When someone invents a wine that does not carry with it a horrendous hangover that feels like a tribe of rabid zulu warriors are dancing on my head, they'll be instant millionaires. Of this I am convinced. Two ibuprofen, two slices of toast and two mugs of tea later and I'm starting to feel like communicating a little above a neanderthal grunt. Gotta love Saturdays. Not quite what you expect in an escort blog, is it ? "Morning darlings, I'm just back from a 100 mile run with my personal trainer, and after my smoothie and berocca sandwich it's 250 sit ups."Humph.
Anyway, I've returned in one piece from my glorious tour of erm ... Carnoustie. The town which is ( I'm reliably informed by a client in the know ) home to golfers and dead people. To put it another way, I fecked up again in spectacular fashion. I googled apartments in Dundee and found the most beautiful place which was very reasonably priced too. That's because it was in the middle of NOWHERE. Amanda and I picked up the keys and then followed our sat navs to the apartment and I suppose alarm bells should have started to ring when we had to overtake tractors on single track roads along the way. *sigh*
It turns out our "Dundee" apartment was actually about 7 miles from the city centre and a 15 minute drive, oops. Luckily most of the guys were willing to make the journey and come and see us, and let's face it, discretion was never going to be an issue unless you count the bunnies on the golf course opposite the apartment. For all that it was a lovely spot and very peaceful, if I ever fancy a couple of days chill out time I'll certainly go back.
Tonight I have an overnight booking with one of my guys in Glasgow and am going to introduce him to the best creme brulee ever. I'm looking forward to it because he always spoils me rotten.
Speaking of feck-ups and Glasgow outcalls, I had one which I won't forget for a while and which made it onto the Saafe site too. It's in the humour section of the site whereas it should be in the "What not to do for new escorts" section.
A guy I'd met before quite a while ago asked me to do an outcall to his hotel one evening. I reognised the email address straight away although I couldn't quite remember what he looked like. ( Give me a break, it was over 18 months since I'd seen him last ). So I sashay up to the Raddison, give the concierge a beamer and head to the hotel room. I gave my hair one last pat and knocked on the door. The door opened and there stood a wet man in just a towel, obviously just out of the shower.
Me : Hi !
Him : Um, hello!
Me : Aren't you going to let me in then ?
Him : By all means, just as soon as you tell me who you are. *grin*
Me : So you didn't .....
Him: No, but since you're ....
Me : Sorry to have disturbed you.
I flounced down to reception and called my client on his mobile. I hissed " YOU SAID THE RADISSON".
"Laura, light of my life, I said the Ramada."
On that note I'm off to see if a cold compress will make any difference to my feverish brow.