It's all over so quick...

...not that I'm complaining. Hell, if the client wants to 'conclude' as it were, ten minutes into the 1 hour booking (minus the standard five minutes of pretending to drink champagne, undressing and so on...) I will certainly not complain.


   On meeting my first client since joining a rather prestigious London escort agency (there’s a clue somewhere on my blog!) I must say, I wasn’t expecting to be having the greatest fuck of my life. He was certainly handsome, clearly well bred and from the outcall location (his home, not that unusual apparently…) quite obviously a wealthy man. This relaxed me somewhat as, despite my liberal, middle class Surrey upbringing, I realised in the taxi on route that I had absolutely no idea how to be an Escort. I have this tendency you see, whenever I hear someone speaking with a similar received pronunciation to immediately assume that he/she and I will get on fabulously and have wondrous amounts in common. Heaven forbid they turn out to be the kind of person who is unfaithful to their wife!
   Sorry, what was that? Oh, I see. Lesson 1. Ninety nine percent of clients are married. Fact. Regardless of my initial moral standing (yes, I had a few reservations) towards the world of Escorting and cheating and so on, this man seemed like a very nice chap.

   These were a few of the ponderings running through my head whilst in the taxi on the way to my destination:-
1. How do I fill an hour with sex?
2. What if I don’t enjoy it?
3. Worse, what if he notices that I’m not enjoying it?
4. Am I even supposed to enjoy it?!
5. What if its someone I know? (I'm very grateful that I'm an only child.)


And so on….


   What a nervous little kitten I was….. well, for about two minutes. We discussed the nightmarish traffic on the A3 at weekends amongst other incredibly normal things and then fearing I was beginning to sound a little too ‘co-worker’ rather than ‘coquette’ I fluttered my eyelashes and came out with ‘stocks must be so exciting! I do find it all terribly confusing though…’ Looking back, I think this must have been the only point where I felt I may have lost a little dignity that night although I suppose to put it back in context I wasn’t ‘Me’ I was ‘Escort’. Despite my disgusting display of girlish ignorance it seemed to do the trick and I was promptly led to the bedroom.

   And...that was that. I assumed that was just the beginning as the client still had another 45 minutes to get his money’s worth. Good recovery time I assumed, but no, he had to be somewhere.

   “Ever so sorry, got to dash off...working dinner in ten minutes.”

   “Oh. Ok… um… I’ll be on my way then….”

  “Please stay and finish your champagne!” He said this with such gusto I couldn’t really refuse.


Cut to me getting into a taxi home with three figures in my wallet, realising I had found my true calling as a London Escort (for the time being anyway) and hoping very much that every booking would be similar to this one. Anyway, I’d always been told ‘you’re not to mix business with pleasure‘. We'll see.....