Monday, 22 December 2014

207.

B, called Monday afternoon to book an appointment for the following Saturday morning; I like that kind of forward planning, and the chance to have a good think about what I'd like to wear on the day, plenty of time to really dress it up, instead of the usual one hour's notice and the big rush. 

T and JR, give me some six-months notice or more, both being from the USA they like to do their forward planning before their annual visit, I must have known them for some six years now, perhaps longer?

Anway, B has a thing about knitwear, mohair in particular. I was looking forward to meeting him, he had an interesting voice, calming, metered and precise, like that of a radio continuity announcer...

'And now here on Radio 4, it's forty-eight minutes to one and time for The Shipping Forecast, read by Charlotte Green.'

Alack, it wasn't until he confirmed at 8am on the Saturday morning (big yawn), that he enquired, 'Oh and by the way Frances, do you have any knitwear?' Well actually I do, but I'd put my cashmere dress in to be dry-cleaned only the day before, there was no way it would be ready to pick up in the morning.

And so I got creative, 'Necessity is the mother of invention,' nude coloured stockings, beige patent heels, yellow knickers and long sleeved fawn brown cashmere jumper which I pulled down over my thighs, the lace stocking tops peeked out from just below. In fact, I thought it was such a nice look, I'll use it more often.

B arrived in a long flowing woollen coat, with fur trimmed collar and lapels, beneath he wore a black angora turtle-neck jumper and fine woollen trousers, or rather, pants as our American friends might call them. We agreed that we didn't much care for very warm weather, one can dress up so much more in cooler climes.

Retiring to the boudoir, he insisted in taking the initiative, 'Oh OK then.' I was to lie on my back, still wearing my knitwear (he in his mohair jumper), whilst he massaged the spot just below the base of my cock; it stimulates the blood flow to the penis, it felt quite pleasant and relaxing.

And yes, my cock did get erect, but then it does anyway, it's fully functional, or as I'll often reassure my prospective clients, 'Yes, it still goes up and down, just like Tower Bridge.'

My next new experience was for B to wrap a white mohair jumper around my cock and slowly wank me, he'd brought it along especially for the occasion. Again, I was to simply lay back, 'Well OK if you insist,' I replied. Later on I too got inventive, popping each cock into a sleeve and wanked us both off to completion; his dry cleaning bill not mine, not that he minded a bit; I do hope he returns for a rematch.

And now boys and girls, it’s time to close the Office of fun for another year. May I wish you all a very Merry Christmas from HQ, and hope to see you all again next year, till then...

What I'm reading in bed…

New Selected Poems: Carol Ann Duffy





Sunday, 14 September 2014

206.

I recently received a mail asking for some advice regarding becoming an Escort, here follows my reply…

Hello M, I trust this finds you well and thank you for your kind mail, I'm delighted to hear you're enjoying the Blogs.

I've enjoyed my time as an Escort immensely and continue to do so, how much longer I'll stay with it, I don't know? I guess my desire will eventually wane with other distractions in my life, however this presently isn't the case.

Done correctly, one can make a very good living, and let’s not forget that in this country (UK) it is legal, if you work on your own that is.

Advice: Don't try to be all things to all men, nor offer that you specialising in everything, which itself is a contradiction, find what you are most comfortable with offering, enjoy doing and delight in that.

The most successful girls I know, are those who identify and carve out their own niche, recognise yours; this is what potential clients are looking for, not some ‘Jack of all trades master of none.’

Personally, I don’t much care for S & M, I don’t mind a bit of ‘Slap & Tickle/Tie & Tease,’ but I’m no Dominatrix and it’s not a service I offer, simply to broaden my appeal in some scatter-gun fashion. I happily accept others enjoy it (some of my best friends do), but it doesn't do much for me; shame I know.

Therefore, there’s no suggestion I offer this service on my site, nor photographs of me in bondage gear or whipping someone with a 'Cat O' Nine Tails', therefore I rarely get asked to provide this service.

Don't market yourself in an aggressive manner, or use a hard selling techniques, it's a big turn-off, ‘Listen up you people, I'm the biggest, best etc etc etc,’ most clients are intelligent people, they can make their own minds up; they don't need someone they've never met telling them otherwise.

Always be polite and courteous to those who are enquiring. Yes, you'll received a lot of crank calls, it comes with the business and as your contact details are out there on the www for all to see, well quite frankly, it’s impossible to avoid.

You’ll be asked some of the dumbest questions on earth; accept it, some people are simply dumb. Even after having visited your site, they’ll still ask stupid questions. Again, ensure that your website clearly reflects who and what you are offering, it may help cut down your dumb phone to genuine call ratio.

Occasionally people will call and be extremely rude to you, just suck it in and be polite, don't let some stranger get you angry or in a bad mood, it’s just an idiot at the end of a phone line; be civil (whilst rolling your eyes and making funny faces) and chances are, they'll feel stupid and not bother you again.

If their opening line starts, ‘How big are your tits/arse/cock and how much,’ it’s a pretty safe bet that this is going nowhere. You’ll come across your share of big egos, they're usually the one's who feel inadequate in the pants department.

I get the occasional call from some 'Mr Super Stud,' he's the one who sees himself as God’s gift, informing me of the good time he can show me, the best sex I’ll ever have, and therefore sees no reason why he'd ever need to pay me; these calls I find amusing, well you've got to laugh.

Perhaps you'll entertain a client with a physical or learning difficulty, the butcher, baker, candlestick maker, maybe the chap who's recently had a stroke, or perhaps bereaved and looking for some affection; people are people, treat all equally. 

The place where you entertain should be clean, somewhere you'd be happy to go see someone yourself, not some knocking shop with a shot out mattress, cheap cotton/polyester bed linen, thread bear towels and unsanitary.

70% of my client base is what you’d call ‘Regulars,’ these are your bread and butter. They're built up over time by your being consistent in the service you offer, having a positive and generous attitude, and genuinely enjoying the time spent with your client. If you can't offer this, you'd best find yourself another career, because they won't be back.

Not so long ago, one of my longest serving clients arrived on a Friday evening, only to discover he'd lost his wallet. I suggested as he was here, we sort out my gift next time we meet. As all his cards were in the wallet, he was now without money for the weekend, so I suggested I give him an advance. OK, now that’s an extreme example, but this is the kind of trust that one can build up with a regular.

So there you go, just a few suggestions which you may find helpful, if you’d like more then let me know, good luck on the adventure and remember, have fun.


Frances


Friday, 15 August 2014

205.

Free slippers; it’s one of life's simple pleasures and a perk of the job, you may think it silly but a new pair of hotel slippers every month is a delightful treat.

The best I've come across to date are from The Dorchester hotel (Floris toiletries), thick padding, generously cut and embroidered with a little fancy gold coat of arms.

Of course I'd never take them without first asking, and there's usually two pair, sometimes four if it's a very posh hotel.

Mini bars seems to have fallen out of favour with a lot of  business clients, either the hotel no longer stocks it unless specifically requested, or, a guest will request to have it emptied upon arrive. At the prices they change for their drinks, it’s hardly surprising.

Sewing-kits, well I've got more of those things than God himself, certainly enough to see me through a lifetime, perhaps two; flannels; come on, how many hundred flannels does one person need; toiletries, oh yes always, but again not without asking first.

I arrived at a hotel on Park Lane recently, having forgot to bring along some lube, so I thought I'd make use of the hotels divinely scented Peppermint & Lemon body moisturiser (the clue was in the wording but blondie here missed it), to help our motion. 

Having applied it to the nether regions, whilst I didn't quite dance about the room like I'd been waking on hot coals, I certainly skipped out of that room pretty sharpish after the event…wow! Silly me.


Saturday, 12 July 2014

204. Pt 4.

I returned the following evening with professional playmate, Sophie. I'd parked up discreetly outside the gated estate where she pulled up in her car, hopped into mine and drove in together.

It was rather late when we arrived, 11pm, A had obviously been burning it at both ends, he looked tired and lacked the spark the previous few days. And no, this wasn't due to me wearing him out but rather, his own over indulgences.

A, had called me whilst enroute, suggesting I may prefer to meet him the following evening, but I was already on the road and nor was I about to blow Sophie out at this late hour in the proceedings; very unprofessional. 

S, his manservant, had been given the night off, so it was just the three of us and I guess his chef somewhere downstairs in the kitchen? So, I wasn't at all surprised that after a brief but polite introduction, we all toddled off to the bedroom rather pronto.

I returned from the bathroom with tissues, towel and lotion, to find proceedings had already begun without me and were now in full swing; I like a girl with initiative. Stripping down to my lingerie, it seemed I was to play the role of assistant to Sophie, providing her with lube and condoms, I felt a tad redundant but she obviously had the situation in hand, so enjoyed myself as the voyeur.

With A on his back, Sophie straddled him and after what can’t have been more than five or six minutes, it was all over and A was spent. Sophie went off to freshen up whilst I tucked him up into bed, fetched a glass of water, switched out the bedroom light and quietly closed the door behind us.

We'd only been there some forty minutes, and were now back in our cars heading homeward. I can't say I left with my usual sense of job satisfaction, however, we did leave A satisfied and I did get to crawl into my own welcoming bed earlier than expected; so everyone's a winner.

What I'm reading in bed...

The VW Camper Van: Mike Harding

Friday, 20 June 2014

204. Pt 3.

It was midnight when I crawled into bed, A, rang to ask if I'd come over now, 'I really need to get some rest, call me in the morning and lets arrange for tomorrow afternoon.'

At 2pm I arrived back at the riverside apartment, the Porter recognized me and raised the barrier waving me through, 'Good afternoon Mam.'

A, was wearing a silk dressing-gown and asked his assistant to go fetch me one too; off I went to the bedroom, undressed and slipped into the cool technicolor robe.

'What would you like Frances, some wine, a beer, are you hungry?' 'Actually I am hungry, is it possible to have something simple?' His personal Chef was summoned, 'Perhaps a salad and a few lamb-chops,' he suggested, that sounded fine. I had a glass of water, as I like to avoid drinking alcohol before 6pm, otherwise I get all sleepy and my day's done by 8pm.

After a zingy fresh lunch, we resumed our position on the sofa to administer more mutual foot massages. Whilst in mid foot rub and conversation, an elderly Arab man entered the room holding a guitar (roll with it Frances I thought), he walked up to A, took his hand and gave a gentle bow 'Hello my Prince,' turning to me he offered the same courtesy. 

'Frances, this is a very old friend of my father, a wise and beautiful man, I have asked him to sing for you, as I know you love music.' The man proceeded to play, with much encouragement from A, and quite beautiful it was too. When he'd finished I asked if he wouldn't mind playing a little more, he bowed humbly and obliged.   

The guitar was then handed over to me, but not before A brought up my own 'Youtube' performances on the gargantuan TV screen upon the wall. This was all done via his mobile phone; I'm obviously not keeping up with technology, it's all getting beyond me. I sat watching myself, it wasn't comfortable nor is it for most performers, but it's the only way to hone one's stagecraft and it does work.

After the second or third video I insisted he turn it off; I felt much more comfortable just sat there on the sofa, singing and playing the guitar. 

Michael Jackson was renowned for finishing his gig, doing the obligatory meet and greet afterwards, before rushing back to his hotel room to watch and observe the raw recorded footage of the evening's performance. And that ladies and gentlemen, is how one hones their stagecraft.

After the delightful musician left, S, the manservant came up and cut a gram of coke on the glass topped table, when he left A, turned to me, 'Frances, he's not very well today so I've called for a Transsexual escort to come give him a massage, he doesn't she a Transsexual though.'

She duly arrived an hour later and was shown up to the room. A young pretty Thai girl, nicely dressed, ridiculously large designer handbag and sunglasses, loaded down with all that ostentatious stuff one believes at that age, commands respect and gravities, causing traffic to go 'WOW' as you strut along. 

I could sense she felt a little out of her depth with all the goings on, people coming in and out. A, didn't help any by being a little too challenging with her, until I told him to behave. I made as much friendly conversation as I could, though this was limited as she didn't seem engaged, fiddling with her hair and bling accessories, and reminded us that she would have to check into the agency regarding times.

A, didn't much care for this, he'd have been happy to pay her whatever, but wasn't seeking a 'Time and Motion' clipboard exercise; it seems she has some learning to do in the diplomacy department. 

S was summoned, told of his gift, acknowledged his appreciation and meekly left with the girl to a room downstairs. I caught up with her before she left, to check if everything had been taken care of and saw her out. A and I agreed that if we were to get another girl in, it might be better if it were someone I knew, rather than a clock watching agency girl.

And with that, we retired to the boudoir.