Kinky La Rue

well, unless you’re a client I’ve seen before.

Twice in the space of a week I’ve had enquiries which, for different reasons didn’t come to fruition. And I got the impression in both cases that it’s because I’m “just an escort” who they think it’s okay to waste my time. Not just mine  but that of my landlady’s.

I don’t want to go down that road of having to keep asking for a deposit. If I do it’d just feel mercernary. It’s something I already have had to put in place for longer out-of-town bookings and that was due to an unpleasant experience I had in Stevenage about a year or so ago. Other escorts ask for deposit on overnight bookings, but I can totally understsand why. But that’s  not me. I’d just rather take it off the table.

‘Tis a shame too, as I’ve met some lovely gentleman doing first time overnights, not having met them before. But I think from now on I’ll keep such long appointments exclusive to those I’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.

The latest novel by Mo Hayder, Skins, arrived in the post this morning. When I opened it, I sighed and I could’ve sworn I also had a little orgasm. Just a mini one. I’ve been waiting ages for her new novel to come out in paperback and it was good to finally have it in my hands.

I’m reading Stieg Larsson’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo at the moment, given to me by my landlady and it’s taken a while for me to get into. But she assured me today that the point I’m now up to just gets better from there. It better do, else I’m casting it aside and going back to Mo.

Well, the party’s almost upon me. Unfortunately, one of the ladies, Claudia BBW, won’t be attending. So there’ll just be the three of us, myself, Sara and Ellie.

We still have a couple of spaces left for Wednesday night. And as the ratio will still only be 2:1, this is ideal for those of you who’ve always wanted to partake of a party atmosphere but found the large numbers that usually accompany them a tad overwhelming.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know this’ll be my last ever do. You’re welcome to come say goodbye in style. Other prices and durations are available than what is on the party page.

Drop me a line or give me a call gents.

There seems to be a resurgence of gentlemen trying to make bookings using public payphones. I’ve had three this week, including one today.

Gentlemen, public payphones are much like calling and withholding your number. Security-wise it amounts to the same thing and it won’t get you anywhere.

Think about it. This is a vulnerable occupation that I’m in. And I realise that I put myself in a vulnerable position every time I meet a gentleman for an appointment. But at least I can somewhat reduce that vulnerability by not accepting withheld numbers and numbers from call boxes.

I totally understand and accept the need for anonymity. Do you know how many bookings I’ve had in the past year made by “John” and “David”, the two most commonly-used name given when making that booking? That’s cool with me, because you don’t know my real name either. But there is no way I’m going to take a booking from “John” calling from the street.

I’m not going to keep your number, I have no need for it. If I was that type of person I wouldn’t be in this job for nearly 8yrs. Get yourself a sim card gentleman. It’s easier to use and that way you don’t have to explain to anybody you don’t want to why you have two phones.

I’m as discreet as you’re ever going to get. In the past I’ve even advised would-be clients not to use their work email address when making a booking. Create an anonymous web-based address like hotmail or yahoo and lock it with a (not so) obvious password so nobody can get into it. And get that sim-card or that cheap second phone if you don’t want to use your personal one.

Because you won’t get very far with me calling from a public phone box saying this is “John”, can I make a booking with you please.

…..to bit me in the arse.

I received an email this morning from my Newcastle favourite who, it seems, is much of a pedant as I am when it comes to the English language. He points out to me that jewelry is actually spelt with two ‘l’s, not one. You know, even when I was writing my entry yesterday I knew there was something not quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

My excuse is; this is what happens when you read too many American crime novels. You start writing and spelling like an American. Apart from Mo Hayder, there aren’t many British novelists of my preferred genre.

But I’m happy to be corrected. See you soon, you scrumptious Newcastle Ale, you.

Those who know me know that I’m quite anally retentive when it comes to English grammar, spelling, etc. I always apologise when I can because I can imagine it can irk somebody when you correct them. I try not to do it unless I’m asked, say to proof-read a website for somebody. I’m by no means perfect myself and never mind being put right. I love finding new words and looking up what they mean, but I’d rather somebody correct me than me go around looking stupid pronouncing a word incorrectly. Saying that though, I use Dictionary.com when I look up a new word that I’ve discovered in a book I’m reading. And it does tell you how to pronouce a word correctly so I’m not that often wrong.

Anyway, every time this certain advert comes on I end up shouting at the telly. Does anybody know that advert (actually one of many) where you can sell your gold? This one in particular has actors, sorry customers, telling us how wonderful ******Gold was and how they “received more money than I ever thought”.

There’s one lady who says “jew-lery”, instead of “jewelry”. I can’t help it, it’s like I have Tourette’s Syndrome. Every time she comes on and says “jew-lery” instead of “jewelry” I end up screaming at her. Irrational I know, but I can’t help it. I have tried not to, but more often than not, I scream “jewelry, it’s pronounced jewelry, woman”.

The only thing that can stop me is if they take off the annoying ad. I live in hope.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been taking bookings from young gentlemen. When I say young, I mean in their teens and early twenties.

If you’ve been reading my musings you’d have remembered the 18yr old virgin I had a few weeks ago. Then a couple of weeks ago, just before I went to Edinburgh, I had a 24yr old who wanted to be overpowered. And now in the past week I’ve had two different gentlemen, both in their early twenties making enquiries into an overnight.

I’d love for somebody to tell me what’s going on. Is it the “MILF” fantasy because I’m 40? Is it because of Harriet Harperson doing the industry a big public service by mentioning Punternet a month ago, therefore young horny whippersnappers have become more curious and finding out that Punternet exists? Is it because the young chaps are just throwing caution to the wind, saving up their hard-earned and seeking the services of a mature professional, just to see what it’s like?

Not that I’m complaining of course. But I am curious to know where this sudden trend has emerged from. I even checked the stats on my website so I can see where the traffic has come from. Maybe somebody has posted a link to my site somewhere and has recommended me to all the young studs out there. I have no idea, I didn’t see anything different. But I tell you what. If this trend does continue I’m going to have to pop into Holland and Barret to purchase some sort of supplement to give me some energy.

I thought about it and I think it’s so funny, I’ve take the picture that my client in Edinburgh took and put it on my main site. You know, the one where he’s photoshopped a postcode onto my arse.

It’s on the main page near the bottom (ha, bottom, geddit?) where I’ve swapped  my old favourite for this one. I’m sure it’ll be an amusing talking point during my appointments.

Thanks D.

Up and at ‘em for an early flight back home this morning. Honestly, if I had known about the hotel’s late check-out policy on a Sunday, I think I would’ve taken advantage of it and got a later flight. Me and 6am on a Sunday morning really do not mix well. And don’t laugh, I got home about 1pm, had some lunch, then went for a nap. Anybody would think it was an overnight flight, for goodness sake. So now I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

At least the good news is the posh cheese from Jenners made it home, as did the honey, the chutney and the bottle of champers Saturday’s customer so kindly gave me. I also bought some Drambuie at the duty-free shop. As much as there were some great whisk(e)y shops on the Royal Mile, I had a suspicion that the prices were a little inflated for the tourists. I may have been a tourist in Edinburgh myself, but I knew better than to buy a bottle of whisky liqueur there.

A day off tomorrow methinks, then back to normal from Tuesday.

Even though I had one no-show early this morning (even though he had called to confirm less than an hour to the appointed time) I still had a wonderful facesitting session with my 2pm who “doesn’t do this very often.” So I’m chuffed that he chose me with which to treat himself. Hopefully he’s gone away with happy memories. And thank you for the bottle of champers. That’ll do me for Christmas.

I did get a few phone calls later on in the afternoon, but I still wanted to see a bit more of Edinburgh. So, off the phone went, and off out I went. I saw the rest of the Royal Mile and I stopped at a couple of speciality shops and bought some posh proper Scottish honey, some decent oatcakes and a jar of chutney for him indoors.

I even made it back to Princes St and had a browse around Jenners (House of Fraser) and bought even more posh treats from the Food Hall, including some cheese. I just hope it passes through security okay and they don’t think it’s something dodgy. Admittedly I didn’t stay too long as it was a bit like Oxford St. on a Saturday afternoon, which I studiously avoid.

But yes, back home tomorrow and back to normality. What a wonderful tour. Now I’m looking forward to getting ready for the party in December. Bring it on!