Kinky La Rue

Posted with permission

I had two bookings with two customers that were very interesting each in their own way.

The first was a young Black man who was built like a brickhouse. I mean he was huge. He reminded me of Frank Bruno. His shoulders was twice the size of his waist. He was a bouncer/PA who worked for various clubs around the city. As huge as he was, he reminded me of an excitable child who’d just found a stash of forgotten sweets in his bedroom. He was softly spoken but when ready could drag me towards him with one hand, as big and tall as I am.  I must admit I was well turned on. Usually it’s me that’s in control and takes the lead in bookings, but only at the customer’s request, which is most of the time. So it made a refreshing change being the one slung about on the bed. Very sweaty,lol.

The second booking was a lot calmer and more sedate. He was a lovely older gent that seemed to just want more of the girlfriend experience, kisses, cuddles and all that sweet stuff. But he would say the oddest things.

Whilst in the middle of me performing *ahem* fellatio on the gentleman, he asked me: “what does my penis taste like?” Talk about killing the mood,lol. Well, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I laughed a lot, because in 7 years I have never been asked that question before. Most men are in the throes of passion, some more vocally than others, yes. But to stop and ask questions in the middle of an act (and such an odd question), well, that’s priceless. I’m still giggling about it now.

Later on in the booking, he compared me to a map. He had found me via Punternet, and my listing on there includes a map of where I’m located so prospective clients can see where I am. Apparently he’s a big fan of maps and he studied it very closely. I even got the impression that he studied it more than he studied my pictures,lol.

I asked him if I could mention our time together on my blog, as this is just one of those things that’s interesting and funny enough to write about. As promised, no names are mentioned. But then again, of course I never do.

It’s why I love this job so much. I know it sounds really cliched, but I really do meet some interesting people.

I took a phone call last night around 10.15, thinking it might be an enquiry for later on in the week.  It was a request for an outcall to Enfield there and then. Although I was polite I was firm in telling the gent that, for a few reasons, there was no way I’d come out to visit at that time of night.

First of all the short notice. I mean c’mon gents, I know it’s the libido talking so I reckon you don’t have a clear head when calling but, how do you think it’s possible that I’m able to get from Croydon in South London, to Enfield in North London(ish) in an hour. What is it? Do guys think that we’re here, all ready and tarted and able to leap into the tartmobile at the drop of a hat?

Secondly, for my safety alone, there’s no way that I’d see a new customer at that time of night at his place of residence, even if he had made the booking further in advance. I’m afraid, for independents like me, those days have long gone, not that I ever kept those hours in the first place. I’m not saying that we all work the same hours. Just like other jobs we do keep different hours. But this can be a vulnerable occupation with ladies putting themselves in such a position. And it’s up to us as indies to make our job less vulnerable. You’ll find less of us willing to come to your residence, especially if it’s a new client. Remember Stephen Wright and the Ipswich murders from a couple of years ago?

If you work for an agency, then it’s different. You have their protection, plus sometimes they employ a  driver that takes you to a booking. As an indie, you’re more or less on your own, unless you employ your own driver. But a lot of us do work on our own, and the only security we have is our security buddy that we leave our whereabouts with until they hear from us that we’re back home safely. But again, we all keep different hours so we’re not always up at the same time. A hotel visit is one thing. It’s a big anonymous place with lots of people about so we feel an element of safety. But think about it, if you were me, would you go visiting a stranger’s house at 11-12pm at the drop of a hat? I know we used to be called “ladies of the night”. Think of us more now as “ladies of the early evening”.

So, to the person that called last night asking for the outcall to Enfield, accept my apologies if I sounded a little harsh. But in my defence it does state on my website my location and also that I do require notice. So it is kind of obvious that you didn’t take the time to read my site. I do try and be as flexible as I can, as I understand and appreciate that the old urge can strike at any moment. And I’d be more than happy to tend to that urge.  But I also ask that gentlemen do take time to read my site before picking up the phone. And also think to yourself if an independent escort can really be ready to come and see you so late in the evening at such short notice.

If you want me at my best, give me some notice and make it a more sociable hour please. There’s nothing worse than having me turn up at your door with my pajama top still sticking out the top of my push-up bra. Or mistaking my old bedroom socks for my stockings, and wondering why the hell I couldn’t get them attached to my suspenders.

Not unless of course, that’s your thing,lol.

…..that you need a GPS to find her fanny, because her arse is so huge (this was coming in from the back way, if you know what I mean). And then expect them to take it as a compliment. At least, never tell someone who isn’t proud of exactly just how huge her arse is.

This was Friday’s customer, who’d never had a BBW in his life. I was his very first, so the backhanded compliments came full and plenty. “God, you’re so BIG”, as if I wasn’t exactly aware of my own body. “I’ve never seen anything like this”, he said as he kneaded my boobs, my stomach and my arse. I felt like a lump of dough by the time I left, ready to be popped into the oven. But I do realise he meant well, and I didn’t take it personally. I’m made of tougher stuff than that. Just not the doughy stuff.

Isn’t it funny. Nobody in the UK wrote and gave any ideas about where to visit. I won’t take it personally *sticks out tongue*. And no P, asking me to “stay in London” does not count,lol.

I received emails from a couple of gents in the States, including a request to come to Philidelphia, but to be honest I’m not sure how that tour would go. New York was also mentioned, but I’ve done that before. Besides, it’s very expensive, especially with us Brits with the weak pound at the moment. And I wanted somewhere new.

So I had a chat with mate Sarah Jane and because she’s been before and can recommend it, I’ve decided I’m coming to Los Angeles. It’s a lot cheaper than New York too.

I’ve been to Northen California, San Francisco to be exact, for a break a few years ago and I loved it, but I’ve never been to LA. And I’m kind of drawn to the warm weather. Do you blame me, after the UK suffering a month of freezing temperatures over Christmas and New Year?

I’m quite excited now that I’m planning it. I’ve done a bit of research and I’ve already made reservations at a hotel that looks good. I always read Trip Advisor for objective traveller advice (for work and for play) and it hasn’t let me down yet.

What a difference two years make. When I stayed in NY for five nights in 2007, it was about $1.80 something to the £. It cost me $1300, which at the time was about £700. Now $1300 is about £900, and I can only get four nights for that. I must admit that was a major factor in my decision-making. Although it’ll cost around £100 more in air fare, LA hotels are much cheaper, basically half that of a decent hotel in NY. Plus the hotels are becoming less and less discreet and client-friendly now. The hotel where I stayed at before was one of the few in NY that didn’t require keycards for lifts or doormen demanding to see your room key. Now from what I’ve read on Trip Advisor, that’s now changed. I do understand and appreciate that since 9/11 things haven’t been the same. But it is becoming increasingly difficult finding a client-friendly hotel now.

Things seem to be more laid-back in LA, and I haven’t read of any such stringent conditions to have to adhere to with a lot of the hotels I researched. But then again, they didn’t suffer the horrors of 9/11.

Anyways, I’m rambling. So, Los Angeles it is then, for a few days near Easter time. I’ve written a dedicated page for my site and it’ll go up in the next day or so. So for those who’re interested, please feel free to have a peruse at your leisure then drop me a line. And I hope to be making your acquaintance very soon.

*Air kisses on both cheeks.*

I originally saw this piece on MSN News, but I just had to see if it was on YouTube so I could download here for your amusment.

A Romanian quiz-show hostess threw a wobbly because nobody would call in to her show. It was ever so slightly surreal watching it this morning. On the plus side, doesn’t she have lovely boobs,lol:

Romanian quiz-show hostess throws a wobbly.

Edit: I had a bit of trouble downloading it to my blog. The above link will take you to YouTube.

Now, any gentleman that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing knows that I can get pretty naughty and that I’m not easily shocked. But…

…I was at my local nail salon today getting my regular pedicure. I usually bring my book of the moment with me (right now it’s Ken Follet’s World Without End, anybody tells me that’s not a good book, I’ll smack ‘em) whilst my feet are being pampered. But I thought today I’ll go for some light reading and read one of their gossip magazines. I wish I hadn’t now.

I read an article about a woman who breastsfeed her dog. Yes, she breastfeeds her dog. Or to be fair, her puppy.

She’d bought it at a car boot sale, but he was doing poorly and wouldn’t drink the puppy milk she bought for him. So she looked on the internet for inspiration on how to get him to feed and found a few articles of women somewhere in Europe, I can’t remember where exactly, who breastfed their puppies to help nurse them back to health. She did say she sought medical advice and she was told that there would be no harm to either the puppy or herself. And bear in mind that the reason why she’s still full of milk is because she has a two yr old son. So he has one boob, the dog has the other. I guess that’s okay then. At the end of the article, there was a doctor’s comment who did say it wasn’t something he’d recommend.

You know how when you guys see another guy on telly getting kicked in the ‘nads, how you instinctively cup your nether regions. That’s exactly what I did with my boobs. I’m still doing it now just thinking about it.

I’m sorry, I’m usually unshockable and non-judgemental, but on this occassion, *bleurgh*.

Today was a “slob” day, I had a busy weekend working. I haven’t ventured far from my bed and couldn’t make it out of my pj’s. What a sexy image, eh gents,lol.

Anyway, I’m just watching Living TV on Sky at the moment (if you’re in the US, think Lifetime, it’s very similar). I’ve just finished watching Dr. Phil. I like watching Dr. Phil. Although I feel he can be a little judgemental sometimes, he does talk a lot of sense.  Today’s episode dealt with gossip, and the outcome of those who were affected by it, and those who started it.

In one case a picture was taken of a young school-girl without her knowledge. She was in the shower and a classmate came in from behind, snapped a picture, then proceeded to show it to the whole of the school football team.She now feels her life is in ruins.

Another segment, which seems to have had more serious repercussions, is where another couple of schoolgirls, Mandie and Nicki, posted threats on MySpace.com directed at another young lady Crystal, threatening her with all sorts of violence, all because Mandie thought Crystal was coming on to her boyfriend. Friend Nicki was in the background, fanning the flames and making things a whole lot worse. Another pupil saw what was being written and it was brought to the school’s attention.

Now Mandie has been convicted of a misdemeanour and her parents are being sued. Whilst they’re making mortgage payments on their house it’s in the back of their minds that they can still lose it, along with the shirts on their backs. All because of what a couple of stupid teenagers wrote on a website.

Dr. Phil also spoke of his involvement in gossip surrounding the time when he went to see Britney Spears as he basically feared she was on a downward spiral to god knows where. Remember that period she went through? “”I wanted to take time today to tell you what you don’t know and what you should know, because it’s been discussed in the tabloids, on television with every kind of expert and commentator weighing in, but very few facts anywhere in sight.”

There was even a website, which was dedicated to spreading gossip, “where unlike other social networking sites, you do get the opportunity to come on and defend yourself”. Well, I guess that’s okay then.

I was very interested in that side of human nature rearing its ugly head.  The thing is though, it’s not just silly school girls who are still mentally developing that gossip and threaten gossip is it. Does anybody remember the case where a guy, a grown man, was actually convicted because he’d gone one step further from message board threats, and actually hunted down and found the house of a person he’d disagreed with on-line. He was ready to commit violence. I understand it was the first type of case of its kind, where he was actually charged and found guilty. I can’t remember for what exactly. It was a very new crime then so they had to call it something. Wish I could remember now.

I did find this piece in the Guardian though, when a former Conservative party member sued a female fellow chatroom member after she got personal. She started calling him names like Nazi and much worse, saying that he was on the sex offenders register and that kids shouldn’t be allowed near him. All because they were discussing the Iraq war.

We’ve always lived in a world where gossip and libel reigns. Before you could sue for libel or slander, as long as it’s proven. It was hard to do that on the internet because the www isn’t owned or governed by any one body. But now things are changing. Now, as long as you can prove you’re being harrassed or threatened, you can go to the police. It’s good to know.

Just like how escorts can now report to the police whether they’re being stalked or harrassed by a client or ex-client, as happens all too often in this job. *Touch wood* it’s never happened to me to that extent. But I have had one or two guys calling me incessantly on the phone or sending me inappropriate texts, to the point where I’ve had to threaten them with the police. I think they forget that this job is actually legal, and social stigmas notwithstanding, any type of harrassment is something that the police do take seriously. I know I wouldn’t hesitate in going to them if the case called for it.

It’s one of the few pitfalls of this illustrious job, the strange mentality that it seems to attract.

Anyway, back to my duvet.x

Yeah, right in the middle of a booking yesterday afternoon.

I had a client pinned and I was just nibbling ferociously on his ear whilst he was writhing passionately underneath me, when I was overcome with the most awful leg cramp in my thigh. I had to stop and ask the poor client to rub my leg for me. I then had to walk around the bedroom for a bit to stretch it out before I could carry on.

Talk about putting a crimp in the proceedings.

I’m not sure if it was because it was the holidays but there was a definte sense of urgency in the air last week.

Apart from the bookings I took, including a long lovely booking with one of my favourite clients yesterday (that made my day), I had quite a few urgent “I want to see you now”-type calls.

I had one such call on New Year’s Eve at midday saying “I want to see you now”. Not “can I see you now” mind, “I want to see you now. I tried to explain that I couldn’t possibly accommodate him as I didn’t live where I worked and that I could maybe get there a little later, but he wasn’t having any of it and hung up on me. Charming, I thought. And a happy new year to  you too.

Then on New Year’s Day as I was getting ready to pop up to Oxford St. for the sales, I got a call at 8.30am from a guy in Godalming in Surrey who had not long got in from New Year celebrations, wanting an outcall to his place straight away. I think his adrenalin was still pumping and he was looking for an outlet. Bearing in mind it was New Year’s Day at 8.30 in the morning, although I would’ve had no problem helping him release that adrenalin (after all the sales could wait another day), I tried to explain that Godalming  was some way from me and it would take at least a couple of hours to get to him. “Can’t you drive?”, he asked. I said I could but I don’t have SatNav and I would most likely get lost. I’ve never been there before. I asked him if he couldn’t find another lady nearer to him, or he could wait a couple of hours for me. “I just wanna get fucked”, he said. “No doubt”, I said, laughing. I said sorry I couldn’t help and hoped he would get his “fuck” before he went to bed that morning. I didn’t know of any ladies in his area so I couldn’t even recommend anybody. I wonder if he did manage to get his end away before bedtime.

On my way to the sales, I picked up another booking from a guy that had called the night before on New Year’s Eve, also wanting to see me “then and there”. As it was 11pm at night I told him sorry, I couldn’t oblige. I don’t even normally answer the phone so late. I think I was buzzing myself because I was enjoying New Year’s Eve in front of the telly with some rum punch. Normally after 10pm I become surly so the phone is switched off. Also I think curiousity got the better of me, as I wanted to see who would call me on New Year’s Eve at 11pm.

The chap said he’d call the next day, which to my suprise he did. So after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing whilst shopping in Debenhams we finally got a time booked. Being in the West End was a bonus, as it was only a bus ride to Victoria Stn and the flat just behind it. The gentleman turned out to be a really  horny Italian guy who was just gagging for it,lol. Again, I was happy to oblige.

It was a bit surreal that day. Walking through the West End, then on to Victoria, I could see the aftermath of the revelry from the night before. Tinsel, deflated ballons and other celebratory paraphenalia was still apparent near pubs and on the pavements. You could also see dried wet marks where booze must’ve spilt. I can only imagine what went on the night before.

All in all it was a bonking good start to the new year.