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.

Everybody who knows me knows how much I love reading. And just a warning that this will be a long one, so please dismiss if you’re not into reading like me.

I can’t remember what my first book was, something Peter and Jane-like. Remember those? One of my earliest memories though is my primary school teacher giving me a library card to the school library and telling me she’s “leaving me to it, there’s nothing more that I can teach you”.

I have my favourite childhood books. Enid Blyton’s The Famous Five and The Secret Seven. Fantastic! What a world to escape into. Those books left me on such tenterhooks that when the light went out and I was supposed to be asleep, I would either read by the landing light via the small window at the top of my bedroom door, or I’d use the light from my sister’s toy projector. No wonder my eyes are knackered,lol.

The “whodunnit” genre would follow me into my late teens and early adulthood, where I would read a lot of Agatha Christie. My all-time favourite in her stable is Murder On The Orient Express. I much preferred Hercule Poirot to Miss Marple, and David Suchet’s portrayal was exactly who I had in my mind’s eye when reading one of her mysteries. I didn’t think Joan Hickson was what I had in mind as far as my image of Miss Marple went, but then I saw an old black and white movie with Margaret Rutherford as Miss Marple and I thought “That’s who Miss Marple is”. She was brilliant.

I also read a lot of Sidney Sheldon, Arthur Hailey, Barbara Taylor-Bradford, Jackie Collins, to name but a few. My tastes were pretty eclectic back then. I’d even read Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of The Dolls, but I didn’t get it. It was years later that I understood that the title was in reference to drugs and pills.

And (she pauses) I admit, I still read my share of “fluffy” books. I must’ve read hundreds of Mills & Boon, ‘though I cringe when I think back now. I think I just read them because some of them were more racier than others, for me they were bordering on porn: “Her soft golden beauty was captured by the low candlelight, her breath caught in her heaving chest as she felt the hands of Blaine cupped around her bosom, whilst she felt his manhood aching to be sprung free from the confines of his britches…..” Oh my goodness, I’m wetting myself laughing whilst I’m writing that. I can’t believe I read all those. At least my defence was that I was a teenager. Not something I can imagine reading as a “grown-up”.

*Sigh* (as she wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes).  The books I love to read now are a far cry from my days of Mills and Boon and indeed, Catherine Cookson. Now that was stout, fulsome reading. I loved reading her books, my favourite back then being her series of The Mallen Clan.

But my genre of the moment is more sinister now. I love reading Crime books, either physical (where you read all about the gory details) or physcological (where the author leaves it to you to come up with your own nightmares,lol). My three favourite authors of the moment are Tess Gerritsen, Karin Slaughter and Mo Hayder. I wet my knickers whenever I hear or see that they’ve just published a new book. I pop into my local bookshop when I’m out and I have a quick scan of their “new bestsellers” section, just to make sure that I haven’t missed a new publication.

But (and I know this sounds a little odd) sometimes it can get a bit heavy going reading about constant blood and gore and serial killings, so I like to intersperse my reading with some light fluff. I’ve just bought Julian Clary’s Murder Most Fab, which looks absolutely hilarious, and I reckon I’ll be reading that soon. I always thought he was very funny, quick-witted and sharp, so that should be reflected in this book.

There’s one author I never thought I’d catch myself reading, and that’s Ken Follet. I’m not into spy novels. I did try with Day of The Jackel by Fredrick Forsyth and although I did like it, I found that it wasn’t for me. But Ken Follet has stepped away from his usual spy thrillers and penned a couple of books; The Pillars of the Earth and the follow up World Without End.

I’d bought Pillars of The Earth on a recommendation from the Oprah Winfrey Show where she has a book club. I was in Florida with the family and I’d seen there was sale on some paperbacks. Far as I was concerned that was a sign to buy it,lol. I started reading it when I got back from our holiday, and I couldn’t put it down. Who thought such treachery and duplicity could go on in a church?!

I’m waiting for the right moment to start World Without End. It’s a buggar of a hardback and it’ll take some carrying around when I want a read on the train. But I can’t wait to start it.