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.

All for a good cause

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Today, I am going to an Auction. Well, it was an early start. My right-hand man Franco was in Mayfair with a cardboard carrier of Americano coffees and some croissants to go. As I had my hair in a towel and my stress head on, this was a very welcome sight! My door was wedged open with a shoe – not being auctioned off – and some burly and tasty young men were moving in and out of it. Sometimes, I almost said, “Oh, not that one,” but Franco shook his head wordlessly at me, and I had to let them go.

And then we were off to Oxford Circus! I could feel the adrenaline as we watched the crates and rails being unloaded by a team of highly organised young women. I have no idea where they came from, but they had something to do with James and his abundant knowledge of fundraiser organisers. They treated me like royalty, and I could almost taste the palpable aura of garment lust. “If you want it, you’ll have to bid on it, darling, Franco said to one young, sexy blonde pawing a limited edition Pucci silk jacket.

At ten o’clock, the doors were flung open to the public. The rows of seats were immediately filled, the edges of the warehouse flanked by assistants on the phone and other buyers. I recognised a few faces from my regular haunts (Kensington, Fulham and Chelsea) – a few gave me the thumbs up. My beautician was right at the front with her life savings to bid on one of my pink fur coats.

There was an expectant buzz, and then Franco introduced the cause, and then… me! I was waved to the front to say a few words, and my mouth went dry, but I managed it. And after deafening applause, it began…

Money, running into tens, hundreds and thousands, flew across that warehouse. A pair of strappy Jimmy Choos from SS07 went for £900 within the first ten minutes. Scraps of silk, lace, satin and feathers exchanged hands like hotcakes. A few Japanese girls were in the audience battling for Chanel and Chloe, whom I thought might get ugly at one point. Thankfully, James had the sense to hire me some security guards when he was dishing out the employment for the day.

And by 13.30, it was all over. The cash tin was counted, the cheques and credit card slips bundled, and after checking three times, the total for my designer goods at auction was….. £327,089! And no, I’m not kidding. Bear in mind that I have (had!)My collection has some pretty wealthy clients and some retro, authentic pieces; it is still pretty staggering!

Enjoy St. Barnardo’s and SCOPE – two worthy causes.

A Day at the Races

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I love going to the races. Something is exciting about Royal Ascot and Ladies Day (I have tickets this year for 21st June!) in a wide-brimmed-hat-and-suede-shoes kind of way. Half the fun (apart from betting) is celebrity spotting and seeing who came the best and worst dressed. The tabloids can’t possibly love it half as much as I do.

Tomorrow, I am off to Epsom in Surrey for a private hospitality event. I’m being chauffeured there and back by Clive, my well-to-do horsey friend. Clive and his friends breed thoroughbred racehorses and race them publicly and privately for vast sums of money. Put it this way: I couldn’t put a “tenner on each way” in that circuit.

Clive and I met at Newmarket last August. I was sipping Pimms with a group of fellow 24-hour Companions. We weren’t drawing attention to ourselves in any way, but, as if magic, the waiter came over and presented us with three bottles of champagne. As we followed his gaze across the room, we spotted a group of gentlemen (a direct ratio of them to us) laughing and joking together. One of them raised a glass to us, and we waved gaily back. Within ten minutes, we chatted away like old friends and went to dinner with them back in London at Wild Honey on St George’s Street. Each of us was spoilt rotten, and Clive seemed to take a shine to me. Although we don’t spend a lot of time together, if he needs a dazzling brunette on his arm for an event, I get a call. In the interim, I learned a few horse-racing terms and tips that put me in good stead should anyone ever question me. It’s all about learning, you see?

With my well-educated client, I am sure to put on a few bets that will come up trumps for me, and Clive certainly knows that he has a certain chance with me.

So if you needed a special call girl in London to go to the races with you, our ladies certainly know how to dress in their finery, which will never look out of place; they will turn heads with their beauty and sophistication and maybe give you some luck at the races?

Double take…

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Apart from my near-miss at Christmas with my auntie’s new boyfriend (who she’s still seeing and I’m still avoiding!) I haven’t been in any awkward situations where it’s been a case of ‘fight or flight’. I count myself lucky because yesterday I received a phone call from Tom asking me to meet him, as soon as I had an available slot, in Café Nero, Kings Road. As it turned out, my available slot was at 10am this morning but he was adamant it wasn’t a date; more an interview.

Dressed casually but in something to hint at my curves and assets, I chose a table by the window and a skinny latte to watch out for my date. For the first time in ages, I felt nervous. Promptly at 10am, a blonde man of around 25 entered the shop. My radar picked up on the eyes scanning the other customers and the absence of buying a coffee. I caught his eye and he came over, confirming who I was immediately. I liked his freckles and dimples and the essence of a man who spends a lot of his time on a rugby pitch. Anyway, my curiosity was piqued so I got straight down to business. What am I here for?

Tom explained that he was one of two brothers – twins. Jonathan was his mirror image but complete opposite and, for their 25th birthday, they wanted to hire a London escort (the same one) who would be up for something different. Thinking of my ghost-hunting weekend, I thought I’m just about up for anything as long as I’m not breaking the law. He looked at me earnestly and said “yes or no?”

We talked money and came to an amount that would be payable up front to cover the two dates. Tom made a call and I pencilled them in – one for Thursday and one for Friday. Then I got a flutter of butterflies wondering what on earth I was letting myself in for! How different can twins be, I wondered? For them to come up with something like this, they must be on opposite ends of the scale. Either that or they have planned the same two dates and I have to report back which twin I prefer. I can’t imagine I won’t be comparing them anyway. And it will be most interesting to discover whether they’re completely identical!

So that is the rest of my week taken care of – two hours with Tom tomorrow in Central London and a contrasting two hours with Jonathan goodness-knows-where on Friday – wish me luck.