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

And now for something completely different .....

He called the other day, to arrange an outcall for last night. Ooops, preliminary problem, I couldn't check his address as he didn't have a phone line, having just moved in. So he emailed me a copy of his passport and also the lease for his new flat. ( How refreshing, perhaps when I talk about my valuing discretion on my website, someone actually listened. )

So I caught a cab to his address and arrived 5 minutes early. ( Yes, really. ) It has to be said, his passport photograph didn't have me reaching for my rampant rabbit, but as he later explained it was taken ten years ago.

I gingerly knocked on the door, which duly opened. There, in a pec hugging t-shirt and jeans stood the most handsome creature I have spied for quite some time. Oh my.

I gave up asking a long time ago, that most obvious of questions "Just, why ?"

I know that men contact me because they just do not want a relationship, inter alia. Someone once said "They don't pay for the sex, they pay for us to leave afterwards." Words to that effect at least.

So we entered the lounge and he took my coat. I admired my surroundings, high ceilings ( great for acoustics ), a roaring fire and one of those surround sound wotsits that only men would think about spending hundreds of pounds on.

"Did you remember to wear stockings and suspenders for me ?"

"Of course". * cheeky grin *

"Can I see ?"

So I stood up whilst this delicious creature took off my outer clothing to reveal a basque and stockings. In return, he took off his t-shirt and I had to stop myself from drooling when I caught sight of his toned and pert uppers. His lowers, meanwhile, had made themselves perfectly obvious too, so without a prompt or a hint we began to kiss. The perfect kisser, start slow and gentle, and build to a passionate clinch.

I can recall a moment when we had moved to the bedroom when I murmured "Nice work if you can get it", before another passionate kiss that had my toes tingling.

The rest of that perfect hour needs no further description, it was sensual, it was sexy, it was powerful, it was explosive and we were both left in a panting, sweaty heap.

Why have I bothered to blog about that? Because right at that very moment, when we were cuddled together and just chit chatting in the warm after glow ( whilst he was desperately trying to fight the male urge to fall into a deep sleep ) I was reminded of the reason I became an escort.

True job satisfaction.

Nite,

LL xx

Doubtful hints and Double Lives

Good evening and greetings from freezing Aberdeen. I won't tell you a lie, I am in a woeful mood, perpetuated by timewasters, forums and life in general.

On my way here I had what you could call a "personal emergency". That is, I turned onto the A9 and felt the first twinge of needing the bathroom. Now, most people would have stopped at the last available garage for 60 miles, but not moi. Oh no, I decided to carry on and that I would be fine. About 40 miles into that 60 mile journey I decided I was anything else but fine and would have to pull over. Happily for me, a little while ago I gained a valuable travelling tip from a fellow Scottish Escort who puts in a lot of mileage.

So I put her plan into practice. I pulled into a layby, and opened the back door and the front door, before settling down between them. It was a perfect plan where fellow motorists were concerned because they could see nothing, but what I hadn't counted on was the vast numbers of 40 foot articulated lorries who also use the A9. So to the lorry drivers who tooted and whistled the other day, you're sick. SICK. Do you hear me ?

I would love to reveal the identity of the escort who shared that helpful nugget with me but I'm aware that she guards her high class image with a ferocity that is incredible, so I shall keep schtum.

Speaking of Amanda, we have just finalised our dates for February and will also be visiting Leeds, so hopefully we will meet up with some of you far flung guys.

I watched with great interest the program on TV last night which featured Billie Piper and Dr. Brooke Magnanti. The chemistry between the two women was fascinating and I was also very interested in some of Dr. Magnanti's replies.

When asked about whether it was true that "Belle" and "Brooke" has two separate wardrobes, she replied "Yes".

I suppose I'm the same, I have "Laura" clothes, including gravity defying dresses that I would never wear in a social situation and I also have separate underwear drawers. In one drawer I have my white Sloggis and in the other I have my satin, silk and lace undies for playing.

What interested me most was the comparison between Billie as an actress and Dr. Magnanti as an actress too. I agree with a lot of what she said. I can spend the whole day at home studying and cleaning and doing my domestic Goddess bit in a tracksuit and trainers. ( Attractive, eh ? )

But there comes that time when I look in the mirror and announce loudly ( to the cats mainly, because they're the only ones that listen ) ..

"It's shower time, and it's show time."

I come out of the shower and make myself up to perfection and I suppose the big question at that point ( as was raised last night ) is if I become someone else.

I suppose I do. I love to stroll out my front door in a very short evening dress and notice the taxi man trying desperately not to notice my high heel clad pins. If I had to draw a comparison, I would say "Laura" is more confident than I, she looks good and she knows it. She walks into a restaurant and turns heads, and loves it. She has a "presence" that cannot be defined, she fills a room.

My alter ego would probably show up late, very dishevelled and apologising profusely, and shuffle anonymously to the back of the room. Which is the real me ? I'm not sure, probably somewhere down the middle.

"Belle" said another thing to Billie last night which interested me. She said, "The more I knew I was good at it, the more I enjoyed it. It's like when you finish a scene, you say to yourself, 'That was damn good, I totally nailed that."

As Billie said, I get satisfaction from knowing I have "nailed" a man. That sounds very harsh so I'll explain. I love the feeling of leaving a man utterly spent on a hotel bed whilst I smile and quietly let myself out. I love the feeling of a man who until an hour ago has been a virgin and gives me a gentle kiss on the nose, I love the feel of a man who gets up early in the morning to bring me breakfast in bed because he has enjoyed the night. I love the feeling of achievement.

"That guy contacted me with a particular objective in mind and we have achieved it."

In my mind that is true job satisfaction. For as long as I continue to leave a hotel grinning like a Cheshire cat, and more importantly, leave my guy in the same state, I will continue to enjoy my "double life".

Nite,

LL xx

Sex Workers and Statistics

Now I've never been too good with statistics, but if I was to conduct a poll of the menfolk of London, how many should I sample to keep the results somewhat credible ? Well, according to Julie Bindel, 103 should do it. No, that wasn't a typo, 103. Out of those 103, Ms. Bindel spoke to 12, which she says was a fascinating experience. I'll bet it was a riot for the men too. As for the answers given, "nodding dog" syndrome comes to mind. After all, having been paid the princely sum of £20 and faced with a woman who has openly admitted to hating men, ( never mind the "punters" ) what would the "man of straw" do ? Agree with her and get the hell out of there I would say.

In case you missed it, the link to Ms. Bindel's latest literary masterpiece is here ;
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/jan/15/why-men-use-prostitutes

From that article comes this little gem of a quote from Ms. Bindel ;

"I concluded from this that it's not feminists such as Andrea Dworkin and myself who are responsible for the idea that all men are potential rapists ? it's sometimes men themselves."

I'm glad I was sitting down when I read that because I nearly fell off my perch.
"ALL MEN ARE POTENTIAL RAPISTS." Words truly fail me. We could take that one step further and say "All women are potential murderers." What a load of nonsensical claptrap and I bet Ms Bindel squirmed with pleasure on hearing that sentence which she has been waiting for for years, especially since it came from the mouth of a mere male. Men (lest we forget) are little more than animals who will do anything and everything to satisfy their carnal lusts, according to Ms Bindel anyway.

From Dr Tuppy Owens in the comments after the article:

"It seems quite incredible to me that this "research" managed to find such negative responses to sex work - they must have gone down the most desperate alley ways of town. It's obviously just propaganda. I know many men who buy sex and have a life-changing experience in that they learn about women's bodies, about their own bodies, how to make love, they come away feeling warmed, loved, and satisfied. None have ever spoken about guilt. Admittedly, many of these men have social and physical disabilities (and they find escorts through my site www.tlc-trust.org.uk which is a free site for disabled men and women to find sex workers). Some are brought along by their fathers, PAs, care workers, friends."


Why do men use prostitutes ? Did it ever occur to Ms. Bindel that it's not always about penetrative sex ? It can be about warmth, sensuality, massage, relaxation, and an education on the pleasures to be derived from one's self ?

From the TLC website :

"It would be a sad injustice if service personnel such as soldiers badly wounded and disfigured in Iraq and Afghanistan were banned from the help they can receive from sex workers."

I absolutely agree. I submit that these men have a right to have the same sexual experiences as able bodied men.

Further down the article, one of the men Ms Bindel chatted to had this to say ;

"Look, men pay for women because he can have whatever and whoever he wants. Lots of men go to prostitutes so they can do things to them that real women would not put up with."

That is by far and away one of the most offensive quotes I have read. So we are so weak willed and controlled by pimps that we simply allow the men to do to us as they will ? I don't think so. As the law stands it is not illegal to work as a prostitute, this leaves a door open for sex workers to report any untoward behaviour to the police as many have. It also allows us to share the information amongst ourselves and keep one and other safe.

Just where on earth did she find these men, "Neanderthals R Us" ? Has anyone told them Asda are running a special on two mammoths for the price of one ?

I am a real woman. I am a mother, I am a lover, I am a degree student, I am an escort. I know why men pay for sex and it is for many different reasons, but it is most certainly not because otherwise the potential for rape may raise it's ugly head.

On that note I'm off to find an inanimate object to kick repeatedly before going face down into a box of Thornton's chocolates.

LL xx

Cabin Fever and Couples

I have cabin fever. Lemme explain. Since I came back from the motherland after Christmas I've pretty much been stuck in due to the snow. I have ventured up the A77 for the occasional booking in Glasgow, but it has, in the main, been a case of moi, my little darling and my two cats since then. How can I put this delicately ? If this snow does not go away any time soon, one of us is going to have to die.

The other afternoon, she decided to give me some space. (I'm working on the assumption that the dark look of thunder worked it's magic.) There followed about 45 minutes of silence, which in my world always spells trouble. I wandered through to my room to find said 8 year old busy at my dressing table. She had created a paste comprising of my talc, moisturiser and cleanser and was busy applying said concoction to a pile of folded up tissue on the dresser, with a paint brush. I don't think it would have been so bad had it been solely applied to the tissue, but it had also found it's way onto the carpet, mirror and girl cat. I took a deep breath.

"What are you doing ?"

"Hello ? I'm being creative."

As any parent will tell you, there comes a pivotal moment in your parenting when you have a choice. Either you choke the life out of them, or you smile serenely and head to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Luckily for me, I chose the latter, and as I constantly remind her, " If I haven't done time for you by now, I never will."

So suffice to say I was VERY pleased to go and visit a couple the other night for a two hour booking. They began correspondence with me in early December and it was the guy who was doing all the talking.

"I'd like to watch you do her with your strap on and then watch her do you. Also, I'd like to see you both get it on and kiss and perform oral on each other."

Hah, keyboard warriors, I love them. When I arrived he was terrified, to the point where he was guzzling beer like prohibition was coming in and he wouldn't enter the room unless the lights were off. *sigh*

Eventually we got him to join us. He could hear our giggles as we rolled about the bed, funny how that will tempt a man into a room. *cough*

There comes a point with every couple booking that I call "the look". A lot of women have a fantasy about seeing their partner with another woman, ( and I always insist on speaking to the lady to make sure she's ok with everything before I confirm ), but sometimes reality is far removed from fantasy. So when it comes to "that" stage, I always note the "look". They may not realise they're doing it, but he always looks to her with his eyes for approval. Luckily in my experience, in every case but one, he got "the nod". The occasion when "the nod" didn't happen can wait for a future blog, right now I am just content that I left a couple happy in the belief that it was what they thought it would be.

Back to cabin fever, I'm back on the road at the end of the month and will be visiting Inverness and Aberdeen. I don't care what the weather does, so help me God, if I have to get down on my hands and knees and crawl up the A9 on snow skis, I will.

Nite,

LL xx