The Girlfriend Experience

by Rebecca Dakin

  Some guys actually try to trick me, saying they have just showered. They think I’ll take their word for it! I then point out that the shower is bone-dry and send them in, telling them to make sure they take their time. Once, I arrived at a date and the guy (single again, have you noticed a trend?) had been out the night before with friends. I’d arrived the following day, about 2p.m., and he hadn’t been out of the room all day. The place stank, and I suspected he was wearing the same clothes as the night before, too.

  We went out to watch a matinee at the theatre and when he put his arm around me, I could smell his pits – it made me feel sick. When we got back to the hotel, we had an hour or so before dinner. After watching TV for a short while, I told him I couldn’t bear it any longer, that he smelt and needed to get in the shower because it was making me feel queasy. He said he’d had a shower, but I didn’t believe him. Then he tried to convince me he wasn’t a shower-dodger, which he clearly was. There’s no excuse for a lack of basic hygiene. It’s no wonder he lived on his own and was single. He asked if I knew a good deodorant – I told him he’d have to start with a good soap first!

  One guy was in a rush when I arrived for our dinner date and didn’t want to ‘waste’ any time in the shower – so he started washing his pits in the sink! I knew I’d make him shower properly when we came back to the room after dinner, but you can have a quick shower and wash in just a few minutes if need be, so I’ve no idea why he didn’t. He didn’t wash properly so we didn’t do anything in the bedroom either.

  There was also another guy with poor hygiene, someone I saw when I first started escorting. John worked in computing and lived with a bunch of students. He would turn up for our dates casual, with no overnight bag; he didn’t even have a toothbrush. I’d say to him that if he didn’t bring his toothbrush, then I wouldn’t kiss him in the morning. On one occasion he said he was off to the bathroom to brush his teeth, so I listened at the door, but all I could hear was running water. When he came out, I said he obviously hadn’t done it and he argued, so I asked to see his toothbrush and of course he didn’t have one!

  It’s like teaching small children. Maybe some guys get a kick out of getting me into ‘mother’ mode. ‘Don’t forget to wash behind your ears’ and all that. Why do they assume that I’m incredibly stupid? Or is it them? Either way, it tickles me. At the end of the day, it’s their loss – I don’t mind not kissing, or not giving them sex.

  The same guy once asked me to stay with him in his student house because he’d told his flatmates that I was his girlfriend. What a silly thing to do! What if I was out on another date and saw his friends? They’d think I was cheating on him or something, and cause a scene. Fortunately, I didn’t bump into any of his housemates when I stayed, but I was pissed off to find he hadn’t even tidied up. It was a typical student room, with dirty cups everywhere and half-eaten pizza on the floor. He was paying me £700 for an overnight, yet he lived in an absolute dive. Afterwards, I told him we’d have to go back to staying in hotels because his place was dirty and messy – I just thought it was rude and disrespectful of him to invite me to his home and not even try to make it nice. Fresh sheets and a quick tidy would have been enough.

  It’s not just bad hygiene that puts me off – some guys’ behaviour leaves a lot to be desired. I’m good in most social situations, so I don’t mind going out in public on dates, but I like to make sure I’m prepared. As with John, people need to be aware that I may be seen with other people in the future, so I’d always advise them to say I’m a friend rather than a girlfriend.

  I once met a guy for an overnight date at his home near London. When he collected me from the station, he asked if I wanted to go to his flying club (I think he wanted to show me off to people he knew, and impress me with his plane). I was a bit dubious and asked if there would be many people there – I was really dressed up as he’d said we’d be going to an upmarket French restaurant, but he was wearing jeans, so I assumed the club was quite casual and he’d be changing for dinner when we went back to his place. At the flying club he showed me his plane and then we sat outside and got a drink from the bar. We were then joined by a couple he knew, and then came all the usual questions. I was totally unprepared and felt extremely uncomfortable, especially as I looked so out of place in what I was wearing. Then, without consulting me, he invited them to join us for dinner!

  I couldn’t believe it! He decided we’d go straight to a local chain pub instead of the lovely restaurant he’d booked us into

  – he wasn’t going to go back to his place to wash or change, either. The food was disgusting and the social side a disaster. The couple must have been suspicious about him trying to pass me off as his girlfriend – I’d obviously never been mentioned to them and clearly, I knew nothing about him. Once we left the restaurant, I was fuming and let him have a real earful when we got to his car. He apologised, but didn’t understand why I was so angry. The rest of the date was fine once we were on our own, but I couldn’t believe he’d put me in such an awkward situation.

  I used to ask guys what they wanted me to wear, but I found that people would be far too specific, or they’d ask me to wear something smart and then turn up wearing jeans. So, now I usually ask what they’re planning to wear and I find out what kind of place we’ll be going to, just so I can be sure to dress appropriately. I remember once meeting Jack, my accountant regular. I breezed into this posh hotel in Birmingham, dressed up and looking glam. There were a number of businessmen in the lobby; I knew some were watching me, looking to see who I was meeting. I strode up to the bar and Jack was there, in a T-shirt that was far too small (his huge, veiny belly was sticking out) and cargo trousers! He stood up to greet me, and I noticed his spotty bum cleavage and wished I could have seen the businessmen’s faces!

  I asked if he was changing for dinner and he said no. So, I said it would have been nice if he’d told me he wouldn’t be dressing up and then I could have done the same. When we met before, he’d always dressed smartly. There’s no way we’ll ever look like a couple, but at least if we’re wearing similar clothing we hopefully look like acquaintances or work colleagues.

  When we ate out, he repeatedly ate with his mouth open and talked with his mouth full. I tried to be patient and subtle by looking at his mouth with the food churning around, instead of his eyes, when he was speaking. He didn’t get the hint, so I tried shaking my head disapprovingly while looking at his mouth as food spluttered out; it was really making me feel sick. He still didn’t get the hint and carried on speaking, so I blatantly had to ask him not to speak with a mouthful of food and told him I didn’t want to see the contents of his mouth. I have never met such a disgusting eater! I even stopped trying to make conversation while we ate because I didn’t want to encourage him to talk. Have these guys not heard the old saying, ‘manners maketh the man?’ Well, it’s absolutely true.

  Another guy, an ex-regular from Liverpool, used to have really poor table manners. I’d see him once a month for a couple of nights at his house, and I had to tell him not to speak with his mouth full, too. Often I got food flying into my face, or onto my plate, from his mouth. He spent so much money booking me, but his towels and dressing gowns were threadbare, and his kitchen wasn’t clean. He’d give me cups and cutlery that hadn’t even been washed properly. Really, he should have got himself a cleaner with the money he spent on escorts!

  We’d go to the theatre and do all sorts of things, but when we were back at his house, there was nothing to do. He wouldn’t put the TV on, so I’d be bored and either read the paper, have a bath or go to bed for a snooze. He was so emotionally draining, because he wanted me to be 100% focused on him all the time. In the end, I just ran out of conversation. One day, when we were at his local supermarket, it tickled me when someone asked if I was his daughter!

  A couple of years ago, he contacted me again and I said I’d see him if he booked a hotel. He asked why, and I tried to be tactful, saying I’d be more comfortable if we staye
d there but he didn’t get it, so I ended up saying his threadbare towels and dirty kitchen weren’t really appealing. He didn’t want to meet up again, which was fine, but he must have understood what I was telling him because I heard that another escort went to visit him and his place was spotless, with fluffy new towels!

  One of the worst bookings I had was when I went to see someone I hadn’t met before, Charles, who had inquired about me visiting him at home. He couldn’t verify his address, but he pointed me to his company website, where there was lots of interesting information about him, along with a photograph. He was a top financial adviser and looked like he was in his fifties or sixties. In the build-up to our date I was convinced he was the kind of person I usually enjoy meeting. He seemed to care about my comfort, he said he wanted me to wear whatever I felt comfortable in (a good sign), and he had booked a restaurant, but said I could change it if there was something I preferred, so I had built up an image of a kind, thoughtful, well-to-do older guy.

  We exchanged a few texts, and when I told him what time I thought I’d get to his apartment, he said he might still be in the bath. Forty-five minutes before I was due to arrive, he messaged me and said he was just getting into the bath. This rang alarm bells; did he think we would jump straight into bed for a session before dinner? Why would it take him over 45 minutes to bathe? I arrived bang on time into London, but just in case he was still getting ready, I waited at the station for 15 minutes. I called him and he said he was ready, so I jumped in a cab. As soon as we entered his apartment, he said, ‘I know you don’t like slobbery kisses, but…’ and proceeded to try and give me a slobbery kiss. Yuck!

  I thought he was an idiot from that moment. Why would you do something to someone that you know they really don’t like? I pulled away, wiped his slobber on the back of my hand, and he asked what I wanted to do. I said I’d like to go for a drink before dinner, so he quickly showed me around his pad and then we went out to a bar. He was a really interesting guy, and also seemed very interested in me. The restaurant was a gorgeous French place, but half-empty, and I suspected that he had arranged the meal for 8.30p.m. so that we could have a sex session before dinner. I never do that, even with regulars, and before I even confirm a date I always make it clear that I like to dine first.

  The meal was delicious. He ordered wine and champagne, which I thought was a bit much. I knew I’d need to keep my eye on my glass because the waiters just keep topping them up when you’re not looking! During the meal he said that I looked like someone who spoke my mind, and wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. I agreed, and he seemed to understand and respect the person that I am. Then we went back to his apartment. He never offered me a drink – I would have only had water, anyway, but it’s always nice to be asked. I lit candles and put them around his room, and he put some music on. We started kissing, and straightaway, he took all my clothes off. I don’t like that – I like to take my time, and he was too eager. He was getting a little too close for comfort without a condom on, but he said it was OK and he wasn’t trying to put it in. I said it was a good job, as I would be straight out of there, if he did!

  He groped me for a few minutes and then asked if I had a condom. I just thought he was a total prick – I couldn’t understand how someone could switch from being a thoughtful, caring person to a selfish idiot. I decided I would give him a bit of oral sex before I put the condom on, but he told me to just do what he’d asked! If I’d been closer to home I would have left, but I didn’t want to wander round London so late at night, so I decided to put up with it. I put on the condom, and hoped he would come quickly so I could get off to bed. Already I’d decided I was having the spare room! So, I tried my best to maintain eye contact with him, and tell him how good it felt with him inside me. That did the trick, and he came after a few minutes.

  Afterwards, he tried to give me oral and asked if I’d come, and I said probably not now as it was late. He told me not to worry, that we would try again later. I pointed out that as it was nearly 1a.m I’d be going to bed in a few minutes, and told him that an overnight date didn’t mean sex all night! He said he had certain expectations, but I told him the more he put into a meeting of this kind, the more he would get out of it. I then said I was sleeping in the spare room and that I’d go in and give him a cuddle in the morning.

  He looked pissed off, but as far as I was concerned, why should it matter where I sleep? He had annoyed me so much and I knew he’d be pestering me for more sex at some point during the night. The bed was small and I couldn’t bear to be anywhere near him because of how he had treated me. I went to the spare room, taking my suitcase with me, because I’m sure he would have gone through it to try and take his money back. I left it directly behind the door so I would wake up, if he tried to come in.

  At 7.15am he came rapping on my door, saying, ‘Time to get up!’ like I was in the Army! I couldn’t believe it. Irritated and disorientated, I was feeling more than a little worse for wear. I snapped that I was having another hour. About 15 minutes later, he did the same thing again and told me I had to get out because he had a train to catch. I knew he was lying to get me out. I didn’t even have time to shower – my eyes were halfclosed, my hair all over the place. I couldn’t believe what he was doing. How rude! He didn’t even check if I’d be able to get home. There I was, out on the Strand with my suitcase, still half-asleep at 7.45am.

  If he genuinely had to catch a train that early (which I know he didn’t), he should have told me at the time of booking because in that case I wouldn’t have visited him at home. I would have asked him to arrange a hotel so that I could stay longer. He was just annoyed that he didn’t get his own way the night before; that he didn’t have me up like a sex machine all night. I’m so glad I stayed in the spare room and I was more than happy to get away from him!

  I always used to find it awkward, asking for the money on bookings. I’d never ask for it, and never count it either. I know I shouldn’t have felt bad about it, but I did. It took me a couple of bad experiences before I finally started asking for the money at the beginning of the date and counting it out in front of the gentleman. That way, if it’s short, I can’t be accused of hiding it. Sometimes a date will accidentally give me too much, so it doesn’t always work out to my benefit.

  The first time I was swindled out of money, it was to the tune of £700, which at that time was the amount I charged for an overnight date. I was approached by a gentleman who claimed to work for the government: he said he was looking to meet someone on a regular basis; who would be put on a payroll. I would need to be exclusively available and able to travel at short notice. Intrigued and excited, I decided to meet him for a coffee to discuss matters further.

  We met in Derby at a pub close to the station. He was about 50, grey, and balding, and wearing a smart grey suit; he showed me official documents and his passport, which proved his identity. We spent about an hour chatting, and I told him that before we could take things to the next level it would be advisable to book me for an overnight, to check that we could get along over a longer period. I explained this would need to be a paid booking. We arranged an overnight date at Gatwick Airport and it took me hours to get to him as the trains were delayed. He didn’t offer me the money upfront, and I didn’t ask for it. We went out for dinner and then retired to the room. In the morning, he said he hadn’t slept, which I believed as on the odd occasion when I’d woken in the night, he was bolt upright in bed! I wondered whether he was on drugs.

  We had more fun in the morning, and when I was due to leave I asked him for my money. I was fuming when he said he didn’t have it and would pay it into my bank account. There was nothing I could do – it was my fault for not asking for it earlier. Needless to say, the money never arrived and eventually I gave up ringing and asking him for it.

  That story has an interesting twist, though. A few years later, a gentleman friend from one of the review sites booked me for the evening, for a trip to London. We stayed in one of
my favourite hotels there, the Sanderson. That evening we were going out with another gentleman and his date, an escort (who I had met a few times), her female friend, and a gentleman who had her on a payroll and was buying her lavish gifts. She had spoken about him on numerous occasions – he had paid off the mortgage on her house, and had bought her a brand new sports car, diamonds and much more; she travelled with him all over the world, and also took her friend. Both got paid for their time.

  We turned up at Attica in London to meet up with everyone, and there was a real party spirit, with numerous bottles of pink champagne on ice. I was introduced to everyone there – including Andrew, the guy who’d ripped me off several years earlier. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Andrew,’ I said, with a knowing smile. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I told my date about him, and he said to let him stew for a bit. I left it for hours without saying anything to him – I wanted to choose my timing very carefully. I’m sure he knew that Carol would have been really angry, if she knew he’d ripped me off. She was a feisty character, and it would have reflected really badly on him to have been so tight with me, seeing as he clearly had plenty of money! So I kept quiet and let him wonder whether I’d said anything to her. He kept plying us all with champagne

  – maybe he was hoping to get me so drunk, I would forget the whole thing.

  Soon I found myself standing next to him, away from the rest of our crowd. ‘So,’ I said. ‘Andrew, how are you?’ He shifted about a bit, and looked extremely uncomfortable. I loved watching him squirm. ‘Very well, thanks, and you?’ he asked innocently. ‘We have a bit of unfinished business,’ I said. He agreed, and glanced around to check that no one was looking. ‘Well, that £700 has gained a bit of interest; it’s now £1,000,’ I informed him. He quickly gave me his number, asked me to call him the next day, and promised it would all be sorted out. Within a couple of days, I had the money. It was worth waiting years just to see the look on his face when he was introduced to me! And of course the £300 interest was handy, although I kicked myself for not asking for more. I think he would have paid me anything I’d asked, just to keep his little indiscretion quiet.