“I’m not your Superwoman”

The past couple of days phone calls has made me reminiscent about this song, sung by Karyn White sometime back in the 90s.

On Friday night at around 7.30 I received a phone call asking for an outcall to Ilford in Essex. For those unfamiliar with London and its geography, it’s a fair distance. I live in South London and Essex is all the way across town, past East London. It’s basically on the border of Essex county. Not Central London anymore.

Last night at approx. the same time, I received another request for an outcall to come to Hertfordshire. Hertfordshire?!  This is even further than Essex, just going in another direction. It’s what we townies consider the countryside.

Now I know because of this freezing weather we’re suffering it seems like a great idea to have some rumpy pumpy in the warmth of your own surroundings. But calling me last minute, without any regard as to how I’d get to yours in freezing temperature, ice and snow, really is a tad thoughtless. Then imagine me trying to get back home in the wee hours of the night. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.

I have had to chuckle at these phone calls. I’m thinking to myself, how do these gents expect me to get to their houses, in this weather, at such short notice?? I know, I’ll do that twirly thing that Wonderwoman (yes I know, a different superhero to Superwoman but you get the picture) does. She goes from Diana Prince to Wonderwoman in a blink of an eye. I could go from homebody to Kinky Brandy in the blink of an eye too; thongs, sussies and basque just like that. And what for travel? Pfft, forget the icy roads my car would skid about in. Forget the long train journey hampered by the snow and ice. I know! I’ll use my Invisible Jet. I’ll be there in two shakes of my truth lasso.

Gentlemen, c’mon! If you’ve been experiencing difficulties in getting in to work this week, do you think I’d fare much better? And at such short notice? I know it’s not exactly a romantic picture, but believe me, with this weather, I’m curled up either on the sofa or in my bed in my warmest pee-jays wearing double socks which can just about feel the warmth from the hot water bottle my feet are resting on. In other words, I’m just as human as you.

That’s not to say that if I had an advanced booking I’d have done my damndest to get there. I would’ve and have done. I can feel my toes wincing now at the memories of some of the outcalls I’ve made to the Greater London area, standing on freezing cold train platforms. But c’mon gents, as gorgeous and as wonderful as I am, I’m not Superwoman, or indeed Wonderwoman. Even if I have performed some amazing feats in the bedroom. :-)

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Bless your cotton socks, thanks for the smile this morning.

I just woke up to this text sent late last night: “Any Jan sale? Plz let me kno, got ass 2 die 4.”

Apart from the fact that I don’t reply to randomly sent texts, yes, I know I have an ass to die for, but to answer your question no, no January sales.

I already have one of the lowest rates in Central London. Most fees are £150 and upwards. Which I was for a while but reduced back down to £140 in sympathy of the recession, which people seemed to have appreciated. So no, the last thing I’m going to do is reduce my prices even further, even if it’s just temporarily. I reckon I’m worth every penny as it is.

I’ve also heard from ladies who do temporarily reduce their rates with some sort of special deal, then have trouble going back to their original rate. Some gents who’ve taken advantage of such special deals, then expect it permanently and will actually argue with ladies on why they think they deserve that special rate all year round. Thus leading to grief and headaches.

Saying that, I’m not totally unfeeling. If you’ve been following my blog from the beginning, you’ll have remembered the odd discount on overnights and long bookings when I’ve stayed at an airport hotel the night before a flight. I think I’ve done that a couple of times.

But sorry, when it comes to my hourly rates, a discount is never going to happen. Not even seasonal “sales”. I think that with all the services I provide and considering my constancy in the business, my hourly rate is more than fair. It also needs to be considered that I do pay an ad hoc rate on the flat in Victoria.

But to whoever sent the text last night, thank you for making me smile this morning.

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