Kinky La Rue

I’ve been meaning to write this for a few days now, but what with the volunteer stuff and whatnot, it’s been a busy few days.

It’s about a phone call I received this past Sunday evening. It was from a guy wanting to make a booking for today. Although his responses where a little staccato and mono-syllabilic, the conversation was going okay until I asked the gent if he had any special requirements, i.e. services, dress, that kind of thing.

He said without preamble, “I’d like to bang you up the arse if that’s okay with you.” After my fit of coughing from choking on my hot chocolate I asked him to repeat himself to make sure I hadn’t misheard him. He repeated, “I’d like to bang you up the arse.” I thought he was taking the mickey so I just hung up, speechless.

The gentleman then tried to call back, which I didn’t answer. He then text me, apologising if he’d offended me. Fair dos I thought. As he made the effort to apologise I’ll respond to his text. He said it had said on my site that I did anal. As I wrote the text on the site myself and as it’s a service I’ve never offered, I know that was a porkie pie (that’s rhyming slang for lie, if you’re not in the UK) and told him so. There’s no mention of it on my site and no mention in any of my reviews. He said that because it said “all services are inclusive of price” on my rates page he took that to mean that  anal was a service I provided. No, I says, it just means that there are no hidden extras.

He did try to change my mind and repeatedly asked me to see him, which I declined. I just know that I’d feel very uncomfortable seeing a gentleman who thinks it’s okay to speak to me in that way on the phone, simply because of the job I do. I felt it didn’t show me much respect, which, I imagine would be reflected in the booking itself.

I have had some men try and engage me in dirty talk over the phone when making a booking. Because of the job I go along with it. I guess it’s assumed I’m in sex mode 24 hours a day and I have nothing else on my mind, so I try not to shatter any illusions. And it’s harmless enough.

But being told by somebody in their first conversation to me that they’d like to “bang me up ther arse” was pushing it too far for me and those who know me know I’m no prude. It’s just rather a primitive and unattractive way to ask and it caught me off guard. I would’ve responded differently had he just plainly asked “do you do anal?” which is a common enough question I’m asked from time to time. I would’ve said no and we could’ve moved on, or hung up the phone.

I could just feel my arse immediately clench after our conversation. Even if it was a service I offered, I still wouldn’t have been too keen on the way I was asked. I mean c’mon, is that the way to ask for a service? Really?

The same night I changed the wording on my rates page to omit the word “all”, and to include “no hidden extras”. This way I’m hoping it’s not too much open to misinterpretation. At the end of the day, I can’t help what people think.

And I’m hoping that next time the gent in question calls an escort to make a booking or ask about services, he’ll engage in a little etiquette first.

And I still haven’t unclenched yet.

A compliment paid to me today by a gentleman calling wanting a booking for this afternoon. It was a bit short notice so I couldn’t oblige. Shame, I don’t mind Sunday bookings, but preferably booked in advance.

My arse has been called plenty of things in their time, but never “a magnificent pair of buttocks”. I love it. I think I’ll use it in my advertising.

Including one I’ve dedicated to a special customer up in Scotland. I wonder if he’ll figure out which one it is.

I think I’ve encapuslated the kinky-sexy look I was going for. There’s a lovely one of my huge arse that’ll hopefully get the dedicated facesitters and oficionados of huge peachy arses foaming at the gills.

This picture didn’t make it to the final cut, but for those dedicated to reading my blog and putting up with my moans, groans and gripes for the past year, thank you and enjoy:

www.kinkylarue.com

Yesterday I had a wonderful dinner date with a lovely gentleman who had read my previous entry and probably took pity on me. I see this customer once a year, regular like clockwork, every summer, to indulge in his proclivity, namely me.

On the recommendation of my landlady we went to a lovely Greek restaurant for a dinner where the portions were huge and the prices were reasonable. If any client would like a recommendation for a lovely Greek meal at reasonable prices near my working flat in Victoria, please drop me a line.

The company was lovely. We caught up with what was going on in our lives since we last saw each other a year ago. We both had the Dover Sole accompanied with a bottle of Pinot Grigio, not too sweet, not too dry; perfect with the chargrilled fish. We then had a leisurely walk back to the flat where we got down to working off the dinner.

We then had our parting of the ways, he back to Sussex, me back to Surrey. On taking a taxi home from the train station, I didn’t even let the impromptu advice from the taxi driver put me off my good mood. “You have a really lovely personality,” Mr. Taxi Driver says as I left him fare plus tip, and probably because I said my thank yous where appropriate and he may not’ve been used to that sort of behaviour. “But try and lose a few pounds.”

Oh Mr. Taxi Driver. If you only knew how I made my living. I make my living because of my meaty arse that men like to get hold of, my juicy thighs that men like to get inbetween and my bountiful bosom that men like to lose their face in. Lose weight? I think not, sir. But thank you for your advice all the same. And thank you “D”, for a wonderful evening. Hope you got home safely and this time with less delays on the train.

On a final note, I would like to apologise to those who thought my last entry was utter misery. Yes, it was, but that was exactly how I felt on Tuesday, and this is what this blog signifies, my thoughts and feelings, on this job and anything else that attracts my attention. It was a day in the life of an escort, and it was one of those days. It isn’t always sweetness and light, there is also the somewhat darker side to this job, and I’d be doing myself and those that read my blog regularly a disservice if I didn’t enter my true thoughts about my days as an escort. It was written from the heart, like every other entry I have made before that. I hope you understand.

I still do plan to leave when I can, I’m afraid that feeling hasn’t changed. But I’ll make sure to take with me the sort of happy memories created last night, not to mention other great times I’ve had with clients and leave the other stuff behind.

Written with permission.

On Friday night I had that dinner date I briefly mentioned before. I didn’t half look sexy dragging my leg behind me to and from the booking, I tell ya.

Apart from that, it went well. It turned out that I had seen this client before a few years ago. When he had emailed me with a certain scenario that he wanted to carry out, I thought to myself, this sounds familiar, I’m sure I’ve seen this guy before. It’s a very particular scenario and it was highly coincidental that two different clients wanted exactly the same thing. I mentioned to him that I’ve heard of this before and he then realised that yes, he had indeed seen me as “Brandy” a few years back. It was great catching up with each other.

I hadn’t had a chance to explain about my knee until the Friday afternoon, before our booking. I asked him if we could perform the scenario from another angle so to speak, and he was fine with that. And gammy leg aside, it did go well. Although said French client cheated so if there’s ever a next time I’m going to tweak his nipples.

But he’s made up for his cheating by allowing me to mention his scenario. I explained that I reckon a lot of readers would love to hear about it. But he says I must mention that he’s 45,lol. Anyway, get a load of this and don’t tell me it’s not horny!:

Everything was pre-arranged so of course I knew where I was going and what hotel room my client was in. When I got to the hotel I had to text him to let him know that I had arrived. That was his signal to leave the hotel door ajar whilst he laid on the bed with a blindfold on waiting for me.

We weren’t to speak. Not a word. I came up to his room, pushed the door open and the client was where he was supposed to be, laying face-up at the edge of the bed. I picked up my envelope as per his instructions and then crept into the bathroom and proceeded to get changed, all this time not saying a word, so he had no idea what I was doing. Sure he could probably hear me moving around, but that was about it.

And  just to heighten the anticipation, I came out once and stood over him, again not saying a word, just so that he could feel my presence.

I finished getting changed and came out. I took the blindfold off my client and whispered for him to keep his eyes closed. I then turned round so that when I told him to open his eyes the first thing that would fill his vision (and I mean really fill his vision) was my arse. I then sat on his face. And because his head was perched at the edge of the bed, I could sit comfortably at the end without having to worry about my knee.

But he did sneak a peak, and the first thing he saw wasn’t my arse, but my boobs, as I just had on stockings and suspenders, but at least he had a great view of something.  I remember our first time though, and it was perfect as he didn’t open his eyes until he was supposed to.

But the rest of the evening went very well after that. We ended up ordering room service in instead of going out to eat, to save me walking around too much. And I have to mention that I had the best Chicken Cesar Salad I’ve ever tasted. I was full from the gargantuan pieces of chicken breast that I had to cut up.Topped off with some Ferrer Rocher for dessert, it was indeed a lovely meal.

The client did let me go home a bit early. He had had a full day’s work and I guess after the meal he just wanted to relax. And he had the early train to get back to Paris in the morning. Plus I think he felt a bit sorry for me and wanted me to get home at a decent hour so I could rest my leg. I must admit I did feel it the next day. I did plan to write this over the weekend but I confess I wasn’t in the mood. It didn’t help that I had to walk home from the station instead of getting the taxi as I planned because they were all out on jobs. Apart from that I had a wonderful time.I hope he did too.

See, sexy scenario or what?

…..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.

I took the plunge and treated myself to a new laptop a couple of weeks ago. I finally got fed-up yelling down to my partner if he was “done on the laptop yet”. I took advantge of PC World more or less throwing their goods at you in one of their sales. I was going to get another Dell, but my head turned at the Compaq next to it that was nearly 50 squid cheaper but had a bigger hard drive and more memory.

Does my arse look big on this?

Anyway, I’ve only just noticed whilst doing some advertising today, that because it’s a 15″ widescreen, my arse looks wider  than it did on my ordinary old laptop. As far as I’m concerned it looks great. I wonder if guys think my arse looks as wide as it does on their laptop when they come to see me for the first time. I hope it lives up to expectations,lol.

….and how much would it cost.

Those of you who know me, or known of me, know that part of my marketing includes my arse. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve had many admirers of my ample asset. Yesterday I had a booking with a wonderful guy (aren’t you all!) from Australia and I had to warn him that, horror of horrors, I had a pimple on it. It’s quite painful too, when sitting on it.

I know it sounds silly but this is a very aesthetically-pleasing job. If I don’t think I’m perfect in every way I think I can be, it can be a little disconcerting. Luckily in this case the gentleman was very happy with my other attributes and he hardly went near my arse. Phew!

But I was thinking to myself on the way home from the flat if Lloyd’s of London insures bums. I know they do insure body parts. Surgeons insure their hands and I even read somewhere many moons ago that that lady who played Daisy from the old tv show The Dukes of Hazzard, insured her legs with Lloyd’s for a $1million a leg. Should I insure it per butt-cheek, or as a whole,lol?

The same goes for hand jobs. What about the ailments from giving too many hand jobs. Can I be insured against RSI (Repetive Strain Injury)? If not, why not? But then again, I can just imagine trying to explain that to stuffed shirt at Lloyd’s; “Yes, I wonder if you can help me. I do a lot of wanking as part of my living. Do you protect from ailments such as RSI? Or what about my arse. Can it be covered?”:-)

Lol….don’t mind me, I’m in a silly mood today.

If you’ve read the blurb on the front of my website, you will know that I have referred to my arse as it having its own postcode.

Well, my lovely client from today Mr. “Gordon Bennet”;-) has come up with one. He said it should be AR5E 1GT. What do you think? My arse officially now has its own postcode.