171. Part 2

Once again, N's driver arrived just before midnight to whisk me back to Blakes hotel (Molton Brown toiletries); he'd made a comment earlier, how he liked the woman in a suit & tie power-look.

If someone has a particular clothing request and I have it in my wardrobe, I'm always happy to oblige, if not, they're welcome to supply it and I'll wear it.

Well, he liked the outfit so much (suit & tie), that I must have sat there a whole hour or more, before finally undressing. 'Frances, I've had them stock the bar with your favorite, open whatever you want,' no prizes for what I unwound, tore and popped.

It was now 2am, we were sat on the bed chilling and exchanging erotic adventures, 'Shall we get another girl in Frances, but...only if you want to?' 'Sure, but all the girls I know will be in bed by now.' 'OK, lets call an Escort Agency, if you like the sound of her I'll have her come over, but hey...if you don't want to we'll leave it,' said N.

There was a knock on the door, the concierge had brought up a contact booklet (Adult Guide to London) as requested, it was served on a tray, discretely hidden beneath a crisp white cloth napkin; well done Blakes, go to the top of the class.

The Internet and the ability to build one's own website (cutting out the middle-man), has pretty much knocked the stuffing out of the Agencies, but a few still survive; we called one based in Knightsbridge.

Lord...sitting for hours in some stuffy room, full of other similarly attractive hopefuls, what a drag that must be. But then, I've lost many a potential client for quite the opposite reason, i.e. not sitting on a sofa twiddling my thumbs in the hope that the phone will ring and I'll be chosen.

For the most part, when I receive an enquiry the planets are usually lined up in the right place and time; however, I'm not above moving the earth a little in order to make those planets line up to my advantage.

That said, I was at a birthday dinner on Saturday evening, usually one of my quietest nights, and I had to decline three potential clients; it rains it pours.

B arrived half an hour later, a pretty, dark skinned girl. I'd insisted that N tell the girl before she arrived, that I was a Transsexual, I don't like to give people surprises, nasty or otherwise, so it was good that she was cool about things.

She drank a couple of glasses of fizz (perhaps too many), before we were all legs and arms over our host; it really didn't amount to much more than heavy petting and masturbation, it was a cosy affair.

Between it all, we drank, dressed N up, ate Pringles, cashew nuts, chocolate, and compared stories of Escort/Client encounters. As pleasant as B was, we found her to be a bit mechanical and sex by numbers. 'Well, if I'm to stay another hour,' she said, 'I'll have to call the agency and charge you extra.'

For N, a wealthy and generous man, the last thing he wanted around him on his night off was, a mechanical, clock watching and time-keeping companion. Discreetly, he indicated that we let her go, shame, it was her loss, he would have more than taken care of her.

For Escorts (and clients), the downside of an agency is being unable to follow ones own intuition or instinct, it thoroughly dampens the moment, the joie de vive.

8am rolled around, N had an 11am flight to Norway, 'Frances, would you help me with my packing before you go, I'm useless,' I'd gone from a muse to his mother.

Job done, I declined the drivers offer of a lift back home, I needed some air, N would be back again in June. I'd had about seven hours sleep in the last forty and was feeling light headed (I once went forty hours without sleep), I was ready to sleep like a dog.