Sunday, 31 May 2009
I'm back in Ayr, if only for a couple of days before I head off to Dundee. What a journey back I had. The sun was beating down and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the little lambs skipping about the fields. They're soooo cute and if I hear one more smart remark about mint sauce I'll lose the plot. When I went back to my old home town the other day I also had to chance to meet one of my pal's brand new additions to the family, an 8 day old baby boy and he's just divine. One of the reasons I love this time of year is it's full of new life and promise and the sun tends to put even the grumpiest of people in good form. Hell, even our time wasters/heavy breathers are more chirpy.
You've got to love Scottish Springs/Summers. When I got home this evening I decided to get some study done and as it was so lovely I took a blanket out into the garden to catch some sun, whilst my "pocket rocket" was practising her gymnastics and generally antagonising the neighbours. Even the local neds were in great form, strolling around in the sunshine stripped to the waist enjoying long cool refreshing sips of Buckfast, and that was just the girls. By the way, at the back of the row of houses where I live is a lane way, often inhabited by my Burberry clad friends at the weekends and the mating call of the lesser spotted garden variety ned is enough to make you want to self-harm. Ho hum.
After my brief but pleasant interlude in the garden I decided to tackle the pile of mail that was waiting for me after a week away. Why do on-line catalogue companies persist in increasing my "limit" ? Yes, I know I'm a good customer and always pay on time, but take pity on a helpless woman who disregards "limits" as an inhibitor and sees them more as a challenge ! I have a wonderful idea for an invention, a breath detector attached to a laptop that detects when the user is over the legal limit for driving. In this case though, it will initiate immediate lap-top shutdown and prevent purchases of garments that you wouldn't wear to a fetish club, never mind to your Aunty's 60th birthday. *sigh*
As a complete aside, Amanda and I have made a momentous decision. We are going on "The Jeremy Kyle Show". Panic not, I don't mean as guests but as audience members. Let me explain. It's become part of our morning routine on tour to make breakfast and answer our emails with the show on in the background. For those of you who have never seen the show it's about as mentally challenging as an omnibus edition of "Teletubbies", but very entertaining all the same. Honestly, suddenly your own problems seem minute in comparison to the poor girl who's suddenly found out that her partner is in actual fact a woman/eunuch/goat and further, that they have a hamster fetish. So Amanda and I just want to enjoy the theatrical side to it all, the boos and cheers and also to be the first audience members to be forcibly ejected. LOL. It's filmed in Manchester so we'll probably combine it with a tour and if nothing else it will be a laugh and a half.
On that note, I'm off to bed, to think about how best to employ our cunning plan.
T-shirts with our website addresses emblazoned thereon maybe ?
Friday, 29 May 2009
Not my Highland Harlot pal. She took the day off and we shared the driving. It was a four hour drive each way, so we took it in shifts of two hours each whilst the other was on phone/coffee/snacks duty, LOL. She waited outside the courtroom whilst I went in and said my piece and we headed off for lunch before returning to Aberdeen.
We are both absolutely exhausted and ready to tumble into bed.
It's true what they say, you soon find out who your friends are when you really need them.
So, Amanda and I have extended our tour a wee bit and are now going to stay here for Saturday too. The forecast for tomorrow is for a heatwave so we are going to take our phones and lie out in the sun on a blanket, heaven.
Alfresco lunch and gales of laughter with a person equally unhinged, if not more so than me, you couldn't plan it if you tried. :)
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Angry ? No, that’s too strong a word. Sad ? Hmmm, we’re getting there. Hurt ? Yes I think that best describes it.
When I first started blogging it was very light hearted and I just enjoyed talking about nothing of any great consequence. I took a decision later on to start thinking back on some of the experiences I have had, good and bad. Recently I blogged about a particularly bad spell in my life which I learnt a lot from. I have decided to take it down and to focus on the here and now rather than the past. It may, with hindsight have been too personal to put online and although I will tell my story ( because I have quite a story to tell ) I will do so anonymously.
As anyone who has met me will tell you, I am one of the most funloving,upbeat and slightly mad ( in a pleasant way lol ) people you’ll come across.I love my work and I love my life. I don’t in anyway think that my past has influenced the person I am today except in a very positive manner. After all,if you’ve never experienced the dark, how will you ever appreciate the light ?
I also blogged a little about how a good escort needs to be a chameleon, and adaptable to her surroundings and individual client’s needs. By that I did NOT mean that she should wear a mask or pretend to be something she’s not. If I have been guilty of anything over the years it’s being too open with my clients that I know very well and letting them see the real me.
So what’s upset me ? This email :
“I was going to write yesterday to thank you for your little note but read your blog first to find your wavelength.
After that I had to think for 24 hours.. Strong, strong stuff; way, way beyond scary; too strong for me, I'm afraid.
I thought I knew you a little bit but I don't know who I knew. Real, mirrors, who knows? I don't. As you said, I enjoyed your company more than your bed. I'm not naive, or not that naive that I should expect anything more than that some of the things we did together you enjoyed. Or was it all just chameleon ? Even the occasional smile ?
I have always worried about you, the inevitability of tears and sadness . You,my Antigone.”
That e-mail came from a man I have known for years and had grown terribly fond of, and he of me. I am real, 100% me. I firmly believe in the saying “To thine own self be true”. So if I smiled, it was because I was happy. I do not seek to deceive with mirrors or any other method. If I feel sad, I have a good cry. If I find something amusing, I’ll throw my head back and laugh.
So yes, you did know the real me. The one who laughed and swore and fell asleep on your sofa whilst watching tv. The one who snores like a baby rhino and once took you outside for some alfresco fun when we were both eaten alive by midges but still managed to laugh about it.
It’s me, and I make no apologies for the vivacious, bouncy lovable woman I am.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
Good evening. I've been a busy floozy since I blogged last and last night I had a particularly remarkable encounter. There was a time in my mid 20's when I was a highly regarded "Mistress" in my home country and I found myself specialising in hardcore domination. Through word of mouth and referrals I ended up with a lot of sub clients who saw me quite regularly and I very much enjoyed my role. As time went by and as I came back to escorting I moved into a more vanilla "MILF" role. I really thought I had left my domme ways behind me (aside from the odd light session here and there ) until last night.
I had a three hour session with a new client which can only be described as prolonged torture. I find the relationship between domme and client utterly fascinating and always have. It involves a great degree of mutual respect and trust. The reason this particular session tickled me so much is because down through the years I have experimented and enjoyed cock and ball torture, sensory deprivation, anal torture, hot and cold, etc. but I had never done breath control. My client had what is commonly referred to as a "gimp mask", but this was a mask with a difference. It had a tube through which he could breathe, which I could plug at any time if he wasn't obeying my commands. It was a very strange sensation indeed to control his breathing, to the point that if he didn't do as I asked, I would plug his ventilation tube until he really began to panic and wriggle. Subs being subs, he deliberately disobeyed me on several occasions to goad me into more severe punishment. I've attached some pics of my slave, and suffice to say I think he'll remember me for weeks to come, ie : everytime he sits down. LOL. I was a very strict mistress indeed and whipped his backside to a pulp, just prior to pouring hot candle wax on it. OUCH !!
I know there are men reading this who are quite literally crossing their legs now, but it's what I always say, horses for courses.
One of the secrets of being a good escort I think is to be a chameleon. By that I mean that you should be able to adapt to any situation and also be able to read the signals your client is giving you. A high class society lady to have as arm candy ? No problem. A strict mistress ? No problem. A submissive girl to look at you with pleading eyes ? No problem. A girlfriend to take to restaurants and kiss and hug you with whom you can have a pillow fight at 2am ? No problem.
It's all part of the delicious and utterly insane world we love to inhabit.
I'll let you into a little secret. Although I relish my role as a domme for work purposes and truly enjoy pushing the boundaries, in my private life I'm actually very sub. ;) I think I can relate it to some of the powerful men I see, because their days are so controlled, they feel a need to pass over the control in the bedroom. Hmmmm. Because I remain in control in a paid sex situation, is this the reason I love to be submissive privately ? Who knows. I can count on one hand the number of men I allow to dominate me, because as I've previously said, there has to be 100% trust. But my goodness, how wonderful it is when I realise I have another potential master.
On a lighter note, I should have said from the outset, I actually have two children, one actual and one furry. I have a moggy who's a big baby and misses me terribly when I'm on tour, to the point that he's started tearing up my mail and making his feelings known. So .... in two weeks I am expecting the latest addition to our family, a little kitten to keep him company. I can't wait !! She's jet black with green eyes and I'm really struggling for a name for her. If you can think of one please email me.
Yours with contended purrs,
Friday, 22 May 2009
Thanks to a thread on Punternet Forums, I have been reading some
bullshit fascinating reports on prostitution. These reports all have something in common. If you look up the authors, you will inevitably find out that they are not just feminists, but activistic feminists of the extreme variety. The kind of feminists who seem to be irresistibly drawn to working for such organisations as Rape Crisis. A few minutes of digging around on the internet for articles by said feminists leads one to wonder whether they work there purely based on the urge to use the phrase “Male violence against women” as often as possible.
Jan Macleod says in this article
PROSTITUTION is referred to as the oldest profession and is said to be inevitable because it's always been here. That's what people said about slavery.
Surely we want a Scotland where people have the right to live in safety and respect - how can we achieve that if we are prepared to tolerate women being used and abused in prostitution?
Most women enter prostitution because of lack of choice. It is the men buying sex who are exercising free choice.
Slavery? Used and abused? Lack of choice?
I will say here and now though, that I have more time for the opinions of Margo MacDonald, who is quoted further down in the same article. At least she has the sense to realise that the more laws are brought in to end prostitution, the more it will be driven underground. The further underground it goes, the more dangerous it becomes.
Another article from the same newspaper is imaginatively titled “Sex Industry in Scotland: Inside the deluded minds of the punters”
This piece starts with the line:
“ALMOST half the punters who use prostitutes in Scotland are so deluded that they believe the women actually enjoy having sex with them.”
Now tell me, what exactly is wrong with that? It’s not delusion. It’s fact! We do enjoy it. On some occasions more than others, but that really isn’t the issue.
I wouldn’t mind if the people churning out these articles and reports and campaigning their dungaree clad arses off, were open minded, but these women include the likes of Julie Bindel.
In case you haven’t come across the lovely Ms Bindel, she is the kind of feminist who believes that ALL women should be saved from “daily penetration”.
I’m sure that Ms Bindel would read my website and promptly announce that I am deluded, a victim of male abuse and that I was probably an abused or neglected child. She would be entirely wrong.
I, on the other hand read this article and feel that I know all I ever wish to know about our Julie. I’ll give you a couple of quotes from that one, just in case you can’t be arsed to read it.
“In the late 70s a group of lesbians in Leeds, known as revolutionary feminists (RFs), made a controversial move that resonated loudly for me and many other women. They began calling for all feminists to embrace lesbianism. Appealing to their heterosexual sisters to get rid of men "from your beds and your heads"”
“all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women.”
“ "We think serious feminists have no choice but to abandon heterosexuality," it reads. "Only in the system of oppression that is male supremacy does the oppressor actually invade and colonise the interior of the body of the oppressed." It also asserted that penetration "is more than a symbol, its function and effect is the punishment and control of women"”
“For me, however, my lesbianism is intrinsically bound up with my feminist politics and my campaigning against sexual violence.”
“I think it's time for feminists to re-open the debate about heterosexuality, and to embrace the idea of political lesbianism. We live in a culture in which rape is still an everyday reality, and yet women are blamed for it, as it is viewed as an inevitable feature of heterosexual sex. Domestic violence is still a chronic problem for countless women in relationships with men. Women are told we must love our oppressors, while, as feminists, we fight to end the power afforded them as a birthright. Come on sisters, you know it makes sense. Stop pretending you think lesbianism is an exclusive members' club, and join the ranks. I promise that you will not regret it.”
So…. Ms Lesbian by choice Bindel can make an informed choice to become a man hating pain in the posterior, but because I disagree with her, she would say that I am wrong and that I should not have the right to be a man-loving, lady of negotiable affection?
I love men, men of all shapes, sizes and ages. I choose to work as an escort. I don’t work on the streets, I don’t have a drug habit, I am not trafficked.
By all means ladies, do all you can to stop the horror of trafficking. Rid this country of sexual-slavery.
Combat poverty so that women need never prostitute themselves out of desperation.
Not all of us are here for any of those reasons. Whether you like it or not, some of are educated ladies who love sex, love men and love what we do for a living.
I challenge these radical feminists and political lesbians to speak to women like me. Include us in their reports. Add us to their statistical data. But they will never do that. It doesn’t fit in with their crusade and if they did, they would twist our words and make assumptions based purely on their narrow minded beliefs.
The only fear of oppression I have, does not come from the male of our species. It is the fear that these women will get their way and my career/lifestyle of choice will be made illegal. If that happens, I shall take great delight in pitching my tent on Julie’s lawn (that - dear reader - is NOT a euphemism).
As an aside to that, I am never going on the London underground again. I hate it with a passion. It's fine for a short hop if you just have a handbag, but if you're carrying luggage, forget it. Is it just me or has common decency become a thing of the past ? I flew into Gatwick and had to negotiate the train to Victoria, and thereafter two changes to get to Knightsbridge. I always travel with a huge suitcase, my bathroom box and laptop take up most of the room. On several occassions yesterday I was huffing and puffing hauling the case up flights of stairs at the tube stations, and worse, trying to swing it down stairs two steps at a time. Have we come to the point where men are afraid to offer to help in case they're met with a growling feminist ? Several burly business men pushed past me rather rudely and not one offer of help was forthcoming. How rude. I wouldn't mind, but on my journey back, I caught a cab straight to Victoria and it was £5. If only I'd known.
So I arrived home and chilled out for a couple of hours before jumping into the shower to prepare for tonight's outcall in Glasgow. There I met a lovely man who was quite pleasantly surprised. Apparently he's been reading my blog and was quite nervous about meeting me. Jeez guys, I don't bite, I'm house trained too you know. ;)
Anyway it was a mutual pleasure and I really enjoyed the choccies and wine, thank you. Have a great holiday Mr A and see you when you get back. :) Tomorrow is a day off for me, I'm taking the little princess on a "Girl's day out", which consists of extreme shopping followed by a girly lunch. Perfect. On Saturday night I'm meeting a new guy and it looks like it might be a very interesting tryst, I'm looking forward to it. :)
I've been thinking long and hard about how to combine my memoirs of the past with my day to day ramblings. I think the best way to do the past is in chapters, bit by bit. I warn you now in advance, it will read like an incredible tabloid article. That's because I once told my whole story to a good friend of mine (P) and he said " If you wrote that down, no-one would ever believe it".
Well, believe it, because I honestly feel my life experiences have made me the strong, assertive and contented woman I am today.
Sunday, 17 May 2009
Afternoon all, I've just crawled in from my overnight and am sitting here grinning from ear to ear. What a night we had. I arrived at the hotel to be treated to ice cold champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate, YUM. On the side table was a beautiful bouquet of roses and lillies ( pic attached ) and my apartment now smells divine.
Dinner was excellent and by the time we had polished off the wine and the Irish coffees I flashed my guy a devilish grin and he just knew he was in trouble. What is it about powerful men that attracts them to subservience ? Is it because it's the antithesis to their daily lives ?
I looked at him when we had got back to the room and asked "Do you trust me ?" He considered his reply for a while before his response "Yes, you know I do". WRONG answer. Before he could blink I had him flat out on the floor and handcuffed to the side rail of the bed.
Me : "Who's in control now, huh ?"
Him : "Laura, put the keys down, you're making me nervous".
Me: "If I swallowed them, how long do you think it would take them to reappear?"
Him : "Laura, that's not even remotely amusing. Let me out".
Me : "I'm thinking about it. How would it be if I sent an email to your superiors with a pic saying
'Hey guys, shouldn't you review your security procedures ? I mean here's a man who takes an hour to get through airport clearance, and yet I've got him handcuffed in a Glasgow hotel".
Him: "Laura, I'm warning you......"
I'm guessing a five foot nine woman in thigh high pvc boots standing over a prostrate male is quite a sight at the best of times, never mind when said male is completely and utterly helpless.
I let him out eventually, and put him out of his misery in more ways than one. He's not really that cross with me, he can't be, we're due to meet again in two weeks. :)
...and I wouldn't really send an email to his bosses....... well not unless he REALLY annoys me, hehe. Whipped cream and a WPC's uniform anyone ? It'd make a good pic, doncha think ? ;)
All jokes aside I would never kiss and tell, and discretion is paramount for me and my guys. "Ladies" who sell their stories to the gutter press give the rest of us a bad name.
There endeth my Sunday sermon.
Saturday, 16 May 2009
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.
Monday, 11 May 2009
Anyway I had a dinner date with one of my fave clients at The Mustard Seed which is a beautiful restaurant in the centre of town. My guy decided to order champagne, BIG MISTAKE. It went straight to my head and wearing killer heels and a very short cocktail dress, when we left the restaurant I walked straight out the door and into a bush. Eeeek !! Luckily for me my guy has a wicked sense of humour too, in fact it's probably fair to say that after we went back to my apartment he had the time of his life. All that aside I was really quite happy when he sent me one of his epic emails which contained the following :
"I do thank you so much for a lovely and memorable evening we had last Thursday in Inverness. I can only describe you as being stunning and gorgeous and a beauty to behold. As you said on your review of the evening, amazing company. I would like to pay you the same compliment. You are amazing company, you make me feel very special when I am with you, of which I would like to know how you do this and you certainly turned one or two heads. As we were being shown to our table in The Mustard Seed, with I walking behind you I noticed some of the dinners were taking second glances at you. I do not know if you remember there were a table of four, two young couples in the corner slightly to your right and behind you and I noticed on two occasions once when we had just been seated, one of the young gentlemen was certainly taking a great interest in you, much to the disapproval of his partner and I noticed on three occasions his partner giving him a couple of heft digs in his upper arm and informing him to behave. I could imagine that they would have had a lively conversation on their return home.
Emails like that make my day.
Whilst in Inverness Amanda and I also had the pleasure of the company of one of my regular guys for some threesome fun in a hot tub. For the rest of my life I don't think I'll forget the sight of Amanda perched on the side of the tub with me giving her oral pleasure whilst our client sat slack jawed in the tub. Afterwards he had a fixed smile on his face and said "You've just made three of my fantasies come true at once".
We were talking recently ( Amanda and I ) about how now we've hit our dirty thirties, we've really become sexually liberated or to put it another way, we're past giving a feck. It occurred to us afterwards that although the hot tub was positioned just outside our clients suite, it also backed up onto the kitchen door to the restaurant. Amanda remarked that anyone could have walked out of that door at any time, to which I think I replied " Yes, but that just adds to the thrill". Hell, the CCTV footage is probably on You-tube already.
So from Inverness I went to join a big gruff Yorkshire man in a log cabin beside Loch Ness for a week. Sounds like hell, doesn't it ? Not at all, he's been a client for quite a while now and has also become a good pal. Underneath that gruff exterior lies a big soft ted and a heart of gold. So, in spite of the fact that it rained non-stop for the week we had a brilliant time. It was very relaxed and laid back and we explored some new avenues and pushed some boundaries. ;)
On Friday the weather finally gave us a break for a couple of hours so we dived into the car and headed over to Aviemore for the day. It was idyllic. In the pockets of sunshine we strolled around the shops and had a pub lunch and also saw some deer and newborn lambs. He wined me, dined me and erm ..... even allowed, no INSISTED that I study for a couple of hours each day so I left him it has to be said feeling utterly relaxed and content, because I really enjoyed our time together and yet with a hint of sadness, because there is a good friend I won't be seeing again until July. Roll on July Mr F. :)
So let me introduce myself. I'm Laura, a full time mother, part time student and part time escort. ( and I wonder why I'm so stressed out all the time, LOL ). I live in North Ayrshire which for the most part is quite grey and dull but today the sun is splitting the stones. I started escorting at the tender age of 19 and have so far "retired" maybe four times over the years. There were various reasons for that, at one point I fell in love and went on to have my daughter who's now 8 and the centre of my world.
Coming back to escorting as I did in my early thirties was a real eye opener for me, as it's all done very much online now. In the good old days the poor clients just called a number in the back of a magazine and just hoped that the receptionist was telling the truth about the lady winging her way towards him in a taxi. Usually the descriptions given were grossly inflated ( or deflated if you catch my drift ) and there was no comeback for the guys, no field reports or way in which they could complain. What the new method of work has meant for me is that marketing is key. It's essential to be honest about one's age and also body size. I'm happy to say that I'm as busy now as I was as a size ten teenager, with hopefully with a lot more sense too.
As one of my best clients says to me regularly " Laura, doll, if I wanted to talk to an 18 year old about Lady Gaga all night, then that's what I'd book. I prefer a woman with experience both in life and in the bedroom. " Incidentally, if you had to ask yourself who Lady Gaga is whilst reading that, I guess my point is proved. Rather than just tittle tattle on about my daily life ( I mean if you really want to know what I'm planning on having for lunch you could just call .... ) I think I'd like to rewind a bit and take stock of all the adventures and laughs I've had over the years.
So please bear with me whilst I try to find some structure for my blog in between my endless calorie counting exercises and bouts of neuroticism.
Is neuroticism even a word ? Oh well, I guess it is now.
....and welcome to my mad ramblings. I will keep this blog up to date with where I'll be, what I'm up to but not with whom. Discretion is everything doncha know. ;)
I'm off to try and add this to my site and then I can start chatting properly.