...and it's a goodbye from them.

I don't think many of us who work in the sex industry will mourn the loss of the News of the World. This is a publication which routinely ruined the lives of many ladies all in the name of selling papers to those who can't be said to list high browed intellectualism as one of their attributes. Aside from myself, I know of several ladies who have in the past been "doorstepped" and it is a horrifying experience. Your first thoughts are always for your children and how protecting them must be paramount in your decision making process. I have always thought that the reporters who outed ladies had the morals of a seal pup skin collector, caring not a jot for the feelings of the lady, her family, her friends and most importantly her children. I was right.

Whilst it is true that from time to time I speak to the press, there is an immeasurable difference between talking to a journalist about proposed changes to the legislation concerning sex workers and having your personal details splashed all over page 8, together with photographs. Following on from the last piece I did, a magazine called and tendered £400 ( WOW !! ) for a story about what it's like to be a "real" escort. I told them I would be delighted to speak to them provided that they maintained my anonymity, allowed me to mention Trish Godman and what she was trying to rush through Holyrood and if I could donate my fee to a women's charity. I never heard from them again.

When reading the NOTW's self-righteous pieces on "fallen" women, the one thing which struck me was that they would always choose the lady's lowest rate, so as to cheapen her to the penultimate level. She could charge £5,000 for a week, for example, but the headline would scream "£150 AN HOUR SLEAZY VICE GIRL". Vile journalism at it's best.

Let there be no misunderstandings about this, were they to "out" me, I would sue without hesitation, calling in every lawyer I know and touring until my legs fell off to pay for it if necessary. As far as I'm concerned, if I take measures to protect my identity on my website and don't parade my face all over the internet, then I have expressed a desire for privacy and it is a privacy I am entitled to.

Of late there had been an upsurge in the comments left by ordinary members of the public when such "stories" were published, such as "leave her alone, what she's doing is quite legal and your expose is not in the public interest" and I must admit I had begun to take heart. Finally, ( I thought ) common decency had begun to prevail. I was still in no way prepared for the huge outcry following the latest allegations against News International, it was people power at it's finest. If what is alleged is true, it is quite simply one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard. To hack into the phones of people who have already suffered as the family members of murder victims, those who fought and died for our country, not to mention high level corruption with alleged payments to police is beyond any reasonable description I could conjure up. It is the one scandal which has united the country in outrage and a demand for answers.

Perhaps now, these people will know what it feels like to experience social exclusion and stigma. In their predicament however, it is entirely warranted and richly deserved.

LL xx

Tears, Tours and Tetanus

Morning all, I'm at home following a very enjoyable evening with a new client, what a gentleman. We had a laugh and a half, thank you D. :)

My phone has not stopped going for the past couple of days with texts and calls from some of the loveliest women I know. Jeez, I've been blown away. Amanda, Amber, Anna Aroma, Claire, Susan, Caitlin, Louise, Faye, Hannah - if I've forgotten anyone I apologise. They've all taken the time out to find out how I'm doing and I have been very tearful just reading the messages. Thank you ladies ( and also to the gents too, you know who you are. )

I'm doing OK, I don't really want to go into details but I'm staying positive. :)

Now then, I've done my diary until the end of August and my planned tours are as follows -

* London City - 22nd and 23rd of July
* Inverness incalls 29th and 30th July
* Newcastle incalls 3rd and 4th August
* Inverness incalls 12th and 13th August
* Carlisle incalls 18th and 19th August

I'm limited in my touring opportunities for August because at the end of the month I am off to Catalonia again with Mr F which I am looking forward to more than I can possibly describe, ( apart from the Ryanair flight, which can't be helped. )

Meanwhile it looks like we might need another trip to my GP. *sigh*

I have brought the light of my life up to love animals and if I catch her so much as squashing a spider she is in big trouble. There are two downsides to that.

1. She regularly marches into the kitchen announcing; "RIGHT, WE'RE ADOPTING A DOLPHIN." I have to carefully explain that whilst I appreciate it's only £5 a month and you even get a picture ( Goddamn those TV ads ) I already donate to animal charities every month and we both sponsor a dog.

2. She insists on petting every mutt tied up outside Asda. I have told her until I'm blue in the face that some dogs are very nervous and you can't just launch yourself on them to see if they fancy a belly rub. Yesterday this resulted in a short sharp shock which has just about broken skin and since I can't remember when she last had a tetanus, it's the doctor's tomorrow. Oh joy.

Have a great Sunday everyone.

LL xx

Salacious soirees, Signs, Salami and Standards

So I've arrived back from Spain and I had a wonderful time. We were based in Catalonia in a beautiful villa by the shore and the weather was absolutely idyllic, but for one day. Having psychologically steeled myself for the "Gecko" experience, I am bitterly disappointed to report that I saw ONE of them whilst I was there and he was tiny and just scuttled off into the under growth. On the other hand I did get to see some local ladies of a very friendly nature ply their trade by the side of the road. They occupy a stretch of road that runs from Figueres to Gerona and they sit in white plastic deck chairs waiting for business. Passing motorists can tell if they are temporarily engaged because their chairs will be tipped upside down to indicate that they will be back shortly. One of the ladies in particular was an olive skinned stunner with long jet black hair to her waist and I couldn't help but think that she would do very well as an Independent Escort if she cleaned her act up. Some of her fellow professionals, on the other hand looked in dire need of a long shower and a hot meal. It was a real eye opener.

Aside from lazing around in the sun and digesting books and bottles of chilled wine by the truckload, Mr F and I wanted to see the local sights so we went to Gerona for the day. Our first port of call was the Cathedral, which is quite simply very beautiful. It was wonderful to stroll around the cloisters nattering away and out doing each other with random facts of Catechism. It's built on the grounds of a Roman Temple and is steeped in history. I've attached a picture for you, it is very high up and I think by the time we had seen all of it I was just grateful to have made it up all those steps, and no doubt my Mother will be thrilled I evaded being struck by lightning on entering too.

I've also included a sign for a beauty parlour we came across called "Laura's Institute". It gave us a giggle because apparently at Laura's, facials are a speciality. No chance, hehe.

Following a discussion it was decided I would drive and Mr F would navigate. That system worked well until Mr F decided we were completely lost. Luckily we came across a rather excitable man and his even more excitable poodle by the side of the road and stopped to ask for directions. Rather helpfully, Mr F bellowed in his Yorkshire accent " Pardon Monsieur " and it was only when I stopped giggling I had the heart to remind him that we were in Spain, not France. Never mind, I caught the gist of what the guy was saying and we eventually arrived back at the villa.

The hot weather and cool wine began to take their toll and I decided some alfreso fun might be the order of the day, as the back garden was a secluded affair, lined with mini fir trees. I gave Mr F my most seductive look and bent over the picnic bench in the garden before asking him to "take me from behind". Strangely enough he didn't find the idea overly repugnant and all was going swimmingly until the next door neighbour came out to water his lawn and peek through the hedges simultaneously. If I didn't know better I'd swear he did it on purpose. Meh.

Not to be deterred, we later decided to stroll out for an evening meal and as our path took us down a track with trees on either side I propped my delighted friend up against a large rock in a standing position and took him in my mouth. His face was a picture and the grin he was wearing afterwards was a reminder of why I love what I do.

"You're a bad, bad girl."

"Ha ! You wouldn't have me any other way."

Sorry to say, but our smiles and laughter were relatively short lived when we boarded the flight home, not least because it was the end of a wonderful week. We had chosen to sit in the tail of the plane because I have a belief although it may be completely wrong that if the plane crashes we would be more likely to survive. (Although, knowing my luck we would have come down on The Pyrnees and had to survive by eating our fellow passengers.) Aside from that, the Glasgow equivalent of "The Munsters" had seated themselves en masse behind us and began bawling at each other across the plane. As you do, they had based their entire evening meal plans on a Ryanair menu. For the love of God.

"RIGHT BOBEEEE, WIT ER YOU WANTIN' ?"

"ONE OF THAY ROLLS. ANY TATTIE SCUNS ?"

I wanted to bang my head repeatedly on the seat in front of me, gnash my teeth and issue a wail that would rival a banshee. Mr F was very adept at keeping me calm, in fact in the end we both ended up crying with laughter. The service trolley had started in the middle of the aisle and by the time it reached Chelsea, Chardonnay and Destiny at the back there was very little left by way of reheated Aldi's specials to quell their appetites. The matriarch of the clan was the spokesperson and it was easy to see why. Michael O'Leary should look at hiring her to do the announcements at the airport thus saving himself the expense of a PA system.

"WIT KINA A PLANE IS DIS ?"

"I'M NAE EATIN THAY ITALIAN MUCK ROLLS BYDEWAY. SALAMI ME ARSE."

Funnily enough by the time she had finished her one woman call to arms I had conjured up an image involving her good self and salami, perhaps not quite in the way she imagined. I suppose it's to her credit that she didn't notice the other passengers around her in stitches because she was so busy coughing and hacking into the back of my seat, without covering her mouth, naturally. To be fair I don't think the concept of closing her mouth has ever occurred to her for any reason.

Getting off the plane I noticed Mr O'Leary has gone to the trouble and expense of painting " Bye bye latehansa" on the side of his craft. I'm not sure why that surprised me, but for a "businessman" I thought it was bitchy, childish and at variance with basic expected standards of professionalism.

I think his work ethos sucks, and not in a pleasurable way. ;)

Nite,

LL xx

Strawberries, champagne and handcuffs

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.