Recently I updated my advertisement page to announce that I wanted to accept more "platonic" date requests, as I had taken on quite a few in the past but never made a point of noting it could be done on a platonic / social level only.
The rate obviously was greatly reduced in comparison to my escorting fee, but I found that i did enjoy meeting someone and engaging in the art of seduction over a formal lunch, high tea, dinner, or just bubbly. I was more thrilled at dressing up and perfecting myself for the outing, than i ever was for more of the expected activities. And even better was the fact that although my rate for such was much less, a client simply never booked me for a mere hour, but instead three- which was nearly the same as an escorting rate once added up, and in my mind it was so pleasant. I would be taken on a date, really that's the best description, with a nice person who could find interest in me- whether that be my mind and conversation, or time spent just looking at me, both options just made me feel desired, greatly. Perhaps in their mind, and most definitely with some, they used this opportunity as somewhat of a preview, to determine whether I was to be re-booked for more intimate activities and find whether I lived up to their vision of me.
It was the end of a good week, and I received an email, a detailed one at that which had been well written, from a potential client inquiring my availability for the following week and asking if I would be interested in a platonic lunch date in central London. I was very happy to receive another request for this. I can recall his email described his appearance, stating he was quite young, late-20s, tall at 6ft 2in, and of slim build, with other references made to how he loved what he read of me in my profile and my images. Lastly noting that I was pleasantly tall and could tower over him when wearing my 5in stilettos - "hint," he wrote. Immediately I knew he was one for the look of style and powerful beauty in a lady - as opposed to the opposite follower whom adores my youthful face and child like styling when i dress to that part.
We confirmed with one another and the young gentleman booked a table at a very stylish and excellent Soho restaurant. All was set and arranged for us to arrive one hour past noon. I had asked what his preference was in my attire, giving him just two classic examples to select from- a fitted black office type dress or a Chanel suit dressed down a touch - both with sheer stockings and high heels. He kindly wrote and explained he knew i would look nice in anything, but the little black dress excited him- I complied.
Arriving before my date on that early afternoon, and anxiously awaiting to indulge into a glass of something, I walked in and as usual the head waiter greeted me however i knew i could not provide him with the gentleman's last name for the reservation. I didn't want to ask the last name either, as I respect one's privacy. I simply gave the first name and time and asked if i could wait at the bar until he arrived. The reservation was located and he announced the last name- a simple "yes," from me. The stylish surroundings, grandeur of old meeting modern sleek were tasteful and sophisticated, I knew Zi would have to return for it had met my approval as I was always searching for somewhere new to lounge about in.
The cocktail list was just what I had been wishing for, as a champagne lover I went for the lemon cocktail version at £13.75. I recall such precise details that it humours me to make note of them- the price for instance, or the tall glass with a lemon rind floating within, or the fact that just as I'd ordered and it was in preparation my young gentleman arrived. I had inquired that morning how I was to recognise him, and he replied "dark grey suit, black glasses, short hair." this description was not exactly pin pointing i thought, but the venue was so empty it wasn't hard to locate persons within. I sat with my iPhone checking some messages when i glanced up and there a figure stood- not realising for nearly a second whom it was, which in my mind seemed much longer for I recall thinking "who, what?" I smiled gently and stood up, giving a hello, a greeting of a kiss on both cheeks with a gentle hug. I am always curious to know what the headwaiter must think in such situations, for it's obvious that we didn't know one another, yet we act like old and close friends- a blind date perhaps in the afternoon?
My young gentleman was as he described, very young at 29, with lovely skin- which Is more than could be said for mine at that time due to a dreadful breakout the week prior, which forced me to use my finest of makeup and concealing techniques to try and regain my previous look of lovely smooth skin! He sat opposite me at our drinks table which made me doubt myself already and wonder if he just didn't have the nerve to say good-bye and leave for I was perhaps a disappointment in some way. We began with your average introduction chat, how is work, how are you, etc. Within moments I concluded he was one of the dreaded banker or finance types whom hates their job and life, and sees no good in anything, for their mind is poisoned from their hatred, and nothing will ever please them, although they look and seek for such a change to bring them happiness- but as long as they don't have the ability to separate work from play, their mind will be clouded. My fear grew, our conversation was dull somewhat, and I felt he hated me, and was thinking our date would magically bring happiness to his life of dull and hate, and transform him. I was regretting the fact i had began advertising more the fact i was available for such dates, and in a sense wanted to go back to the more expected activities to avoid such figures and awkward situations.
He ordered white wine, and wanted a bottle, it was clear that his pasttime was getting smashed to try and forget his troubles- a classic trait of the unhappy worker. We then were shown to our table- the restaurant was indeed rather magnificent, and ever so large, but only a small number of tables had been filled and all were in two's. At least at this seating we were not so spaced from one another, and instead our chairs were rather adjacent at the round table laid with white linen, and attractive place settings. My young gentleman even cracked a a small smile during our transition. I made a comment that one of the servers to our table paid extra attention and was continuing to look over- he stated that perhaps it was because my stocking tops were showing just a little. Indeeed they were, but only due to the fact that my height caused the dress to be rather short. He also smiled at this, and I knew then that he was now the happy little boy who got excited at something rather innocent- i was relieved. His charming character did shine through and come out gradually from this moment onward. No longer did i think of him as the cold, soulless, lifeless person, instead he was now on the way to being sweet, and he was normal, and had feelings with emotion behind them. Our atmosphere improved greatly, and from then on we smiled... We smiled many a time, and often, even after i corrected my dress from being so short, to hide the delicately risqué view.
We chatted more, as earlier we had started on the subject of my jobs outside of this scene, and what i did- being so many different areas in the art world over the years since i was only 16, photography, vintage fashion, fashion design, web design, etc. He was extremely impressed oa genuine level, and further by the fact i stated i had not been to university, and began as freelance and today still was "self employed." he said he admired that i did what i wanted to do, and didn't feel the need to go to uni; instead i just went and fid it. I used my resources from my alternative activities to fund and jump ahead of everyone else who was just a starving artist, invested wisely, and strived to get ahead, i explained to him. Which then made him remember a little envelope he had brought with my fee. I had been rather scared to ask for it earlier for fear of upsetting him when he already seemed upset. I was relieved he mentioned it with a smile, and that it wad in an envelope- i can't begin to explain how much more i respected a man simply from their gesture of placing the funds in an envelope, as opposed to just janding it over, folded up from their pocket. The envelope showed class, respect, and thought - as far as i was concerned.
We ordered, the selections were lovely. I had of course dined many a time at such establishments, but played the casual mood this occasion, and not the formal nor stuffy mood which may have come with such territory- instead i wanted to create a relaxed atmosphere between us. After all, it was apparent i knew what was what in such a place, and in the manner i spoke- it made for a relaxing time to see me not stiff and too formal. On a second occasion he made reference to his observation of the waiters all paying me great attention, i was not alone in thinking this!
First course, not the expected traditional oysters i had expected, instead they were topped with foam, and their shells filled with green and small lentils, as they rested atop a salt mountain individually in their trio group. My gentleman feasted on chicken. We continued to chat, our interest in one another grew, and the mood became better and better. A second lemon champagne cocktail, and bottle of white wine was ordered. I was enjoying him ever so much, i really wanted to pretend and ignore the fact that perhaps his wine was the cause of his happy new mood, i really wanted it to be me that made him this way, was it too much to think or hope that he actually did like me? It was only two glasses of wine for him later that i began to think these thoughts.
Our main was indeed the same choice, plaice. We chatted continually, so much that i really would say i don't recall tasting nor appreciating the fish! My mind was indeed elsewhere - my new young gentleman friend. We both grew more fond of one another as the minutes rolled on. He finally announced that he loved my hands, and of course my legs - made apparent on several occasions. I respected him ever greater for his taste in beauty. He noted that a ladys hands were a forgotten beauty. His eye to detail was very obvious now, from the envelope, to the small bit of stocking tops being recognized, amend now my hands. I used my hands in this situation to flirt as gracefully as i could, simply placing him in a beautiful position, resting one atop the other, extending the fingers to show the length of the bones rwaching to my wrist. I learned that he had a lady friend whom he wanted to love that had beautiful hands, and the most beautiful he had seen, until he saw mine, as he said. I reached over a few inches and held his hand - it was soft, very soft. I stroked it, and teased him with my hands and delicately extending fingers. By this point at the end of our lunch, i wanted him very much. He was not the awful bore i had first thought he would be. I even went so far as to say to him im so pleased you aren't what i thought you would be when i first met you. He apologised for his bad introduction and said he was having a binge, a release, and that he found the situation earlier quite akward- i liked him even more for he was human.
We held hands the remainder of our stay at the table, but uit was clear our interests in one another had grown so greatly, and we both wanted on another deeply. It was wrong, wrong of me to allow myself to get to such an emotional level with him, we had not even kissed. At the table his hand felt my leg and found it's way up past my skirt, between my hot thighs where his fingers began to stroke. It was insanely naughty, the sort of thing one reads about in a romance novel, or in a movie late at night. I wanted my young gentleman so much, he was handsome, my age, thoughtful, intelligent, and sweet. Could i have him?
