I didn’t think the results would be posted so soon, but I’ve just come back from a lunch date with a friend and I’ve had a peek at the OU website and I’ve managed another “clear pass”, 66%. I’m very pleased considering how manic I was trying to get it all done in three days. As I said before, I would’ve been happy with a “bare pass”, 40%. I’m still striving for that “good pass”, but for now I’m happy.
Reading starts immediately for the next assignment, so it’ll be a long study day tomorrow, plus whatever days I can do whilst on tour next week. I’m even going to buy extra copier paper on Monday to make sure there’s enough to print off chapters 4 & 5 to take with me.
Meanwhile I had a lovely afternoon out today. I was supposed to have a booking this afternoon but the client didn’t confirm by 10am as requested so off the phone went and off out I went. It was a gorgeous sunny day in London and I met a friend for an impromptu lunch near Liverpool St station. After lunch we thought we’d take a wander around Spitalfields Market. The stalls aren’t open on a weekend but the shops are and although it was busy, it wasn’t the kind of busy where you just got fed-up and wanted to go home. My friend thought maybe we could take a couple of Boris’s Bikes and have a bike around London. When I could take a deep breath after laughing so hard, I suggested we keep on walking. I haven’t been on a bike since my spinning classes at my local gym many moons ago and they were stationary. Besides, it gave me a chance to take some lovely pictures of the market and the surrounding area of EC1. And I just had to take a picture of the café called S&M. Geddit? *Sigh* I wonder if this business will ever leave my blood that I don’t see double-meanings everywhere I go. Well, I thought it was funny. And then as you can see there was the barber’s, Jack the Clipper. Ingenious!

It was fantastic to see how much the area’s developed over the years. It looks quite poash and upmarket now. When I was a teenager I used to go to Petticoat Lane Market nearby on a Sunday and the area used to be dead as a doornail on a weekend. Amazing how much has changed in twenty years.

We stopped in some dinky little shops and although I didn’t buy anything there were a couple of things that tickled my
fancy, like the Kinky Cupcakes (is that me or what?) cookbook and the doormats – I thought they were a hoot, especially the one in the middle on the top.

Then an onward leisurely walk to Aldgate East station where I could catch the District line to Victoria Station where friend and I parted ways. Of course as it was the weekend it was the usual chaos on the tubes with full and partial closures on some lines, minor and major delays on others. Roll on the Olympics when all of London’s preparations are complete. A day in the life of London, eh? But a good day all round. Roll on Edinburgh. See you there.

I tried to set-up an appointment for today which, for one reason or another, didn’t come to fruition. Initial communication was by email and he text me later on in the morning, which I really don’t like to do anyway unless you’re a client I’ve seen before but this chap was quite apologetic for not being able to call and was also quite polite. I had sent him a response to which he had taken time to reply.
He text back and apologised for the delay in replying. He was basically wanking over my pictures, then proceeded to ask me if I “did phone sex, ‘cos I could go again”. Bleurgh!

I know to some of you, you’d consider this a bit strange, given my line of work. But that’s the operative word, “work”. As much as I love it (and honestly I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have been in it for so long), it’s still work. Just as you don’t think about work 24hrs a day, neither do I. In today’s case I was just jumping into the car to go and pick up a bit of shopping from Tesco’s for dinner tonight. Why is it so hard for guys to believe that even with our jobs, we don’t think and act it our escort personas 24hrs a day? I’m not Kinky 24/7, neither am I horny all day. And I certainly don’t want to know when a bloke’s having a wank/pulling his tugboat/spanking his monkey – delete as applicable. Especially if I didn’t ask to know.

It’s like the chappy who recently set up an appointment for two weeks hence, then proceeded to send me pictures of his dick, asking me if I liked it and could I wait. Why do blokes think that’s what I’d want to see prior to a booking? Am I not going to see it soon enough? It hardly gets me in the mood on the 15.33 in to Victoria.
I mean, think about it. How many willys do you think I might have seen in over nine years in this illustrious occupation? No disrespect but, apart from them being of various shades of skin tone and different sizes, a willy’s pretty much a willy. I have seen one before. Needless to say the appointment was cancelled.

I’m fully aware that wanking over my pics does happen, and I have no problems with that, given the nature of them I’d be rather naive if I thought it didn’t happen. I’d just rather not be told when you do. Just like I don’t randomly text somebody in my phone and tell them I’m masturbating. Why would I and why would I think they’d want to know?

Maybe he thought I’d be flattered, which would explain why he felt the need to tell me. I dunno, I reckon it’s the Venus and Mars thing.

….to get the juices flowing.

This evening’s customer wanted dirty sex. So that’s what I gave him. Rude, horny, kinky, dirty sex. He called me a horrible, sadistic bitch, I called him an ODB: old dirty bastard. Epithets and name-calling a plenty. Fantastic!

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