya is available for international bookings and can be booked with 24 hours’ notice. Imagine how exciting it would be to have such a young, gorgeous woman on your arm or lying by your side as you relax with a drink in the sun. You will be envied for miles around as you step out together, and she devotes her full attention to every word you say.

Book Anya now by calling 07811 160 160. we are happy to pre-book her as she does get booked up pretty quickly, but we will endeavour to make an appointment so you won’t be disappointed.

Adorable April

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Model perfect to the tips of her toes, April is one of the most popular blonde escorts and one you cannot afford to miss. Twenty-five years old, natural blonde, with tanned golden skin, April embodies the fantasy lady of many gentlemen’s dreams.

She tells us she has a weakness for luxury and high-end labels, so to break the ice, why not take her shopping around Kensington or Chelsea, where fashion runs rife, and the shop assistants will be falling over themselves to tend to her every whim? Please show your appreciation for the time you have spent together with a token that she will never forget you. You could pretend you are Richard Gere and Julia Roberts as you promise to pay “an obscene amount of money”!

Not based in one specific area, April can be found out and about in Central London either with friends or rushing off somewhere as her busy social life dictates. She is the first to say she loves her life and is delighted to meet new people and share their experiences. She is one of our escorts in South Kensington but is also available for international assignments with notice.

To enjoy the company of this truly gorgeous young woman, call us, and our team of English receptionists will talk you through the particulars of your date. All prices are on our ladies’ profiles, and we offer an honest description for each of our ladies with 100% genuine and recent photographs.

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…

A British BBQ

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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.