Tag Archives: London

How do you like your coffee?

.
Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

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!

Posted in British, Central London, English, Fantasy, GFE, Role Play, West End, Tagged Tags: , , , , , ,

I’m an escort get me out of here!!!!!

.
Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

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!

Posted in British, Central London, City, English, GFE, Naughty, New, Outcall, Tagged Tags: , , , ,

A well deserved day off…

.
Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

What does a London escort do on her day off? Well, you could argue that every day is a potential day off considering she might spend her time being wined and dined in a fabulous 5-star restaurant or entertained in the suites of some of the plushest hotels in London. But I mean an actual day off.

By definition, a day off means starting and ending the day doing nothing or entirely as you please. When was my last day out? Oh my word, now there’s a question. It might have been when I was ill and convalescing at home last month, but I don’t call that a day off as I was booked to see a client. I couldn’t make it. So, I might have to go back a little further.

Maybe it was my last haircut day? No, not that either, as I think I saw someone that evening go to a show at the Bloomsbury Theatre. So when was it?

OK, I can’t remember, so that should tell you something about me. I’m a) a workaholic, b) utterly spoilt for work, and c) knackered.

I should probably book myself in for a day off soon. With the summer holidays nearly ending, I need to have a day to myself and book a lovely week away and maybe see some friends I haven’t caught up with for a while. But is that an actual day of rest, considering I will be beating the pavements as usual, just under another guise? Does that mean I have to stay indoors in my apartment all day? Alone? That could get seriously boring. Well, I suppose I could rent a few DVDs or download some music while lobbying for something comfortable. It would also mean I could actually (horror!) switch my phone off until 8 a.m. the following day…

Do you know what? I think I am going to do it. Quick! Before I change my mind.

Posted in Blonde, British, New, Tagged Tags: , , , , , ,

Groundhog Day…

.
Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

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!

Posted in 24/7, Central London, Incall, Knightsbridge, West End, Tagged Tags: , , , , , , ,

London’s Soho

.
Posted on byPosted bysuperadmin

I love the whole Gay scene around the Capital. Although I don’t see a lot of gay men in my line of work, I wander through Soho, inhaling the vibe and the atmosphere with a smile.

And it was at G-A-Y that I met Lucas. Just for once, I had Saturday night free to sashay with my girlfriends among the queens of London. Tight tops, designer sunglasses and skinny jeans abound (and that was the men!). The crowd spilled out onto the pavement.

Soho is recognised more for its pubs, bars, nightspots and the fabulous West End than the seedy sex trade. We danced through the lanes to all the tunes carried along with the evening breeze, slightly intoxicated. And there in the shadows, I saw him.

Average height but better than average build, he was standing, looking bored with a cigarette burning at his fingertips. As we passed him, he took a drag from it, and something in me tingled. I persuaded the girls to stop ‘for a drink’, which worked because nobody spotted him but me. And quite a good job, too as I was, with many of my fellow delicious 24-hour escorts. What he was doing at one of the campest gay haunts in Soho, I do not know, but my Gaydar didn’t start beeping, so I thought I was OK. I looked at him over my shoulder as we stood in the queue, and he winked at me.

“What’s your name?” I mouthed. He responded with Lucas. I like to get straight to the point; maybe it’s my profession. There is no point skipping around the obvious for hours. I fancied him; I let him know it.

I liked the fact we were an ordinary boy and girl meeting by chance on a Saturday night. I also liked I hadn’t set this date up in advance and wanted to be me for a little while. Lucas had no expectations of me, and it was worth a kiss in a dark corner if nothing else!

Posted in 24hr, Bisexual, Central London, Duo, Escorts, Fantasy, Fetish, West End, Tagged Tags: , , , ,