Panache Escorts London

Calories And Copulation

2012-03-01T03:40:00.001-08:00

After a pretty energetic session at The Goring hotel the other day - whereby my hair was sticking out in all directions, my mascara was smudged round my eyes like a panda and I was covered in a sheen of perspiration (not to mention the state of my comatose partner) I was ravenous. Not just mildly hungry; not peckish; I could have murdered someone for a cheesburger, fries and milkshake. I took my grumbling stomach into the bathroom to freshen up and considered my ruddy complexion in the mirror.

Considering the flush all over me, dilated pupils, racing heart and aching thigh muscles, I wondered why I bothered going to the gym or taking spin classes. A daily session akin to the one I just had, would burn roughly 1400 calories in a week (the same as enjoying an Indian and bottle of red wine at a good London restaurant!). I looked at myself from all angles and decided I quite liked what I saw. But while I was preening in the mirror, there were gentle snores coming from the bedroom so he must have enjoyed it too!

So just how many calories DO you burn during a 45-60 minute session? Well that would depend upon agility, experience and enthusiasm. There is also the bendability factor - as a super-elite escort, I can get my feet behind my ears or balance on my hands with my legs in the air - not everyone can get past the standard missionary position. There is also "willingness to co-operate". Extra calories may be burned whilst one partner begs on bended knees and the other walks away quickly!

Size is definitely an important factor - a man with average or small endowment would work twice as hard at satisfying his partner than a well-endowed man, who may not have to move at all. Which leads me nicely onto a woman's enthusiasm: laying on your back, planning tomorrow's dinner would burn 1/2 a calorie as opposed to writhing, screaming and scratching up his back which would burn 90-100. Sexercise is definitely a two-way thing.

Humour aside, sex is good for you. It improves your immune system, helps you tone, burns calories, releases endorphins and cures insomnia. It also seals bonds of attachment between partners and creates new ones. I get told I'm fantastic, beautiful and "the woman of my dreams" at least three times a week... It doesn't take much to get in the mood when you know which buttons to press or which look to cast with your eyes. In fact, I think I may become an ambassador for a healthy sex life, using vanity as my bargaining tool.

An escort is for fun, not just for frolics!

2012-02-29T03:21:00.000-08:00

I have a client. His name is “Jake”. “Jake” is gay…

Now, you don’t have to remind me that it’s 2012. I know this, “Jake” knows this but his family who are stuck in the dark ages seemingly do not know this.

“Jake” has been a client of mine for the last 3 years. At 38, his family were starting to wonder why their youngest son was not bringing women home to meet them. “Jake” told me he blamed it on his busy work schedule. “Jake” is the founder and managing director of a popular make-up brand and is constantly jetting off to New York and Milan to design, brand and promote his latest ideas. I love the fact that I have accompanied him to these places, obviously not on business, but to shop and enjoy each others company. “Jake” does have a serious partner and I personally think he’s living on borrowed time before his family find out about his live-in lover but at the moment they live in blissful ignorance and believe that “Claude” is “Jake’s” PA.

“Jake” and I have a fantastic relationship. We get papped together at functions, go to his parents for Sunday roast and the best in my eyes; we go shopping together.

Not only have we frequented Selfridges and Harrods in London, we have graced the best boutiques abroad and “Jake’s” favourite elite escort has proved her worth in the style stakes. We have enjoyed many fashion shows for each other in New York where no one cares and gone to posh restaurants dressed in the most bizarre ensembles which make us roll around with laughter.

“Jake” has told me that one day he will tell his family that he is gay but we have so much fun at the moment and he loves the fact that his life with “Claude” is private and just for them, he doesn’t want the hassle. I’m glad also because as we all know when someone leaves the office; you very rarely keep in touch. It’s all well and good that he pays for my time but if it wasn’t pencilled in we would both be so busy. And for me, this is the closest I will get to engaging in a proper “relationship” with a man without actually being in the “relationship”. It is fantastic. “Jake” is happy, I am happy, “Claude” is happy and as a very successful elite escort, I do like to see a happy customer.

One day our little set-up will end like an unsuccessful relationship, but until that day comes, I will continue to enjoy my time with my favourite client. After all, our shops are our oyster!

Spring Has Almost Sprung

2012-02-28T04:11:00.000-08:00

What is it about the first signs of Spring that send men and women into paroxysms of delight? Surely it can't be the weather as I am still wrapped up in cashmere with the heating on! However, it may be the increase in daylight hours, weak sunshine and hint of new growth all around...

I was out walking through Hyde Park yesterday evening at dusk. I was arm in arm with "Paul", discussing anything and everything. We had just left a very late lunch at The Grill at The Dorchester and were trying to walk some of it off before I took my cab home to Mayfair. "Paul" was breathing in great lungfuls of air and telling me he couldn't believe it was almost March; planning his next City break to New York in the next few weeks...and did I fancy coming? Well, it took everything I had not to scream at him - not least because I just LOVE New York - because the new SS12 collection had been launched at Bloomingdales and Barneys and was begging me to drop by and say hello.

City breaks are a favourite of your model escort. While London is one of the most amazing places on earth, she is more than adaptable to travel wherever you ask her with an over-night bag. Consider Dubai while it's not too hot and out of season. The fact it has the largest shopping mall in the world should be enough to get any girl to go with you for a few nights!

There's also the frisky element of Spring. People start discarding layers and walking with their heads up instead of bracing the bitter cold. And more to the point, they start noticing each other again. Eye contact between couples is tantamount to the mating process. Girls sat at the street-side tables and chairs outside cafes, eyeing up the boys eyeing them, trying not to shiver against the fresh wind; businessmen loosening their ties on their mobiles booking their favourite London escort for lunch; couples booking their favourite hotel for some weekend shenanigans, just because they can.

I see no point being stuck indoors when the seasons change - I figure I've had enough of that over Christmas. I like to encourage my clients to take me out instead of just entertaining me chez-toi or at a five-star hotel. Don't misunderstand me, I love the comforts of a sunken bath, four-poster bed and chocolates on my pillow, but I want to be sightseeing while the weather is passable. Wine me, dine me, treat me and above all else, walk with me. There is a whole city just waiting to be seen.

So Much Better With Two...

2012-02-27T04:43:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday everyone! I've had quite a weekend, I can tell you.

My Friday evening was spent with friends doing a bi-monthly catch up. We went to Amuse Bouche champagne bar in Soho. We glammed ourselves up and sat at the bar, legs crossed showing the very hint of hold ups below a hemline and sipped cocktails until 1am. Occasionally we accepted the odd drink from an admirer but for the most part, we were too busy laughing to notice the fervent hopefuls on the sidelines. One of my social circle was another elite escort called Sophia. None of the other girls know our profession so we kept work-chat to an absolute minimum but she slept over at my Mayfair flat that night - ready for Saturday.

Rising at 10am on a Saturday morning, a leisurely breakfast over the newspapers and a long soak in the bathtub can only prepare a girl for a long day (and night) ahead. Sophia and I had been booked for a menage a trois with "Tony" from 2pm in Belgravia. "Tony" has a penchant for brunettes. He likes curves and busty women he can grab hold of. Sophia provides the busty element of our duo. I'm not flat chested but I could only just about fit my head in her F cup bra. She fills corsets with creamy-white flesh like Dita Von Teese - all 1940's glamour and poise.

We both know "Tony" of old so with matching underwear - her's red and black, mine black and red - we knew he would appreciate the mirrored-element. Sophia and I arrived separately (fifteen minutes apart) and sat in his 'parlour' sipping Italian wine until I gave her the nod to start his little treat. She took his glass out of his hand, stood up and held out hers. I followed suit and his eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. We pampered "Tony"'s every need and left him in a state of relaxed oblivion by eleven pm. That is an awful lot of massaging, cooking, titilation and sensuality in nine hours, I can tell you.

Although most of my work is solo mio, I am happy to share my time with other escorts. It gives the client his ultimate fantasy, there is no jealousy and there's always someone to ride home with when the date is over. If you have ever fantasised about the attention of two women at the same time, give your favourite escort a call and see what she can suggest!

Everything in moderation...

2012-02-24T03:43:00.001-08:00

Day three of lent and what am I giving up? I am going to give up shopping, haha, only joking! There is nothing I am going to give up because I already do everything in moderation. Okay, apart from shopping!

I though about this subject today because I had a breakfast date with “Jay” and he’s on a new health kick. “Jay” is a perfect example of a faddy dieter, womaniser, shopper; you name it, “Jay” has tried it. He told me in great detail while shoving forkfuls of African mango in his mouth about his new craze diet and how he’s lost 3lb’s in the last 10 days alone. Bless him, I don’t think that’s the diet of the century but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

“Jay” is a 43 year old divorced, filthy rich businessman. He has a fantastic near mansion in Chelsea and a luxury apartment in nearby Fulham. This is where most of our time together takes place, in this country anyway. I have accompanied him to Paris and Milan on many occasions and being very attractive and successful, he definitely gets the thumbs up for company…until he discusses his new crazy novelty obsession. When we show our faces at the international showrooms or functions to promote his company he is very proud of his gorgeous elite escort on his arm. I do make a very good partner for him. Dressed in the finest of clothes, partaking in intelligent conversation and hanging off his every word to show how attentive I can be; he tells me I am worth every penny. I should be considering it’s not just what he gives up putting in his mouth that becomes the latest craze for him.

“Jay” has been a faithful client for 2 years and in all that time; he has taken up cave diving, kite boarding and mountain climbing to name but a few. He has joined certain muscle mania groups and tried numerous fitness clubs. I swear the sales teams see him coming a mile off.

After we finished our completely different breakfasts at the Savoy London and a quick interlude in the Art Deco Suite, we parted ways. I of course found myself creeping towards Selfridges and actually thought what it would be like not to shop. A cold sweat formed on my brow and I shivered and quickly shut that awful thought out! I then did a little bow at the threshold to my Mecca and reminded myself never to blaspheme so close to the house of designers again.

Who do I think I am?!

Ah, hindsight...

2012-02-23T03:33:00.000-08:00

As much as I enjoy my job and the fantastic people I get to meet, I encountered one man who shall not even be granted a pseudonym but just be known as “CSM” (Crazy, Stalker Man). CSM gives men who would like the Girlfriend Experience (GFE) a very bad name!

As you know from previous tales in my life, I am quite the expert in GFE’s. My clients love the closeness and comfort that their favourite elite escort provides them. That’s why they call again to book more appointments whether they are for another GFE or something totally different. I pride myself in being able to act out whatever my client wants with complete professionalism and the ability to act out their fantasies for their set amount of time and still be detached from anything emotional. Shame CSM could not differentiate between fact and fiction.

To begin with I thought that CSM was acting the part so well and how lucky a woman would be to have him and why was he still single. CSM was 38, a multi millionaire and very handsome. He was intelligent and seemed ambitious and independent even though he craved the GFE. In hindsight, the noise from that Family Fortunes game show when they get a question wrong resounds through my head! Yeah, good old hindsight…

CSM gushed about how much we had in common and how perfect our lives would be together. How we could buy a luxury apartment in Canary Wharf and I could spend my days shopping and being the fabulous house wife. He became slightly obsessed and I kind of knew he wasn’t joking when he told me he had booked tickets for us to go to New York to look for a stateside apartment also. He showed me the tickets online and considering he hadn’t booked my time, I suddenly heard alarm bells. A man who has assumed I will be free and has not gone through the correct channels to book my time has booked me a flight to New York and is professing his undying love along with the notion we are going to house hunt together.

It could have been so meant to be if he was looking to buy near Tiffany’s…joke!

Absence Makes The Loins Grow Fonder

2012-02-22T07:06:00.001-08:00

You would think I'd never be lonely or have the ability to remember everyone's names given the amount of people I socialise within a week. You'd be wrong. I do have some clients who are a one-hit-wonder; a flash in the pan. And then there are my regulars who see me on a specific day or week of the month and treat me as they would a long-distance girlfriend. These are the ones I miss and the ones I organise my life around. And one of these such gentlemen is "Jake".

"Jake" is American and flies over every month from Chicago. He owns 50% of a web design company that has a studio on each side of the Atlantic and he takes it in turn with his business partner to fly out every two weeks. Which is where I come in. On roughly the 1st and 15th of the month, I get the girlfriend treatment. "Jake" and I spend one of the days as an in-call (my Mayfair apartment usually) catching up, dining on take-out and re-familiarising ourselves until the wee hours. The other day is a proper date - we go into the West End, catch a show and dine late into the evening on steak and chips in Leicester square. I always make sure I wear a skirt and heels as "Jake" tends to prefer the feminine look on women and jeans just don't do it for him. I came to realise this during a rather emotional solo in Les Miserables a few months back - except "Jake's" hand had snaked under my hem, but his eyes were straight ahead!

So anyway - it dawned on me that given that this February is a short month, I would be seeing "Jake" next Thursday which is a few days earlier than it is normally. Which also made me wonder what I could do to wind him up between now and then. No point in writing him a letter or texting him - but Skype allows for video calling and I did have a brand new set of lingerie that had come from La Perla's Vintage Limited range. I know, I know, I said I wouldn't put anymore tiny bras and knickers into my underwear drawer... but they were just begging me to buy them and all that black lace came with a matching shrug. It would have been criminal to refuse.

So I sent "Jake" an email telling him to meet me on Skype at 10pm GMT (allowing for the six hours time difference) arranged myself on my bed, hair over my shoulders and told him "I hope you realise what you're missing..." That man didn't know what hit him. Thank goodness we were alone on our computers and he had blinds in his office, because things got pretty steamy after that and I retired to bed with a naughty grin on my face. Poor "Jake" had to finish a day's work distracted beyond anything (he said) he had known before.

So now I'm looking forward to our next encounter and I think I'll meet him at Heathrow Airport as a surprise. It may be a professional relationship when you strip it back, but there's nothing quite like mixing business with pleasure.

Textual Intercourse

2012-02-21T02:58:00.001-08:00

I do so love my mobile phone. There's an App for everything these days, just as the adverts tell us and I have yet to find one that doesn't. I'm addicted to all things electronic and bleeping as it is, so my Smartphone is just the icing on the cake. As I've previously said, I can't live without my trusty Filofax but you can't send someone something racy from the A5 pages of a notebook.

When I get a new client (or tending to the needs of a regular), I always take their phone number down so we can smooth out the finer points of our date. Whether it be by voice or text, I'm available. This also means that I can wind them up throughout the hours preceding the date, if they so wish - which is precisely what "Rob" asked me to do before our date on Sunday.

I was under strict instructions to whip him into a frenzy with some truly saucy text and MMS messaging. So I flexed my digits, limbered up my right wrist and got to work. The camera quality on my phone is pretty good for what it is. I know some mobile phones boast 12 mega pixels and a flash but mine works in HD. I'm not boasting, I'm just saying. This works even more to my advantage when I need to send video over the airwaves... I thought I'd sneak a few pictures in of me in my most revealing cream satin lingerie ("Rob" stipulates he likes lace rather than leather) with some smooth skin visible... simply titled "guess the body part?"

I also thought I'd spice things up a little by taking a walk through Kensington, snapping a few landmarks for authenticity - and then casually throw in that I was sitting in a quiet cafe daring to take pictures down my top, while sipping a latte. It's all about titillation rather than seeing it all at once - there would be plenty of time for that in the evening on our date. "Rob" said he wanted to spoil me by booking us a table at Marco in Chelsea. This is one of the few London restaurants I haven't been to regularly and I was so looking forward to sampling their delights again. I was especially looking forward to sending him a text, while demurely looking at the menu, reading: I've dropped my fork, you'd best get under the table and look for it.

I deliberately use words and phrases that reek of double entendres. I think the best way to man's heart is to make him laugh at my brazen cheekiness and cause him to feel twitchy in the trouser area but not enough to be obvious. I want him to grab me and tell me, close to my ear, that I've been driving him mad all day. That's passion. Couple that with a tight pencil skirt that shows off my bottom and a neckline just low enough to make him wonder... I know how to work the system.

And...action!

2012-02-20T05:25:00.000-08:00

Despite having the title of an elite model escort and having sensational model looks, there are many occasions that a client wants the “porn star” experience. Bang goes the £900 Prada dress and £600 Jimmy’s. The classy, coiffed, rouged London elite gets put in a closet with her Rigby and Peller delicates and a sex kitten is created out of the other closet; the closet that contains the leather, the PVC, the whips and chains and the tiniest wisps of lace and silk from Ann Summers, Coco le Mer and Agent Provocateur’s more dramatically revealing of ranges.

“Eddy” is a 54 year old businessman. He is so rich he’s lost track of how many millions he has and how many properties he owns. He is very George Clooney-esque and he has become a regular client much to my delight due to my rather unhealthy obsession with the salt and pepper haired actor. Well, I don’t really know a woman who isn’t turned to mush at the mere sound of his name. Anyway… I digress. “Eddy”, a single man and one with a very healthy appetite for his favourite escort has always kept me on my toes with his requirements. Whether it be I accompany him to a very la-di-dah function (you know the type) where I dress like a nun and talk with plums in my mouth; not his at this point I hasten to add or we are being seen out in London’s Mayfair or Kensington’s finest Casino or restaurant and I am looking glamorous, “Eddy” is always a complete stickler for specific elements of what he wants. Once he asked that I wear this fantastic black wig and rather expensive lace body-con dress to an underground club in Knightsbridge and put on a Russian accent and perform a very universal act on him in full view of the other exclusive club members. Voyeurs are us… also, money and power buy you this kind of luxury without the fear of being arrested or thrown out of the establishment that “Eddy” could probably buy 10 times over.

This evening, “Eddy” does not want to share the looks of his lady for the night with the general public. No, he wants me to be at his Belgravia mansion in some extremely tiny crotch less panties, nipple baring basque and ripped fishnets; my hair tousled in that ‘just-got-out-of-bed’ style and dramatic heavy make-up. Cue smoky eyes and ruby red pout. He will have his main boudoir decked out in black satin and animal print which he has said reminds him of old porn films he used to watch and he will set up his state of the art camcorder poised to get the action as it unfolds.

So, I only have a couple of hours left to prepare for my big movie role.

Lights…camera…action!

Easy Like A Friday Morning

2012-02-17T06:56:00.001-08:00

Ahhhh I do love days when I know I have nothing planned but a little me-time. I found my diary empty today so I switched off my mobile and thought I would stay in my dressing-gown, reading the paper until lunch time. Then I took a little look around my Mayfair apartment and decided a little TLC was needed - starting with my laundry.

This may sound unglamorous and tedious to some but while my clothes were spinning and bubbling away in the basement, 5 floors up I was in my bathroom salivating over newly purchased Jo Malone goodies to pamper with. Now, you don't buy Jo Malone any old day of the week. At over £50 for their Lime Basil & Mandarin bath oil (yum!), you pour yourself a steaming bath and prepare to simmer gently for 45 minutes with your hair caked in the deepest moisturising conditioner there is. But I'm getting ahead of myself. First of all, you brush your skin til you glow... from your toes to your heart to get your circulation going. This is key for a blush that just wasn't there before. THEN you slip into that silky oil and think of nothing for a while... mmmmmm

When suitably soft to the touch, I applied Lime Mandarin & Basil body cream (once again stroking from feet to heart and down my arms), unwrapped my hair and brushed it down my back. My date tomorrow has a "thing" for having me tickle his torso with my brunette locks. And if that wasn't enough, I applied Clarins Super Restorative face cream to my visage. It is the top-end of pricey at £64, but I do know of a particular brand called Creme De La Mer which is favourite among A-Listers. At around £600 per ounce, you could only afford that sort of decadence with a generous credit limit on your VISA or if you are Nicole Sheridan. I may drop some subtle hints around my birthday.

So, now you know my secrets - what I get up to on the fifth floor of my apartment building when I have some time alone. It isn't anything worth writing home about but it makes me happy. Now I know I shall be beautiful tomorrow as well as today.

Nudge nudge, wink wink...

2012-02-16T03:45:00.000-08:00

In my line of work it will not do to embarrass easily. Whether it be that I am acting out an unusual fantasy or contorting my body in various positions to be observed in great detail, I cannot get the giggles nor get all self conscious and reluctant. Being in public with men of all shapes, sizes, age and fashion do’s and don’ts are other factors that I must overlook. I am very open minded which is a massive bonus if you want to do this job.

I am not under any illusion that I am not mistaken for a beautiful high class escort on many occasions at the fantastic 5 star hotels I visit clients at. I’m no fool. A woman walking alone through the lobby of a hotel that the concierge has never seen with a large bag, no luggage and dressed to kill in the middle of the day; it’s not exactly rocket science but the excitement of giving the attendants a little wink as I sashay past in my finery gives me a sense of power and the man on the door a thrill of sharing something sordid with the gorgeous elite escort.

Even going shopping or dining with a much older client who has requested I wear next to nothing and hang off his arm all date is either a sure sign to the general public that I am either a hooker, or a gold digger. But again I really don’t care. The things I get to experience like eating in the finest restaurants, shopping in the most expensive of boutiques and visiting the most fantastic countries is an exceptional life style for me and I believe I blooming well deserve it with the effort and dedication I put into making my clients time with me a fabulous one!

Not only am I an elite escort, but it feels like I am creative director of someone’s fantasies. That is so much fun let me tell you. Working out my wardrobe, make up and props for making their date one to re book is such a rush. Myself and my fellow elite escort pals (all 3 of them that are on the same wavelength as me) have a whale of a time swopping tips and showing off our new treasures that have been showered on us by our most faithful of clientele.

Now, as you know, I am not just a model escort; no I have a brain and I’m not afraid to use it. I love the intellect of some of my “friends” and it’s not all about the glitz and glamour. But as soon as I head to the beautician and the hairdressers or to Selfridges to pick out some gorgeous couture, current events and world politics slip away and I am caught up in a world of coiffing, bronzing and Gucci.

It’s a tough life…

Show Me The Money

2012-02-15T02:49:00.001-08:00

As you may have guessed, life as an Elite Model Escort is never dull and full of opportunities that other girls just fantasise about. The world of designer shopping, expensive restaurants, classy casinos and nights in 5-star hotels is just a walk away. I live the dream.

Hand in hand with being spoilt rotten, walk the men with top-paid jobs and rolls of cash in their inner-pockets. These men know nothing of sale shopping or cheap holidays - they never ask the price. And one of these men happens to be taking me out in about an hour to the Jumeirah Lowndes Hotel in Knightsbridge for a truly 'enriching' experience - he wants me to bathe in cash.

I met "Donald" at a County Club a few weeks back. I was with another client but being the confident man he is, "Donald" approached me at the bar and handed me his business card. His chat up line was "when you get bored with him, give me a call." I had to laugh at his audacity and handed him my own card in return. Never one to play games, "Donald" rang me the next morning with a "cancel all your appointments, I'm taking you for lunch." I obviously told him that if he wants to wine and dine me, he had to understand a few things first...

Over brie and cranberries at Marco Pierre White, I discovered that my gentleman is the CEO of an international freight business. He ships cargo for sheiks and royal families all he world over. And his favourite possession is his ('brand new from the forecourt, no more than 150 made') Aston Martin V12 Zagato that he picked me up in. Cherry red with silver interior and a crystal gear stick, the Zagato made me salivate as soon as I saw it - and what a bargain at snip at £400,000! Men stopped in the street, dazzled, while women hissed at me as I climbed into the passenger seat, subtly closing the door behind me. Mmmmm I do like to be the envy of all woman kind.

Not all my clients have the bank balances and disposable income "Donald" does. I do like to be wined and dined but I have just as much fun with a guy who spends £500 on our date as one who spends £50,000. Money opens many doors but so does ingenuity and imagination. I ask for fun above all else.

So am I looking forward to sipping champagne, naked, in a bath full of £50 notes? Hell yes! If it makes my client ecstatic to see me dipping a toe in three-quarters of a million, who am I to deny him?

An evening of Love...and lust...

2012-02-14T07:03:00.000-08:00

Valentines Day... an excuse for the shops to dress their windows in all things pink and red and make lots of money, or a day for all the more unromantic of the species to show their loved ones that they care? In my eyes it is the lead up preparation to narrow down my invitations to two that is the real question. My day date and my night date. Who will provide me with the best company, entertainment and the one and only time I will admit this, but presents, haha.

The last 3 years I have been inundated with flowers, cards and jewels and treated to the theatre and dinner in the most expensive places in the West End. I have got a lot of use out of my finest lingerie from Coco, my gorgeous Jimmy's and my most elegant of Prada throughout the year and St Valentines day is no different. I can have a fun filled, action packed day with "Josh" the multi-millionaire dare devil or accompany "Jeff" to his company's masquerade banquet any time. They weren't impressed that they would have to make alternative arrangements for their Valentines Day, so I have booked them in for next week and promised to make it extra special for them. They know they get the best London elite escort experience from me so it will be worth the wait. What can I say, my reputation is well kept.

Today is about me and "Paul" this afternoon for some retail therapy in Harrods and Selfridges and a very light lunch back at his beautiful apartment in Canary Wharf. He's promised me a little trip to Tiffany's too. I am pretty much on cloud nine right now.

This evening, I have chosen "Fred" as the lucky man to take me out. Not only because he is 37, stunning and always has me in stitches; it's because "Fred" has not had a girlfriend due to his busy work schedule for 8 years and I want to be the one to put a little sparkle back into his February 14th!

"Fred" and I always have the best time. I have been his partner on many occasion to his work functions (you've got to keep the colleagues consistently seeing the same face) and we have travelled a fair bit when he is on location and I head to the shops of New York or Milan for my location. Everything with "Fred" is familiar and comfortable but when we are alone or showing off our voyeuristic tendencies, something explodes like a firework and he definitely gets his money's worth.

So, yes the theme may be love and the dress code romantic, but arriving back at his fantastic mansion in Park Lane for dessert will be anything but filled with romance...

(Some) Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

2012-02-13T05:00:00.000-08:00

I like to dress up - be it stilettos, jewels, fashion or fur, I aspire to be a clothes horse in the most sophisticated sense of the word. That said, I often wish I could change my hair colour with every outfit. Sadly, as I advertise myself as a sultry, brunette escort, I can't. The amount of fuss and messing about with my portfolio would cost three times as much as the trip to the salon!

However, all is not lost. In the deepest depths of my wardrobe and bureau, lies a fantastic selection of wigs and hair pieces that can transform me into anyone I want. which came especially handy over the weekend when "Andy" requested a blonde escort and there were none available for the time and venue he needed. He rang the agency and stipulated someone sparkly, bubbly and blonde to accompany him to a benefit ball on Park Lane on Saturday evening. Bearing in mind it was Saturday morning at this time, he had left it a little late for such specifics. Enter me, sitting at home, sipping a cappuccino and reading the newspaper. Although I'm dark, I promised to deliver the epitome of a blonde bombshell right to his door. Date arranged, I dove into my wardrobe and pulled out a waist-length, real hair wig that cost the earth yet never fails me.

Blondes look stunning in pastels so I went for ice-blue and a pair of sapphire-blue contact lenses to add authenticity. By the time I had added full make-up and pinned up the hair-piece, I hardly recognised myself! The transformation was astounding. Never before had I completely changed my look so dramatically - my own mother wouldn't have recognised me! Feeling a little like Carmen Electra meets Marilyn Monroe, I couldn't resist pouting into the mirror and leaving a perfect kiss-print on the glass.

In the foyer of my building, I sashayed past my doorman and he nearly fell over trying to push open the door, it wasn't until I said cheerfully: "have a good evening, Pete," that he realised it was me. I think his exact words were: "Good God!" Commuters in the street looked twice at me as I walked up to my taxi. I could scarcely believe the attention i was getting just from a change in hair colour. Now as a brunette I'm hardly short of admirers but even this was getting embarrassing.

"Andy's" face lit up when I arrived. He offered me his arm and placed a protective hand over mine as we walked into the Grosvenor House hotel. Jewels and furs surrounded me as the other fine ladies sparkled in the room. But in my Oscar De La Renta dress, I held court and lifted my blonde head with the best of them. I almost forgot just how different I looked when I went to powder my nose a bit later and gave a muffled scream at my reflection!

I have to say that "Andy" adored me as a blonde and I had to be so careful later when he whisked me up to our room that I didn't end up with my hair piece askew. I think I just about managed it but I almost had a crick in my neck from keeping my head straight! At home the next morning, I shook out my hair and made an appointment with my masseuse friend to get the knots out of my shoulders. It does take so much to satisfy a fantasy!

The power of technology...

2012-02-10T03:58:00.000-08:00

More snow...yawn, so over the snow right now. Sometimes it does delay things, whether it be private jets or my libido until I have thawed out! When you're in the same city as someone it's straight forward. When someone is aiming to return to the UK to shower you with gifts that they have bought from the most expensive of boutiques in Milan and you know they are delayed due to a late meeting and the weather, it's pretty frustrating.

"Mark" is an international jewellery designer and has the best eye for contemporary and classic pieces. He's a multi-millionaire and who better to spoil with lavish presents than his favourite London elite escort? "Mark" is generous, funny and attentive and certainly knows how to treat a lady. Any woman would be lucky to have such a gorgeous man as their partner but "Mark" does not have the time nor patience for a long term relationship. Luckily for me! I shouldn't have favourite clients, but Mark is way up there.

He has informed me that he will be late and unfortunately I have another client booked in for when "Mark" would be due to land so we are going to pay 'Cyber-sex' through the power of technology...the web cam. "Mark" has told me on many occasions how much he appreciates my model figure and looks and pretty much growled down the phone that we will HAVE to play virtual games via web cam so he can still see me before he books in for the real thing asap!

He has requested I perform a strip tease and start by wearing some very expensive underwear underneath a fantastic and equally as expensive gown. Plus, in his eyes, the piece de resistance... his jewels glittering my earlobes and round my throat with a rare gem sparkling in my navel. I don't know about him, but the thought of all the expensive rubies and diamonds touching my bare skin is arousing in itself.

Now I have to choose my attire. Do I go for the strapless Oscar de la Renta that I bought in New York which is stunning and easy to shimmy out of with my best Bordelle lingerie hiding underneath, or the slightly less demure see through lace Stella McCartney dress with my jewels winking at him provocatively?

Oh, playing dress up is just so difficult with all my fantastic goodies to choose from...woe is me!

A Touch Of The Continental

2012-02-09T05:20:00.000-08:00

I love France. I've been there over a dozen times with clients, friends and family. From the chic and cosmopolitan Paris, rural Normandy and luxurious Cannes there is something in that country to suit everyone. More than anything I love the cuisine and the wine. Sometimes a British pie and mash can't beat fine cheeses, crusty bread and garlic.

My favourite Central London cafe, Patisserie Valerie, has been calling to me all week; begging for me to take a slice of something indulgent home to share. Patisserie Valerie was originally conceived in Frith Street Soho in 1926 by Madam Valerie. She came to London on a mission to introduce fine Continental Patisserie to the English. It was an instant success. The unique café-atmosphere specialises in hand-made cakes and patisserie, continental breakfasts, lunches, the finest teas and coffees - and I've visited each one with a different gentleman friend.

I have an afternoon tea date with "Michel" at 15.30pm. He was born and raised in Grenoble but has been living in St John's Wood with his brother "Jacques" since 2008. Their consultancy business takes them all over the UK but neither of them is married or in a relationship. Although I've never had the pleasure of "Jacques'" company, I know he treats my elite model escort colleague "Monica" to five-star luxury every now and again. As you may have guessed, I have a certain penchant pour les hommes francais.

Of course, it isn't just the cuisine that calls me back to France. There's French champagne, French kissing, French Letters and oooh la la! French maids...

But back to this afternoon. "Michel" and are have booked a little table in the corner to sample the latest delicacies in the cafe. I fancy finger sandwiches with brie and salmon, something very gooey that just calls to be licked slowly from our fingers and a small bag of creamy pastries to finish in bed at his flat (providing "Jacques" isn't home, of course!)

I've deliberately missed lunch for this and my stomach is rumbling now. Mmmm.

Money, Money, Money...

2012-02-08T04:03:00.000-08:00

I recently met up with two fellow London elite escorts and we spent a whole evening setting the world to rights. There are some very interesting divides in the elite escort clan. The models who are happy to live their lives as an escort and reap all the rewards that their chosen career path comes with; the designer clothes and shoes, the fantastic destinations they are whisked away to and the chance to pick and choose your hours. This is all fabulous and glamorous and I don’t think anybody could complain but me and my two colleague friends have definitely got our mind set in another place.

It’s not about the power of being a woman and using my feminine charm to seduce men and then laugh at them while I count my money. I enjoy my job and enjoy meeting people and sharing experiences with them. The money is fantastic and what I do with it has definitely been a stepping stone to securing a steady future. It’s helpful that I have enough money to build the enormous wardrobe to house all my beautiful garments and expensive goodies of course, but I do appreciate the culture of the places and people I come into contact with and my job is not sordid as some may assume. The stereotype is of course that it’s all about sex and secrecy. It’s certainly not. Of course fantasies and strange requests are part and parcel but why can’t they be seen as someone expressing themselves or being adventurous instead of dirty and degrading?

Myself and my girlfriends discussed some of our favourite clients and destinations. We all love to get our hair done and go shopping in Selfridges and get our nails manicured but we also love to learn about different nationalities and walks of life.

“Sandra”, a fellow Mayfair escort recently accompanied a very beautiful Moroccan businessman to a conference and dinner dance in Marrakech. The women had to cover up and the men and women did not socialize together as the function was being held in a rural area. Her legs and shoulders were covered and they played a much forbidden game of “eyeballing” across the room before she was taken back to their luxurious apartment where they took much delight in partaking in a little more than “eyeballing”.

I for one know that the more interested you are in a client in the most genuine way, the more business you will get from them. And the more business you get, the more you learn, the more you earn.

Everyone’s a winner baby!

Chivalry Is Not Dead

2012-02-07T05:29:00.000-08:00

This morning I noticed an elderly couple through the window of my taxi. I was being taken (albeit slowly) through Marble Arch and they were walking along, holding hands. I was reminded of my grandparents and it made me smile that they were so in love. I don't know many couples who can boast of over 50 years of marriage; most of my acquaintances are struggling to get through their fifth anniversary unscathed.

Do you know where I was going? I had a morning booked with "Geoffrey" from 10am until 12.30pm. Ironically (or maybe why I noticed that elderly couple out of all the commuters) I was going to be the 'perfect1950's wife' at his Kensington home. dressed in a full-skirt dress, seamed stockings and 2 inch patent-pumps. The taxi driver gave me a fairly odd look when he pulled up to my Mayfair apartment building but I smiled enigmatically and said: "themed party; it's vintage."

When I accepted the date on Sunday evening, it set me thinking. The epitome of the 1950's housewife can be seen in many cartoons and adverts of the era - you just need to think Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore. They were beautiful, well groomed and forever smiling. While the feminists of the last 20th Century are spitting fire at me, I do have a point to make. We all aspire to be glamorous in our roles - whether we are going out to the office or taking the kids to school. No one likes to be caught on the hop with a pallor that would scare young children and animals. Yet, these women did manage it. They might have had to be up at 6am every morning but their time management was second to none. And the roles of the husband and wife were clearly defined: the financial provider and the emotional provider... which is where "Geoffrey" comes in.

I arrived at his home with a basket full of home made cookies (read: fresh from Waitrose bakery), loose Earl Grey tea and an uncut loaf (also Waitrose). I rapped smartly on the door, checked my teeth for lipstick and gave him a dazzling smile by way of welcome. I have never seen a man so delighted in my life. He ushered me in, took my coat and led me through to his spotless kitchen (with a kettle on the hob!) and I stepped straight into my role. I called him "darling" and "sweetheart" while busying myself immediately, my heels click-clacking on the flagstone floor. He stood there, quite stunned for a moment, then skipped into the living room.

For two hours I brought "Geoffrey" his newspaper, slippers and elevenses on a tray. He watched re-runs of I Love Lucy on DVD and I set up camp in the corner of the room with a pile of laundry and starch spray. Yes, I do iron, just infrequently as I have a dry-cleaners outside my building. By 11.30am he was so titillated by my femininity and inner-goddess that he unplugged the iron and led me upstairs for some good old-fashioned love...

Back home now, back in my D&G jeans and Ugg boots, I think I would have quite liked to be a 50's housewife. I enjoy being adored, looked-after and provided for by a 'real man'. In most of my private fantasies, my partner has a manual job and smells of a day's hard graft. Mmmmm a future date might just need to be arranged...

Oh, just let it snow!

2012-02-06T04:08:00.000-08:00

It’s funny how a few inches of snow in this country pretty much grinds everything to a halt. Schools close, roads are shut, public transport timetables are thrown into disarray and my clients start to panic how I will get to meet them or how they will get to me in time to enjoy their maximum London elite escort experience.

For me, the glass is always half full. If it is difficult to get to where was originally planned, changing location and theme is definitely something I put out there. I’m quite original in my thinking. Meeting for a coffee somewhere local and going back to their luxury pad is quite a good alternative to afternoon tea and a 5star hotel hour. Not only have I saved them money (not that they would notice the £1,000 pocket change) but I have kept things intimate and also maximised their time with me. If we have planned to go to the theatre and then out for cocktails, we can rent Chicago on DVD and make our own cocktails in their state of the art kitchen. If we were planning to go to a live sex show in the West End, we will perform our own with the curtains open at the window of their 20^th floor apartment in Canary Wharf.

I have an afternoon in with “Claude” today and an intimate Spanish lesson with “Juan” this evening. Luckily, “Claude” is coming to my Mayfair home for me to make him lunch and curl up for a girlfriend experience from 12 till 6. He’s booked 6 hours to make him feel like he is part of a couple before he jets off to the South of France for 3 months to promote his new album. “Claude” is a very successful multi-platinum selling French artist. He’s also super sexy but very lonely so he always requests the pleasure of my company when he’s got some time off. Sad really for him, but I get to spend time with an international star who is stunning. I’m guessing he’s glad to have booked time in my home instead of somewhere further afield where the now could have affected our precious time.

My evening will be from 8pm in “Juan’s” Mayfair mansion. Only round the corner from me luckily. We have enjoyed many encounters together and I must say my Spanish is improving. “Juan” is a writer from Madrid and I have been lucky enough to go to the beautiful city on many occasions to practice my Spanish for real.

The phrase that has been driving “Juan” wild is when I whisper “necesito su tacto”.

And yes I do!

Dirty Dancing

2012-02-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

Have I ever mentioned how much I love to dance? Whether it's a slow bump 'n' grind or a quick Foxtrot in a shimmering ball gown - I'm your woman. No professional training, I just happen to have visited some pretty extravagant places where dancing is the order of the day and my partner just so happens to love it too.

This weekend I have a late evening date with "Jack", a professional dancer and choreographer. At the moment he is in the West End, finishing up a run on 'Dreamboats & Petticoats' before heading back to New York. Despite his American good looks and piercing brown eyes, "Jack" doesn't have a regular girlfriend so calls on me whenever he is in town - which tends to be once a season or every nine months depending how you look at it. I always have an amazing time with him as he can gain us entry into all the top nightclubs or VIP treatment at a Wrap Party.

Above all else, "Jack" has an amazing body as well as snake-hips to match. His whirls, twirls and grinds with me til I'm sweating and begging him to take me home for some bed dancing instead. One day "Jack" will probably meet some fabulous dancer who can get her foot behind her ear, but he seems to prefer my company at the moment. He explains that he could easily bed half the chorus, but for emotional reasons, he tends not to. A lot of sexual tension makes for better on-stage chemistry rather than giving in to it and suffering a messy break up mid season. Never mix work and pleasure - unless you're a Super-elite model escort where it is mandatory!

Now, I keep myself in shape but "Jack's" stamina far out-rivals mine. I've watched him from the front row before (he was in "Grease" in 2009) and I couldn't I take my eyes off him. He didn't even break a sweat. However, I can't say I wasn't damp after that one...

As I look through my wardrobe I need to take the weather into consideration, although skirts and heels tend to be the order of the day. Not only is it easier to dance in heels than flats (unless you're being thrown about in a Lindyhop!) jeans are too cumbersome. However, it's meant to snow this weekend and I really don't want frostbite in unmentionable places. I think "Jack" will understand that I just have to wear leggings when the temperature plummets to zero, rather than the floaty number I donned in the summer. Brrrrr!

Strangers In The Night

2012-02-02T01:52:00.000-08:00

Men love the thrill of the chase, don't they? When I speak to my male friends they tell me they wish they could say they met their WAGs in a bar where she was all alone and he sent a drink over via the barman. It sounds very "Working Girl" doesn't it rather than "I met your mother at work/on-line/via Facebook". But an elegant pair of legs, donning stilettos and stockings, atop a bar stool will send most male pulses racing. Even I can see why: as a woman, it's empowering to be chatted up even if it leads nowhere.

So I was talking to a favourite client of mine, "Will", who wanted us to "try something new" for our monthly frisson. 24 dates, several wigs and aliases later, we were both running out of places to go and have even started rotating them!

"Will" lives in Hampstead and was tired of frequenting the hotels and restaurants close to home. Even the Maitre D's know our names and have started hinting about our first anniversary! I suggested we live out a role play and SURPRISE SURPRISE he wanted to 'pick me up' in a bar in town. So I did a little research and have come up with a venue - Amika in their Cocktail Lounge. Now, as most of you know, I do love Champagne but I can't get into the Champagne Bar without being a member. I've been a guest of a member before and I rubbed shoulders with so many A-Listers it was difficult not being star struck. Although there are three rooms for regular clientele to enjoy themselves, Amika is so exclusive that they need to have somewhere for members only. If "Will" enjoys tonight half as much as I suspect, he'll sign up immediately - the chauffeur and valet service should swing it if the priority entrance doesn't. And even if we don't go for another 6 months, I'll turn a blind eye to him flashing his membership card at anyone who'll listen.

So, back to our fantasy. Imagine me in the Cocktail Bar, sipping a Manhattan and wearing something black, short and glittering. My long hair will be tumbling down my back (exposed in a sexy V down to my cossix) and my red lips pursed around a straw. I will be purposely ignoring "Will" seated three down from me, admiring my legs and wondering 'why I'm alone in a place like this...' Then he'll send me another drink over and I'll look over and hold it up to acknowledge my thanks. That's his cue to come over and say something clever like "Excuse me, I don't want you to think I'm ridiculous or anything, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I just felt like I had to tell you." So smooth....

I'm quite looking forward to later. It's been a long time since I was actually chatted up long enough to take a man home and conclude the evening over coffee. If he's very lucky, his night-cap might happen before midnight.

Shaken, not stirred...

2012-02-01T06:34:00.000-08:00

Palm Beach Casino, 9pm, dressed to kill to his license to kill. Oh the cliché.

I have been to the Palm Beach Casino in London’s Mayfair many times with clients. I’ve played the dutiful mistress hanging off their arm and giving the occasional obligatory squeal when the cards are in their favour. I’ve dressed in the barely there dresses and exposed as much cleavage that is legally allowed without getting arrested for indecent exposure and glittered in crystals and diamonds when the client had requested the more classy elite escort. I’ve sat and been treated to Dom Perignon at £43 a glass while being handed wads of cash to frivolously spend on games I know nothing about, but no matter; my attentive, rich client doesn’t even notice.

Tonight’s date with “Anton” is going to be all that and more. The diamonds sparkling round my throat, the sexy Tony Bowls dress from a New York spendathon, the Chanel shoes and the air and attitude of the mysterious model playing Roulette on her own, “Anton” entering the establishment with his colleagues dressed in his tuxedo and acting the perfect undercover 007. His aim is to catch my eye many times and impress his prospective clients along with his current colleagues and staff by approaching me and whispering in my ear. Only we will know the role play. He, asking for “the code”, me, refusing until I have sufficient evidence that he is of course the correct recipient. His objective is to acquire the code and have his wicked way with me in the cloak room while we tussle and fumble over the power battle.

I’ve been on the receiving end of “Anton’s” testosterone fuelled encounters before and may I say that knowing I am one of the best elite escorts really makes him up his game; and his game is winning. Not only have we been out for dinner and dancing on previous bookings, we have also been to private functions in Soho and been admired by many men and women who want front row seats. “Anton” is rich, exciting and stunningly handsome. Together with his gorgeous exterior and my own model looks we do receive some propositions which sometimes I admit, I do find hard to refuse. Being approached to perform in front of Sheikhs or wealthy entrepreneurs for a very hefty sum has often been rejected by “Anton” as he himself is so filthy rich that he doesn’t need ‘pocket change’ as he calls it. The ‘pocket change’ he refers to is about 6 month’s mortgage paid on my apartment but I’m not exactly in dire need for the money; it’s just extra connections.

But back to “Anton” and our Casino escapades ce soir… introducing his Mr 007 to my Vesper Lynd, beautiful.

Purr For Fur

2012-01-31T01:22:00.000-08:00

Another nippy day in Mayfair. I pulled up the blinds to see frost everywhere and enough snow clouds to make a mountain jealous. I do quite like snow, hence the skiing at Christmas, but I make it a policy not to travel too far from home when it's really bad in case I can't get back. Actually. I'm waiting in for a parcel shipped from Hong Kong today. I had to wake up reasonably early to take phone calls (my phone switches on at 8am unless I'm meeting someone for breakfast) but I do like pottering about in my dressing gown, listening to the breakfast news.

So what am I waiting in for? A fur coat. It's white and dark grey, hooded, with a belt and perfect for keeping me warm as these colder temperatures threaten. And they look so chic. The Chinese girls in the catalogue make everything look like it belongs on the catwalks of Milan. I have been to both countries and I always come away feeling like I want to buy everything on offer to me. At least, the gentleman who I've accompanied tends to want to flash his cash and spoil me. The kimono I'm wearing at the moment is made of peacock-blue silk after a rather passionate week in Hong Kong.

Now, the fur coat I'm waiting in for was bought by me, for me. I donate to PETA every month so I'm very much for acrylic imitations. That said, I do own a full length Sable bought for me in Paris by a fervent admirer. He had it shipped to me here in London in a cream box tied, with a velvet ribbon. And despite my ethics and morals, I tried it on. My God.... have you ever felt real fur? Every way I stroked it kept the sheen and softness and I thought I was going to salivate. I do try and remain educated about the whole fur trade, but to have something so luxurious under my hands was almost surreal. My client arranged for me to wear it the next time he saw me - thankfully in the middle of February when the weather was at zero degrees - and I obliged by donning very little else underneath. It has been hanging in a protective sheath in my wardrobe ever since. I could sell it on, I suppose, because I don't see him anymore but stroking it often changes my mind.

Looking around my apartment, I can see my obvious admiration for soft furnishings. I have faux-fur throws in wolf-grey across one sofa and a sheepskin rug on the floor. I like my scatter cushions to be in velvets and furs - so I can dig my fingers into them - and the boudoir in the other room is a plethora of sumptuous drapes, throws and fabrics. Sensuality is of utmost importance to me. If it feels good against bare skin, no one sees fit to complain.

Hopefully this new jacket of mine (thigh skimming in case you were wondering) will arrive by midday so I can go out in it while it's still cold. You never know who I might run into and who might want to take me home and stroke me.

Customer satisfaction guaranteed...

2012-01-30T03:15:00.000-08:00

25 days holiday, company pension scheme, private health care policy...being just another number? No thank you.

I love that I'm self employed. Regardless of what my job entails, I flat refuse to be a loyal employee for a thankless company. I don't understand the sickness policy or SSP requirements. The disciplinary process or the lunch break restrictions. I want to be able to have lunch when I want and for however long I like, thank you.

As sexy as a good power suit and stiletto combi is, I love the freedom and creativity of being an elite escort. Primarily the first person I have to think about pleasing for a job is myself. If a client is asking for something out of the question (very rare, but does happen), then I will refuse a date. If I have a gut feeling that I will feel unsafe with a client, I will cancel. But, the intimacy of having a one-to-one, or two-to-one "appointment" with my customers does come with complete job satisfaction at the end of it all. That's because I can guarantee that this model escort will never let you down.

I don't think it makes much difference how long you have been doing the job or how much experience you think you should have; being confident and knowing your own body and what will arouse your client is key for gaining regular clientele. I have many sections to my walk in wardrobe. Well, it's not so much of a wardrobe, as a room. The beautiful treasure trove that I had made as I extended my trendy and modern apartment in Mayfair. I have genres if you like. Sexy, dirty, feminine, classy, trashy, futuristic to name a few. I have racks of underwear, shelves of toys and enough lotions and potions to start my own shop. I love the colours, the fabrics, the way everything sparkles and glistens and every single item I have bought works a treat; which is a good job too considering the amount of money I have spent!

I love playing Bond Girl when visiting a very classy London casino, or sexy stranger in an exclusive bar. This week I do have some dates which involve these scenarios so I may spend a morning sorting out my treasure trove and also sitting back to admire any new additions which have been bought for me by very happy customers. I never leave a client unhappy and pride myself on a job well done. I do have jewels, bags, clothes, shoes and beauty products purchased as a thank you and as an extra for being so generous with my service.

Well the customer is always right…right?

Twin Gate Part Two....

2012-01-27T04:31:00.000-08:00

As I sit here with my bags and purchases from yesterday still slung by the front door, I'm smiling to myself. Twins... I think I'm converted. "Tom" may be "Jonathan's" mirror-image but they couldn't be any less alike if they tried. Both men are fit and good looking but while "Tom" has gentlemanly manners and enough conversation to keep a right-wing politician debating for hours, "Jonathan" is more 'devil-may-care'. His eyes dart mischievously and his sensuous mouth twitches with permanent amusement.

"Jonathan" owns his own company "Fire & Ice" which trades in loose gemstones across the world. Considering he spends all day on the phone to Trans Hex's South African headquarters, he must have good interpersonal and business acumen. As he explained to me, Trans Hex is a world-class player in the exploration, mining and marketing of the highest quality diamonds . Being absolutely enchanted by anything sparkly, I hung onto his every word and then he asked me... "do you want to come to my workshop to see what we do?"

Is the Pope Catholic?

We went over to Hatton Garden in EC1, not far from the Barbican and Islington station. My heart was fluttering about all over the place. I actually wanted to skip along although I maintained a certain sense of decorum. "Jonathan" was holding my hand and explaining about all the fine pieces he had seen in his career made for celebrities and royalty. As we weaved in an out of London shoppers and businessmen, I couldn't help scanning the crowds for A-listers. We finally reached the heavy oak door of number 101 "Fire & Ice" and he reached around me to unlock the shutters, his lips tickling my neck. The shutter lifted and we went inside, I was covered in goosebumps.

After showing me round the workshop and allowing me the priviledge of oohing and ahhing over beautiful specimens, "Jonathan" turned to me with the most serious expression I had yet to witness. "I'd like you to model some diamonds for me" he said softly. Now I was thinking perhaps a few rings, a necklace, maybe even a tiara, but no. "Jonathan" led me over to a sofa and got me to lay back while he went over to his safe and brought out a black case. "Diamonds are exquisite, aren't they?" he said removing a large blue diamond. "Take your top off." He placed the diamond in my belly button and then removed a clear pear-cut specimen, holding it to the light. "And your bra". By the time he had finished, he had adorned me with dazzling gemstones - emeralds, rubies and diamonds of all colours - like the trail of a priceless tattoo. I was speechless and his eyes were clouded in lust. As he whispered the three C's - colour, clarity and cut - I thought I was going to drown... I have been to Tiffanys and Harrods for fine jewellery but nothing has or ever will compare to that.

So which Twin experience did I prefer? Well both men treated me like a princess and both have impeccable manners. I can't say I'd like to compare "technique" because that would be cruel but someone should market these two as a product. Yum. And did I get a souvenir of my date with "Jonathan"? A 1/2 carat platinum ring on my middle finger suggests yes...

Twin Gate - Part one...

2012-01-26T07:47:00.000-08:00

Okay so today is “Twin Gate” part one. This seems like some sordid social experiment; obviously not for them, but for me this is going to be interesting.

I know that these gorgeous men are on the eve of their 25^th birthday, one professional rugby player, and one successful diamond merchant. These brothers being filthy rich at their quarter of a century milestone and if “Tom” is anything to go by, both stunning, with bodies to die for.

“Tom’s” instructions for my date with him today were that I choose where we go, what I will wear and take complete control but he will pay. His only specific requirements were that we spend a lot of money and go to the best places in Central London…oh and look like a couple if the paps decide to take pictures. This to me means wearing a wig because if I’m going to be in the media and be associated with this rugby star, I don’t want my regular clients thinking their favourite elite escort has retired!

So, my thoughts are; go shopping for starters. There are many designer stores and one off boutiques that only the very privileged know about. Making “Tom” feel spoilt rotten by adoring store assistants and knowing he will spend a bucket load and be snapped with shopping bags galore will definitely please his agent. Plus being seen with a gorgeous model carefully dressed the part in the unmistakeable red soled Louboutins, Birkin handbag and sexy but casual ensemble will definitely promote his already growing star status. Not trying too hard to look ridiculously gorgeous often works a lot better for wowing clients. Also my fantastic Bloomsbury of London wig will give me natural looking red curls with a sexy fringe and definitely won’t get me recognised if I wear my bronze aviators when out and about.

For main course we will be frequenting The Waldorf for a sumptuous dinner and for dessert, the delights of my boudoir in Mayfair!

One thing I found strange about this birthday celebration was the men’s eagerness to have a full London elite escort experience each. But I just do as I’m told like the good escort I am.

And for me, this may satisfy my curiosity of how identical twins really are…

Keeping It In The Family

2012-01-25T06:25:00.000-08:00

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 Cafe Nero on the 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 blond 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 model 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.

Plastic fantastic?

2012-01-24T05:02:00.000-08:00

I’ve never been one to buy into any surgery to boost or decrease my assets. I’ve been very lucky to have naturally large breasts, a small waist, curvy hips and a pert round bottom without the need to go under the knife. I’m not adverse to the idea of a little nip ‘n’ tuck as gravity takes its toll in later life, but as a model and a fabulous London elite escort, the men I date and previous modelling big wigs believe in my natural lines.

I thankfully don’t need to make religious trips to the gym or follow the strictest of diets. It’s not my age or any miracle diet pills needed to keep my elite escort body in shape. I am fairly disciplined and obviously get to “work out” a lot with my clients but I think it must just be great genes.

The places and venues I am fortunate enough to visit are classy, expensive and lush but occasionally you may get an “escort” from a rival company arriving with a rich businessman or wealthy bachelor who has quite obviously been to the plastic factory many times. I’m all for dressing the part as your client so wishes and if that means showing off your best assets then so be it but when your assets are clearly bought and uber round and synthetic then that’s where I wrinkle up my lovely (real) nose and take pity on the ladies in question.

Don’t get me wrong, each to their own, but I am lucky enough to have natural cleavage and more than enough breast to spill over my tiny dresses for the more daring of clients. I know that if I am going to a fantastic casino in Mayfair or a bar in Park Lane, I will get requests for more flesh on show but more often than not it is classy yet very sexy all the way.

I’ve had many offers for certain types of work due to my natural figure. It’s all very flattering. I meet film producers, writers, photographers and agents and I’ve always politely declined their kind offers of work. It’s nice and though one would think that it would be fantastic money, I don’t need it. I do enough role play and dressing up to be whoever is necessary anyway.

And I do play a good page 3 girl I’ll have you know…

Ghostly Goings On

2012-01-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

Monday morning again - where do the weeks go?

My weekend was thoroughly entertaining and so surprising. I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would, as it goes. I haven't dabbled in the occult and paranormal since University where we held a late-night seance in our halls. Actually it was a make-shift ouija board with a glass pushed by some over-eager fingers but it freaked me out enough to give me nightmares. I have an over-active imagnation for most things anyway, let along ghouls and other foul beasties.

So back to Saturday. Well "Simon" and I met up on Sloane Square just outside the hotel. I was pleased and surprised to see that he wasn't some nerdy-type in a mac and thick rimmed glasses but a thirty-something with a well built physique and dark blue eyes. I was smitten even though he was paying! It came naturally that I should take his hand as we walked and he explained the history around the square. Although I know that it is named after Sir Hans Sloane, I feigned ignorance and hung onto his every word. But the thing that fascinated me the most is that Belgravia and Chelsea are both haunted.

"Simon" walked me through Sloane Square, past the barracks, up to the Chelsea Bridge and then along Chelsea Embankment until we reached Albert Bridge. A little way back from the Thames is "Cheyne Walk", here being two ghostly locations. The first is a house with a blue plaque dedicated to novelist George Elliot. In fact she only lived there 19 days before passing away - not before projecting a reproving vision of herself to a novelist friend who had failed to visit her. The second location belongs to a small restaurant which used to be a haunted pub. I have walked past that eaterie a hundred times and never did I assume it was (is?) home to ghosts!

As we got nearer to Knightsbridge our next location was the Cadogan Hotel, reputedly haunted by a former Royal mistress. Knightsbridge Station has also supposedly seen the spectre of an old lady, sitting by the side of the road, pulling grotesque faces. I got an attack of the giggles at this point imagining some old dear thumbing her nose at me!

With all this walking, we decided to hop on a bus to our next destination - Holland Park - the location of the headless ghost of the Earl of Holland, haunting what remains of Holland Park House. "Simon" also dropped in that he wanted to see a phantom double-decker bus that appears in the middle of the night to cause road traffic accidents near Ladbroke Grove but we probably wouldn't have time today. I had visions of the Knight Bus from Harry Potter but I didn't say it out loud incase he thought I was taking the mickey.

Our final destination was Hampstead and the first (and only) pub on the haunted agenda. The William IV saw rise to a couple of rounds of drinks and a ghost called Mrs Wyatt, murdered and bricked up in the cellar by her husband. As we sat drinking I had visions of spotting the unfortunate woman at the bar or seeing the young boy who was also murdered down there for witnessing it. Actually it put me on edge so much that I asked "Simon" to swap seats with me so I was facing the fireplace!

As we said goodbye I told "Simon" I would love to spend time with him again - maybe visit a haunted hotel and spend the night there. He winked at me and told me he knew just the place if I fancied it. So we now have a date for Valentines Day at a mystery location. Suddenly I'm liking ghosts very much...

Life Classes

2012-01-20T05:49:00.000-08:00

I've had a bit of a funny morning (to set me up for my funny weekend with my Ghost Hunter, no doubt!). I was up and at 'em by 8am, heading in the morning traffic over to Battersea, to meet with an artistic friend of mine called "Matt".

"Matt" is an art teacher who specialise in the human form - more accurately, life classes. He likes to draw naked women (sometimes men but not so often) in charcoal or pencil; filling up an entire A2 sheet with long languorous strokes. I was able to see his work pinned up around the studio. His drawings are sensuous - as though the drawing implement were caressing the bare skin of his subject and breathing life into them. I admired the roundness of the marks on the paper and just enough shade to draw the eye in. I may not know much about art but I know when I like something.

I met "Matt" while I was at a party with another client. His brown eyes met mine over a glass of Jack Daniels & Coke and the conversation moved away from the music and clientele and onto professional pursuits. I told him I was in "Entertainment and PR" he told me he was an artist from Hampstead and we swapped business cards (in case you're wondering, I have some mock-ups in my handbag for such occasions). Although my attention was wrapped around my date, I couldn't help but keep looking over at the quirky stranger with whom I'd shared a brief encounter. Funny how some people just capture your attention like that, isn't it? Well, as it happens, "Matt" kept looking over at me too so I knew I'd be getting a phone call sometime soon.

"Sometime soon" happened to be this Monday afternoon. He was bored, he said and his model for his Friday morning class had dropped out - would I consider sitting in for a fee? I wondered whether I should come clean about my profession as my fee was probably ten times the amount I'd get from the college bursary. Then I realised that I wouldn't mind doing it for free and I've nothing to be ashamed of. Super Elite Escorts have to be slim and look after themselves as a matter of course. "Matt" had thought of me and now I had to think of him.

Well life modelling in January sure is chilly. I almost didn't want to de-robe. Brrrrr! Thankfully there was a portable heater on beside me to take the edge off it. I climbed onto a fake fur throw and arranged myself into a position that avoided cramp as well as I could.

I was hoping the sexual chemistry between "Matt" and I would make the experience more enjoyable, however 12 or-so students filed in and took up their positions behind their easels... and all sensuality was forgotten. An hour and a half later, I really wanted to crack my back! I put my dressing gown back on to have a look at what the students had transferred onto paper and I have to say most of them were pretty passable - apart from a few who had made me look like something Picasso would have conjured up in the Cubist movement! I guess art is in the eye of the beholder.

So will I see "Matt" again? I hope so but I don't know whether I could ever tell him I'm an Escort considering he has seen (and drawn) me in all my naked glory - the mystery has dispelled somewhat. Perhaps he'll ask me to sit for him again and take me out for a cup of tea later - to warm up!

Detention...

2012-01-19T05:25:00.000-08:00

Is it unprofessional that I am looking forward to my rendezvous with “Vince” tonight? I won’t lie; it’s not for his witty banter, gorgeous athletic body or complete and utter sex appeal, it is for the pure fact that this beautiful Italian sportsman is all about pleasuring me! It is a complete role reversal. I mean, what do I get paid for as a London elite escort? But “Vince” gets off on acting out MY fantasies.

We’ve played James Bond and his model villainess who begin their encounter in a top London casino. I dress in a long sexy Alexander McQueen wrap dress and he in his tuxedo. We catch each others eye at the roulette table and I try to slip some “poison” into his drink but he catches me and firmly marches me into a dark cloak room to berate me. Picture my arms pinned above my head and my legs spread as he frisks me to search for any more “weapons” that may harm him. Well you can imagine the rest.

We’ve played the lonely housewife role. I’m dressed in some naughty underwear which I was trying to seduce my husband in but he neglected me and went out so I was alone on my bed and desire took over. “Vince” was the builder who had his own key (due to recent home improvements) and crept in and watched as I began to pleasure myself on the bed before he jumped in to lend a hand/tongue/whatever…

Today’s scenario is naughty student meets strict teacher. We are setting up his Marble Arch home. His front room which is probably 4 times bigger than an average school classroom anyway is the classroom and “Vince” has even had his PA arrange for a couple of proper old fashioned flip up school desks be brought in. The great thing about PA’s that you trust is that they do whatever, and ask no questions.

I have created my very bad schoolgirl look with the help of Google and a fantastic American website. I’ve kind of gone for a preppy college babe creation. I actually purchased 3 outfits and mixed and matched. One outfit was ridiculously expensive but what the hell? The tiny button up cardigan, tartan skirtini with attached suspender belt and thong, ruffle trim top bra and thick head band is genius.

“Vince” never regrets his time and definitely gets his money’s worth with me. Of course it’s not all about what I want, he also gets some selfish, all-about-me time and I am more than happy to oblige.

I know its wrong to wish time away, but I can’t wait for the last school bell to ring…

Queen of the night...

2012-01-18T06:08:00.000-08:00

I get asked to dress up or down so many times that often I forget who I am! I swear there are moments that I wake up in the morning and automatically consult my planner to see who I will be that day. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind. It’s tremendous fun to build characters and fantasies. Being a model I have been privy to the artistry of creating new looks with make up, hair and clothing and sometimes the crazier the better.

Being the perfect London elite escort means being a chameleon. If someone wants me to wear a pink wig and a silver space suit and bark like a dog on their £2,000 sheepskin rug in their £3,000,000 apartment in Belgravia, I can’t say no. If I’m asked to accompany someone to a museum or a poetry recital in a long skirt, high neck and no make-up I have to comply.

Today’s date with “Matthew” is no different. He has requested my company for 3 hours at his house in

Eaton Square

dressed as…a female vampire. White face paint, blood red lipstick (excuse the pun), jet black hair and pointy teeth, long velvet dress with slits up each thigh, stand up collar and choker. Very vamp seductress. He has said that he wants me to dominate him and “hurt” him with my thigh high heeled boots and man-handle him. Should be interesting considering he is 6ft 2 and I am 5ft 6.

“Matthew” is 44 years old and we have enjoyed many different role plays in our time together. He has told me that the older he gets, the dirtier he gets and that is perfectly fine with me. I have always thought the more powerful the man and the more of the workaholic the person is, the greater their fantasies but not “Matthew”. He is a billionaire due to his inheritance and really doesn’t do much apart from travel, shop and explore extreme sports. He hasn’t got much stress in life that one would get from an 80 hour working week; he just genuinely likes to try out different fantasies and has never come across a woman to explore them with. We started off our working relationship with a few dinners and desserts at his home and from this getting to know you introduction we have come up with quite a few scenarios to blow his mind.

My mission now is to Google what my vampire name would be for the ultimate fantasy topping.

Enter… Selene de Pompadour, mistress of the night. Brilliant.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

2012-01-17T12:18:00.000-08:00

Do I believe in ghosts? No, not really but I have a date for this weekend who would have me believe otherwise.

I was more than surprised to have my services utilised by a, for want of a better word, Geek. "Simon" lives in South-West London, just outside of Earls Court. Vocation: Ghost Chaser. He says he wants do do this full time rather than an insurance broker for Swiss Re in The Gherkin building. Personally I was more impressed by his day job than the prospect of hunting headless spirits, but it's not my date to criticise. "Simon" said I will understand more when I'm there. Wherever "there" is...

I found myself wondering how a model escort from Mayfair could be linked to ghost hunting. Then my mind began to wander. Could he be one of those men who gets turned on by randy ghosts? So, of course then my curiosity was peaked somewhat. I had to do a little googling.

There is such a thing as a Succubus - a female demon appearing in dreams, who takes the form of a human woman in order to seduce men, usually through sexual intercourse. Brilliant... you know I'm going to be one of those in the afterlife! And then there's an Incubus that is its male counterpart. According to a number of mythological and legendary traditions, an Incubus lies upon sleepers, especially women, in order to have intercourse with them. Some ghosts have all the luck.

Of course, you also hear about ghosts having sex with mortals to satisfy themselves in the afterlife. I'm not sure how I feel about that; if it happened to me I think I'd run from the room screaming [how funny that most of these 'victims' went along with it!]

So we will see what "Simon" has in store for me when I see him at the weekend. Knowing my luck, we'll end up in the oldest part of the East End, chasing the ghosts of Pearly Kings and Queens in the freezing cold. If he gets me to chant anything or pray in weird places, I'm going home - period.

Romance isn't dead...

2012-01-16T03:32:00.000-08:00

I have been single for a long time. I feel at this time in my life, I am getting everything I need from the line of work that I do. Accompanying overseas = mini holiday. Dinner and dancing = romancing. Theatre or museum = cultured couple.

Just because I don't choose to settle down and be in a serious relationship, doesn't mean that I don't like the stereotypical romantic dates that are enjoyed by people courting. It's kind of the girlfriend experience with the twist of the chivalrous boyfriend. The sort of date where you spend hours on the phone to your girlfriend discussing what you're going to wear and how nervous you feel because, "giggle", you really like him. Then you get together and go shopping for that perfect outfit to impress him. Not give him the wrong impression of a woman who will `put-out` on the first date; oh no, just enough cleavage or leg to make him desire you and be left wanting more. The arranged date where the man turns up at your door promptly at the designated time to pick you up and take you out. He brings you flowers, kisses you on the cheek and compliments you on how lovely you look. Then you both awkwardly look at each other and grin and feel like teenagers again.

My date this evening will be much like a first date, but with the added bonus of going inside his luxury penthouse suite in the Mayfair boutique hotel that he owns for coffee afterwards.

"Nate" is an international hotel owner who resides for 3 months at a time in his fantastically luxurious 6* hotels which are located in London, New York, Milan, Dubai and Paris. Every time he is in London or has a very important function in one of his overseas resorts he gives his favourite London Elite Escort a call and together we wow and entertain his clients and then one another.

With both our model looks, we make an interesting couple that people can't take their eyes off and "Nate" self proclaims that he is too busy for a full on relationship, but he does love to role play the thrill and excitement of a first date scenario among others.

So, he will be picking me up like a true gentleman this evening and taking me out in London for a quiet amorous soiree. We haven't played "first date cahoots" for a long time so I am actually getting butterflies.

This may be my job but if you saw "Nate" you would understand the flutters in my stomach. And if you saw "Nate" in the buff you would understand the tingles in my...

Great Expectations

2012-01-13T05:36:00.000-08:00

I wouldn't call myself a fussy girl as much as I wouldn't call myself a prude. I'd say, I like things to be a certain way but I'm adaptable.

But I hate to be disappointed.

There have been incidences recently when I have had an idea of something in my mind and then it has gone off on a completely different tangent. In fantasy, it's easy to big something up; in real-life it can be so much different. This is why I believe that you should plan much but expect little back - that way the element of expectation decreases to a manageable level. And the reason for me writing this today? Well, it all started early this morning...

I'm a shopaholic, there's no denying that. I should probably check into The Priory this year because it's getting out of control. anyway, I had another shopping date with "Victor" - you will remember him accompanying me to Westfield shopping centre on the 12th December - and this time he promised we would search for a cocktail dress for me for tonight. You see, "Victor" is a patron of a West London children's charity and they were holding a casino night to raise funds. Considering it was being held at The Cumberland hotel, "Victor" wanted to treat me to something elegant. I knew he wanted to show me off as much as possible with me saying as little as possible.

So we traversed the length and breadth of Oxford Street; sauntered over to Oxford Circus; meandered through Carnaby Street; took the tube down to the Kings Road and finally ended up at Selfridges. I must have dragged that man into a dozen boutiques, shops and departments, searching for a special outfit for a special occasion. (It did feel a little like pay back though as he submitted me to a foot aching trip all over the shopping centre exactly a month ago). I knew what I wanted and I think he knew what he wanted me in, but neither of us could seem to agree. If he had been my boyfriend, we might have actually come to blows in Monsoon if the shop assistant hadn't have suggested he stand outside the changing room for two minutes to have a browse through menswear. As I patiently explained to her "I want something mid length and elegant. How hard can it be?"

Eventually we ended up in Pronovias which is a Bridal/occasion boutique on the Brompton Road. "Victor" practically snarled that he didn't care anymore as long as we walked out with something. So I walked in, chose the dress myself and he handed over the plastic. Thankfully it was a fantastic choice and he seemed to cheer up. We arrived back at my flat half an hour ago and I sent him off to recover with a double whiskey while I jumped in the bath.

So now I have about five hours to de-fuzz, smooth and buff myself into the dress while hoping to God that he appreciates it. Well, I don't have to open my mouth unless I'm putting a glass of champagne to my lips; so all's well that ends well!

Money talks...

2012-01-12T06:42:00.000-08:00

Someone once said money is the root of all evil. That person obviously didn't know how to manage their money.

I know I enjoy shopping through London's finest boutiques like those hidden treasures in Chelsea and off Mayfair. I do love a designer bag or pair of Jimmy's and I have to frequent Selfridges for my skin care. My beautiful apartment is furnished in George Nelson and bespoke contemporary pieces found in UniQue, Fulham Road. But these things make me happy. And, I can.

I don't deny that I am well off and I have nice things. I don't gamble, I have no secret vices apart from shopping and I don't owe money. I own my property and live well and I am not ashamed to admit that I love my life. I know my work has a sell-by-date and I can't carry on in this line of work forever so I have shares, savings and I have my head screwed on right.

I'm also very lucky being a London elite escort that my clients are of a certain class. They are extremely well off businessmen, wealthy celebrities and filthy rich heirs. This doesn't mean that I sponge off them or demand anything. They are clients and I am professional, not to mention independent for my own finances. I only mention this because I do know the right people to ask financial advice... and the best one of a kind furniture shops and exclusive stores!

Because I feel that I go above and beyond my clients expectations, why not ask them for a tidbit regarding the current economic climate if they specialise in such a field?

Todays date with "Clive" is "girlfriend experience" normal, so a conversation about the FTSE and global financial shares could come about as we laze around in our smalls at his luxury Knightsbridge home. He has booked an overnighter as he has a rare couple of days off. "Clive" is an international merchant banker and owns three finance companies overseas. He's 37 and so attractive. Arrogant of course, but did I mention he is attractive?

He is a complete push over when I have one of my long, toned model legs draped over him as I run my fingers through his chest hair and I do need some updated information on my stocks and shares so to make his unknowing confessions about investor relations worthwhile, I will treat him to a freshly waxed and vajazzled treat.

Money talks baby...

Strike a pose...

2012-01-11T03:54:00.000-08:00

It's new picture time. Oh how I love this time of year!

Every year, we put our creative heads together to create some new pictures for the website and any other correspondence. "We" being "Fed"; a top notch photographer who is also a client. We do enjoy other dates throughout the year, but updating the photos in a glamorous shoot does work both of us into a raging frenzy of pheromones.

Not only do I enjoy making love to the camera in whatever position suits me best, I do love modelling my glorious designer threads. It gives me a chance to pull out my most expensive, sexy and different purchases, teamed with my fabulous Louboutins or Jimmy's. So doing my research for the days shoot is very important. Research being trying on various ensembles and if I'm not entirely happy I have to go shopping...don't I?

For last years shoot, "Fed" took me to various different locations in London. He is renowned and rich and very charming so he can pull whatever strings necessary to see that wherever we are, the area will be sealed off or if we need to shoot in next to no clothes in a public area, we won't be disturbed...or hounded by the law for indecent exposure. We were lucky enough to shoot a very risqué set in our own pod of the London Eye at midday last year, and being half naked in a transparent container knowing that tourists can see in from their pods was very exciting. "Fed" had to really compose himself before we landed to get out of the bubble. Poor guy, but it was uber sexy!

"Fed" has a penthouse apartment in Chelsea with massive floor to ceiling windows, lighting to match whatever mood set and lots of funky designer furniture to drape myself over. This is always our last port of call for our final set of photographs. These are more for personal use and though we both trust each other immensely, we do take it in turns to pose and we both keep a set of prints.Safer that way, plus it's quite nice to have a look at them from time to time on the rare occasion that I'm not busy.

What? "Fed" is stunning, and I am only human...needs must and all that...

Yes to the glaringly obvious...

2012-01-10T04:44:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the element of surprise is sexy. Sometimes the glaringly obvious is just as sexy and this evening’s client has asked for just that.

Today I am portraying the perfect London elite escort…oh wait, I am the perfect London elite escort. Okay, not so much an elite escort but more model hooker. Sacre bleu!

Today’s date is with “George”; a 58 year old thespian from Park Lane. “George” is a majorly successful playwright turned actor. He is a multi-millionaire and spends money like it’s going out of fashion. We have enjoyed many impromptu dates where he has whisked me off to the South of France or to Dublin for some major shopping therapy when all we had arranged was to spend the day together which I thought meant lunch and shopping in Selfridges. He is far from predictable which is why I was quite shocked when he requested a very obvious date.

“George” has asked me to dress as an “escort” for our dinner at the very expensive and classy Nobu. Not your typical discrete London elite escort; more obvious legs and cleavage and dramatic sultry make-up and big hair. Sex on legs basically! He wants the cliché and people to look upon us as the attractive man and the trashy, yet street smart scantily clad woman. He wants the outrageous flirting between us and fellow diners to witness the possible “Pretty Woman” scenario. “George” is not expecting coffee at the end of the meal, but to make a big show of requesting the bill whilst I nuzzle his neck.

I have acted out this fantasy many times with various clients who like the idea of being dirty minded with a, dare-I-say-the-word, prostitute style date. Usually these scenarios consists of me turning up at their luxurious pads to strip tease in the tiniest of outfits, long trashy wigs and skyscraper stilettos and then do whatever they want with the greatest of ease. This evening with “George” actually gives him the added thrill of being in public with a “working girl” and he has told me how much the idea of being looked upon as a dirty old man is very arousing for him. Fair enough.

So this morning I will be mainly planning the perfect attire to look trashy chic in public and complete sex kitten in private. A trip to see my beauty therapist to apply a sexy diamante merkin is in order and to coif my long brunette tresses into a frenzy. Then off to Broadwick Street’s Agent Provocateur because I have had my eye on their Flavia playsuit for some time and possibly to Selfridges for some new skin care products and perfume to smell and look divine.

Don’t feel too sorry for me; I’m sure I will stop for a coffee to take a load off at some point.

Indecent Proposal

2012-01-09T03:07:00.000-08:00

You wouldn't believe some of the things I have been asked to do in my time whilst on a date with a client. Nothing surprises me anymore but it may open other eyes or rise a few eyebrows.

There is, however, something I haven't done, despite there being a good few requests - let myself be filmed for the enjoyment of another. And yes, I do mean in an adult context. Consenting adults in a trusting relationship may enjoy the odd "private home collection" of VHS or DVD. Sadly, I'm not someone's "Reader's Wife". I couldn't say for definite that my body in various contortions wouldn't appear on YouTube or as a link on a social networking site. I don't think there is anything in my contract that stipulates that I can't model for the enjoyment of others but I don't want to. I'm not a porn star, that is NOT on my list of credentials on my CV.

The first time a client asked me to participate in a little amateur theatre, I was a good deal younger and inexperienced. Elite model escorting was new to me and I had yet to find my own way. He didn't say, at the time of booking, that he wanted me to do anything other than meet him at The Goring on Eaton Lane just outside of Victoria. Well, I arrived, he met me in the lobby and then we went up to his room for drinks... until I saw the tripod fixed at the foot of the bed. I have to say, I felt uneasy and a little threatened which are the two things an escort should never have to experience.

My heart was hammering and I thought "I'm going to have to front this out...'

He said he thought I'd like it; I told him I thought he should have told me first! I was in no frame of mind to pout and pose down a camera lens, so I told him either to take me out for dinner or forget the whole experience. Well, the room had cost him an arm and a leg (not to mention the elaborate tale he'd spun to his wife!) so with a grumble and furrowed brow he packed it all away and called us a taxi. Did I stay longer than the two hours? No. Did he call me again? No. Did I care? No.

You live and learn, folks...

So now, should there be even a whisper of something I'm not sure of or something that goes against my moral code, I say no and I walk away - I don't even enter into a discussion. My regular clients know what they can and can't get away with when I join them out and about. The greatest gift you can give your Model Escort is respect.

The London Escort diet...

2012-01-06T05:55:00.000-08:00

Why is it everywhere you look there is a fitness DVD or an article for the best diet to get rid of the excess poundage you put on over the festive period?

It reminds me of the days where you only had sales in the shops on bank holidays and January sales. Now, instead of bikini body diets for the summer and New Year’s resolution so I will get into shape fat busting regimes, you have: “Slim down to get into that LBD for your Christmas party”, “Eaten too many Easter eggs? Eat leaves for 2 weeks and you’ll lose the chocolate paunch” and “There’s an r in the month…don’t forget to diet”. Take your pick!

I don’t buy into any of the faddy nonsense. Maybe I’m lucky to maintain my model figure even with the delectable rich foods I have the pleasure of consuming from time to time. But then I do a lot of “exercise” to combat the bulge and I do believe I have mentioned shopping to be my sport of choice.

Today’s date is a mixture of eating fine food, shopping and a sweaty personal training session with “Zac” to top it all off in his Canary Wharf apartment.

“Zac’s” only requirement for me is to look pretty and demure for our public date and to change to temptress on our return. Simple. I can dress in a floating, feminine dress with heels and subtle, dewy eyed make up to make me look every inch the real woman that “Zac” likes to parade around with on his arm. The London model escort of his dreams to pander to his ego and hang off his every word. The attentive little lady who is a dream to wander round the boutiques in Chelsea with and tell him he looks fabulous and gorgeous in everything he tries on.

This perfect London escort will be “Zac’s” don’t-talk-back-goddess until we return to his luxury home and I change into my favourite Damaris Pannetoni underwear and a quick make up touch up and hair ruffle. He won’t know what hit him. Good food and a shopping trip always whets my appetite for more aerobic activities so being given the green light for leading the work out is definitely right up my street.

Thankfully I have enjoyed many dates with “Zac” and not only will I be guaranteed a great afternoon, maybe a small present or two and future bookings with the very talented investment broker; I shall treat him to his own private display of just how flexible a London Escort can be even after all the Christmas indulgences.

I’ve still got it baby…

A Little Culture

2012-01-05T07:45:00.000-08:00

When a client asks me to visit a museum with him (bear in mind there are many and I've visted them all in my time) I try and coincide it with a new exhibit or exhibition that will make the visit as interesting for me as it would for him.

"Sergi", a new Russian client of mine, is staying in south London for six months. He has a wife and children back in Moscow but wanted a professional and knowledgeable guide to show him the sights of the City. I have to laugh that he chose and elite model escort but I'm not complaining. So with 24 hours notice to prepare something, I had a good look at The British Museum. I thought you can't get much more British than the royal family so I booked us into the Mary Queen Of Scots and Royal Manuscripts exhibitions. It was the critics' choice so who was I to argue?

And then I thought, where would be the best place to dine? I have friends in various high places and one of my most important contacts works at Gordon Ramsay at Claridges. With that in mind, I asked him to slot us into a table for two, eating from the Menu Prestige. I quite fancy lobster - it's making my mouth water just thinking about it.

"Sergi" has booked my time for this week and next, asking me to come up with something completely different each time, no expense spared. I have suggested the theatre but I think he wants to do something that involves walking about. If the weather holds, I might suggest strolling the length of the South Bank, then we can look at St Pauls, Big Ben and The Houses of Parliament as we chat. I'm so clever! To finish off, I want to go to The Cirque Du Soleil who are performing until the end of the month. He'll need to sit down after strolling for miles... at any rate, I will!

I'm looking forward to tomorrow now, it'll help me work off those tins of Quality Street I dipped my hand into over December ;)

Miss Or Mistress?

2012-01-04T08:54:00.000-08:00

I have never been a mistress. Thank goodness. Many have tried to entice me into their web of deceit but I either tell them straight or I make a subtle side-step and reiterate that I work on a client-by-client basis. What brings me to this line of discussion? I have just come back from a belated Christmas lunch with "Henry" where his associates asked some very awkward questions about us, assuming I was his mistress because I sure as hell wasn't his wife!

Let me start from the beginning. "Henry" asked me to meet him on the Edgware Road at noon to run through some minor details before we went to lunch with his board of associates. He explained that there had been a set back before Christmas where everyone had contracted the same bug and they had arranged it for the new year. Considering the snow had a delaying effect on the festivities last year, I merely assented and promised to arrive in my classiest little black dress bought from Selfridges (at the same time as stripping their food hall of Christmas delights mid-December). And that was that.

The lunch turned out to be an intimate affair in one of the function rooms of the five-star Cumberland Hotel. As you would expect a party of high-class lawyers to be, there was no expense spared and the wine flowed freely - a little too freely. Tongues were loosened and the topic strayed from work to leisure. And then one of the senior partners turned to another (with me in earshot) and pronounced that he wished his mistress had legs like that. My head whipped round (I was mid conversation with one of the junior associates) and I caught a huddle of suits looking at me before they averted their eyes. Mistress! I looked around for "Henry" but he was talking to someone but I think he felt my glare because I indicated I wanted to talk to him outside. As it turns out, in order to impress these "somebodies" he wanted to give them something to talk about. I was being paid to be his companion but the look I gave him made it pretty clear I wasn't impressed. I made him order us a bottle of incredibly expensive champagne to make up for it and then spent the rest of the time nibbling his ear in full view of the Board.

Given what I do, I shouldn't really be concerned with being labelled. For the wives and girlfriends who have discovered their partner has been out with me, I've been called worse. Yet the term Mistress does irritate me because it will be a cold day in hell when i moon around after a man who isn't mine. And just to prove my point, I'm off out tonight to Aspinalls a Casino down the road from me in Mayfair. And no, I'm going out with three girlfriends to pick up three new guys to treat us to cocktails. Night night!

Saving For A Rainy Day

2012-01-03T09:10:00.000-08:00

Being in Switzerland has really given me the urge to go away somewhere - but a bit warmer this time! I just need to save up first. Christmas and skiing have wiped me out to the point where the computer says no. Don't get me wrong, there's room on my Mastercard for a weekend abroad somewhere, but I need my credit limit for emergencies ... such as the Louboutin sale on Motcomb Street in Knightsbridge.

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 time and a half - or a in-call becomes an over-night.

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 actually believe that I am their one and only but I never take them for granted. We set the ground rules before the date begins and never speak of money again thereafter... it makes me feel awkward. I am a very independent woman, like it or lump it.

So back to my holiday. I could make it a working holiday in an area Panache international escorts are known for. But just for once I'd like to switch my phone off and read a book, for what it's worth. I wish for a large swimming pool, a sun lounger and a dialect that I have to concentrate on to understand - and somewhere non touristy. A desert island perhaps! Hmmmm, I'm feeling a trip to the travel agent happening soon ...

But for now, I have to close my laptop down and concentrate on an evening with "Paul" who wants to try out The Cinammon Club in Westminster. Note to self not to wear white where curry is concerned. Night night!

Best of British...

2012-01-02T04:44:00.000-08:00

To think that after a lovely break skiing I would be able to take a few days off to relax my aching muscles would be foolish. To think that I would be the one, wanting to take a few days off to relax would also be foolish. I always love to get straight back into the saddle; especially for a new year. New year, new adventures.

I returned to good old Blighty with no ski goggle marks and minimal aches and pains. I think that “Claude” and I stretched the relevant muscles and joints to prepare me for a successful 2012 and to carry on my perfect London Elite Escort reputation by arranging a date straight away with “Hank”.

“Hank” is a very well known writer. All American man with the body of an English rugby player, “Hank” is a faithful client who enjoys the perfect London model when he’s in the City. “Hank” is young and rich and doesn’t mind reminding you. His whole take on contacting a London elite escort is that he loves London and he wants the best. He doesn’t want to waste his time over here on meeting people. He wants a good woman who knows what she’s about and with our track record of always having a fantastic time; he knows he is safe with me. We’ve already booked in another trip for me to accompany him to a huge fundraiser in New York next month.

“Hank” is in England to promote his new book and to soak up the sights. The sights being me in his luxury hotel suite in South Kensington playing out some very traditional English role play. He requested me cook him a roast dinner, dressed in a tight corset and full skirt with my hair in ringlets; very Victorian. One may think this is far too many clothes to be wearing to entice and seduce a hot blooded male, but like I always say, the customer is always right. He knows what he wants so I just oblige with my take on it. So, heaving bosom, sexy hair and appropriate make-up it was. Remember, this was just for starters!

After this act of “good little woman in the kitchen” and heavily clipped English accented sweet nothings, “Hank” was not interested in eating my sumptuous beef, he was more intent in tasting something else. Cue removal of corset and heavily layered skirts for a “taste” of something 100% British. Being a very chivalrous man, “Hank” definitely played the part of the true gent by making sure I was well catered for also.

I do like a man who goes straight for dessert…

Murren

2011-12-30T04:42:00.000-08:00

Days til New year - 2
Number of aching muscles - all of them!

It has just dawned on me that tomorrow is New Years Eve. I don't know how I managed to miss that one but as the week after Christmas is usually one long weekend (and here just a mass of snow) I suppose I can be forgiven. I'm thinking we should go to Grindlewald for the celebrations. Despite being very touristy and there will be a lot of traffic along the main road, I know that's where everyone will be and I am at my best surrounded by loads of people enjoying themselves. I can do quaint, sleepy villages when I retire!

Today "Claude" and I have planned to take a cable car to Murren's highest peak, Schilthorn. Being amazingly sunny today, we thought we'd visit it before the weather decides to change as is often the case up here. Inspired by his James Bond trail, "Claude" insisted we dine at the rotating James Bond themed restaurant. I wouldn't be surprised if he asks me to dress up as a Bond girl this New Year and offers me a Martini. I'm not sure how I would ski with a long dress on although I've seen some film stars manage it!

I suppose you may be wondering how our day went yesterday as the snow was falling so heavily. Well I managed to deck myself out in twenty waterproof layers and swapped my Gucci's for goggles. I followed "Claude" down the mountain towards Stechelberg, which is a sweet little village at the bottom of the cliff Murren sits on. There were so many European tourists there and the food and hospitality were simply amazing. I extricated my foot from my snow boot long enough to stroke "Claude"'s calf through his salapettes. Not the most erotic of gestures considering he couldn't feel it, but the sentiment was there. We've taken advantage of the log fire at the chalet every evening so far although I've had to remind him to stop rolling me towards the hearth as it burns!

So now we have to leave but we're not skiing down. "Claude" has hired a car for us as we are both dying from over exerting our knees. It's not so bad walking along, but starting from a sitting position or crouching on skis is a big no-no. To say we might have over-done the enthusiasm might be an understatement...

Apres Ski

2011-12-29T05:02:00.000-08:00

While I wait for "Claude" to come back from a morning on the slopes (snowboarding along with the other gorgeous Europeans I've noticed around the resort) I thought I would give myself a few minutes to brag about my amazing first day on a snow-capped Swiss mountain.

As I mentioned yesterday, our chalet is five-star gorgeousness wrapped up in wood panelling, fur rugs and a real log fire - desperately needed when it's -18 degrees Celcius outside. "Claude" complained bitterly of aching thighs when we went to dinner so I promised him a deep massage with essential oils which seemed to cheer him up.

I did manage to get out and have a swish-swish on the baby slopes to ease myself back into the swing of skiing. It has been a year since my last adventure on a mountain. I also fancied the instructor and took myself back to a beginner just so he'd have to show me "once more". The only thing was, once I had mastered the basics and my confidence returned, my charade fell away sharply. He looked at me doubtfully as I went from a mess of skis and boots to ploughing a straight and graceful line from top to bottom. Never mind.

My favourite part of the skiing experience is the apres ski, with the other residents, as afternoon turns to evening. We thought we would look at Horner as the bar is open til 12.30am with dancing til 2.30am. "Claude" is an excellent dancer although he said he would stay off the alcohol as a hangover at high altitude made him feel like death warmed up. I on the other hand, couldn't wait to taste the local brew and spent much of my time being chatted up by cheeky Germans. Lauterbrunnen is very German as it happens. The locally brewed beer and food (read: egg-topped rosti and bratwurst), down to cows grazing and picture-box buildings, looks like something out of a christmas card - very appropriate when you are skiing over the festive period. I simply love it. "Claude" says mountain air must agree with me because I was all ruddy-cheeked and sparkling eyes. He knows how to flatter a girl!

And now I am patiently waiting for my favourite international client to come with me down the mountain a little further to gorge ourselves on Swiss melted cheese and hot chocolate for lunch. I hope he comes back soon because I'm so warm and comfortable in here (it's snowing again!) that I may not move for the rest of the day. And that would be a shame when there's a whole afternoon ahead of me!

Lauterbrunnen

2011-12-28T03:37:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Switzerland!
Ahhhhhhh smell that fresh air ontop on a mountain! You can't beat it! I'm trussed up like a snowman in my thermal underwwear, salapettes, skiing jacket and thick gloves. But to top it all off, my Gucci glasses really do make me look like an authenic snow bunny. At least, that was the look I was going for. My lovely companion just grumbled there was too much of me covered up for his liking.

"Claude" and I arrived in Lauterbrunnen yesterday mid afternoon after a rather extravagant journey from Heathrow. I can't say I'd ever get used to flying in a private plane with champagne on tap, although "Claude" was very laissez-faire about the whole thing. He told me he doesn't drink champagne because it makes him sleepy. I tickled his thigh and said we couldn't possibly have that with his fantasy of joining the Mile High Club inches from our grasp.

As we drove into the Valley, once again I was blown away. Every time I come here I die and go to Skiing heaven. Lauterbrunnen has 72 waterfalls, alpine meadows, lonely mountain inns and is one of the biggest nature conservation areas in the country. I looked over at "Claude" and he just smiled at me. I know we've seen it all before, but how could anyone get used to such beauty? He says he never tires ofhe expression on my face when we arrive. I just reiterate that it's 100% genuine.

Our chalet this time is different from those we have stayed in before. With an open fire, fully fitted kitchen and a tub you could drown in, we have private luxury for a week. "Claude" also says he wants to ski the James Bond trail. I laughed and said he was welcome to cross-country ski the 11km; I'd be toasting myself by the fire while he did so. He chucked a snow ball at me and called me a lazy mare. Returning the snowball, I simply reminded him that I'd require the use of my thighs for other sports.

So here I am, writing away while he warms up those impressive muscles outside on the slopes. Of course I plan on skiing this holiday - what would be the point of coming otherwise? - but there is also shopping and a horse and carriage ride I want to try out. So much to do; so little time. I best get on with it!

Holidays Are Comin'

2011-12-27T04:03:00.000-08:00

Days til holiday – 0

Well, a working holiday, but a holiday nonetheless!!

I spent most of last night packing for fun and frolics in the snow. Thermals for the slopes and teeny tiny wisps of silk and lace for the cabin with the roaring fire. Lush.

“Claude” has arranged the whole trip. Car to pick me up from my Mayfair apartment, private plane to

Switzerland

and luxury all the way thereafter. So, regardless of my ‘friends with benefits’ deal with a gorgeous muscular man, I know I have to sing for my supper and make it worth his while.

“Claude” may be a PE teacher now, but he inherited a lot of money from a relative and definitely makes good use of his fortune. Considering he has a lot of time off in the year, he does like to travel and put his adrenaline junkie alter-ego to good use. He’s introduced me to sky diving and scuba diving in the most exotic of locations. I’ve introduced him to my extreme sport of shopping and battling the crowds on many occasions … oh, and we have also come up with some sporting events of our own!

So here I am, suitcase wide open on the bed, half a dozen jumpers, jeans and Long-Johns either inside or inches from it; my makeup, Gucci sunglasses; factor 30; thermal gloves and woolly hat nestled side-by side like some kind of contradiction. Thankfully, I will be hiring my skis and boots because I’m damned if I can carry anything else after this little lot – muscular date or no muscular date!

I spoke to “Claude” at 7am when he phoned to wake me up and remind me not to forget my passport. Considering I was fretting about how many pairs of matching knickers and bras I could fit in among my cashmere and angora, my passport was the least of my worries. To be fair to “Claude”, I told him I had it safely ensconced with my traveller’s cheques in my hand luggage and then jumped out of bed to retrieve it from my bedside table – I would have remembered it…!

So as I gather up all my belongings to fit into this ginormous suitcase-on-wheels, I may need a second muscular man to sit on it while I zip it closed. I’d better sign off now – speak to you tomorrow from the slopes!

Too Close For Comfort

2011-12-26T03:35:00.000-08:00

T-minus 1 day til Skiing! Items packed - 0. Hangovers - 1.

Merry Christmas...! I'm whispering this delicately thanks to a beating drum in the back of my skull. Despite feeling like death warmed up, I think I actually saw the sun come up for the first time since I-don't-know-when. Starting later in the day usually means I can roll in the door at 3am and still get a full 8 hours of shut-eye before starting all over again. There aren't many girls who can party all night and still look as fresh as a daisy; especially over the age of 21. I am straying off the point - why was I up at the crack of sparrows? I was recovering from shock. It has finally happened - someone in my family knows what I do.

Let me start at the beginning. I was in the Swiss Cottage area yesterday morning by 10am, arms laden with bags full of gifts and some of Selfridges' finest delicacies balanced on a tray. I could have baked but I am me...

Anyway, I trotted up the path to my eldest brother's front door, a cacophany of sounds already coming through the living room window and moving figures visible through the frosted glass. I braced myself and rang the bell. Thankfully my mother answered and extricated the food from my hands, kissing me hello and disappeared through to the kitchen. She called something along the lines of: "... Aunt's new boyfriend..." over her shoulder but I was too busy fluffing up my hair to hear the whole sentence. But I didn't need to. In the reflection of the mirror I saw a familiar figure. Not Grandad-familiar or Uncle Harry-familiar... but client-familiar!

My heart almost gave up there and then.

My Aunt's new man, all five foot six of him (I don't have many regular gentlemen who are the same height as myself and ginger, so he wasn't easy to mistake) was standing with my family, in my brother's kitchen, drinking out of a mug I'd bought big brother for his birthday. I did a quick calculation of how long it had been since "Gerry" and I last spoke - a year, maybe eighteen months? Perhaps he wouldn't remember me. As I walked into the room and kissed all hello, his face went grey. Perhaps not.

I remember "Gerry" for one thing - other than his height and hair colour - he likes girls who hum a tune while they're on their knees. I managed to get through a whole rendition of 'Abide With Me' during one date at The Stafford Hotel; albeit a slightly speeded up version with a few more verses than the original. Sometimes Sunday school has its advantages. I wondered briefly, while shaking his hand and saying "pleased to meet you", whether my Aunt had treated him to a hymn or a Take That classic.

All through dinner and nibbles in the evening, "Gerry" hardly spoke a word to me. I was grateful for that because it avoided asking 'so what do you do?' [Insurance broker]; 'where are you from?' [Fulham]; 'Do you have any kids?' [Christ, no!] I did however have a rather awkward washing-up-moment when said Aunt confided that "he might be the one!" I grinned and squealed as is my nature and said i hoped it worked out for her. Then I made a mental note not to visit til next Christmas or accept dinner invitations for the forseeable future.

For the first time in my life I was glad to escape on Christmas day. Grateful I live in Mayfair and that London is a large city you can get lost in. But oh my word, the nightmares I had last night about it all will haunt me for a week!

Good old spit and polish...

2011-12-23T02:12:00.000-08:00

Memo received from “Ian” read:

“Hello, just a quick one…please arrive promptly at 11.00am. Prepare to get down and dirty”.

My immediate thought was; fantastic. Arrive dressed to the nines to his luxury Mayfair apartment with a bag full of goodies and a few scenarios in mind.

The reality however was very different. I get to his door at 11 on the dot, dressed in a gorgeous combination of couture and designer delights for my outer and underwear, make up perfectly subtle and hair coiffed within an inch of its life to be greeted with a “Darling, that is not suitable for what you’ll be doing today” and an obligatory peck on the cheek.

“Ian” held the door open for me at least after his abrupt welcome and good job too; my face resembled that of a spoiled child having her favourite dolly taken away. All the time and effort I had made for him seemed to be totally dismissed. “Ian” handed me a suit carrier and told me to go into the bathroom and get changed. So there I was, swopping out of all my fabulous clothes in exchange for a very sexy and expensive French maids outfit. Okay, it wasn’t the Pucci I had paraded in with but it was interesting.

“Ian’s” idea of “get down and dirty” really didn’t translate into anything different.

I had only been introduced to this major stoke broker once so I didn’t know what to expect. I was to learn that he had more than a slight penchant for a beautiful model to dress in a miniscule maids outfit and clean for him. And when I say clean, I mean the whole 500 square meters!! Obviously during this time, he would be following me, barking his orders and watching me bend over and lean to reach the dustiest of places (which was very difficult bearing in mind his whole living space had already been cleaned to perfection by his hoard of cleaning staff). Occasionally I would get an appreciative pat on the bottom to show me I was working to the standard he required.

The last room in need of a good clean he told me was his bedroom. Of course... But in there was only one thing that needed buffing and that was his trophy. Though the excitement of the previous acts of real cleaning seemed to gear him into a frenzy as soon as I started on my spit and polish job.

Good job he had booked me for the whole day he told me after only 10 minutes of getting down on my knees for some vigorous work. There would be plenty more dirt to mop up!

2011-12-22T04:09:00.000-08:00

I believe shopping should be considered a sport. Its great exercise and creative and I love it. So, when a client asks me to help him Christmas shop, who am I to say no?

An ulterior motive for also receiving a present you say? Yes, it’s nice, but I can buy my own MAC seasonal box set, Gucci Shoes or Prada bag so I never expect anything. I just love fashion and pride myself on my impressive and extensive wardrobe.

“Stefan” is a very wealthy client. He is the joint owner of a designer lingerie house. His whole leave-it-to-the-last-minute attitude has meant with 4 days to go before Christmas he called in some favours from a certain Knightsbridge store owner for an after hours shopping spree.

All I can say is…WOW!! No other consumers to contend with. No window shoppers or people with tiny bags as they just bought one chocolate from the food hall to get past. We were two serious and accomplished shoppers. It’s a lot of fun trying on most things too as having an enviable model figure; I can pretty much get away with whatever a client requests I try on. And if I do say so myself, I can pull it off well.

At 2am we arrived at Harrods. “Stefan’s” version of Christmas shopping isn’t the most traditional of methods. He had already sent his PA to get the obligatory gifts for his nearest and dearest. “Stefan” wanted to treat himself and…myself! So we spent 4 hours trying on gorgeous gowns and suave suits; beautiful shoes and jewels and browsing the make up and fragrance lines. He knew by requesting my expert eye, he was going to get class and style and a fun companion. And fun it was. Being in a major store on your own is one of the most immense shopping experiences. It was fantastic to be the only people in there with the shop assistants fawning over us because they had the time! Plus, with “Stefan’s” name spreading like wildfire across the world, who would turn down the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the man himself?

Unbeknownst to me, “Stefan” had paid off some assistants in a certain area of the shop so that we could have a private fashion show parading just our birthday suits.

His was definitely impressive and he said mine was priceless. So, with nothing to unwrap, Christmas definitely “came” early in Harrods.

Living la vida...

2011-12-22T04:05:00.000-08:00

Something that is very few and far between and is completely non protocol as an elite London escort is to develop feelings for a client. Now, I’m not an ice queen who is incapable of love; I just love my freedom and independence.

I have been doing this job for a while and I have seen it happen. Other model escorts have fallen for the high profile client. The gentleman who treats them like a princess and looks after them. That is fantastic and wonderful for them, but it’s not my style to get involved with a man who is paying for my time and efforts. I have been very attracted to a lot of the men I “date” and have more than enjoyed a private cuddle with many of them, but that I think is as far as it goes for now.

I have had clients ask for my real name, direct number etc but I’m just not interested. I love the mystery and excitement and I think that is the point most of the time so why complicate things with a real life relationship.

In my line of London Elite, I know I can wear a wig, different make-up and be characters whomever my client chooses so why would I change that for the mundane light of reality? I’m still young. I am living la vida at present!! Jetting off to Dubai, New York or Milan at a moments notice. Learning languages, buying beautiful clothes and sharing intellect with other like minded dates. My social skills have kicked up by a million notches and I know I have learned a lot. I’m not glorifying my profession, I just adore my job and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I know my clients appreciate my thirst and drive for my job. I never fail to deliver and nor would I become complacent.

I have a woman client tonight. A beautiful bi-curious movie star. So despite the fact that my level of same sex, sex is purely acting for the clients benefit, I am more than happy to teach this starlet a thing or two or just satisfy her curiosity.

Her agent made contact and this is an overnighter in a gorgeous hotel for us to explore all the avenues of woman to woman adventures. So I have passed on a message for her to get in the necessary oils and ointments and I will bring toys and a little confidence juice. I never ask why a client wants to partake in this sort of thing. It’s not my business but it is my business to not give my clients any reasons for complaint.

So off to my “tool box” I go, to choose the perfect toys and attire to at least make this experience a memorable one.

It will be “props, lube…action”!!

Its a kinda magic...

2011-12-22T03:57:00.000-08:00

Okay, Winter weddings, Summer weddings, Spring weddings, Autumn weddings… whatever month you choose to celebrate your magical day; NOTE, I don’t find them magical! I have been to so many weddings. I have been in enough awful bridesmaid’s dresses and themed weddings to last me a lifetime. I’m not cynical. I can see the romance and dedication for the betrothed couple and the love that they share, but I am a busy lady! I like to think more of “save the date” cards being “save the date for a great trip to New York”.

So imagine my horror when “Rich” requested the pleasure of my company for his colleagues’ big day at the Ritz, London; black tie and ball gown shindig.

I have plenty of beautiful dresses and designer shoes to not worry about what I’m going to wear. It’s the thought of all these people acting like they have just been invited to this day to celebrate “Hello” magazine style and not actually care what the occasion is. But I will play the perfect London Elite escort and not let “Rich” out of my sight.

His only request for me is to play out the girlfriend experience and be attentive and then accompany him back to his penthouse suite for a night that will not reflect the romance and magic of a wedding, but to be whomever he wants me to be which is usually exciting and in some ways very sordid. That’s when the fun begins and the work stops. I don’t find it difficult to act out any scenario a man wants in the bedroom. I have enough experience with all kinds of men and women to know what works and what doesn’t. Also, that the old saying of the customer is always right was made up by a very clever escort.

My clients know from my fabulous London Elite Escort profile what I do or don’t like to partake in so there is never any confusion regarding wants or needs. If it says I’m up for anything, then who am I to disappoint?

So, being the professional model and doting “girlfriend” I know how important it is to be with a man as their partner should they request it. I know to laugh at his colleagues unfunny jokes and be charming and intelligent when the time is right.

But get me to the church on time it isn’t when we return to the safety net of the two of us after hours and he will definitely not be disappointed with our own “magic”. I thank you!

I aim to please...

2011-12-19T04:29:00.000-08:00

T minus 6 days till Christmas…panic!!

T minus 8 days till skiing…yes please!!

I would have a quiet panic about Christmas presents and food, but this year it’s all at my brothers and we are doing a secret Santa between the adults so it means only one present to get. Oh the joys of shopping online!! I’ve got my brother’s wife so visiting a certain designer online for a beautiful bag and scarf will get me major brownie points, bearing in mind I am always so busy I don’t see my family half as much as I should do!

I’m no stranger to battling hoards of people in shops and on the paths of London in between but I am fortunate enough to have the time in the week to avoid the crush and mayhem of weekends and holiday madness. My only venture out will be certain lunch dates or the occasional retail urge to purchase some new skiing attire. Okay, you got me; and some new make up, dresses and whatever other pretty things may take my fancy.

This weekend has been a blur of Christmas parties, sparkling casino trips and perfect London escort girlfriend experiences. I have been to Napoleons Casino in

Leicester Square

with “Gian” which was a massive whirl of gambling and champagne. “Gian” is a multi millionaire about twenty times over! He was frequenting the “big boys” table playing poker and throwing money in left, right and centre. He had already played Pretty Woman with me before we left his hotel suite. He gave me the most beautiful Tiffany’s necklace and Pucci dress to wear for the evening. He said it was a Christmas present, so I gave him a very special Christmas present when we returned to his luxury boudoir…well it was only fair.

I have also been to the Mera Club with “Robert” for dinner and drinks and to show off his entrepreneurial skills for his staff’s Christmas party. “Robert” owns a massive print company and only shows his face at Christmas so the fact that he has brought along a model as his “girlfriend” makes the big man look even more suave. His employees were in awe of the venue, party bags and entertainment and the male minions watched “Robert” with me hanging off his arm in admiration and huge lashings of jealousy! I charmed, danced and talked their boss up into a frenzy and mingled with the women and harmlessly flirted with the men. I was the perfect partner and this is why “Robert” chooses to take me abroad on his business ventures too.

I aim to please…

…and please I do!

Le Ski....

2011-12-16T06:12:00.000-08:00

I spied snowflakes out of my bedroom window this morning. We don't really get anything settling here in south-west London unless its absolute extreme weather so I didn't get overly excited. However I have had an invitation post Christmas week to go to Lauterbrunnen in Switzerland for skiing and of course, apres ski!

Lauterbrunnen is a pretty ski village nestled in a stunning Alpine valley at the head of a gorge of waterfalls, below Wengen and Mürren. It is one of my favourite places in the world - I'd love to live there one day or work a season just for the experience. You never know who you might meet!

Over the last few year I've had to acquire certain "skill sets" in order to survive all sorts of requests from clients. Once upon a time I would have put shopping on Oxford Street, dining in Leicester Square and walking in heels on my CV. However, learning to ski is the most challenging thing I have done so far and the only reason I started that was because one of my first ever dates was with a skiing instructor. He made it sound so glamorous that I allowed him to "teach" me on the dry ski slopes in Kent. As a matter of fact, I was bitten by the bug and our lessons were more about improving my technique in the Plough position rather than our technique in bed.

These days I travel to all over the world as much as I can to sample all the snowy delights of the mountains. I have become a real "snow bunny", trying new and difficult slopes. I especially enjoy passing young men on their snow boards who think they're semi-professional until I leave them standing. By the time they reach the bottom and realise it was a girl who showed them up, I am long gone for hot chocolate further down the mountain. Sometimes it works to my advantage and I may get a couple of phone numbers from it - so it can't be that ego denting!

I did consider booking my own Christmas break this year but instead was invited over to Switzerland by "Claude", a 30-something adrenaline junkie from Fulham. "Claude" is a foreign national, working as a PE teacher at a secondary school during term time and a extreme sports fanatic at all other times. We discovered each other and a mutual love of skiing over drinks at Carbon in Marble Arch.. "Claude" isn't a client, per se, but he has enlisted my help at social events at the school before. Primarily we are friends with benefits.

So I have the next 9 days to get through and then I'm off on the 27th for fun in proper snow. If I come back with a broken arm or leg I can always get someone to play "doctors and nurses" with me...!

Just observing...

2011-12-15T03:11:00.000-08:00

Today’s encounter is a ménage a trois with a twist.

I don’t have many couple clients. It’s usually neglected married men who have had no attention from their wives or have such a busy schedule that they are like passing ships in the night with their spouse’s; single workaholics and men who want something extra in their lives. It’s very unusual that a wife would book an elite London escort for themselves and their husband. The jealousy and arguments that have ensued in front of me is too much to bear for some envious women who feel a model escort is not healthy for their own lack of self confidence.

So, my phone rings and on the other end is “Carole”, a 48 year old ex model who is unhappy in her relationship with her husband.

“Gary” and “Carole” have been married for 25 years, have no children and have hit a slump. Nothing to do with lack of intimacy or constant rowing, they have just lost their sparkle. Enter…me! “Carole” hasn’t called me to show her what to do; to look on as her husband has his wicked way with me. Neither partner wants to step to the side, and that’s not what I am going there for.

We are all going out for dinner in South Kensington, something quiet and romantic and for me to watch how they interact and remind “Carole” how to flirt with her husband and to remind “Gary” how to appreciate his wife. I’m no counsellor and they both know that. This is just acting as a crutch for them both and to interject some fun; and then back to their super expensive house in

Park Lane

to check out their bedroom, living room, dining room…

I’ve spoken to and met “Carole” on many occasions. I’ve sought advice from her in previous modelling ventures and then becoming an elite escort, she has known my career path and never judged me. She knows how discrete I am and now it seems it’s a `you scratch my back-I’ll scratch yours` cash in.

“Carole” has only stipulated that she wants to be tonight’s vixen. I will look glamorous and pretty but she wants to look hot-hot-hot! And knowing “Carole” – she will!! On the occasions that we have met, she has always looked immaculate so I am not picturing BHS or Marks and Sparks grundies; she will be sexy and sensual in Coco and Agent Provocateur.

It would be a tough act to follow with her experience and sex appeal, so I am glad to be in the passenger seat tonight… for once!

Fizz & Bubbles

2011-12-14T04:21:00.000-08:00

Expensive champagne, diamonds and roses are a girl's best friend. I love a tall glass of golden liquid, effervescent with delicious bubbles. Mmmmmm just the thought of it makes my tongue tingle. But no cheap imitations please!

My gentlemen know how I like the finer things in life. My first taste of truly magnificent champagne came during an over-night stay at The Dorchester in Mayfair with a client called "Paul". "Paul" was twenty years my senior and a champagne connosieur. Earning a six-figure salary in the City, he never skimped on quality. I was simply dazzled.

We sat at a quiet table in the bar, myself in my first elegant designer cocktail dress, diamonds at my ears and throat. We had shopped first along Bond Street and he had picked me out accessories without even asking the price. The shop assistants looked on enviously as I tried my hardest not to squeak withe excitement. I think I may have been a little bit in love with him if I'm honest... But back to the matter at hand - champagne.

"Paul" signalled for the barman to come over and ordered two glasses of vintage Dom Perignon, smiling at me in the process.
'Have you tried champagne before?' he asked me. I grinned, 'only as a toast at weddings.'
'Then you're in for a treat!' was his enthusiastic reply and I half expected him to clap his hands. 'I will educate you tonight.' I felt so pampered as the barman returned with a silver tray.
"If you like it, we'll have a bottle. Hold the glass by the stem so the bowl doesn't become warm in your hand," "Paul" advised, leaning in close and tickling my ear with his voice. I did as I was told and my mouth exploded with taste and bubbles and ... deliciousness. I almost closed my eyes. The barman looked as delighted as my date. They chuckled knowingly between them and the bottle magically appeared on the table, nestled in an ice bucket. As I sipped, "Paul" gave me a little champagne history lesson, his voice wafting in and around my brain in a haze. We did manage to finish it between us, if you were wondering, and yes I did have to hold onto "Paul"'s arm afterwards as we headed upstairs.

I think I may have been spoilt from that moment on as I won't even touch a £20 bottle from Tesco now. How can you compare a Brut Cava to Dom Perignon at £70.00 by the glass or £650.00 a bottle? But several more dates with my champagne expert saw us supping Cristal, Krug and Bollinger at celebrity-named restaurants , Jumeirah Carlton Tower Hotel and The Ritz. I emptied my wardrobe of my most elegant outfits and he refilled it with gifts. We painted the town red for about a year together and became regular faces in the Chelsea and Kensington social circuit. It was at this point that I bought my Mayfair apartment which "Paul" came to view with me.

And then disaster! "Paul" went to Rio de Janeiro on business, met a fellow socialite in a five-star hotel and married her within weeks. Now she has taken my place on his arm and although I wish him well, it's very hard to give up such a fabulous lifestyle, even if it wasn't yours to begin with.

This Christmas I've treated my parents to a bottle of Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque which my Dad won't even have heard of but will enjoy with relish. "Paul" would have considered it cheap at £380.00 but I felt very glamorous walking back into the Dorchester and ordering a bottle 'to take away'...

Ever the professional...

2011-12-13T03:19:00.000-08:00

As Christmas fast approaches, I find my diary is chock-a-block with party and function invitations with clients and friends. Every evening is jam packed with cocktail parties or top London hotel Christmas do’s and I cannot wait to plan outfits for every single one of them!

The Savoy Strand hotel is tonight’s venue with “Marcus” as he prepares to impress his colleagues with his glamorous date…me! He’s sending a car to pick me up from my apartment at 8pm sharp and has requested I wear something classic but sexy and to pack an overnight bag with some less than classic but ultra sexy undergarments!

This may sound like your regular London elite escort request, but I have accompanied Marcus to many events and had quite a few private encounters with him so I know what ultra sexy means.

Your run of the mill lace push up bra and French knickers is nice, but nice isn’t good enough for this man. He wants sultry eyes and tousled hair, crotch less knickers and peep hole bras! He doesn’t want white, he wants electric blue or gold. He doesn’t like the bashful looks and shy retiring type; he wants the dominant, you will do as I say sex kitten. I always make sure I bring quite a few costume options to last the evening because I know he wants constant attention from his professional accomplice. He likes his women to be confident and expensive and to me, my attitude is not enough so I like to accessorize my skimpy scraps of material with jewels and pearls depending on the mood. Great fun!

Marcus is a divorced, 40 year old super bachelor. He loves his life as a multi millionaire media mogul and he loves the perks it comes with; the fast car, the uber expensive luxury riverside apartment and constant stream of female attention. But I know Marcus and I know any old hanger-on won’t cut the mustard at his annual company party. He knows with me, he gets beauty, brains and discretion. Bringing any old woman he will get a demanding, dense and fake creature that his critical colleagues will ridicule him for until the following year’s festive gathering.

Marcus would never want his colleagues to get a sniff of my real identity so he always brings me to his company events to keep my face constant and thankfully I have never run into another client. That would be awkward!

So off to my Narnia wardrobe to carefully craft my outerwear to impress and thrill Marcus and his jealous co workers.

Ta ta x

How To Get What You Want Without Asking For It

2011-12-12T04:20:00.000-08:00

Women are manipulative - even the ones who say they aren't have a more subtle undertaking to the art. As long as there is no element of demasculation, where is the harm? My mother used to say "Ask don't get; don't ask, don't want." I disagree.

Let me set the scene for you...

I was at Westfield shopping centre ten minutes from Paddington, this weekend with a rather delicious companion named "Victor". Among the throngs of shoppers, Christmas lights and designer stores, I actually managed to get a lot of my Christmas shopping done. I do love shopping dates because usually I wouldn't get the opportunity to spend a day queueing among other commoners, preferring to "add to cart" on Amazon.

So there we were, fingers entwined, our arms becoming full of branded carrier bags. "Victor" had dragged me into practically every men's clothes shop there was (who says men aren't fussy?) and I was thinking longingly of Kurt Geiger up on level one. I desperately wanted to slip my foot into the multi-coloured glitter stilettos that had been whispering lovingly to me from the website. As he tried on his fiftieth jumper, I was mentally itemising my wardrobe to justify £150 while subtracting the balance of my Mastercard from my credit limit.

Sensitive to the needs of others, I am pretty adept at diffusing a situation before it gets out of control and "Victor" was getting frustrated. I wanted my shoes and he wanted a change of scenery so I suggested Pret A Manger which was "coincidentally" on level one. Smelling the lure of coffee and fresh sandwiches, "Victor" offered me a smile as we ascended the escalator and I mentally calculated that it would take 30 seconds to pass my beautiful shoes once we were nourished.

A man with a full belly is a happy man - and a man open to bribery. Close to the cafe was a huge Apple store with plenty of shiny laptops and iPads murmuring sweet nothings. Attention diverted from Fairisle knitwear, "Victor" swung his hips through the door and took in a lungful of Broadband. A super-elite model escort such as myself must have patience as a virtue: the patience to accept her needs come after those of her date. I watched "Victor" dribble over a MacBook Pro and counted down the minutes until I could lick the heel of that display shoe.

And then... a boon! "Victor" planted a kiss on my forehead and said, "darling, you have been so patient with me today. Let me buy my beautiful girl a Christmas present. Shall we look at something for you?" I could have wept. "Oh you don't have to do that..." I said through my lashes. He made a sort of pooh-pooh noise and we fell into step... right past Kurt Geiger. And there they were... in the window, dazzling under the lights as I knew they would be... my shoes. Ten minutes later I had a shiny gift bag dangling from my arm and my date was looking very pleased with himself as I let him "choose" a pair, though I can't say product placement didn't play a part.

Call me manipulative then, if you want but you can't say that my gentleman friend wasn't completely happy to make me happy. The date had, as always, been about him and a trip to W12. I'm a big fan of west London, especially now I know where Kurt Geiger has an amazing store!

The element of surprise...

2011-12-09T02:47:00.000-08:00

Tonight I am going back to the girlfriend experience with a twist! “Lawrence” has made it clear that he wants to be surprised and wowed by something I choose to do for us but he of course will be paying.

Lawrence has not had a long term girlfriend due to his busy lifestyle. Being president of his company, a massive record label, he doesn’t have time to concentrate on a partnership but still enjoys intimate moments and the closeness of having an attentive woman on his arm. At 39, Lawrence has never been married, nor had kids but still wants to play girlfriend/boyfriend with me this evening with plenty of good old fashioned hand holding and loving eyes.

I like that he has given me the responsibility of choosing his surprise evening. I’m not going to choose anything too flashy. Nothing too “out there” because he has made it very clear that he wants to blend into the crowd and just be perceived as another couple out for the night.

My first port of call to get inspiration was visiting my wardrobe! Okay, maybe this isn’t deemed necessary to many but to me this is the focal point of how our date will begin…and end. I want to look like someone’s girlfriend. So still looking sexy and pretty, but not with an over the top cocktail dress which may not be appropriate attire for where I am planning for us to go. Looking great for a man is just as important as the venue of the date itself. To me, being in a relationship is about keeping things fresh and as exciting as the first time you met. Tonight I am going for a gorgeous mini dress with heels and leaving my long chestnut hair flowing down my back so I have plenty to twiddle round my finger when I flirt innocently with “my man”.

I’ve decided to keep tonight simple. We’re going to have dinner in Covent Garden. Good food and romantic setting. Then we’re going to see a fabulous West End theatre show. My reasoning behind this is we can eat, have great entertainment and then there is plenty of time to enjoy each other back at his Canary Wharf riverside apartment. That’s one of the perks of booking your elite escort for a girlfriend experience. Enjoying the whole evening and an overnight stay. So my overnight bag will be carefully packed with the essentials plus some extra goodies should he choose something a little more kinky from me.

So, time to get online and start researching for tonight with my good girlfriend hat on!

Santa Baby

2011-12-08T06:15:00.000-08:00

"Santa Honey, fill my stockings with a duplex and cheques..."

I can't wait for the 25th December. I've already written to Father Christmas stating that I have been a good girl all year - I've paid my Mastercard on time and put the look of joy on many a client's face. I think that means I'm entitled to a sparkly something-or-other from Selfridges or a 80ml bottle of Lady Million by Paco Rabanne, I also fancy some silk stockings to put on my mantle piece on Christmas Eve.

Speaking of which....

Today I bought some candy-striped stockings with fluff and ribbons. These are at the request of "George" an older client of mine who would like me to sit on his knee and tell him all my wants and desires for the festive season. To compliment them I have red french knickers and a red bra. "George" fancies himself as the young St Nick of Belgravia. His fashionable 1820's terraced house sports a Christmas tree from Harrods in the huge bay window and a thousand tiny white lights from Knightsbridge adorn the roof and drain pipes. I scarcely hear from him all year until December rolls around and then we make a booking for early December and Christmas Eve (I have to make sure I'm free from 12pm until 3pm) for a private party in front of the fire. The bit I love the most is opening a present addressed to me. I have to open it slowly, relishing the ribbon and bow and where he can watch my face. "George's" reward for a perfect gift choice comes in unwrapping me resplendent in my red lingerie. This year I may even buy an Ann Summer's satin red bow wrap.

So this early December date is booked for tonight. We are meeting at The London Eye for mulled wine and mince pies in our own private capsule. As the wheel climbs for thirty minutes, hopefully we'll have a clear night with the whole of the City stretched out below us. With the South bank, Westminster, so close, "George" has decided to book us into Brassierie Joel, a French Brasserie restaurant near the Houses of Parliament and National Theatre. As you may have guessed, there's a £75 set Christmas menu to enjoy although I don't know what's on it!

"George" brings out the little kid in me. I love Christmas but he likes to make it special and his enthusiasm is infectuous. I almost get to the point where I wish I could see more of "George" rather than just as my own personal Santa Claus. The only thing I get slightly weirded out by is his obsession with growing his beard until the grey shows through. However, as long as he doesn't buy a red velvet suit, we'll be OK.

My city never sleeps...

2011-12-07T08:33:00.000-08:00

The old saying hails New York as the city that never sleeps. I agree; but I would also like to add London as a very close second.

My city is fast paced, exciting and vibrant if you know where to go. Yes, many clubs close at 3am, but the “after hours” clubs go on all night, all morning and pretty much all day! It’s a refreshing change from going to business functions, classy casinos and dinner dates. I can be exuberant, feisty and creative and I thrive on the thrill of exciting my partner. As much as I love a slap up meal, shopping in London’s most expensive stores and talking shop, I do like to flaunt my elite model escort body and give my clients their money’s worth.

We can all soak up the nightlife with a trip to the theatre and an after-theatre meal, but I mean do enjoy fraternising with a client at a very late night venue. Tonight, I will be going to an exclusive club with “Samuel” and partaking in some dusk till dawn jollies with some like-minded people. We are frequenting a Soho favourite of mine and Samuel’s (a very sexy regular), for some group antics and a great laugh. We dress to the nines and make sure of course we are wearing our best underwear and go in with a very open mind.

Forget ménage a trois and picture more anything goes, with anybody and exclusive viewings. Samuel and I do like to select the finest of party goers to join us in a getting to know you better session. And the best thing about it is that I know a lot of my “colleagues” if you like, will be there tonight and we do like to show off to each other and also learn on the job with each other if ever requested. Occasionally the client will cotton on that we are singing from the same hymn sheet and we will get more work when they do request the pleasure of a smaller intimate gathering.

“Vanessa” and “Amy” will be at said club this evening and we are going to spend the afternoon shopping and going to see the infamous Mona, our faithful beauty therapist for some major buffing and waxing and Selfridges for gorgeous couture and Coco de Mer for some stunning underwear. Then…major catch up and gossip over lunch.

Fabulous daahhhliiiinnnnggg…

Curves In All The Right Places

2011-12-06T03:09:00.000-08:00

I have a black and white canvas in my boudoir here in Mayfair. It hangs directly above the bed, stretching from one side of the bedstead to the other. The image is of Marilyn Monroe, pouting sensuously into the camera and many of my clients comment on it. They tell me that she is the epitome of all that is womanly. I like to hear this because it reminds me that men like curves and I dip in and out like an hour-glass.

My male friends here in London constantly remind me that men do not enjoy making love to a woman with corners. Every time I refuse a pudding or complain my jeans are getting a fraction too snug, they leer crudely at my bottom. Within seconds, someone has made a comment about it giving them something to hold on to. That's not to say that I don't look after myself; a model escort has to care about her appearance and if you know anything about me by now, it's that I am a tad vain. It's just that I'm not struggling to maintain a size zero frame. If I dropped down to a Victoria Beckham figure, I would simply disappear. Just because it looks good on her, doesn't mean I want to copy it.

Being fuller in the bust and hips also gives me a wider choice in lingerie, such as Figleaves.com. I enjoy lacy basques and hipster briefs that cover a lot but promise so much. A hint of buttock and deep cleavage set pulses racing more than a thong and peep-hole bra. I like to suggest what is on offer rather than laying the goods out on the table. Don't misunderstand me - I have said thongs by the plenty - but I try to be seductive. This Christmas I have my eye on their Mia balconette basque. I'm just toying with whether I want it in red, champagne or both.

When I look at centuries-old paintings and sculptures, they all depict rounded bosoms, bottoms and tummies. Rubenesque women were admired for being voluptuous and these days, a small waist and fuller bust looks amazing poured into a wiggle dress. But feeling sexy is about attitude. One Chelsea model friend of mine gained more work as she gained a few pounds. She was gorgeous before she went up a dress size and simply beautiful afterwards. She said her confidence soared and she felt more sensual. Obviously this came across in her aura as men flocked to her like bees around a honey pot! Soon her dates had gone from the odd Knightsbridge hotel to meals out at exclusive Picadilly restaurants and celebrity dates at Kensington Casinos. Don't tell, but her regular GFE is with a premiership footballer!

So with barely three weeks left til Christmas, I'm not going to be depriving myself while enjoying the festivities. I'm well aware of my limits but if someone wants to throw me a handful of Quality Street, I won't be saying no.

Beauty and a Geek?

2011-12-05T02:59:00.000-08:00

One of the things I love about my job is the wide variety of men I meet.

It’s not all about the looks. It’s not always about the clothes or money. It’s sometimes about the brains and a lot of the time, that is attractive in itself.

I enjoy talking politics or the current economic crisis to exercise my brain. Some clients want to have dinner and drinks and discuss current affairs or business with the company of their elite London escort. Model looks and designer dresses couldn’t be further from their minds when they take me for a fantastic meal at one of London’s finest eateries. It’s only when we return to their luxury apartments or hotel suites that they want the topic of conversation to switch from intellect to innuendo.

It’s not so much a challenge for me to discuss the worries of the world. I’m an intelligent woman and it’s very rare that I don’t keep up to date with the news to understand what the world is up to of late so this evenings date with “Patrick” for dinner and a trip to the theatre will be a fabulous evening of canny discussions and topical debates.

Patrick, although largely intelligent and prone to the occasional heated exchange is very witty and great company. He does like me to look as model perfect as I can with feminine beauty and subtle girly flirting but also to give him a genuine, unscripted run for his money.

Patrick is a shrewd and successful business man. He is a multi-millionaire and is only based in London once or twice every 6 months due to his unbelievably busy schedule; flying to Hong Kong and Dubai at a moments notice to expand his ever growing empire. But when he is lucky enough to have some “me-time”, he never forgets to give me a call to relax. Even if he requests my company to go shopping or to have lunch, we always end up in a friendly debate but always manage to put those differences to the side when we come together to be very agreeable in his Knightsbridge penthouse!

So for me, it’s not about the classic Chanel separates and hair tied in a bun, glasses on the end of my nose ensemble, to look intelligent. I know I can dress to impress and still hold my own in a mind battle.

I am acutely aware of my model looks to wow my date, but when it’s required. I have the capability to be very attractive with what’s inside my perfectly plucked, dyed and made up head too.

A Well Spoken Woman

2011-12-02T03:56:00.000-08:00

Further to my post the other day about being well educated, I was thinking about the way I bring myself over to people. Am I coming across as a girl from the Home Counties or a girl from the back end of beyond? Are my vowels as rounded as my hips?

The reason for musing about this is that I have a date this weekend with "Francis". Francis is recently divorced and has moved down from Newcastle to start a new life. He has taken a flat in Chelsea and is keen to get to know London on a wider scale than just around his local area. However, he wants someone with a well educated accent just to polish off the experience. He laughed at himself while he was on the phone to me, which made me instantly warm to him, explaining that he gets turned on by the idea of taking a lady out for the day. I told him I would do my best to fit his ideal - then had a quiet panic.

I wouldn't consider myself to have a broad London accent - it is neither Hampstead nor Hackney but somewhere inbetween. So the first thing I did was ring another model escort friend of mine to ask her opinion. "Would you say I speak properly?" I interjected suddenly mid conversation. I think she was taken aback but answered truthfully: "yes when you think about it." I admired her honesty and resolved to abstain from swearing from that moment on. Which is very difficult when you're consciously thinking about it.

So I began wondering what sort of outfit a "well educated girl" wears without looking like she has stepped out of an edition of Horse & Hound. Understanding that I would have to give my Mastercard a thrashing, I made an appointment at Diverse, a high-end boutique in Islington, just by the Angel tube station. A few hundred pounds later, retail therapy had bought me an Isabel Marant dress and Alexander McQueen shoes. It was a very extravagant purchase but I talked myself into it by reasoning that they were "staple items" for my wardrobe.

My 'look' justified and my accent polished, left one more thing - a date where a well spoken would fit right in. "Francis" has left the finer details to me, just asking that I pass him the final bill at the end. So I have decided on a cultural tour of our finest galleries and museums (The Tate and V&A for starters) and then a West End musical for the evening. While I think I can keep up my plummy accent whilst talking knowledgeably about art, I may struggle during a stage show. So I chose The Phantom Of The Opera where I knew I wouldn't have to talk at all!

"Francis" is meeting me at his flat tomorrow at 9am so we can go for breakfast. I hope I can keep up my little act for the full twelve hours - wish me luck!

"Me time"

2011-12-01T03:03:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I will be enjoying afternoon tea at the Ritz with “Stefan”, a French businessman who delights in all the finest things in life. He has requested the pleasure of a demure, sweet elite escort, for some company over tea and sandwiches and then back to his luxury hotel suite in South Kensington.

“Stefan” is a very high class man who expects class and expensive taste. He is on business for 3 days in London and we have enjoyed a few dates precious to today’s encounter. He always books mid afternoon, which is his “me-time” as many of his conferences are in the evening and they really are all business so I cannot join him and impress and wow his colleagues. He is a very private man and feels perhaps with a close knit set of co-workers they would know he is hiring his date; albeit a very beautiful and professional one.

So this morning I will be coiffing, waxing and plucking to perfection and choosing my most beautiful designer threads for our midday soiree. I decide on a fantastic mix of Chanel and Donna Karan, with my La Perla underwear, Givenchy scent and London charm!

I always enjoy playing the sweet lunch partner who bats her eyelids and nods agreeably while “Stefan” sets the world to rights. He enjoys the attention and no element of a power struggle because he is the man and I am the perfect woman. The only advice I offer is that of any places in London that he may want to entertain clients at; a fantastic restaurant in Chelsea, a classy Casino in Mayfair. I advise only the best of course because if his associates are impressed by my recommendations, it may result in a new pair of Jimmy’s for me!

“Stefan” is the perfect gentleman and even back at his hotel suite, he treats me like a lady and I in turn treat him like a man. It is all very “Gone with the Wind” romantic.

I think he enjoys the comfort and closeness of a more “loving” relationship for those few hours. Traditional and chivalrous, a concept that a very busy and successful businessman lacks, and I, being the fabulous elite escort that I am, can certainly inject some intimacy into his time off.

I have a lot of clients like “Stefan” who ask specifically for the girlfriend experience and just a few hours of feeling like they are in a relationship. I guess it’s what all busy professionals need to give them some “me time”.

My “me time” is my very close and personal relationship with my bank card and London’s best stores. Mmmmm…pure pleasure!

Educating Rita

2011-11-30T03:05:00.000-08:00

I would like to clarify one thing - I am not a stereotype. Please don't compartmentalise me into a box labelled "Bimbo" because one of the things I pride myself on is my ability to talk knowledgeably about current affairs and wax lyrical on Economics. I have a 2:1 degree from City University and I'd like to say I am a middle class business woman. A big chest can mean a big IQ.

So what makes a clever, educated woman want to turn into a complete airhead? The simple answer is role-play. This afternoon I am heading over to St John's Wood for an in-call at the elegant home of "Lucas". Lucas is a professor of English at Cambridge and is both gentlemanly and reserved. But outward appearances can be deceptive. Close to Regents Park and Westminster, St John's Wood is home to some of the most expensive properties in London. Behind the Victorian oak front door with its stained glass, lies a man who is not afraid to show me some discipline in the classroom.

"Lucas" phoned the agency and asked for an open-minded Elite Model Escort, not afraid to accept new challenges. When I spoke to him he told me he wanted to book three separate dates where he could lecture me in his favourite subject and then I was to take an exam at the end of it. Coursework makes up 50% of my final grade but should I misbehave in class, there will be detention (I charge him an hourly rate for any time over!) and corporal punishment.

I arrive with a school satchel, books clasped to my chest and wire rimmed glasses on my nose. "Lucas", slightly greying, late forties and distinguished, ushers me inside and down the front hall to his classroom. A chalk board is set up at one end with a desk and chair set back. I am wearing a pleated skirt and blouse, stockings just visible above my hem line and sit quietly down. "Lucas" resplendent in a black gown, picks up a wooden pointer and starts tapping it against his palm. I have a feeling that should I misbehave, I am going to be disciplined right across my backside. A little erotic humiliation for the curriculum.

"Lucas" appreciates my empty-headed charm and spends our three dates enjoying educating me on verbs and tenses. I travel back to Mayfair with a rather red bottom and amuse the taxi-driver no end by wincing every time we go over a speed bump.

So how do I feel about going back to school for some extra tuition? It's certainly harder these days than when I was a pupil but I tell you what, misbehaving in class was never so much fun!

A fashionista's cardinal sin

2011-11-29T03:43:00.000-08:00

Before I entered the world of being an elite escort; before I even started modelling, I had a certain style. That style was not “hooker chic”, so the tabloids are calling it.

I look around when I’m being driven to meet clients or meeting friends in the evenings and I can’t really believe my eyes. Young girls committing the cardinal sin…Legs and chest, both on display. Ouch, my eyes! It is never acceptable to mix cleavage and thigh.

Being an elite escort, I know how to look classy in public and slightly less demure in private.

Yes, as a London escort I know the tricks of the trade, but some clients are not as fortunate. I was going to accompany “Alex” to a very classy casino and I had my attire worked out. Long dress, low, yet subtle cleavage and sexy, sultry make up. “Alex” requested however, that I wear a short dress with plenty of cleavage and sky scraper heels, heaps of make up and tousled bed hair. I knew this was not the way to go at such a venue but he insisted. Well, I arrived with him, looking like a cheap prostitute, not the London model escort I pride myself on being, and attracted all sorts of attention which “Alex” was not impressed about at all. Note to self…do speak up with a client. Let them know that you will do whatever and wear whatever when its appropriate. I never saw “Alex” again. Oops.

It’s not even about designer names, it’s about knowing how to work with what you’ve got and be confident. If I’m wearing a longer skirt or trousers, I know I can have a plunging neckline or backless top. I also know if I wear tailored shorts or a shorter hem line, there will be no cleavage on display.

I’m lucky in my line of work having the time to go through fashion magazines and go searching in London’s finest boutiques and stores to find the most gorgeous treasures that I can team up with high street imitations (ssshhhhhh…our secret).

London’s Selfridges has unique designers and even if I’m just window shopping, I will remember like a catalogue in my mind, so when a client fancies treating me, I can go straight to the department and not look so high-maintenance by making him search for hours for my perfect gift.

I love to experiment with looks. I love to experiment in the bedroom. So with these two ideals, I do give my clients their money’s worth and my wardrobe a great work out!

Be Prepared!

2011-11-28T04:32:00.000-08:00

I was never a Girl Guide, Brownie or similar. I think I should have been so wiring a plug or tying a slip-knot wouldn't mean finding a man to help me - I hate to play the "useless female" card. Still, I have learnt in the last few years that preparation is key.

For example, I take my Marc Jacobs bag with me everywhere I go which is packed with essentials. A virtual Tardis, this bag is my life in canvas.The Escorts Guide To Packing must include (but is not limited to) the following: baby-wipes, deodorant, spare underwear, an unlabelled bottle of lube, a wallet containing cash and cards and the tiniest bag of makeup. I also carry a bag of doggy treats.

Before you laugh, please hear me out. I have three clients who own dogs and these dogs play an important role in their lives. Devoid of a permanent sexual partner, each of my dates dotes on their canine familiar with startling affection. Before hiring me they asked whether I was au fait with walks in the country (read Surrey) and whether I owned a pair of Wellington boots. I assumed that my middle-class men were after a "hooray Henrietta" type and purchased a £300 tweed jacket from John Lewis in Brent Cross.

Well, the first date really did mean 'a walk in the country'. Hiking across hills and dales with three over boisterous Labradors (no, paw prints do not remove easily from said expensive tweed jacket) left me pink cheeked and wind-swept. While I was horrified at looking like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards, this date was delighted and became quite amorous in the long grass among the thistles. And in order to get the dogs to "stay!", the bag of doggy treats came in very handy!

I know London like the back of my hand but in order to do this I've walked the length and breadth
several times over. I am a virtual A-Z of back streets, lanes, hidey-holes and exclusive clubs you might not necessarily know were there. I can cover all of London in a month without realising it. My main objective is ensuring if we can't get into a restaurant in Sloane Square I will know a cafe at Lancaster Gate that I recommend highly. And everything is put into my trusty FiloFax for future planning and referencing.

So now I take nothing for granted. I expect the unexpected and try to cater for all tastes. I am a true professional over all eventualities as impressing means repeat business. London Escorts aren't just pretty faces you know, we are business women with a degree in hospitality.

I heart NY

2011-11-25T02:56:00.000-08:00

I have a busy weekend ahead. I’m flying out from London Heathrow to New York to be the perfect escort for “James”. I can’t wait to meet “James”. I’ve had a profile and picture and I can tell you, I like what I see! It’s rare for me with all the requests from my regular clients to have a new one and have the time to accompany him for a weekend away.

“James”, is a 35 year old managing director of a fashion house. He’s a multi-millionaire and has no time for a relationship. He has requested the pleasure of my company for 3 days and we will be entertaining a prospective New York fashion company to expand on his empire. He requested me because of my classy looks but he liked the seductive look in my eyes from my profile. So, I’m pulling out all the stops in terms of wardrobe. Being in fashion himself, I know I have to look the part and I will be the best model escort in my designer dresses and fashionable look. He’s flying me to New York, business class so I will have time to prepare my attire without having to sit for 6 hours on the flight, risking wrinkles and imperfect make-up.

I will meet him the other end and he will be whisking me off to the Waldorf Hotel. He has requested the most expensive lace and silk underwear when I am privately entertaining him so in-between entertaining his clients, he wants a mini girlfriend experience and to feel the closeness he misses from having a partner. But I will add my own flair into his GFE. For a man to miss the partnership, I will be everything he desires from a woman in the 3 days. Attentive and sweet in front of his clients, then sexy and uninhibited in private.

The thing about requesting the pleasure of being accompanied by an Elite Escort is not just having a trophy model on your arm. Being intelligent, sophisticated, attentive and beautiful is the key to the client coming back for more.

I know business and I know the importance of socialising. I know “James” is planning on a Broadway Show, dinner at the expensive Masa, and dancing at Jay Z’s club, The 40/40 Club. So appropriate footwear and clothing have been carefully selected. I need to be current and edgy and simply, wow.

Other than the underwear, “James” has asked for me to be prepared for any eventuality. If we happen to stumble across a club, much like a hidden London’s Soho private function, he wants me to be open minded enough and leave enough space in my clutch for discarded undergarments. Ever the professional escort, this hasn’t even phased me. I have done my research and look forward to some New York fetish.

I’m a pro darling…

Keeping Us In Suspen(der)s...

2011-11-24T11:47:00.000-08:00

There's one thing I've noticed recently whilst walking down the Kings Road - the Lingerie shops and high street fashion chains have brought back stockings and suspenders - even as a fashion item. I think I might have heard a resounding roar of approval from all man-kind just then.

Suspenders and all the lacy paraphernalia that go with them are a real favourite of mine and a hit with all my clients. I have done away with panty-hose forever. No more sheer, ladder resistant, support tights for me. No Sir. It's all about the run of lace around a creamy thigh that sends my dates into a quivering wreck.

Just lately I have taken to wearing dresses for day time as well as evening. The whole hold-ups fetish started with one strong demand from a customer: that I wear silk stockings for our date to the Mint Casino in Knightsbridge. I heard that he is the least demanding client I could hope for but he does have strong ideas about what he likes his girls to wear. Model Escorts know that looking good for a date is a prerequisite of the job. That means getting her underwear, outerwear and accessories to marry together into the perfect package. You have heard me mention that getting ready will take me at least two hours but I didn't put buying the items onto that time-scale.

It took me ages to find some!

I was hard pressed to find silk as everywhere sold nylon. I ended up in Agent Provocateur in Harrods, Brompton Road. Oh my word, it was like an Aladdin's Cave for me. I could have spent an absolute fortune cladding my legs in black silk. As it was, these cost me £45. I just prayed to God that his fantasy wasn't to rip them off me! I was lucky, however. As the roulette wheels were turning and the Black Jack tables filling up, he kept popping his hand just under the hem of my dress to check they were still done up. At least I think that's what he was after. Occasionally I found another fifty pound note clipped onto the suspender belt.

It's great fun being a girl. I find that I walk with a wiggle when I'm in high heels but with the winter weather fast upon us, going bare legged is out of the question. To be fair, I can't keep up with my sun tan anyway; fake bake legs with a pale rest-of-me looks wrong. Sometimes pale is interesting.

So now my underwear drawer boasts hold-ups, suspender belts and stockings in an array of colours. I even treated myself to a pair of thigh-high knitted socks. You would not believe the stir those caused with a cheeky mini skirt and a t-shirt...!

Is this seat taken?

2011-11-23T02:53:00.000-08:00

This evening I have a sexy-stranger scenario style date. Lonely, beautiful woman sits alone at a bar. Sexy, handsome stranger approaches and uses his boyish charm and black AMEX to cheer her up.

“Chris”, is a 40 something married music producer. He’s smart, witty, filthy rich and gorgeous. I’ve had a working relationship with Chris for 2 years now and we’ve enjoyed some great girlfriend experience dates, late night rendezvous’ in London’s Soho and I have accompanied him on many overseas business trips. “Chris” is a self confessed attention seeker and what he doesn’t get from his stable life at home, he certainly gets every pennies worth from me as his elite escort. Our first meeting was at a private party in a member’s only club where we proceeded to get to know each other and allow everyone else to get to know us, as we engaged a not-so-private glass room. Chris could not contain his excitement at being the envy of all these rich socialites basking in the knowledge that they were totally unaware that his scantily clad partner was a model escort.

Tonight I am to be sitting alone in the Rumi Bar, dressed to impress and sipping a Cosmopolitan. “Chris” will be strategically placed in the bar with a colleague, talking facts and figures yet mentally undressing me and trying to catch my eye as I look back coyly. He will cut his meeting short and impress his colleague as he approaches the London model that is all alone and joins her, waving him goodbye with a smug look on his face. Then he will make a grand show to all around at how chivalrous he is by joining me and buying me drinks. A couple of hours of outrageous flirting will commence until he leads me outside by the small of my back suggesting to all and sundry that he is taking me home; which of course he is, back to his hotel room in one of London’s finest.

So, looking exquisite, yet slightly forlorn and in need of a companion will be perfected by shopping for a new dress (any excuse) and going to see Mona my beauty therapist for some tips on how to get the doe eyed but sultry make-up effect.

I’m looking forward to visiting London’s Harvey Nichols to purchase that slinky satin Donna Karan with the high yet tasteful split up the side and 5 inch Giuseppe Zanotti sandals.

The excitement of that alone will set me up for the night ahead.

It's All About The Money

2011-11-22T06:34:00.000-08:00

You might think living the life of an elite model escort is glamorous, thrilling and spontaneous. For the most part I would agree with you. I like the variation and I get a high from the thrills and whims of my clients. However, there is also the issue of money - the price a man is willing to pay for the attention of a beautiful woman.

There is nothing seedy about wanting to take a beautiful blonde or busty brunette out to dinner in London for a little talk, dancing and wine. No one has to know how you met because they wouldn't necessarily be privy to the truth should they ask. I don't use a social function as an opportunity to network - that would be uncouth. My clients are often repeat business or they have stumbled across me whilst browsing the site. It's not as though I have a selection of business cards reading: ESCORT as my chosen profession, ready to hand out at any given opportunity. For the time I'm with my date, he is the important one because it is his money we are enjoying and we only speak about it once in the evening.

That said, I have some regular clients for whom money is not an issue and they will talk about it til the cows come home. These are the dates that leave me breathless. I can be sunning myself on the deck of a yacht on the shores of Dubai and wonder how on earth I got there! When I have had a champagne breakfast with strawberries and massaged with coconut oil - all in the name of work - I sometimes think I'm the luckiest girl in the world. I have seen so much in so little time and I can't say I would have had the opportunity, had I decided to take a job in an office elsewhere in the city.

Closer to home, with the sights and sounds of London all around us, who could resist a lavish lunch at the OXO tower with that amazing view spread out before them? We Londoners sometimes forget how fortunate we are as we go about our daily business. Apart from the attractions, we also have the simplicity of our parks especially Hyde Park near Bayswater. At this time of year there is the amazing Winter Wonderland Christmas Fayre. I hope I have a client soon who wants to take me around all the dlightful stalls and on a few rides. I love to have fun with my gentlemen as it helps with our level of intimacy and makes things all the more memorable for him.

So no matter what is being spent and where it is, I know exactly how to get the best from my date - after all, treats aren't just for birthdays and Christmas...

We're just ordinary people...

2011-11-21T03:12:00.000-08:00

The way I work to be the best London Elite Escort is to stick to my 3 golden rules:

I never judge, I never question and I never refuse (within reason).

If I’m asked to dress up as Little Naughty Riding Hood or innocent, angelic, damsel in distress, who am I to argue?

So today’s lunch time escapades with “George” in his London Apartment in Chelsea is no exception. He has requested I arrive at his home in full costume. Costume being, hair severely pulled off my face, high necked baggy jumper and long shapeless skirt with flat shoes. Oh, and no underwear.

George wants me to look as though I have zero sex-appeal to the outside world, unbeknownst to them that I have no smalls on and that I have the body of a high class model. Having “worked” with George before, he loves the power of knowing his woman is undesirable to anyone on the outside and he has the control over his seemingly sex-less partner. He starts by discussing small, menial current events while I make him a cup of tea. I don’t understand the significance of this average day to day task, but then I don’t need to understand.

We stand on the balcony of his luxury home and watch London’s commuters and shoppers strolling along, as the odd passer by may glance up to us chatting, maybe assuming I am his cleaner and then his hands do the talking as we move on inside.

It’s all very “normal” but “George” finds it thrilling. We’ve often gone shopping or for a coffee before returning to his pad and he has told me how he loves the excitement of the unknown. To me, an exciting unknown adventure is a masquerade ball in London’s Soho, or playing “James Bond meets sexy stranger” in one of London’s best casino’s, but my main objective is to keep my clients happy and god knows they keep me in Jimmy’s and Chanel as a show of their immense gratification.

Being an elite escort allows my creative juices to flow. Even the boring attire without any Agent Provocateur lurking underneath is great fun. It also gives me a chance to be comfortable and warm without having to hide the tops of my stockings!

Also, I guess it does help convince my neighbours that I am just an ordinary girl who can pop out for a newspaper and pint of milk without her designer finest on…

Good Timing

2011-11-18T06:04:00.000-08:00

As you may well imagine, in my line of work, keeping to a tight schedule is a must. By this, I mean making sure I leave with plenty of time to spare incase of traffic isues and I NEVER book a client back to back. I pride myself on my punctuality and privacy.

And today you will understand why...

Sometimes I work from home. My Mayfair apartment is spacious and tastefully decorated in neutrals. It's my boudoir that boasts colour, sensuality and a closet full of props/costumes - and a rather handy en suite shower-room. (Notice I said "boudoir". My home has two bedrooms and there is the one I sleep in and the one I entertain in. Simple.) Considering that the hallway turns either to the left or right, If I'm entertaining chez-moi, I can avoid a client stepping into my personal space by steering him immediately through the left door. This saves time and the need for hot beverages.

Once upon a time my bedrooms were the other way around. I soon realised by mistake when a client took the scenic route through my front room, getting an eyeful of my life and a pile of post on the table. I felt exposed and spent the rest of the day moving furniture around.

As you may well imagine, my neighbours and immediate family aren't exactly privy to my line of work. London may well be a large city but it is amazing who knows whom within a 5 mile radius. As you know, my clients come from all over London and Surrey but I just can't trust people not to show up early, catching me on the hop. I have an entry-phone system into my building but it terrifies me that my mother will be let in by a kind-hearted neighbour on their way out the door. I tend to schedule week-day luncheons with the parents away from home. If they ask, I have no food in the house or I'm temping at an office nearby.

While I enjoy the odd home-visit, I much prefer meeting my dates in hotels, bars, clubs and restaurants - mainly because it means I have the opportunity to leave punctually and I'm not chivvying anyone out the door. While the choice of venue is 99% that of the client, I have never visited the same place twice in a week. This did actually happen to a fellow escort recently but the professionalism of the Maitre d' was outstanding.

As today is Friday, I have booked my afternoon and evenng dates three hours apart. I never visit clients in the same outfit (how distasteful) - even if logistics would have it otherwise. If I can't get home to change, I always carry fresh underwear, toiletries and a spare top in my bag. And if all else fails, there is the matter of my Mastercard and a trip into Kensington.

Speaking of which, I ought to put my coat on, my dry-cleaning awaits!
x

Office shennanigans

2011-11-17T05:30:00.000-08:00

Today for me is a small taster of what a 9-5 job is all about. “Samuel”, a massive media mogul is spending some time in his London offices and I am “Katrina”, his assistant for the day.

I have spent time with “Samuel” on many occasions as his favourite London Elite escort. I have accompanied him to dinner functions, luxury London hotel rooms and overseas business trips but this is definitely a new string to our usual prim and proper bow.

So leaving my elite escort façade behind and off to Tower 42 I shall go, dressed in my tight pinstripe pencil skirt, sharp fitted blouse exposing just enough cleavage to look professional and suspenders with no underwear for our 2pm meeting in his office.

“Samuel” will be engaged in a top floor office suite with floor to ceiling windows and frosted doors for privacy. His huge marble topped desk will be the main setting for any dic-tation or secretarial duties that I may be required to perform for him.

He’s given a window from 9am till 2pm to get him worked up for our meeting. So that involves me prancing around his office, dropping the occasional fax and bending down oh-so- discretely to retrieve it, bringing in his coffee and leaning across him maybe brushing my chest past him if we happen to run into each other in the corridor and the odd suggestive e mail. We may even have a Sharon Stone moment in Basic Instinct if he’s lucky and happens to walk out of his office, past my desk as I chew on the end of a pencil seductively and cross and uncross my legs under the table just for him to see.

It is easy as an escort when you have spent time with one client on so many occasions to pick up on their desires and fantasies. Plus “Samuel” is in his late 40’s, charming, witty and very handsome so playing out the sexy secretary will be fantastic with him.

Even having our lunch break together in a nearby London restaurant will be exciting and work us both into a frenzy. Trying to look professional whilst knowing he’s tenting thinking about me with no underwear on and miming our bodies to look like we are discussing facts and figures will be hugely difficult when really I will be describing exactly what I am going to do to him in full view of London beneath us. No one could see up that high, but we will be able to see the City rushing by as we get the meeting underway.

The only down side is the early morning alarm but we have already agreed that should I arrive 10 minutes late, I shall be called to his office and berated for my tardiness straight away.

So I think I shall have an extra 10 minutes in bed…

A Little Humiliation

2011-11-16T05:49:00.000-08:00

I have so many faces as an elite model escort that sometimes I think I have a split personality! Not all my clients want to see the girlie me or have the GFE. Oh no. There are those who hire my services for a more specialised flavour of date.

London is full of diverse tastes and preferences, especially in the City where the pace of life never slows down. If you were to stand still near London Bridge for a moment and watch the commuters, the speed at which they think and travel is quite alarming. But among the suits and briefcases lie many secrets - I know, I hold a fair few of them close to my chest.

'Erotic Humiliation' whispers wickedly...

It never ceases to amaze me how people become aroused by taboo subjects. I make sure I research something thoroughly before I take on a new challenge - just as one would revise before an important exam. I won't get a second chance to impress so I can be in front of my laptop for hours the night before. I would prefer a few days notice to buy props and costumes although many clients provide me with the full ensemble to make the process run more smoothly. Most of these men are married but can't express their fantasies to their wives. I'm more than happy to fulfil a role - it's another string to my bow.

So with all of that simmering nicely in your mind, I must turn your attention to "Geoff". From the outside, Geoff is your average 50-something family-man. Greying a little, slightly over-weight and usually in a suit. However, he comes to my Mayfair flat on a Wednesday afternoon (usually when he has told his secretary he will be on a long lunch) and cleans my flat for me dressed in his Y-fronts and a gingham pinafore. I yell at him every so often, humiliating him if his housework isn't to my exacting specification and call him a useless idiot. He has provided me with a black PVC catsuit and thigh-high boots; my hair must be scraped severely back into a high pony-tail and my lips are glossed blood red. He isn't allowed to look me in the eye and must always call me "Madam". I carry a riding crop with me ta all times and occasionally give him a whack when the fancy takes me. I can be quite spiteful but he seems to like it more when I cause him to yelp.

"Geoff's" 90 minutes are usually up when my bathroom is sparkling and my kitchen floor scrubbed. He puts his suit back on, picks up his briefcase and kisses my cheek. If there is time, I may even make him a cup of tea and he gives me a run down as to what his kids are up to at school. I find the whole scenario pretty surreal but it makes him happy and we never discuss it once it's over.

Erotic humiliation can take on many forms. There are London clubs that actually specialise in it and are open til very late. Arriving at midnight would still guarantee you four hours of fun, should that be your thing. I've visited them a few times (as a guest as you have be a member) to watch and what an eye-opener! Imagine a basement divided into rooms, each with a different theme. The less sadistic merely involve someone being called all sorts of names and whipped lightly across the buttocks. The more extreme ventures on bizarre - I have even seen someone in tears, while being yelled at by a woman dressed in a mask and PVC and strapped to a rack. Goodness knows what she was saying as it was in German, but it didn't sound pretty!

So there you are - I'm not such a pretty, prissy miss after all! Remember, I'm paid to be the ideal date - whatever form she may come in.

Thriller...

2011-11-15T03:08:00.000-08:00

Monday’s date at London’s Ritz for afternoon tea was a dream. Lunching with “Ethan” was a perfect array of fine food, great company, washed down with shopping in London’s Harrods. “Ethan” decided he needed a new Armani suit and just had to treat me to some Lascivious lingerie and John Hardy jewellery to glisten around my neck before he did!

After our shopping adventure we went back to his apartment to relieve some of the stress of the day and obviously to model my new gifts.

Just wandering round the lingerie section of Harrods had obviously worked “Ethan” up to boiling point because no sooner had he handed over his black AMEX, he was calling for his driver to take us back to his place in South Kensington.

Yesterday’s date was a mixture of, the girlfriend experience meets elite escort who is certainly a pro at her job.

This evening’s date with “Kevin” will be more trophy model on his arm meets exciting, risqué encounter in function cloak room.

I’m accompanying “Kevin” to a company dinner/dance and have done so with this business man many times so his colleagues recognise me and assume I am his partner, not his London Elite escort. This charade seems to spur “Kevin” on more and he has always known the secret places in whatever venue is hosting his company’s events to whisk me off for some private time.

The thing with the 5 star hotels these functions are held in, is that wherever we sneak off to, to have our private time, I know we have no danger of being caught but “Kevin” loves the thrill of it anyway.

Looking perfect is a must to impress his London colleagues and overseas clients, so I’m spending the day with Mona, my beauty therapist for the essential waxing, buffing and painting. Mona is a god send. She knows my job and has a lot of the London Elite escorts visiting her for their necessary treatments.

“Kevin” loves the classy outerwear and no underwear ensemble. Knowing that I am instantly accessible is a massive turn-on for him. But perfecting the art of looking fantastic without anyone else cottoning on to my commando situation is actually a lot harder than one would think.

It prevents me from wearing anything tight around my bottom area because I think you can instantly tell when someone is without their smalls. High neck and backless gowns are less obvious because everyone knows you can’t wear a bra with this style. Simple. So, I know just the dress to wow his colleagues and make “Kevin” have to adjust himself most of the night.

Right I’m off to visit Mona. An escort’s work is just never done…!

A Little Spanish Art

2011-11-14T02:27:00.000-08:00

I have to say I don't dread Monday mornings the way other London 9-5'ers may do. For one thing, I don't necessarily have to be up at the crack of dawn just to get into the office early. I don't DO squashed against other grumpy commuters and I certainly don't do filing. However, if a client wanted me to be a 'sexy secretary' I could force myself into a pair of glasses and a power-suit.

Anyway, I digress.

Mondays are for reflecting upon the weekend before. November is the perfect time of year for filling my Filofax with London Christmas events and trips abroad. Early Saturday morning I had a call asking me to pack an overnight bag and grab my passport as I was off to Madrid. And when I say "early" I mean EARLY. The sun was barely up and I had to work out why my cellphone was ringing through my dreams. However, ever the professional, I was in the shower within minutes, washing the cobwebs of Friday night out of my hair.

London Heathrow's Terminal 3 was packed solid by the time I arrived at 9am. My date, "Carlos" was waiting for me in the entrance hall, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. I wheeled my suitcase up to him with a smile and once he realised who I was, he visibly relaxed. Carlos is a friend of a regular client of mine, quiet and reserved. I had done a bit of homework on him - divorced, Spanish roots (hence the destination) and an avid art collector. Apart from being the perfect time of year for visiting the annual Madrid Christmas market, I happened to hear that Feriarte was also running through November. Feriarte is Madrid's annual art fair and has been running for over 30 years. The enticing selection of objets d'art, furniture and jewellery at the IFEMA should tempt everyone from antique lovers to interior designers. Perfect!

"Carlos" was absolutely delighted when I mentioned I'd like to take a look around the art fair, as well as helping him with his Christmas shopping. He explained to me that this would be the last chance he would get to go back to Madrid before the New Year. Based in Canary Wharf, "Carlos" usually has a 10th floor view of the Isle of Dogs which can become very mundane after a busy week crunching numbers. I could sense he wanted to let his hair down and inhale the Spanish air. So I took his hand and let him educate me on all things arty.

I have to say I couldn't come back to Mayfair empty handed. I passed through customs on Sunday afternoon with a Joan Miro print and one or two bottles of Vega Sicilia - a very expensive but amazing red wine from Ribera del Duero in Castilla-León. I was in Seventh Heaven as we wandered through the Christmas market; believe me, I would have spent more if my suitcase allowed for it!

As for the rest of my Sunday, well that was spent in the bath and in front of the TV. I may be an elite model escort but I do like a little pampering time. Plus, I needed to beautify myself for Monday afternoon tea at The Ritz. There's nothing like a few posh sandwiches and select teas to cleanse the palette.

Ta ta
x

Menage a trois

2011-11-11T03:09:00.000-08:00

Today could not be any more different from the “natural girl in London” date that I had yesterday.

It’s Friday and the weekend starts for “Jon” tonight with drinks in Mayfair, dinner in Kensington and a private party for 3 in his luxury apartment room in Knightsbridge.

Sounds refined enough? It will be for starter and main…

Starter: Sipping champagne, dressed in my Gucci heels and Ghost maxi dress and subtly stroking “Jon’s” thigh as he talks about the wonder that is his life.

Main: A sumptuous dinner with plenty of witty repartee and the occasional suggestive glance across the table.

Dessert: Jon’s luxury apartment suite, he, I and “Sophia”, a fellow Elite escort who covers many parts of London and lives in a gorgeous riverside apartment in Canary Wharf. Our ménage a trois was at “Jon’s” request, complete with his desire for his two elite escorts to be dressed as different as night and day.

“Sophia” and I met in the week to go shopping for something new for our `three’s a party` affair. Of course being the professional escorts that we are, we have many suitable options to wear but what escort (or woman for that matter) doesn’t want to expand on her ever growing box of treasures?

“Soph” and I decided to hit the fabulous Rigby and Peller in Knightsbridge, for one half of the fantasy. “Sophia” is taking on the innocent, sweet, virginal act; demure make-up, her golden hair cascading in soft curls down her back and pretty wisps of lace and silk just covering her modesty for as long as they have to. Por moi, the resolutely sexy and oh-so-expensive, London’s Covent Garden, Coco de Mer. Lingerie heaven; provides the perfect balance of devilishly naughty or pretty and classy for whatever takes your fancy. A super sexy mix of red and black with a show stopping crystal butterfly Merkin guaranteed to get his blood flowing from the very first glimmer. My dark sleek hair, long over my shoulders, make-up smouldering, body shimmering and buffed to perfection.

Even our toys, lotions and potions are sublime. Whether we as escorts are riding solo, or partaking in a group activity, the tools you use do make a difference. “Jon” has only ever requested myself and one other once before, preferring all my attention on him which I am more than happy to oblige with. He is the cliché of tall, dark and handsome and alarmingly charming. Clients like “Jon” can tell their Chanel from their Clarks, Prada from their Primark and Dolce from their Debenhams so “Sophia” and I know that we have to be pure class right down to our nail polish.

Speaking of nail polish, with only 5 hours left, I must start getting ready…

Tailor Made

2011-11-10T02:55:00.000-08:00

The most important part of the London elite escort experience is to make every gentleman client feel as though he is your "One and Only". Whether I am in-call, out-call or international, the finer details have already been sharpened so the date is perfect and I'm in control of his satisfaction.

I take special pride in my work and I reverence in repeat business; so to me, it is vitally important that my London clients leave smiling. You may find this strange, you might not, but my Filofax has a special section reserved just for date history. I write their name, age and contact details down first, where we went and what he wanted me to wear. Next comes his preferences: is he straight or kinky? Does he like me to participate in role play or are we simply out and about in London sightseeing? And at the bottom, in small letters, I write his budget. I make sure I know exactly what he wants to spend because embarrassing him is a big no-no. Remember, he is paying for my company and time; I want him to be delighted with his purchase.

Tailor Making a date is a fine art that I have learned to perfect. Of course I've made mistakes (who hasn't?) but being the professional girl I am, I'm always able to smooth things over. I know my Marble Arch from my Belgravia and my Kensington from my Knightsbridge - believe me, I've told black cab drivers enough shortcuts to be driving myself around! Panache Model Escorts cover all areas of London, day or night.

One thing I always have to be aware of is that even though I think I have the measure of a client, the goal-posts can move at any time. He might go off on a curious tangent and want me to do something totally out of the ordinary and unexpected. I have a variety of wigs, outfits and dark-glasses for role play and I've always got another good escort-friend to call on, should the date become a menage a trois. Nothing shocks me much these days but they can certainly surprise me.

So what am I up to today? Well, I have a brand new client at midday for lunch in Leicester Square and then an hour getting to know each other. He explained to me on the phone that he has never done this before and is a little nervous. I assured him that there is no pressure and the date is his to enjoy. So we decided to keep things low-key, both of us in jeans and hopefully he'll realise what a great time he can have with a bubbly, intelligent woman - who just happens to be a model escort!

Leather and Lace

2011-11-09T04:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning with “Luc” was lovely. To anyone looking on, we were the perfect couple, never the escort and the client. He was Parisian chic; I was London model perfect, dressed in my Karen Millen and killer Jimmy’s. Just casual enough for a London museum and Soho lunch date but classy enough to look the part of a successful businessman’s girlfriend.

We laughed, discussed art, I looked up at him lovingly whilst hanging onto his every word and we kissed tenderly as if we had been together for years. Even doing my job as an escort, it is easy to be the perfect girlfriend to him. He’s stunningly attractive and interesting and his English is coming along nicely, if I do say so myself!

This evening, however will be a stark contrast compared to my girlfriend experience’s cultural London soiree. I have a new client and he sounds like a challenge which as an elite escort, I strive on.

So here I am, sitting in my usual morning spot in my Mayfair apartment, sipping on my cappuccino and watching London’s morning pass me by whilst I mull over what I have to do tonight.

“Frank”. A 50 something divorced man, CEO of a well known marketing group, enjoys long walks on the beach, romantic meals out and…leather and whips.

As an escort, I love clients like this. He’s taking me to his company function in London’s Cumberland Hotel, which is a beautiful setting for a formal ball where I can get out my new Pucci dress that I saw in the London Selfridges, Oxford Street and had to have. Then he will be whisking me off to the ever fantastic Mandarin in Knightsbridge to carry on the night, where I slip out of my £3,000 dress and get into my £1,600 leather Basque and suspenders for a night of naughty role play.

It’s easy in all circumstances to dress the part. I have my “me” wardrobe, and I have my “elite escort” wardrobe. Both filled with amazing clothes but the latter is a treasure chest of silk, lace, lycra, PVC and leather!

So, I have to be the charming, attentive, poised companion for the duration of the formal function, and the sexy, alluring, dominatrix for the “after party”.

Now I know his requirements and have planned my outer and underwear, I have to get into the mind set of his fantasy. I have had clients before who have requested this role play, but just for some added charm; I’m off to meet “Lana” who is a Canary Wharf and Marble Arch escort princess. She has the most sublime clients who treat her like a precious princess in the day and a dark leather princess in the evening. She is the epitome of all things whips and chains! We in the London elite escort world have known “Lana” as this since she accompanied “Pedro” on an international date to Milan, who bought her jewels and clothes, and surprised her with her first beautiful set of diamond encrusted handcuffs. Sounds innocent enough? The handcuffs were followed by spreader bars, a gold back stockade and other useful restraining devices.

So, you can understand my choice of escort dominatrix pro for that extra s&m advice.

Must dash, ball-gag gossip awaits…

The Girlfriend Experience

2011-11-08T03:20:00.000-08:00

I quite like Tuesday mornings in Mayfair. From my apartment window I can see Hyde Park and at 7am everything is usually quite still as far as London goes. I can sip a latte, watch the news and flip through my Filofax to plan my day ahead.

You may be thinking this is a rather early start for me this considering I got back from my date with "Richard" at 2am. My feet ache from dancing into the small hours; I wish he'd warned me he was a ballroom dancer. Although to be fair, he has promised me a pair of Jimmy Choos from Selfridges when we meet next - I think I've worn a heel down!

I have a brunch date with a french businessman called "Luc" at 10.30am. He comes over to London from Paris every four weeks for a board meeting and to improve his English. "Luc" is a single 40-something with a 6-figure salary and it seems criminal that he isn't married. However, considering we have struck up a lovely friendship and he treats me like royalty, I can only give him the Super Elite model treatment of a first-class Girlfriend Experience. In return for correcting his grammar and entertaining him with my sparkling wit, he lavishes me with affection and lets me choose our dates. I simply text him a venue and time and he turns up - always punctual, groomed to perfection. Today we are off to Kensington for a little history at the Victoria & Albert Museum and then lunch in Soho. I think I fancy something Japanese; maybe Sushi.

The Girlfriend Experience (GFE) is a definite favourite role of mine. It takes no effort to hold some one's hand, giggle at their jokes and shower them with kisses. With clients such as "Luc", it is easy to forget he isn't my real boyfriend. I wonder whether people watch us and wonder about us when we are out together. In his crisp Italian suits, he reminds me of Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. That is fairly ironic given I am a brunette and our situation! However, I don't expect him to take me shopping down Rodeo Drive in the hope someone will 'suck-up' to his platinum credit-card. Although, should he want to treat me to a trinket from Bond Street, it isn't in my nature to refuse a gift!

As a London model escort I often get stopped by agency scouts and asked whether I have a portfolio. In my line of work I couldn't possibly commit to being a full-time model but it is nice to be asked. As it stands, I have to travel internationally, sometimes at a moment's notice, so I can't say when I will be available. For example, next month the board meeting is actually at the Paris office. "Luc" will be on home soil so I will be travelling business class to join him. He didn't see the point in cancelling our date just because the English Channel was in the way. I am the nominated girlfriend no matter where we are. With any luck, I may even get a little sight-seeing of my own done and he can help me improve my French.

I should probably ring for a London taxi-cab soon as it's almost time to leave. I think I have everything - cell-phone, keys, purse, perfume and a smile.
Ciao!

Tonight Matthew I’m going to be…

2011-11-07T04:30:00.000-08:00

Every day is different for me as a London escort. Yes, I have regulars, but it’s very unlikely they want the same thing every time. This evening I am going to a masquerade ball in London with “Richard” and he’s looking to carry on the masked escapades when we get back to his hotel suite in London’s West End afterwards.

I love this client. He’s charming, handsome and very respectful. We get on like a house on fire and we make a fantastic looking couple. Who can ignore the attractive man with the South Kensington model on his arm, oozing passion and class. A winning combination.

I’ve already ploughed my way through the designer boutiques in London’s Knightsbridge and Chelsea to find my lace and silk, one-of-a-kind ball gown, visited Mona my beauty therapist in London’s Tower Bridge for the usual treatments to keep my skin smooth and long model legs and the like hair free and perfectly coifed my hair to keep in with the style of this evening’s festivities.

To be honest, I am very organised and usually well prepared in advance for any eventuality. In my line of work as a Knightsbridge and South Kensington escort, you have to be. Most days, I won’t start work until early evening. I do get the occasional lunch time soiree, brunch request or midday shopping date but more often than not, the day time is my time. Shopping, the gym and research! Speaking to some of the other Park Lane, Marble Arch and Mayfair model escorts does help with what scenarios may pan out as an escort and shopping for such attire or props is a fantastic way to spend my spare time. London has some real hidden gems and I am lucky enough to have the time to go and find these little independent chic boutiques. Even trying out new make-up and different looks is great fun. You’d think as a model I would be bored of it, but being an Elite Escort primarily works on my terms from the clients ideas and I love it. London is a colourful city with plenty of imagination and just walking through Soho or Notting Hill inspires me and sparks some creativity when I visit the designer stores in Mayfair. Thankfully being blessed with and maintaining a model figure comes naturally to me. As an escort I adore dressing up in couture gowns, designer separates and classy but sexy lingerie if the client requests it. I visit the most incredible venues in London and internationally on occasion and 9 times out of 10, my job doesn’t even feel like work.

I’m so looking forward to the week ahead and what it has in store! But tonight it’s about “Richard” and our masked fantasy. Best start getting ready.