I’m a firm believer in what goes around, comes around, and he certainly got his comeuppance. Less than a year after I got my money back, he was rumbled by the government. His face was plastered over the papers, along with the story of how he had squandered Government money on high-class escorts. He had ripped the Government off to the tune of hundreds of thousands of pounds, and found himself in jail.
Previously, I’ve been offered the chance to win a car by someone who claimed that he could choose the winners in prize draw competitions; he then said he wanted me to pay for the car in dates. Unbelievable! That was while I was still known as ‘Barbie’, so no doubt he thought I’d be a dizzy blonde. I told him, ‘When I have the car, I’ll see you.’ He actually expected me to take his word for it, and to start seeing him for nothing! Once, I was even asked if I would accept high street gift vouchers as payment!
It’s usually rich people who push for discounts and try and get freebies. Guys with average earnings are usually more respectful and don’t ask. Some want a discount if they’re looking for a holiday companion. They think if they’re paying for first-class travel and a luxury 5-star, then they shouldn’t have to pay much for a lady, because it’s ‘a holiday’. It might be a vacation for them, but if they expect me to be there all the time, and be intimate with them at some point, it’s work for me, and if they expect me to work, then it’s not a ‘free holiday’!
I love kissing. I think kissing should be slow and inquisitive, and when it’s right, I can kiss for hours. Great kissers vary their technique and read signals from the other person. So, if their partner is easing away, they don’t keep following them and forcing them to keep kissing, they let them move away. It might be a short, teasing pause, or perhaps their partner wants to kiss elsewhere. I love nibbling necks and ears – and having mine nibbled, too. Gently probing tongues are nice, and also gentle sucking of the upper and lower lips. However, I find it amazing that so many guys can’t kiss. I absolutely hate forceful, slobbery kissing. Having my head clamped by someone’s arm into a kiss is not pleasant, but I’m really surprised how many men do this. Every boyfriend I’ve had has been an amazing kisser and has never been forceful with kissing, because for me, it’s such a turn-off.
In my work I’ve had odd kissers who almost kiss like a fish. They make their lips firm and just open and close them against mine, but the most common bad kissing trait is slobber. Often I have to wipe the saliva off my face, and I make a point of doing this obviously in the hope they will stop slobbering. I would say that unfortunately 90% of the guys I kiss are awful, slobbery kissers. It’s no wonder their wives don’t want to kiss them or have sex! If they could sort their kissing out, they might find they actually turn their wives on, but most of the time it’s such a turn-off and I dislike it immensely. I would rather give oral sex than kiss them on the lips; I can understand why so many ladies in this profession don’t kiss.
The lady I sometimes go to for facials had a date with a guy recently, and his kissing was slobbery and disgusting, but she never said anything to him at the time – she’s just been avoiding his phone calls ever since! I told her she should tell him, because if no one does, he probably won’t ever have any success with women and he will be confused as to why.
Apart from bad kissing, the worst thing in the bedroom is when guys think they can move me round like a rag doll. I get very stroppy if someone just wants to move me around and orchestrate me. I’ve literally had people turn me over and put my body into certain positions, like I’m an object. I also find ‘dirty’ talk when I’m working hilarious. It’s just so cheesy! I had one guy who wanted me to tell him his cock was really big, and I just laughed and asked him why – because it wasn’t! Dirty talk really isn’t my bag and I find it hard to keep a straight face. ‘Ooooh, you love sucking that cock, don’t you?’ Whatever!
I once had a disaster date that should never have happened. Looking back, alarm bells started ringing when I was asked to paint my nails bright red and bring stockings, suspenders, a pair of glasses and another set of lingerie. You’re probably thinking that’s no big deal, but after seven years in the business, the word ‘control freak’ springs to mind. I don’t like being told what to do or what to wear, so it puts me on edge straightaway. I could have, and probably should have, said ‘no’ there and then, but I didn’t and so we arranged a date.
I’m used to people saying, ‘Wear what you feel comfortable in’, not giving me a checklist of things. If a gentleman is so specific, he’s likely to think that it’s all about him because he’s paying, and that’s not the kind of person I enjoy spending time with. Throughout our emails he reminded me about the red nails, and also added strappy sandals to the ever-growing list. I joked that I’d need a suitcase and hoped I’d remember everything, because if I didn’t, I had a feeling he would send me packing! He said he had a foot-and-leg fetish, so I assumed that meant he would be spending a lot of time appreciating my feet and legs. I didn’t think this would be an easy job, but I thought it would be quite different, and assumed there would be lots of leg and foot worship. It wasn’t something I had experienced much of before, so I was quite intrigued.
I arrived at the hotel and knocked on his door. He was shorter than me, about 5’4”, dressed in a sharp suit, and quite attractive with a confident air. It transpired he was a financier. Over a glass of champagne, we chatted about his work and mine. I had arrived at 7p.m. for a four-hour dinner date; I didn’t feel rushed and we took our time over dinner. He respected the way I run my business and was very interested; he also seemed to understand me as a person. I really enjoyed his company, and I almost forgot about all the things I’d had to bring; I was confident we would have a lovely evening.
When we got back to the room, I went to the bathroom to change. I walked out and he sat down and admired my outfit. He stroked me up and down my legs. He smelt lovely, always a good start, and his kissing was soft and felt delicious. I was bending down to kiss him as he was sitting down. I sat opposite him on the sofa and he put my legs in the air and removed my shoes, while sucking my toes. He left big clumps of food on them, which wasn’t very pleasant! After dinner, I’d brushed my teeth and he clearly hadn’t, as he seemed to be flossing with my nylons! He noticed, and I know he hoped I hadn’t, because as he pretended to massage my toes he was actually trying to get the white bits of potato off my stocking!
He pulled my knickers to one side and probed my pussy, then asked me to get his cock out. I did, and he put it to my mouth for me to suck. I was lying down, and he was standing over me. He wanted me to scratch his balls at the same time, quite roughly. After a few minutes, I moved my mouth away and he asked me to suck it again. I had moved away because I wanted to do something else, so I was a bit perturbed. I said I was starting to feel very uncomfortable with the way things were going – I could sense this would not be a two-way meeting, more, ‘I’m paying, and this is what I want’. When I stopped again, he just stood there, waiting, his erect cock in my face and his hands behind his back. Well, that was it. I stopped and told him I felt uncomfortable with what was happening.
I tried to think how best to put into words what I wanted to say without being too blunt and making him feel bad; that I wasn’t used to meetings like this. I said I felt like he was controlling me, and that I didn’t expect to be told what to do.
We spent a good half-hour analysing what had gone wrong and how it could have been avoided. He was used to seeing girls for two hours and having oral sex twice, and was obviously used to them doing as they were told. I told him I was used to the opposite: to meeting someone and it being a two-way pleasure trip, with both parties equally involved, creating a build-up to one amazing orgasm, hopefully for both. I’m old-fashioned, and think it should be ladies first, anyway!
He is a member on one of the review sites and there was nothing in any of my reviews to suggest I was into one-way, PSE meetings. If he’d done his homework properly, he should have known that I wasn’t the kind of person
that he would enjoy spending time with. This is part of what it says on my site:
If you…
• are disrespectful
• are forceful and pushy
• don’t care about my feelings and comfort
• have an obsessive or controlling nature
• are looking for a PSE (Porn Star Experience)
… then I am not the lady for you, and in some instances such behaviour on a date will lead to me terminating the meeting. In the bedroom he was all of these things! Obviously it was awkward and I wasn’t sure what to do. I did think he was a genuinely nice guy, so I didn’t want to leave it, with both of us disappointed, so I suggested we start again. I went back to the bathroom and came out again, and we started over, but this time he didn’t tell me to do anything. It wasn’t long before he came. Under the circumstances, it wouldn’t be fair to write a review, so he decided not to. We both learnt something and I don’t think either of us will make the same mistake again.
This is a classic example of how escorts differ. I have escort friends who assume their job is to perform sexually, so they would have just got on with the job and not had an issue with it. I don’t advertise that I sell sex, and my job is to offer good company, so I insist on being treated with respect.
I also dislike public displays of affection while I’m working. I don’t mind linking arms with guys, but if you’re holding hands you look like a couple and I do like to be discreet in public. It’s for this reason that I try to avoid holding hands. I’m very tactile, so I don’t have a problem with being close to people generally; it’s just kissing, holding hands or groping in public that I don’t like. Anything non-sexual is fine. I’m most affectionate with guys that I’m very comfortable with, those that are relaxed, not full-on. Personally, I think it’s rude to try to snog someone the minute they walk through the door.
I’m so old fashioned – I want to get to know someone a bit first. Once, I had an awful dinner date with a guy who immediately tried to kiss and grope me. I pushed him away, but all through dinner he kept trying to put his hand up my skirt, even though a family was sitting next to us. It was awful! Afterwards, we went for a little walk and he tried to do the same. In the end, I had to be very abrupt with him and told him that I didn’t like it.
I was on a date in Italy once and the guy constantly touched my fingers and hands while we were eating. It was quite annoying: God help anyone who gets between me and my food! At one point, when he started kissing both my hands and sliding my fingers into his mouth while I had my knife in my hand, I whipped my hands away and asked what he was doing. I felt really uncomfortable as we were surrounded by people eating. As an onlooker, it would have certainly put me off my meal! I suppose he wanted it to look like we were a touchy-feely real couple, but it was a total turn-off!
Guys who constantly want assurance are difficult to be around. When they say things like, ‘You really don’t want to be here, do you?’ it actually makes me feel that way. It’s incredibly uncomfortable. Or, ‘I bet you don’t like being seen with an ugly oldie like me?’ They forget that generally women are less shallow when it comes to looks. How often do you see an unattractive lady with an attractive guy? Often, I see unattractive men with stunning women, but rarely the other way round. I really am interested in getting to know the people I meet and visual looks are not important to me. Of course if they’re attractive and a nice guy, it’s always a bonus!
The opposite are those who are intrusive about my private life. I don’t mind a few questions, but sometimes it’s too much. There’s plenty to talk about without either party getting personal. And then there are the guys who feel sorry for me because they think I must have had all sorts of bad experiences. I find it extremely patronising – I’m very choosy about who I see, and although I’ve written about a few bad experiences here, they are few and far between considering that I’ve been escorting for eight years.
I’ve heard stories a million times worse from other ladies. One Northern Angels girl let herself get so battered and bruised from someone having sex with her that she was in agony and couldn’t sit down; she had to have over four weeks off work! She decided to tell everyone on the public forum, and although I didn’t know her, I immediately called to offer her sympathy and advise her on what to do in a similar situation in the future. This was not something she should have put on a public forum. Hindsight is a wonderful thing though, isn’t it? If it was that bad, she should have walked out with the cash! I asked why she didn’t use lubrication and she said she didn’t think guys liked it. I don’t care whether they like it or not, if I need it or want to use it, then I do. It’s not like I just use lubrication for work – I always use it to play with boyfriends, too. She said she didn’t want a bad review! Sod the reviews – our health, well-being and self-respect are worth far more than a review. I won’t compromise on these things for anyone.
‘I’m sorry, there’s no reservation for a Mr O’Donnelly.’ ‘Could you please double -check? I have the room number here – it’s 1001,’ I said. ‘Just a minute… No, I’m sorry, there’s nothing under that name.’ Cursing, I hung up and decided to call the restaurant next door to check the reservation there. We were supposedly booked in for dinner at 8.45p.m. When I was told again that there was no reservation , my heart sank. I was sitting in my car, all dolled up, wearing a fitted grey dress, tight leather jacket and knee boots ready for my dinner date. I cursed myself for not checking earlier. A timewaster… great!
I called him and expected to get his voicemail, but he picked up after a couple of rings, so I challenged him. ‘Well, the room’s all booked and paid for,’ he said, rather jovially, ‘and I’ve made a reservation for dinner.’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘Can you give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back?’ he asked. I called the hotel again to say that I had spoken to Mr O’Donnelly and he was definitely in room 1001. It turned out he was also on a call to the hotel at the same time. I decided to take a gamble because if I didn’t leave there and then , I would be late. Even worse, he might be late, too, and ask me to stay longer. We were due to meet for a dinner date at 8.30p.m. and I didn’t want our time to run over. He called me back to say it was all sorted, but that he may be a few minutes late; he’d told the hotel that I might arrive first and said they would give me the key.
I arrived bang on time, parked and teetered in my heels across the road to the hotel. ‘I’ve come to collect a key for room 1001 – my partner has said he called you,’ I said to the lady behind the desk. ‘Actually,’ I added, ‘I was told he wasn’t staying here when I called.’ ‘I have the reservation here,’ said the lady. ‘Why couldn’t you find him when I called earlier?’ ‘Because he hadn’t checked in yet,’ she answered, as if that explained everything. Surely he would have been in the system ? I even had his room number!
The receptionist wanted me to fill in a form with my name, address and other personal details. I could have made up some information , but decided to tell them it would be best if he filled it in . After assuring the receptionist that ‘ my partner’ would be arriving in five minutes, she reluctantly she gave me the key. Knowing the hotel quite well, I made my way to the lifts. I put the TV on in the room and settled into an armchair to wait for my date. By 8.45 I was a little irritated, but only because I was hungry and I still wasn’t sure if he would actually turn up. But if he wanted to pay for me to sit in a hotel room and watch TV, this would be easiest job ever! He called to say he was just around the corner and would be arriving in a couple of minutes. By 8.55, he still hadn’t arrived, and I got another call saying the same thing – he was just around the corner. By 9p.m. I was really pissed off and wondering whether this was some sort of joke. What if he didn’t arrive and I didn’t get paid ? I couldn’t understand it – I thought it was very odd.
Had I been 100% sure he would arrive and pay me, then I would have been OK, but I started to think he was winding me up, so I called him. ‘Where exactly are you?’ I asked, looking out on
the road to see if I could spot him in the dark. ‘I’m on the corner by the hotel,’ he said, and apologised. ‘You said that last time!’ I snapped back. ‘I’m really sorry about this, but I am on the corner – I had to stop to take a call. I’ll be with you in two minutes,’ he replied. ‘If you have to park your car, you won’t be here in two minutes. I’ll see you in ten ,’ I said, rather huffily, before hanging up.
Sure enough, ten minutes later, I heard the key card in the door. I could hear him struggling, so I opened the door a fraction and then pushed it again as if to close it, saying cheekily, ‘Not today, thank you,’ before opening it fully. Standing there was a jolly-looking Irishman with a big, round, smiley face and glasses, dressed smartly in a full length overcoat. He apologised profusely and looked quite flustered. He said that someone had crashed into his car, and he’d gone to the wrong hotel. All sorts of excuses poured out, and I wasn’t sure what to believe. It just seemed odd.
He then proceeded to count out my fee in tens! Great! Instead of putting them in piles of hundreds, he counted £300 in one pile. Then he counted out another big pile of tens, making £600 in total. He had wanted an overnight, but as I had an early hair appointment the next day, I had told him that I would meet him, but it would just be a dinner date. If he’d have been free earlier, I’d have suggested a 5-hour date, but at 8.30 I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay up until 1.30, so I said I’d see him for four hours. ‘You’ve given me too much,’ I said, hoping that for all the messing around, he might tell me not to worry. Thankfully, he did.
I told him that I was starving, so we made our way down to dinner. Linking my arm with his, I grinned at him. He was a nice guy, and I was happy now I’d got paid, so I could settle in to enjoy our date. In the restaurant he started talking about himself and his successful companies (probably another single guy, I thought). Although he looked older, it turned out that he was only 36. I learnt that at the age of 21, he was living in a £1 million pound house. He could run a mile in under six minutes and used to be very athletic; he enjoyed playing and watching rugby, and yes, he was single! This was his first time with an escort, he said.
The Girlfriend Experience Page 25