As my cab from the train station took me out of the small town , through villages to the countryside, I admired the endless green fields and smiled contentedly as we turned up the long, tree -lined drive. I knew as soon as the hotel came into view that it would be as special as I’d imagined. To my right was a large lawn , with a view of a field of sheep in the distance, and I could hear them bleating. In front was a patio, with tables and chairs and a lawn set for croquet. To my left was the gothic manor house that was to be my home for the night.
Turrets towered up high, and the brickwork was various shades of terracotta . There were ornate details on the brickwork and windows. Through the porch I passed a line of wellies, (which is always a sign of a good country hotel), and the staff greeted me with a friendly hello. I hazarded a guess that our room would be up the stairs in front of me, and so I strode up them confidently, seeing an arrow pointing the way to our ‘Park Suite’.
Harry opened the door and his eyes lit up. He has a very smiley face, and it was clear he was thrilled that I’d finally arrived.
The room was beautiful and very spacious. We didn’t have a king-sized bed, but it didn’t matter. There were two large windows with long, thick curtains tied back. By one window was a large round table and chairs; in front of the other was a sofa and coffee table; our bed was on the opposite wall. After greeting Harry, I began admiring our room. It overlooked the croquet lawn and I could see a small chapel in the distance. Right beneath us were the tables and chairs I’d also seen on my way in .
We decided on room service as I’d arrived at 6p.m. and we needed to leave in 45 minutes for the play, so we both ordered Club sandwiches, thinking they should be quick to rustle up. Normally, I wouldn’t go for room service on a date but we didn’t have long. This was not your average room service, anyway, served in a poky hotel room, eating off your lap and looking out over a car park! We’d be sitting at our own dining table, overlooking the beautiful scenery.
I was disappointed that I’d only been booked for the night, considering I hadn’t seen Harry for a year, and I knew he was off work for the whole week. I think he regretted he hadn’t booked me for longer, too. He wanted me to stay, but I had a hair appointment arranged for the next afternoon , so I said that for an extra £100, I’d stay until noon .
I know Harry is very comfortable around me. I talk as though we’ve known each other for years (this is the third time we’ve met; the second time we went to see England play at Twickenham), and this is one of the reasons I know I make a good escort.
I managed to eat all of my huge Club sandwich, with five minutes to spare. So I went to freshen up in the bathroom and change into the dress I’d brought with me. In the bathroom there was another large window overlooking the lawn . I noticed the bath had aflat-screen TV in it. Nice!
The Merchant of Venice was fabulous. I love getting the opportunity to go to shows and concerts for work ; it blows my mind. I didn’t know anything about the play, apart from the fact it was written by Shakespeare. I was worried I’d fall asleep, not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because of my short attention span . Normally, if there’s no exciting, lively music to keep me alert, I’m likely to drop off. As it happened, I was mesmerised the whole way through.
Afterwards, Harry wanted a drink in the bar. I wasn’t really up for it, as I was aware of the time. I was worried that I’d fall asleep. At home, I always go to bed at 10p.m., and that means I can sometimes find it difficult to stay up late when I’m working. Also, I know I need a reasonable amount of sleep, and I know I often sleep badly when I’m working. So, at 10.30 I’d taken one sleeping pill. I got them from my doctor last week, and I had to convince him I would only use them for work, which I will.
My doctor was concerned about me wanting to knock myself out with sleeping tablets because of the nature of my job, which I totally understand, but I am pretty sure that nothing would knock me out that much, and if I ever felt uncomfortable or feared for my safety I wouldn’t want to stay overnight with that person anyway.
It was nearly 11.30 by the time we’d returned to the room and I’d lit candles and freshened up. I knew that by 12.30a .m ., tablet or no tablet, I’d really need to try to sleep, to get in a reasonable amount of rest.
By the time Harry had freshened up, I was semi -naked, sprawled in a sexy way across the bed in the flickering candlelight. Harry, I knew, would stay up all night if he could, so it was up to me to progress things at a pace that would mean I got to sleep at a reasonable time. He’s a rare breed – a lovely kisser – and he complemented me on my kissing. I complimented him back – he probably thought I was just being polite, but he’s gentle and not forceful or slobbery in any way.
Let’s take your shirt off,’ I murmured. I’d unbuttoned the front, but as he was lying flat, he’d have to lean up a bit for me to take it off totally. ‘You’ve gone all feline,’ he murmured back, as he undid his cuffs and removed his checked shirt. ‘You’re so beautiful, why can’t I have a girlfriend like you?’ he asked. I didn’t know what to say! I asked if he could unhook my bra . He admired my boobs and gently nibbled each one in turn . I reached underneath him and stroked his erect penis through his boxers. He lay beside me and I trailed featherlike kisses down his torso before removing his boxers.
He said he’d taken note when , on our last date, I’d asked why he didn’t shave down below if he liked his women shaved. I told him if he liked trimmed, shaved women, he should show the same courtesy, and I smiled and nodded approvingly as I slid off his boxers. He looked pleased as punch.
It’s great when men take the time to keep things neat and tidy down below. I’ll spend much more time down there if there’s no forest of pubic hair. It’s so much more pleasant. I love to lick right down in between their legs, down their perineum and up and down their thighs. Also, sucking balls is so much more tempting when they’re bald, like little chicken fillets.
Eventually, I lay back and he removed my panties and returned the favour. He has a lovely touch but he has never, during the meetings we’ve had, spent more than about five minutes down on me. I asked if I should get a condom, and he agreed. First, I lowered on top of him and rode up and down on him, and then we slipped into the missionary position . I clenched my pelvic floor muscles and nudged his hips down with my feet while clenching his buttocks. As he shuddered, I was looking him in the eye.
It was 12.30 when we went to sleep. The sleeping tablets must have worked – I don’t remember trying to nod off.
I woke at 5.30 to the sound of heavy footsteps above, and for the next three hours I was in and out of sleep, dreaming heavily. At one point I thought Harry was trying to kiss and cuddle me, and I was pushing him off, telling him to leave me alone. Then it felt as if he was pulling the bed covers down and touching me, violating me in my sleep. I know from experience that this is just a dream , as I often get the same feeling on overnight dates, but when it’s happening I don’t realise it’s a dream . It really freaks me out. I’m scared of going mental and hurting someone by kicking or punching them if I think it’s really happening – I need to totally have my own space and can’t even bear my leg touching their leg when I sleep, hence my preference for large beds. I guess it’s because, deep down , I am worried about someone abusing me in my sleep. But Harry would never do that and I know 100% he wouldn’t, so I don’t know why I dreamt that he would.
At 8.15 I felt quite awake, so I snuggled up to cuddle him. I couldn’t find out if I could change my hair appointment until 9a .m., and breakfast was only served until 9.30, so I thought I should get the morning session going. I gave him oral sex for a short while before suggesting a condom. He wasn’t sure it would work, so I suggested he masturbated and I’d do the same. I straddled him and fondled my breasts, and then I pushed my fingers deep into my pussy, and looked at him while licking them. Eventually he gave up, saying it wasn’t going to happen . He had been taking some powder supplement for weight training; he said it dehydrated him and he suspected t
hat’s why he couldn’t come. It bothers me a bit when men don’t come…although I try not to take it personally, I feel like I’ve let them down . But I don’t really mind, as long as they seem fine and they’ve enjoyed the rest of our play time.
I jumped into the shower and when he went in after me, I called to try to change my hair appointment. Fortunately there was a cancellation and I booked for the next day, so we agreed on a leisurely breakfast with a wander round the grounds as the perfect end to our date.
Unfortunately it was raining and although there were wellies, I wasn’t too keen to venture out into the cold and damp, so after breakfast we wandered around the house. He asked if the hotel was somewhere I’d like to go for a weekend. Hell, yes! Especially if I could have a spa treatment or two…
A member of staff saw us wandering aimlessly and offered to show us round and tell us a bit about the history. Eagerly, we accepted the guided tour. It was incredibly interesting: it transpired the hotel was over 800 years old, with plenty of controversy, 45 children born out of wedlock, religious conflict and apparently numerous ghosts.
We asked about the chapel and weddings, and I believe the guy thought we were a real couple, actually enquiring about the venue. He suggested an itinerary for our special day, including the ceremony, a blessing in the chapel, the honeymoon suite and their catering facilities. ‘He hasn’t asked me yet,’ I said with a smile, while winking at Harry. They both chuckled, and I think our tour guide wondered if he’d put his foot in it.
After our tour we went back to the room and put the kettle on for a cuppa before we left. Harry spoke about how he wasn’t confident with women . He’d tried Internet dating and the first lady he’d emailed had sent him an explicit, legs-akimbo photo after his first contact; it terrified him. The second woman he’d tried to meet eventually confessed that she’d airbrushed her photos and looked nothing like her profile, and she refused to meet him.
One woman he’d asked out at his local gym stopped going. He was convinced it was because of him! I tried to put his mind at rest about that one, saying I was positive that it would have been for some other reason . It made me realise how insecure he was. He, too, was bullied at school, so no doubt that has something to do with it.
I started to explain that I don’t like to be directly asked out as it puts you on the spot and you feel you can’t say no. I told him one guy had approached me and given me a lovely compliment before walking away, saying, ‘I’ll be over there, if you want to come and say hello.’ I never did, as I was too engrossed in talking to my friend, but I said it’s good to express an interest and then leave the ball in the lady’s court.
I almost told him to read The Game, which is one of my favourite books about an American pick-up artist, who turned from a geek who had zero confidence with women into a full -blown player. Then I thought to myself, ‘Hang on a minute, why do I want to do myself out of work?’ So, on that note, I left.
Harry walked me down to wait with me for my cab. When it arrived I thanked him for a lovely date, and as the taxi pulled away I matched his sad face, as he waved goodbye. This evening, I’m actually meeting a guy for drinks that I met on a hen do in town on Saturday night. I’m terrified! I can’t explain why I’m so confident with men for work and not so in my personal life anymore.
CHAPTER 3:
Meeting the Pimp Daddy
Iguess everyone has their perceptions of escorts and escorting, primarily from the way it’s portrayed on TV. I think people always assume the worst: there are so many think people always assume the worst: there are so many a-day courtesans. As an escort you set your stall, you make your choices and you set your boundaries. I wasn’t about to put myself in the elite category, and I don’t remember sitting down and thinking about how much I was going to charge; I knew I wouldn’t go for the cheap market. Thanks to my parents and schooling I had good manners, I was well-spoken and I knew I could hold my own and have intelligent conversations with people at all levels. So, I looked at the average prices on the website I was using and set my rates in line with the girls on UK Escorts: £150 for one hour, leading up to £500 for all night.
I had no interest in getting a boyfriend; I’d had my fill of stress and disappointment with James. Now, I needed to be selfish, think about Number One and build my confidence back up. I wanted to have a good lifestyle and have fun without the stress of a man, so I resigned myself to the fact that I’d probably be single for however long I decided to escort. I didn’t plan to do it forever – in fact I didn’t have any sort of plan, because I wasn’t sure what to expect, if I could do it or if I’d enjoy it. I would just test the water and give it a go.
When my first escort ad went online I didn’t even see it because we didn’t have Internet access at home. I was just sent a printout and told that was how it appeared online. It was strange sitting down and thinking about what services I was going to provide. I remember thinking I wouldn’t do everything that I’d done with James, as we experimented a lot, but it was only because we were both so comfortable together. I had many first sexual experiences with James; he always thought I was so experienced and I guess I thought I was too, until I met him. Previously I’d not had a long-term boyfriend
– I was never with anyone long enough to get totally comfortable. He opened my eyes to how special and different sex was with someone I cared about.
With James, I experimented with exhibitionism and roleplay. One of our favourites is apparently Katie Price and Peter Andre’s favourite too – we’d pretend we didn’t know each other when we were out. I’d get him to meet me in a pub, in a town where neither of us knew anyone, and I’d already be sitting there, so he’d come over and chat me up. We’d keep it up for hours, even while we had sex, which was usually outdoors; I loved it. I especially loved to play a dizzy, dumb blonde, with a silly, high-pitched giggle. We’d also play doctors and nurses, and indulge in all sorts of role-playing scenarios. I just wouldn’t be comfortable doing that sort of thing with a stranger, so I didn’t plan to offer anything similar for my escort dates.
So, I had to think about what I would offer as part of my work. I wanted to hold back certain things for my personal life
– I knew I could pick what was right for me, what I was comfortable with. I decided that if I didn’t kiss, I would feel like a prostitute. It would feel unnatural to be so intimate with someone and not kiss them on the lips. So, I decided kissing would definitely be on the menu. Even though I knew I didn’t have to offer oral sex, I guessed I would need to do so to get any repeat business; I suppose that’s the thing many guys miss out on at home. I imagined that if I provided this with a condom then it wouldn’t be particularly arousing for the gentleman, because I couldn’t imagine he would feel much and I’d have to do it for twice as long to make him come! So, I decided to offer this without (OWO), but that CIM (Come In Mouth) would be something I would save for my personal life. Domination, anal sex, humiliation and all the weird stuff would definitely not be on the menu!
I was still at home because I hadn’t officially started working yet. And even when I did, I knew Mum would give me a few weeks to sort myself out and find somewhere. She wasn’t about to throw me out on the street.
When my ad appeared online, I wasn’t prepared for the calls I got. Withheld numbers called me constantly, and dirty old men asked what knickers I was wearing and if I offered anal sex. That was not how I had envisaged things. I was expecting a normal person to call and exchange pleasantries, then ask for my company for a specific date and time. I started to dread hearing the phone ring, so I’d let my answer machine pick up, but no one ever left a message. I was beginning to think the whole thing was going to be a waste of time, but I decided to give it a couple of months before coming up with another plan of action.
UK Escorts warned that I might get approached by television companies. When I did receive a call, I was naïvely excited! I felt honoured to have been called, and once they found out that I hadn’t yet done an escorti
ng job, they thought showing the beginning of my career would be perfect for their programme. Their idea was to show the glamorous side of escorting, to try to dispel the ‘escort = prostitute’ myth. They wanted to feature a series of ladies going about their work, preparing for dates and organising their business – to show that they were sound-minded women with a good head on their shoulders. So, they did a series of interviews about what I thought about escorting and why I had chosen to do it, and they were keen to capture my first job.
Being followed around felt very important and I loved the attention and gossip caused in my small local town by me having a TV crew following my every move. Soon, the local paper had a front-page story, which they had to improvise because no one knew what was going on. This must have been an embarrassment for my dad at the newsagent’s, as the local paper was displayed with the heading [small caps] Rebecca’s naked ambition [end small caps] stamped on the front page. It claimed I was going to be an international glamour model (I wish!), and someone had kindly provided all the details of where I went to school and college.
I still had no escort work: I could have taken some on, but I wanted to wait for proper gentlemen to call.
It transpired that on one day of the filming, my debut appearance in a UK magazine was out for sale on the top shelves. Ironically it was the magazine Escort, which has nothing to do with escorts. It was one of a few glamour jobs I managed to do before I went abroad. The film crew loved this and followed me round on a mission to get a copy.
But I couldn’t find a copy anywhere. Naïvely, I thought that no one locally would find out about it. I went to my next local town and the newsagent told me they had sold out. He said that the magazines had flown off the shelves and that he had more on order, and he asked if I was the lady in the photos. I ended up having to go out of town to find a copy. When I saw it, I cringed. It was a two-girl shoot, the theme being ‘moving in’, and both of us ended up in various shots with plastic buckets of clothes!
The Girlfriend Experience Page 6