Surprises, socials and sexy shopping

"Never judge a book by it's cover", a lesson I learnt a long time ago. Those who seek to project an image of knowledge and respectability are quite often the very people with the moral integrity of a bidet. ( With apologies to bidets. )

Happily though, quite often the opposite rings true. A while ago I met a man who emailed me and explained that he'd like to come and see me in Aberdeen. He is ( as he put it so delicately himself ) "in his twilight years". He went on to explain that he had read my site with great interest and so understood that I tailor my services for my older clients. The day arrived and I waited for the buzzer. At precisely the time of his appointment, the buzzer did indeed go and so I waited at the door of the apartment, and waited, and waited.

Eventually and with huge amounts of effort a beetroot faced gentleman alighted the top of the stairs and greeted me with a huge grin, whilst balancing precariously on his two sticks. It's fair to say that at that point my expectations of my own pleasure to be gained in the forthcoming encounter were fairly minimal. Having thrust a box of chocs my way, I joined him in the bedroom.

He made it quite clear that he was keen to do all the pleasuring and who was I to argue ? To say I was pleasantly gobsmacked would surely qualify for under-statement of the year. About 40 minutes into proceedings, I wearily lifted a matted and sodden forehead before asking "Where in the name of God did you learn to do that ?"

"Well I have been doing it for fifty years."

There's no answer to that, is there ?

I've just arrived back from Leeds where I enjoyed a weekend away with some long standing pals and we had a brilliant time. There were a few sore heads this morning but with a large fry and plenty of tea we were as right as rain. Unfortunately Amanda was snowed in and couldn't make it, but Mr F and Big Rick were there as well as some of my fave ladies too. We organised a hotel with a private room for dinner so we felt able to chat openly and Susan of Glasgow has just introduced me to my newest obsession, a Hitachi Magic Wand. It's a marvellous invention apparently originally intended to loosen up muscles and massage but it also has the added bonus of being able to drive delicate nerve endings into a frenzy in no time whatsoever.

It begs the question, how on earth did Victorian women cope ? They didn't even have a washing machine on full spin to rely on, never mind a "Magic Wand."

On that note I'm off to see if I can acquire one on Ebay and serve my rampant rabbit with one month's notice.

Nite,

LL xx

Questions and Answers

I'm really enjoying answering the questions posed on the new "Ask me anything" form, God only knows where you guys get your inspiration from, haha. Anyway, here are some I've done recently, enjoy.


Ever had police hassles?

Not at all, remember what I do is quite legal. :)

If you were a man for a single day, what's the thing you want to experience as a male? And would you see an escort and enjoy sex in a man's point of view?

The first thing I'd want to check out is if it's really true that men think about sex as often as they are reported to. So I would set myself the task of walking through the park on a beautiful summer's day when all the ladies are in tight tops and shorts and see if every second thought was sexual.

After that I think I'd book a session with an escort and have a mind blowing fuck, I'd love to experience what it's like to cum as a man, I do enjoy strap on fun with my guys, but I'm willing to bet it's not quite the same. ;)


Remember you saying you used to hang around the same haunts as Bono & Edge. Were you into that Punk scene that they and Virgin Prunes came out of?

Certainly not, my father would kill me with his bare hands. I was a goth for a short while until I decided it was boring and there are only so many times you can dance to "Lovecats" whilst looking pained.

I did attempt to leave the house with blue lipstick on once, but the manic laughter from my father was enough to convince me it wasn't such a good idea. Besides, it made my teeth look orange.

No, I was part of the "beautiful people", for which read idiots, who hung around Lillie's Bordello trying to look aloof and sexy. I cringe now when I think of it. In my defence, when I go back home and pay a visit to memory lane it gives me some comfort to note the same people in the same places still trying to look cool, which is made considerably harder when they can't move their foreheads due to an over enthusiastic botox session.

Has anyone who knows you in a "civilian" capacity ever accidentally booked you as an escort...or any near misses that you skillfully avoided?

In my former home town and under my former name, I had a lot of emails from locals looking to book some fun, but because it was such a small town I declined. Ironic really, because when I was "outed" the people that shouted the loudest should have looked at their own husbands before criticising me.

On a more flippant note, one sleepy Sunday morning I opened the door of a parlour to my former history teacher. We both nearly died and had a very awkward conversation ..

"I don't think I should erm ... "

"No, there are other ladies upstairs anyway."

"Fine. I'd be very grateful if you didn't erm... "

"It goes without saying."

I resisted the urge to ask the lady who saw him what his particular "thing" was, because I don't think I could have coped with the answer. :)

Nite,

LL xx

Motherhood, the final frontier .... and Madness

It's day 1 of the mid term break in my house and already the sandbags are out and there is a very definite no man's land down the middle. Of course it doesn't help that my shoulder is killing me and making me grumpy. The cats have declared unilateral independence from the central unit and are spending most of their time on the window ledge looking out at people scurrying about.

What has caused the latest in a long line of tense stand offs ? Bed time, that's what. My little darling would rather jump from Erskine bridge than actually admit defeat and go to sleep. We have the usual list of excuses ;

- I'm hungry
- I'm cold
- I'm sure I heard something in the wardrobe
- The cats were fighting and woke me up
- There's a scary shadow on the wall
- The neds downstairs are too loud
- I have a pain in my tummy /head / leg / finger

...on and on ad infinitum.

The other evening I brought out the infantry and told her "Right, that's it, no treats whatsoever until you behave." This has had minimal effect since she has her own cash from her birthday and took great delight today in showing me the proceeds of her visit to the corner shop, before flouncing off into her room. My temples were starting to throb.

So I brought out my tanks, air support and covert missionaries all at once.

"I'm starting a behaviour diary where I'm going to record your bedtimes together with the list of excuses. It is going to be emailed to Grandma once a week and further, I will bring it for discussion to the parent's evening at school."

She retreated to her bunker for a while to think that through and lo and behold, in the abscence of an effective counter offensive, she is sleeping.

Coming up with new and more effective ways to achieve my aims is very much akin to my work as a dominatrix too. Just before Christmas, my slave bitch and I embarked on an enforced shopping trip. You may wonder what in God's name I mean by that so I'll explain. I was given a monetary limit and my job was to humiliate him as much as I could within the constraints of public decency.

I frog marched him to Ann Summers and chose some nice lingerie. If I have one major fault, it's that I do love to shock, and this was the perfect opportunity. We approached the till and he was faffing about with his wallet and holding up the queue. I barked at him, "Get a move on, I haven't got all bloody day."

The sales assistant was somewhat amused and raised an eyebrow but quickly returned to the wrapping process. I could see I was going to have to up my game. So I wailed to her;

"You just can't get the staff these days, can you ?"

"Erm, no, I suppose not."

With that I produced my tawse from my handbag and looking menancingly at my slave, I cracked it over the palm of my hand. I lowered my voice and growled ...

" Get a move on and pay the lady unless you want to feel this leather across your arse, right here and now, in the middle of this shop."

The look on the assistant's face was absolutely priceless, all at once she realised that -

A ) I was serious and..

B ) that I am actually a dominatrix and the trembling wreck beside me is one of my clients.

I'm sure she couldn't wait for us to leave, not least because of her own embarrasment and also so she could tell her colleagues what she had just witnessed. As for us, well we barely made it around the corner before collapsing into fits of giggles, before I composed myself and dragged him into John Lewis in the Buchanan Galleries for round two.

You really couldn't make it up, getting paid to be an obnoxious bitch, it's the stuff of dreams.

Nite,

LL xx

Reflections and realisations

Well, I made it. 7 hyperactive, over excited 8 to 11 year olds in a frenzy of pink and glitter. One very successful party and by the time their parents came to pick them up they were practically licking the windows. Success was mine.

I'm in quite a reflective mood today, is it really 9 years since I screamed the maternity hospital down ?

"I'M GOING TO DIE."

"No, you're doing fine love, it won't be long now."

"DON'T FUCKING PATRONISE ME."

Oh, the shame. Still, the midwife came to see me the next morning and I apologised profusely. "Heh, you can't do my job and be sensitive." True I suppose.

Speaking of being sensitive, when is it ok to finally admit to yourself that you just don't like someone ? Recently I have found it to be an incredibly liberating process. So, I have a person who I find to be patronising, sneaky, underhand and only capable of deriving pleasure from what they view as "getting one over" on another person, so as to make themselves feel intellectually or even morally superior. Why on earth did I try and convince myself for so long that I liked them ? Nope, they are everything I despise in a person and I cannot abide them. God that feels good.

The trick now I guess is to maintain my grace and a fixed smile in the interests of peace. Speaking of peace, it's mid term and so my little darling is off school until Thursday. *sigh* It's thundering down with rain today so I'm struggling to find something to keep us both amused. I'm thinking about a museum.

I did have an incall scheduled for this afternoon but have had to cancel because I have strained or pulled a muscle in my neck / shoulder and it is absolutely throbbing. Even when I cough it's sore, so I may need the doc. In the meantime I'm just going to take it easy and chill out, not least because one of my slaves has booked an appointment with me in Inverness on Friday, so I need to have a good swing back in my arm, hehe.

Yours in deep heat and liquid ibuprofen,

LL xx

Communications, Conceptions and Come Uppances

I have an I-Phone. I have truly arrived into the world of modern communications. I can surf, email and practically cook the dinner on the way home from my incall apartment, I have truly arrived. It's fair to say I was feeling very smug about my new arrival until it decided it was just going to die on me, today being day two of it's re-homing. The screen just went blank and I went into panic mode, but I have found a forum with plenty of people complaining about the same issue, so I found the work-a-round. Hurrah.

As a complete aside ..

A couple of popular misconceptions about escorts I'd like to dispel ;

( Please note I speak for myself here )

1. Escorts are sex crazed beasts who will jump on any man without due notice.

A. Erm, no. Au contraire, when I have arrived home after a particularly busy tour, all I can think about is getting into my Elmo pants and lounging about on my sofa. The very last thing I want to see is another proud erect member pointed in my general direction, thanks all the same.

2. All escorts are labouring under some form of addiction.

A. Sorry to burst your bubble again, but no. Most of the women I have met are some of the most grounded, content people I have had the pleasure to encounter. As for me, my only addictions are sleep and Farmville. ( It's a Facebook application, and yes, I am thoroughly ashamed, but I'm at level 29 now and have my own horse shed.)

3. All escorts are delusional victims trapped in a cycle of self-deceit.

A. Hmmm. It's very difficult to see who the victim is when I'm busy applying hot wax strips to my slaves's thick black hairs. Godammit, PMT never felt so good.

Next week is a very important week chez moi. The little treasure in my life turns 9 and we are having a two hour party on Saturday. To cut a long story short, I shall spend the day ferrying 6 mini-diva-princesses between the local beauty salon and a local restaurant. They are having the works done, hair, nails, and make-up, followed by a quick e-numbers top up before I hand them back to their despondent parents. Fabulous.

On her arrival home from school today, herself was holding her head rather low.

"Ok, what gives ?"

"I got a yellow card today."

( For the uninitiated,this means a docking of play time on a Friday. )

" What did you do to earn that ?"

"Well, there's a girl in my class who has special legs ... "

"Oh yes, ***** "

"Aye, well she was in the queue for school dinners and ******* tripped her up, and then his mates just stood there laughing at her."

"Right, so how do you come into this exactly ?"

"Derrr, obviously I decked him."

I know I should have read her the riot act, and I suppose I did a half hearted attempt at the whole "two wrongs don't make a right" thing, but quite honestly, I was bursting with pride. Maybe my Mother was right, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all. ;)

Nite,

LL xx