I’ve had many weird clients in my 15-year escort career in London, but there is this one guy who stands out of my mind. The encounter occurred in 2008 but still rings fresh as if I’ve been having it every single day.
I’m trying to fight down a Monday hangover the morning after a Sunday of heavy drinking with my other London escorts when my phone beeps – a message from a client I’ve never been out with before, but who has offered £1,500 for inhouse service. At first, I shrugged it off – being the height of the 2008 financial crisis, no one would be willing to splash such an insane amount of money on an escort, or so I thought to myself. Being in a bad financial situation myself, I decided to take him seriously. As a private escort then before joining my current agency it was pretty a modus operandi to glean the web for details about the clients that offered such a ridiculous sum of money – I could be dealing with a famous person. So, I ask this guy’s name and he’s like, “Yo, I’m trynna have fun for a day here, I’m off to L.A in two days. Just show up, do your job, and get paid”. Well, this is an expatriate and there is no way I’m going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers just like that.
We agreed to meet in a restaurant in Kensington then head to Park Avenue J Hotel. As you probably know, Park Avenue J Hotel isn’t a cheap place to stay for a week; my client had been there for like one and a half weeks already. Soon, we were in the cab having a chit chat heading to the hotel.
After about 30 minutes we were in his double room suite. Almost immediately, this client ordered me to dress like his dead wife and give him a comprehensive golden shower on the bed. He actually had his dead wife’s clothes ready on the table and her picture. Talk about shock – I had never been asked to do anything disturbing like that my entire life up to that point. “Are you being real right now!?” I almost asked in disbelief. After all, I’m already in the hotel and I have a £400 utility bill hanging on me back at home, there was no way I would’ve left the hotel without the agreed £1,500 – not at all. Gross as it was, I put on the deceased wife’s Victoria Secret lingerie, blouse, and skirt and readied for a golden shower.
“Come over here ma, empty your damn bladder on me” he beckoned almost grinning. Well, I joined him on the bed and did everything he asked for. Lots of other things happened, but I remember him asking for my panty so that could leave with them to America as a souvenir of some sort. Having done the worst already, returning to my apartment pantyless wasn’t a big deal. He handed me £1,500, cash!. I’ve never been back to that hotel again. I wonder what he did with my panty.