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December the 19th 2012


‘What’s that thing coming over the hill, is it a monster, is it a monster?’ I always sang to myself and sometimes loud, to his delight, when I saw his massive cock coming towards me with the light on his back making the contrast even higher, after spending some time with his tongue between my legs to ensure the penetration is going to be easier. The first time I saw that happening to me, I was drunk, but I remember opening my eyes in terror: ‘are you going to penetrate me with that?’

After exchanging a number of messages and having a telephone conversation we decided to meet in this top London bar and we took a corner sofa to relax and talk. ‘Thank God it was you’ he said as before me he saw another blonde woman who smiled at him but he did not fancy her and he was thinking whether to do a Houdini. I was delayed meeting him by the several dozens of men who all of a sudden decided to step in my way asking me some non sense questions or touching my hand and for a second I thought: ‘what, am I in Naples again?’ remembering how hungry men are there. The toilet I was in earlier on changing from my casual shoes to the glam platform shoes I brought with me became all of a sudden busy with girls ‘staring’ discreetly at me and I was wondering if I look too good or too bad?

He looked rather smashing dressed in a good suit, gelled hair and a constant, confident smile on his face you could easily take him for a model. But ‘rather skinny’ I thought and as he was under six feet tall, I assumed ‘god, he might have a tiny penis’. He was making actually lots of jokes about men with tiny penises and instinctively I thought of the two options: either he is rather big, that is why he has this confidence, or he wants to prepare me for a shock but actually saying that he can deliver in other respects……..

The two cocktails he pushed me to have were rather cold and upset my stomach, so I went home and I concluded I will never hear from him. But several weeks later, as I returned from a trip overseas I received a text asking if I want to meet him again? Remembering he was a gent, I decided to meet him on the top bar of this hotel overlooking the park and what a great choice that was! Blame the atmosphere, or maybe the drinks or maybe his perfume and confidence but I found myself giving in to his embrace to actually have some passionate kisses despite having a family with some early twenties youngsters near us who apparently were looking with vulture eyes. It felt so nice being near him that when he asked me ‘shall I book a room downstairs’ I nodded assuming he is joking. Some ten minutes later he was back near me, grabbed the drinks and took me by my hand to the room saying: ‘we are residents now’.

It was all a blur how on earth I became all naked on the edge of the bed with my nose in the expensive bed sheets that reminded me of home and him having his head buried between my legs. I remember thinking I should get drunk more often and lose touch with reality but not forgetting to have a gorgeous man near me.

He invited me for the third meeting at his place in a great suburb of London and I was wondering if everything is becoming too serious? He started kissing me with his big mouth as soon as we entered his place and we started having sex or ‘love’ as he called it straight away but I found it a bit annoying that he stopped just like that in order to put ‘Scent of a woman’ for the 50th time as admitted by him, in the DVD player. OK, I was annoyed too with the fact that he kept slapping my bottom all the time saying: ‘oh, yeah’ and the fact that he kept sending me pictures of his massive cock all the time as if wanting me not to forget his massive shape.

He invited himself for the forth meeting at my place and for the fifth time too, as it was easier to reach the City from mine, waking me up early in the morning and taking advantage that I was so nice to him: warm bubble bath with Imperial spice tea brought for his convenience, tooth brush and other toiletries I kept receiving during my overseas trips at his disposal, not to mention different selection of biscuits to go easy with his tea, bananas to take to the office etc. I even had to iron a shirt the night before after which he realised it will be easier to buy a new shirt from the T M Lewin near his office.

And bearing in mind the night I stayed at him he only gave me a glass of tap water as, honestly like the majority of men, he did not have anything in the house. I guess he liked being spoiled with variety of teas, juices, beer and liqueur at my place, different kind of biscuits and pretzels, fruits and chocolates I like keeping in the house and devour them from time to time.

I did not open any of his cupboards when I entered his place as the simple elegance of the place made me assume he will be just like the majority of the guys: with some 20 pairs of vests, the same in knickers, 10 pairs of socks, 10 pairs of shirts and several suits and shoes. But I was amazed, as we entered my place he straight away started checking the bedroom, bathroom etc and in the following days I even discovered torn floor tiles, never mind white towels and bath mat with marks as he did not removed properly the coloured bathroom toiletries he chose to open himself despite being sealed and never used……..and never invited to do that. The bottle of wine he brought with him was moved from the freezer to the fruits compartment probably as an excuse to check every inch of that area!!!!!!!!!

‘Oh, look my phone is not charging’ I thought as I stretched to reach it while he was having his bubble bath at 6.30am. But immediately I realised that was his phone and with a high heart beat as if I was having my boxing session I decided to have a brief look. On one hand I had the guilt of doing a thing I have never done before and on the other hand the fact that I have been conned in the past of my feelings and being stuck in a relationship of many, many years with a man you learn to love just the way he is, despite not being Mr Gorgeous or Mr Perfect or Mr Nice but more like the opposite and simply using me for several reasons……..

Now, what do you do if you are involved with a girl you met five times and she shaggs you so hard you find it difficult to even go to toilet for the next two days when you see her, you treat her right and she tells you that no one is like you and there are some horrible people out there; when you go to her flat you see her brush filled with some blonde hair from her previous partner’s hair and is basically trying to get under your skin when she could have said: ‘babe, I just want to shagg you, I have got more people in the pipe line waiting for my charms and I want to make sure they all have feelings for me’. Would you like to be near such a person or would you ran away?

As I was checking the messages on this phone, I discovered that earlier on that day he kept exchanging messages with his ex and he told her he was going away in a holiday. ‘Not with me’ I thought. Then message exchanges with another girl I assumed she was the girl he was going in holiday with but I was too sickened to check further. Then another girl and another girl and trust me these were not female office colleagues from the long list of people in his contact list.

Options? I could have been very bad and send messages to all these women saying: ‘hey darlings, I just found your numbers on the phone of the guy who is having a bubble bath sipping tea with a selection of fine biscuits in my bathroom after having a shaggadelic night being shagged hard in the morning again, as per our usual routine now’ or, I could have returned his phone to ‘Factory settings’. I guess what I did was a too decent thing for any man who thinks he is so clever and he can mess around with any woman assuming that all women are stupid and I simply removed only my name from his contact list and my messages. Let him stay in touch with all the other women, mess with them and waste the energy for as long as it suits him thinking he is so bright………’cos I doubt he will change his ways. And maybe one day a woman or her brother will modify his face.

I gave him a hug as he left my place with a smile on my sleepy face, a bit guilty of what I have done but a bit relieved that I did not make sacrifices for a person to have my heart broken once again. In honesty I miss his hugs. Just like me, he liked hugging and he had a way of putting his face on a higher pillow near my face and dragging me towards him if I escaped from his embrace during the night the way I used to drag my cat when I was a baby. I saw a dog some days ago and as I started playing with him, I noticed he turned his back onto me looking with his big eyes as if saying ‘scratch his back‘, just the way I was turning my back onto my ‘cheater’ to keep me warm. I guess we are all some simple creatures salivating for the same things: warmth and affection.





December the 9th 2012


Yesterday was not a particular nice day for me: it started with me having to face the owner of a Tanning Salon where from I made the mistake to purchase a number of minutes to be used within the next month for which I paid in advance a cash amount giving me a slight discount. But after using twice his sun beds I saw no change and only doing my research later I discovered the lamps have to be checked and replaced periodically, which probably this owner did not do in order to keep the clients coming but see no results unless using the sun bed for a number of occasions, which honestly I am not a big fan of. I used the sun beds in previous gyms and I saw great results in two sessions, so there is no need for me to depend on going daily to a place where from I am going to get skin cancer.

But tell this to this Salon owner, whatever good arguments I brought to support my case, he was cutting my sentences with very antagonistic ideas. Not only that, he was so rude to me, despite being a long standing customer and I thought that December, being the season of good will, despite him not sharing our religious background, he might have the decency to behave in a professional manner. Days earlier when I tried to have a conversation with him on the phone, he put the phone down on me on three occasions…….. Not only that, arriving at his shop I found a guy with a similar experience and leaving his shop I heard another girl arguing about something, which told me this Salon owner lies through his teeth to all the customers and treats them badly whether they are new or returning……….

I tried to change my mood and feel positively and thank God I went to the well known store where a guy, recognising me and probably fancying me always offers me free macaroons. ’Try one’ he said, as he moved to help other customers, as all of a sudden the area became very busy……. Well, actually I was not surprised by this, in several occasions some shoe shop owners offered to pay a certain number of hours to stay in their shops pretending to buy something in order to attract customers. After seeing it so many times happening to me, lots of my friends call me now ’shop filler’, ha ha

The kind guy came back to me and said: ’do you want to try another macaroon?’ whilst I was advising this older lady on which ones to buy. Secretly I was wondering if he is going to put me on the spot by asking me out, so I refused the third macaroon and instead I chose to buy several other flavours and move on with my day.

But whilst returning home, I decided to stop in a local supermarket only to discover that a ’bum’ which was on a abusive-drunken verge took a shine on me. On three occasions he attempted to show how superior he was to me simply because I have a foreign accent, that made several guys in the supermarket plus the security guys jump to help me. ’God’, I thought, ’the season of good will’. With all these ’misfortunes’ no wonder so many people turn into Scrooges and prefer to ran away to Thailand or other sunny parts of the world, away from the madness and negativity of some others.

Despite so many bad things happening to me in the last decade, I still kept my positivity and probably I would be the very first one to celebrate every single occasion. After all, as I child I used to save my winter money to make presents for my parents………….

But I cannot wonder: ’why people never learn and try to be positive?’ It does not help on keeping a negative outlook on life. Until now, I keep calling few friends around the world only to hear the same kind of whinging on how bad life it or the way I make fun ‘how bad the life is in the ghetto’. ‘Work-home only’ a friend who lives in a small town always says. But she does not mention that home is some 10min walk from work unlike London, where you have to be stuck standing in heels like sardines, in a train for close to one hour. And sometimes you have to cover your nose as the smells of some people with not the same hygiene as you is overpowering or worst case scenario to have people staring at you because you look so elegant, yet classy and not dressed as if you are going to combat training. Even getting a disease, anything from cold or flu to tonsillitis, never mind having to put up with some abuse over minor issues or from people who simply have a problem with everything but hardly take a good look in the mirror to see what us, the rest of the population see……….

Several days ago I met a friend in a top London bar and as soon as he left me alone to go to the bathroom, some girls which looked like foreign girls working for an agency meeting their clients before going to their places, started taking pictures of my shoes, my dress and my hair. ‘I was taking the picture of somebody above you’ one of them said, as if dreaming that I am going to believe her. I had my pictures taken before by a paparazzi at Heathrow but that guy had the decency to remove the pictures as soon as I told him to do so as I am a no one and intend to remain that way. But I doubt this girl would have done the same way, after all I tried to speak with a girl doing the same thing before in a London club and I was met by a extremely bad attitude!!!!!!!!!!

My friend softened me so well with some great alcoholic drinks that our night turned out into such a great shagg!

At least our shagg was consensual and not forced the way I discovered it happen to so many women in a certain Middle Eastern country that had a major political change. I was so upset, and trust me, I do not get easily upset on external political issues as most of them have been witnessed by me throughout my world wide trips. But these women, to have their clothes removed by hundreds of men in a major square, with the men being paid to behave in such a primitive way by a political party that wants women to stay at home? Is this progress or regress? Even now thinking about this, my blood boils……..

Coming back to the season of good will, try to say nice things to people travelling near you, whether they might be stuck up or with a poor command of English language and why not, stop for a second to give directions to those people with poor orientation skills looking at maps and not having a clue where they are.

Enjoy this season, absorb the negativity and like a Superman…… or Superwoman, transform it into good.




November the 26th 2012


I stepped in the pitch black of the kitchen walking towards the fridge to grab some milk and whilst having the 8 pints bottle in my hands I felt some eyes staring at me. Instinctively I turned and saw this little mouse nonchalantly looking at me from under the washing machine. ‘Hey’ I said to him with a calm voice I normally address a cute dog or cat I see on my street. I am not sure whether my melodious voice or the fact that he could not be bothered much, but he just slowly turned his huge bum onto me and gone he was. This made me meditate for a second that must be something calming in my voice or maybe my non threatening body language that makes others not worry much about me, not scared or worse, when it comes to human to actually bully or harass me.

But this little fella, the travelling mouse, kept coming to my flat once in a while and I could hear his little limp on my floorboards less one metre away from me when I was doing my gymnastic in the evening whilst watching TV for example. ‘You little bugger’ I used to think, ‘you are not scared of me’ but after a while he stopped coming to my flat located some 30 metres above ground. A rat the size of a chav or a ‘little vandal’ as I used to call him, brushed his fur against my hand on one occasion but then he disappeared too. Or a squirrel paid me a visit on one occasion coming via the pipes outside the building and jumping straight to my window then walked into the kitchen and off she started sniffing my cookie jar. She left everywhere marks of her little feet but again she was not domesticated enough to wait for me to open some packs of nuts or biscuits. But she allowed me to take several pictures of her with my phone, in case no one believed that a squirrel can be so adventurous and then off she run, just as fast as she came.

Two pigeons completed the picture of my little jungle, sitting at my window and listening to my music. ‘What next?’ I thought, ‘Attenborough himself?’

What I am trying to talk about here is that some people, like me, calm and collective seem to be getting the same kind of reaction from little animals or birds, or even bigger dogs that jumped on me on several occasions when they got a sniff of my lower body to the human dogs that harassed or bullied me.

I am so upset as only recently I learned about the repercussions the first rape attempt when I was at University has now on my body. When I tell the story to certain people, everyone asks me if that guy went to prison? I was too young to understand the effects such an attack can have on me, I felt probably too guilty as the society then was more prepared to make feel guilty a young student and surely the system was not designed to help us. Only my University friends knew about this rape attempt, not my parents, family or teachers…...

It happened around 10pm at night at the University complex I was living in and I was trying to get into this building where my friends were. I was approached by a guy who I knew was not a nice person plus he was a professional boxer several years older than me who said: ‘I want to tell you something’. As he was dragging me towards a car park at the back of the building I felt really un-comfortable with this so I decided to ran away from him. Some 5min later I woke up back in front of the building but on my knees and with blood coming out of my nose and mouth and all swollen up, surrounded by my friends. What happened? Probably the boxer ran after me, caught me and hit my in my nose and mouth. Until now I think that I should have taken some action against him as the events are so vivid in my memory. Surely he must have discussed this with one of his friends, as some one year later, around 5pm in summer time, a guy who belonged to the same group attempted to talk to me and drag me towards some huge grass area near my building. I managed again to ran and reached this guy who looked like a rugby player telling him: ‘help me if you have a girlfriend’. My attacker audaciously said to him: ‘go away, she is my girlfriend’. When the rugby guy decided to help me, my attacker started threatening him and followed us until I was in the safety of a building.

These two events opened my eyes on how bad some people can be and prepared me for later situations later on in life when me a friend were attacked with a shot gun during our overseas travels or followed by some predatory guys in cars with bad intentions in mind.

It taught me that however careful you are in life, strange things do happen and most annoyingly the attackers never seem to take responsibility for their actions, always blaming others or the fact they did not know any better. And then I realise how fortunate are we to live in our society which raises awareness towards such situations with life long repercussions.

Is not like the crazy events in my life stopped completely but now I have discovered that at least I have the power to talk to these guys and maybe the facts that what I say makes sense, leads them onto disembarking from such stalking attempts, harassment or bullying. But you can never be cautious enough. I wrote in a previous blog about the guy who followed me some 3000 miles away to find him staying at the same hotel as me who eventually gave up his chase as he was a mature guy. Through the power of meditation I managed to find the answer to his actions, his background and events that led him to conduct such a chase. And if you think that I gave the wrong signals, then trust me, you are wrong. I tend to be very clear in my statements, if I like a person or not as I am not the flirtatious type.

It surprises me that sometimes I discover men following me on the street and I am not talking about the armies of men that followed me when I was in Naples or China or India purely because I looked different. We are all used to be whistled by guys in passing vans even when dressed simply and elegantly in a knee length coat……… but a gorgeous professional guy following my in the supermarket and passing several time in front of me just to make eye contact and then ask me something irrelevant? Or the guys that even entered my beautician or gym just to see and be seen? Or the worst case scenario, the guy who just arrived from overseas and attempted to speak to me in Oxford street and I am thinking: ‘what?’ We are millions of years apart in terms of education, way of thinking, looks and views on life. But then I realised how immature he was, living in a world packed with dreams and fantasies. There are lots of girls like that too, you must think. And yes you are right. Some years ago these girls used to count ‘Pretty Woman’ as the best movie of all times, now they are waiting for the screen adaptation of the Christian Gray trilogy in order to make a new declaration. ‘In what world do you live?’ I think.




October the 9th 2012


OK, let’s not talk about thousands of men that might follow you, the tourist with long blonde hair and curvaceous but slim body, on the streets of a major city in India and let’s not talk either about the thousands of men and women of any age that follow you on the street or take your picture in any big city of China……….but the question that puzzles me is: ‘what is wrong with the Italian men?’

OK, you might have in London one or two waiters, bar tenders or pizza sellers that might shout after you ‘Principessa’, ‘Princessa’ or ‘Bella’ but you think these guys are mad and tend to ignore them. But then you travel to Amalfi coast and Naples and you come across thousands of them and you are wondering: ‘is it something in the air?’ or ‘is it something they eat’?

I got used long time ago to ignore men of any nationality or social structure that might shout or beep you on the street telling you indirectly they fancy that knee length elegant skirt you are wearing together with the small kittenish heel that allows you to walk energetically to your destination without having to drag your feet the way you would when wearing the ‘must’ high heels on a night out. But when thousands of Italian men, some even with their old mum in toe come to you saying: ‘bella, come stai?’ and you respond: ‘no, tua mama e bella’ to which they respond: ‘no, tu e bella’, you are thinking, come on man, shut up, you cannot try to approach a woman on the street telling her she is beautiful when your mother is the most beautiful person in the world and she deserves nothing but your undivided respect and attention.

But then you go to buy some train tickets to go to visit the ruins of Pompeii or Herculaneum and you see behind the ticket desk a mature Italian man calling his colleagues to come and look at you whilst you arrive and you think: ‘are these guys real? I just left a mad man behind!’

Or when you walk on the street and an army of men pay you all kind of compliments in Italian or English (the universal language of people looking like tourists) and they put a smile on your face with their naivety only to be welcomed by another army of men who will say more things as if punishing you for the fact that you are smiling.

All is so tiring and by contrast, the young Italian woman behave as if they hate you for getting all the attention and treating you with so much disrespect even when buying something from their little shop, you think ‘hang on, I am in Europe not in some God forgotten country’. One would expect that younger blonde women than you dressed in their pink attire as if they have just invented pink in their ex communist country and contrasting with the nude colours of the Italian women, would be getting more attention but no, it looked like the Italian men liked my dress in flowerish colours with delicate blues, white, yellow and pinks shorter at the front and longer at the back and my long hair flowing around my body and calling me ’Primavera’ even outside some gorgeous millenia old church.

But then you see one or two gorgeous Italian and ignoring the stunning guy with light curly hair dressed in an impeccable suit looking like he just came from the catwalk of Milan and you secretly wish he wasn’t staying with his mum at your hotel, equally glamorous looking……….you concentrate your thoughts on the poor but gorgeous Napolitan guy who passes you compliments in his rough Italian accent and you look at his blue piercing eyes on the very dark skin and wavey light brown hair sitting in front of some cheap shop and you realise that you are million miles apart in this world. His eyes tell you the story of a man at the limit between ignorance due to un-education, lack of travel and possibilities and the chance that he could be a low hierarchy Mafioso that one day might turn to be a gorgeous bad ass in a gang on the streets of London. And secretly you wonder: ‘is his cock as big as they say that Italian men are?’ After all, some recent statistics placed the Italian men at the top of the list based on length in European charts. And according to some fresce recently dug at the 2000 years old lava covered Pompeii temple sight depicting a ‘monster’ cock on a man, Italian men could be something ‘unusually large’ in that department.

But then you wonder: ‘who needs a big cock anyway?’ A decent size is more than excellent, plus some good techniques and variety and most of the women would declare themselves happy. One thing I would change though: I wish English men would be more talkative and approachable and not only when they are drunk or in a posh bar.




September the 18th 2012


I was walking fast to see a client, when I heard the voices of two boys probably around 13-14 years old saying ‘excuse me’. I thought they were addressing some stationery ladies so I ignored them. But some 300 metres further down the road and after having crossed a big intersection and other roads I could still hear their voices talking loud some 10 metres behind me. ‘These little buggers are stalking me’ I thought to myself remembering situations when boys the same age group coming from those parts of the world who hardly manage to integrate in our society, abused me verbally simply for passing near them. I was really walking fast and they were almost running towards me when I decided that enough was enough and I stopped pretending to send a text message on my mobile phone. They stopped too and I realised that now they were preparing themselves to say something that surely will upset me. As I passed near them, I heard them saying something sexual and then if I wanted to buy something that could only have been only drugs. I was thinking to call the police, tired of this abuse and surely the CCTV would have proven they followed me around for quite some time, but then I felt a bit embarrassed. Why? Well imagine me with a knee length coat and a fly away dress underneath but with some crotch less underwear matching my bra and white suspender belt. ‘Excuse me, is that Police? Despite me being so naughtily dressed in crotch less underwear and not having a cold pussy, can I report some teenage guys who stalk me?’

I finally reached my client’s hotel only to find in the elevator a guy in his late 40’s, early ‘50s, looking as if he originated from the same countries like the little buggers earlier on so I simply avoided his curious looks and the fact that probably he wanted to start a conversation. But as I reached my client’s door I realised the ‘mature bugger’ has followed me to the other side of the hotel and now he was staring at me with his hands firmly on his hips and checking me while I was changing from the low heeled shoes to my beautiful Swarowski encrusted platform shoes I brought to meet my client in. Thank God he saw the funny side of the things and we both started laughing wondering if the ‘mature bugger’ will now come to listen at my client‘s door………. Imagine that.

But as I left his room, I noticed another guy following me around despite having got lost on the multitude of hallways: probably he was simply following me instead of following the signs to the elevators which I seem to have missed trying to get away from him. But I could not wonder: ‘was it something wrong with the hotel and the men feeling horny when alone in hotel rooms or was it my sexual magnetism;? I sincerely hope it was the first case…….. But I further considered: ‘what about those girls you see sometimes around on the street dressed in those super short dresses, hardly able to make a move in their platform shoes and then calling a taxi with a loud, full of entitlement voice as if they are worth billions?’ - and I know they are in this business. After all, I have been told on so many occasions that I am so ‘receptive!

Do the ‘mature buggers’ follow these girls around too, or the girls are too obvious for their demanding tastes and they live them alone? What about the ‘little buggers’? Do they target old or fat women, women dressed in a track suit or covered from head to toe in a certain attire? Or do they prefer to target feminine women who mind their business?

I was really pleased my client wanted to see me for several hours and what a great lover he was. What a contrast he was though with the guy who kept harassing me several days earlier and kept sending texts with lots of sexual connotations. As he was the head of this company dealing with billions of pounds he kept saying the money-sex combo gave him that thrill and he was really looking forward to meeting me. We had a common friend and despite my rules to never flirt of shagg somebody from my home turf, professional environment or met via friends, I decided to forget for once this rule. Especially since he was making all the effort and sending the ‘sexts’ whereas I kept only responding: ‘you are so naughty’. Secretly I was concerned about this as displaying such an attitude with somebody you do not know could not build up to something serious, right?

We agreed to meet in the bar of this gorgeous and discreet hotel in Mayfair and I instantaneously liked his look in a very well cut suit and his thick hair together with the amazing smell coming from his Hermes perfume when he leaned to kiss me. Two extreme thoughts were crossing my mind listening to the nonchalance he was displaying when ordering different items for us to consume or when mentioning art he owned and the fact that he wanted to sculpt my body: either this guy is indeed too good to be true or he is a highly skilled liar, maybe even a gigolo specialised in high class cons. After all, he clearly reminded me of the slick and smooth approach, minus the Puss’n’Boots eyes of the main character from Jo Nesbo’s headhunters and probably because he was not British, he had a certain way of behaving that I did not encounter before.

‘I cannot invite you in’ I told him when he insisted to drop me by taxi at my home, not far from his house and I thought that probably a guy like him likes girls to fall instantaneously for him and surely I will never hear from him again. The next day he kept quiet, no ‘sexts’ until 6pm when all of a sudden he asked me if I want to come to his place to watch a movie and get a back massage. Honestly, I was having headaches for more than 24h due the sexual build up my body was experiencing and surely I had to do something about it. I cautiously asked him: ‘what are you after?’ He responded straight away: ‘YOU’. I previously told him about the times when I have been let down and how depressing this is for me as I prefer to know where I stand at all times. ‘Enjoy yourself’ he said ‘you only live once’ did not raise any suspicions at that time……..silly me.

Our second meeting took place in a hotel bar close to our both homes and he pushed me to have the second Mojito. I was so drunk by then but I knew that I would rather be drunk if he thought that I am going to fall for his con. He started kissing me passionately as soon as we entered his amazing home and stuck his thick tongue in my mouth. His body was very fit and when he got rid of this clothes I could see a very nice and round bum that has been hiding all this time from my view. He gave me a quick round of his home, up the majestic stairs into the bedrooms but then he dragged me downstairs again saying: ‘it will be very romantic to do it in front of the fire’. I noticed the huge painting of a Oriental lady above his bed in one of the bedrooms and the simplicity of all the bedrooms which for me would have been like: ‘oh, I just moved to the UK one month ago, hence I do not have much stuff. No rich bed linen and furnishings the way I like decorating my home……. Well with the exception of a very expensive looking kitchen with well chosen appliances and a beautiful chandelier hanging some 30 feet above us and huge mirror in the living room.

He managed to get me undressed and dragged me as he planned in front of the fireplace paying compliments to my bum and breasts and kissing me all this time. He seemed to be so excited that he came three times in less than 45 minutes, every single time with a huge gasp on his face and then running to the bathroom for a quick wash, so I could not say if he came lots or little…….or even if he came.

After the third time, he said he is tired as he next day he had to wake up early to play golf. ’What?’ I thought. Where is my massage he promised, where is the sex going on for hours that I thought I am going to get releasing parts of my frustration? Was the girl in the painting his girlfriend and he was messing around behind her back with me?

I grabbed my stuff annoyed I did not even have time to brush my teeth as the taxi was coming in some 20 minutes and I left his place. ’I hope you arrived home safely’ he later texted me. ’The nerve’, I thought. ’What a trickster’, I concluded. Why did he have to play the ground for close to one week trying to get me with all these sexual connotations, directing me at the same time to business websites where he is well known? Did he think that he will impress me?

What is wrong with being straight forward, honest and tell directly what one is after? Is playing tricks equal to getting a pat on the back and getting a star on the shoulder? Some men cannot but play games all their lives. And they do not even realise how sorry we feel for them……..

Thank God I had such a long and good shag with a client less than 24 hours later…………frustration truly gone.




September the 9th 2012


‘The magic is gone’ I thought to myself. ‘Back to the reality of a new day’. It was Sunday mid morning as I woke up in his gorgeous flat right near the Thames and yes the views were just as amazing as he described them to be. He managed to put me under his spell with his elegant conversation, persistent texting but not in ‘text speech’ - thing which I always find classy - and his impeccable presentation when I met him. Yes, he belonged to the old school of rock or ‘boys’music’ representative as I call it and I knew that he had lots of fans…….. This left me cold though, as I preferred to discover the man behind the façade and my, my what a great package he was! We agreed to have our first date in a place that was supposed to make great cocktails but actually it turned out to be more like a watering for young women who thought that dressing in leggings and some funny dresses or shirts is the equivalent of cool. It looked like, him dressed in a great quality suit with a white shirt and thin tie and me dressed in a short black dress with a organza train at the back and stratospheric shoes matching the bag and bangles were the centre of attention so after a drink we moved to a cool hotel bar nearby where the R’n’B music made some people, me included, shake our booties. ‘Sit down’ he said in an amusingly patronising way on several occasion. ‘You dance too sexily’ he declared whilst attempting to kiss me but only managing to suck my nose on several occasions. I was finishing my second drink of the night and he managed to corner my head and quickly started massaging my mouth with his strong tongue. ‘Wow, he is a great kisser’ I thought. Plus he smelled nice, he looked amazing, I did not feel scared near him as I knew his background, so slowly, slowly I gave in to him.

He quickly organised an express delivery to his flat near the river and he deposited me in the taxi whilst agreeing with the taxi driver on the price. The rest of the trip turned out to be a big blur. I only remember he kept kissing me all the time, whilst touching my breasts and sneaking his arm between my legs. Typically me, I kept coming as soon as he started kissing me earlier on in the bar, so now I was as wet as wet can get. I was recently reading an article where I discovered there are more women like me who keep coming every so often during the day, so since I am not the only one, why not enjoy this unique gift we have? Having had two drinks on board, I made the audacious attempt and unzipped his trousers trying to massage him as he massaged me. But as I was too drunk I could not achieve much. ‘Have a great night’ the Oriental taxi driver said giggling and with a huge smirk on his face whilst taking the money from my date. I always wondered, why do taxi drivers behave like this when delivering a couple to his flat, with the same attitude and ‘knowledge’ as if they just won a zillion pounds? They just have that attitude as if we are the first couple on the planet to go to a man’s flat to have sex!

The flat was dark and the huge windows opened onto the cold air of the river and in no time I found him removing my tights and little knickers to my knees and pushing my legs in the air to kiss and suck every single part of my body. I honestly do not know where the time flew but we kept moving between his bedroom and back to the living room kissing and touching, shagging and sweating until in the end we settled for the bedroom. I was so pleased that despite not being a youngster, although in great shape, he remained hard for such a long time trying to please me. ‘I really love your boobs’ he kept saying and I thought that made I should record his voice and play it every single time of the day when I think about having silicon implant surgery.

After he came the second time, and me the millionth time, we finally went to sleep. Well, it was almost early morning and I managed to sleep some 2-3 hours. About 7am I woke up to find him in the living room as he felt a bit poorly having had more drinks than me. I dragged him back to bed near me and we had another session, then we went to sleep again.

‘I have to pick up my son from his rugby session’ he said and immediately I thought this is my cue and time to leave. Maybe he is using this excuse to get rid of me or maybe he is genuine about picking up his son. Either way, I appreciate he dropped me in Sloane square from where I got a taxi back home, so at least he made the effort to be a gentleman.

Maybe he wasn’t horny anymore but damn, I wished that we were still in bed shagging like rabbits with his gorgeous cock keeping me warm and making me salivate for more and more and more……… ‘Why dreams have to end and be forced to come back to reality?’ He did not have much in his flat and although I knew that men do not bother like us women with buying beautiful household stuff, I secretly wondered if his ex wife took him to cleaners, so his mind was concentrating more on ‘negative life issues’ he was forced to deal with?

At least my week was ending nicely contrasting with the simply nasty girl I met in a shop days earlier. I was trying to buy some sweets and she came with a pram hitting my legs and my beautiful Swarowski encrusted bag’. She said it was my fault for being in her way and I made the mistake of telling her to ‘go to Specsavers’. What followed was a torrent of abuse coming from her mouth. Some colleagues in the City told me years ago, to always ignore women like her because when facing them we are always in the wrong. ‘You do not belong here’ she said to me and I wondered if she meant if I look too elegant for the cheap shop or if she meant ‘go back to your country’ as I heard on one or two occasions before. And I always think: ‘the irony’. Despite living here for several decades, being educated in the UK, I guess I will always be a foreigner wherever I go in the world. But amazingly this kind of abuse always comes from people who never try to stand on their legs and are addicted to all kind of ‘entitlements’. ‘Don’t you see how she looks like?’ a lady who saw the whole conversation said to me. Indeed, my abuser had a mountain of an arse and dressed in some funny leggings with a mismatched top where her front muffin was visible. Her vocabulary and sarcasm were as colourful as she was. But again, do you expect less? I simply shook my head and left the area.

Back to reality.




August the 28th 2012


A new week and new hopes for better things to come my way. Why am I saying this? Well, several reasons, some funny, some silly and a good reason that let’s hope will not affect me in the long term.

The previous week started with me hurting myself in the gym, my elbows to be more specific, as I kept using them doing a combination of boxing -thai boxing, that affected my right hip some two months ago and from which I still moderately suffer. And trust me, whatever combination of Calcium tablets you are taking, your bones, ligaments, skin, will all remember in the long term a temporary issue - bodily memory, they say. ‘Bugger, what a pest’ I was thinking to myself whilst trying to do an anger management control attempting to punch the bag at least twice per second for at least 20 seconds continuously. What I got in return was me sweating through the roof, aka slimming down and having a very high heart beat. Well, mind you, my arms were getting beautifully toned and I could not care less that I was getting brown marks everywhere.

But the next day I decided to have a run in the park, only to feel some one mile later that something was wrong with my trainers. This was a pair of trainers I bought more than a decade ago yet they looked brand new as I hardly used them. To my surprise I discovered how the plastic sole was detaching itself from the shoe so I thought that extending the laces under the sole and making a knot will at least last until arriving home. But no, under my eye I could see how the whole sole was detaching itself from the shoe as if a rotting disease was taking over my trainer and the left one started following a similar pattern. I could do nothing but to take the right sole in my hand and try graciously to match the height of the left shoe when passing near the masses of men coming from this sporting event near my house. The majority could not care less, but I could hear some well dressed guys making funny comments. I have never seen anything like this, especially happening to me - the queen of keeping material stuff in mint condition for ages. And yes, I fit in the same jeans since I was in my teens, hence using them……..sometimes.

I was not that bothered about losing half a nail in a very drastic way with lots of blood and pain involved whilst trying a very expensive, Victorian style corset and those who know a bit about corsets, they will tell you how hard and difficult they are to put on or take off. You are left sweating, but my, what a waist they give you!!!!! I was not bothered either about the edge of this clip coming under my nail and cutting my skin so deeply the other day, but yes I am bothered about the guy who tried to spike my drink on Friday. I will never understand why a human being will do this to other? To steal from that person, to rape? For fun, thinking that he is superior?

I have not been out in ages and having decided to stay in London over the Bank Holiday for the first time in many years, I thought that I would go in my ‘back yard’ aka central London for a quick drink. I made the assumption that most of the people will be out of London, hence most of the places will be empty from the usual crowds and I landed in this rather posh place with great views over London, great design and rather dim lights. Several Italians in their late twenties/early thirties decided to speak to me and I thought, well, why not, let’s converse a bit in Italian and then do a Cenderela aka Cinderella and leave before midnight for a good night sleep. I was rather put off by the smell coming from a guy’s mouth who probably did not have the decency to chew some gum after having a meal at a restaurant so I turned my back onto them to see this group of young professional English guys looking all yummy, well dressed and smelling great checking me out.

I had a previous attempt when somebody spiked my drink, so I knew the symptoms when it started occurring again. The first time though I realised who did it, I was able to isolate the guy and the Club shut down probably after checking their CCTV and realising that I was not lying and I kept moving away from that guy and his party. But on this occasion, I honestly do not know who did it. I was hoping not to pass out like the first time, as I could see everything blackening around me, the heat kept taking over whilst my ears and fingers were so cold. I started using a cocktail menu as a fan and kept making signs to the bartender who was very friendly to me earlier on to keep an eye on me. He could not understand though, so I sat down for a while and then moved out to the balcony for some fresh air ignoring the rain wetting my expensive shoes and hair.

Just like the first time, probably I was saved by the fact that I am such a slow drinker and I had only two thirds of my drink in some 45 minutes. Upon returning to the bar, the gorgeous English guy kept asking me why do I move around so much, whilst the Italian guy questioned me in Italian. So, who did it then? They all seemed to be concerned about me so what should I have done? Complain, have a blood test, check CCTV, attempt to close the place down? What for? Probably I will be the one to be vilified, saying that is my fault for not covering the glass with my fingers at all times , but as a younger waiter put it: ‘it only takes a second’. How many six feet tall guys can proudly say: ‘girls are queuing to spike my drink in order to take over my body’. It is always us, the little guys saving ‘the world’! Just like in the commercial: if something positive happens in one corner of the planet, something negative will happen the other side. Balance principle?

Despite how careful you are in life, strange things will always happen. OK, the impact is always softer if you are surrounded by a close network of family and friends who will be there for you, but come on, how many friends will honestly support you and care for you? It is always you having to pick up the pieces, try to heal for a while, do some meditation and understand the positive and negative things you learn from an experience. The first time a man tried to put his hands in my knickers was at the age of 7, firstly by a guy who knew my family and secondly by a guy until now I do not know who that was. And this happened in a very quiet and safe family environment which proves that probably my fast reaction then to act fast, just like later on in life when I had worse experiences with men I encountered around the world who thought that women can be possessed through physical violence, helped me in positively dealing with the situation. No, I did not kick them in the nuts if that is what you are thinking, I simply went away.

But what do you do in the long run? Do you try to always portray yourself as the victim or you go to a gym and keep fit with boxing, keep your fitness levels high unless the trainers give up on you and socialise hoping that somebody will not find some space between your fingers covering the glass trying to drop something there. Keep safe and ……….pray for a bit of luck.




August the 8th 2012


‘Can I touch your gun?’ I told the good looking guy who came near me pretending to look at some Chanel perfumes in the busy airport. His audacious move to come near me and allowing me to feel the Carbon alloy gun, instead of keeping busy watching for terrorists or mums losing their kids, drunken men or simply peeking from the distance made me wonder on the sentence so overly used by men saying: ‘I am shy’ and then I realised that English men are shy only when it suits them, are not drunk enough to pluck the courage to ask a woman out or for a drink and giving a less thought to the fact they have 99% chance of getting refused. Whereas men from other nations do not bother if they are being refused simply calling that woman: ‘bitch’ or ‘fussy tart’ or anything that suits their moods, making them feel better about themselves.

My boy friend at that time quickly appeared near me to show the ‘security expert’ that he is with me and saved at the same time by his patrolling partner who called him. And yes, I looked at his bottom: it was nice and round and probably could have taken well a soft squeeze or a good spank, ha ha. I could read in his gorgeous eyes behind the delicate glasses that he was disappointed with the current turn of affairs, but hey, there was nothing I could do………

But recently, whilst involved in a volunteering job I came across a similar situation where father and son both came to me asking about my hair. The dreaded question was: ‘is it your hair real?’, the question that I am being asked hundreds of times per week in the UK but never in other parts of the world, where women do not bother with any kind of extensions. They were both holding big glasses of beer, with sparkling eyes probably from being a bit mellow, slightly tanned faces and both in excellent physical conditions: ‘We are both fighters’, the father said whilst looking at his over six feet tall 14 years old son with deep pride. ‘We put a bet: my son said your hair is fake, I said is real’. I was already working on my statistical conclusion that despite children around the world are told to listen to their parents, here we have in the UK a contradictory trend where kids, despite looking at least 4-5 years older than their age they assume they know better than their mature parents. But doesn’t this reflect the mentality where mature people prefer to ask, learn, analyse based on their previous experiences and why not, give the benefit of the doubt they could be wrong. Whereas you have the youngsters on the other hand assuming they know everything, they learned everything in their little lives and know better than the experienced people, analyse everything through the dimensions of the current British society and be prepared to shout their wrong conclusions confidently to the point of making you feel guilty and leaving you bemused at the same time. ‘The mind of the young’ I said to the father who was even prepared to kiss me for my trouble to answer their direct question.

I politely allowed them to pull my hair and get a touch of reality whilst telling the son to always listen to his father for some obvious reasons, then declined the offer to be kissed by the father for my trouble and got back to my routine. I could notice though the father wanted to continue the conversation and I was hoping he would not produce a business card with a telephone number and me having to refuse it in front of his son rather than give him fake hopes. Too often there are men who would not take no for an answer and despite seeing something unique that makes them attractive, you realise that yes, you might have monumental sex but that relationship could not last for several reasons. I was surprised that even when giving the cold shoulder to a guy I met in the past and ignored his messages to chose to continue with his texts and surprise me with a telephone call, once again inviting me to his house to cook for me.

Knowing how swift some men move, I assumed that he met other women and he moved on from our meetings that took place some one month ago. And I must confess: yes, I have been naughty. Very naughty. I chose instead to meet a client right on his street whilst he kept asking me to go to his place to cook for me. ‘Yeah, right, cooking? More like pretext for bonking’, I thought. So devilishly I chose to meet this cute guy I saw in the past and travel to his home. Was it the wrong move? You are joking. The sex was simply amazing and not because it was some crazy sex, the kind of sex that 20 years olds never dream of doing, but because our brains were equally naughty. Call it chemistry, experimentation, or simply two fit bodies at their performance peak being able to deliver what the brain told them to do.

But you never know, just to prove myself that I can be very naughty, I might accept in the end the ‘home and cooking’ invitation or ‘home, cooking and bonking’ invitation and then move swiftly with my life knowing that I do not have a future with that guy. ‘The mind of the mature person’ my reasonable side of the brain would say……………




July the 30th 2012


‘You, gorgeous, sexy beast’ I was thinking whilst looking at the tall man with nice muscly shoulders and fit torso sitting on the armchair in front of me. I was trying not to look at the open shirt where some chest hair was pushing the thin fabric or at his crotch to understand if his 6’3 frame will produce an equally proportionate surprise. He was very confident, chatty, yet relaxed, possessing all the qualities a well travelled men would have. He said how pleased he was to discover that we were laughing so much and having such a great time - a real contrast with the other blind dates he had. He went on to grab his second drink and secretly I wondered if he will do a Houdini and leave me alone, but no, he left his jacket on his armchair and politely asked me if I wanted another drink.

I am not sure if the number of drinks were to blame on the fact that he asked me to go to another bar to continue our discussion or if he was genuinely interested in me, but since it was a nice Saturday night, I thought to myself that there is no rush for me to go home to bed.

He quickly positioned himself near me in the corner of this massive hotel bar and kept touching my hips whilst massaging them. I decided to remove his hand and not to give him any mixed signals, just to keep it as a clean cut meeting and see what is he after. But soon later, he dragged me close to his chest attempting to kiss me and I realised that he really fancied me. Under no circumstances I was going to allow him to destroy our first potential kiss with his breath full of beer and nuts he kept having in the previous bar despite me moving them away from us. You see, I have got one of the finest smells around and on many occasions I have been told I should work in the perfume industry as I can smell products even through thick packaging. Garlic, onions, curry - no way kissing a man who smells of all these.

I remember a recent case when I was walking on the street, to sense a strong smell of strawberries. Only when I passed a guy some 5 metres in front of me, I realised the smell came from his mouth, chewing his strawberry gum!!!!!

My date was dragging me even closer and closer to him, I was only too happy when we were told that even this bar was now closing. He asked for a kiss before we separated into different directions but as I said no, I thought I will probably never hear from him again.

Several days later he asked me though to meet him again for a late dinner in a quiet but very posh, secluded restaurant and as it was walking distance from my gym I decided to give him another chance, hoping he will not smell of nuts or anything else funny. My prayers were obviously heard as he smelled all manly and macho and I was impressed with the new sensitivity I was discovering in him when telling me all the office politics, worries and future plans. I was sincerely happy for him that he had a good day and that he kept his positivity in this mad world with so many nasty people out there to destroy the little piece of happiness that keeps us sane.

But as we finished the meal he kept dragging me closer and closer to him and even spanking my bottom at some point!!!!!!!! I was not that shocked, after all I saw worse from people I met on a date, but what this told me, was the fact that the ‘spots of craziness’ I was reading in his eyes on both dates now showed me a side of his personality that other people would hardly read unless they met a person on a number of occasions. He confessed that he hardly had a relationship longer than 3 years, despite being a mature man which combined with his international travel patterns would put a huge question mark above his head.

He then attempted to drag me to his arms and kiss me right in front of everyone and with two police men right near us near this tube station where we were trying to go onto our own paths. I knew that his big lips and his desire I kept reading from our first meeting would not let me get away with a little kiss but probably a long kiss with some tongue action, so once again I decided to play it safe and not fall for his trick. ‘But is our second meeting’ he said like a little boy who lost his best toy, which put a huge smile on my face.

I realised that it will be safe not to see him again, despite him inviting me at his large flat in the outskirts of London where he wanted to cook for me, as he said. But come on, until 5-10 years ago I would have fallen for this trick, but repetitions of this kind of invitations which actually represented an invitation for sex at a man’s premises made me realise that yes, we might be having great sex, probably he will spank my bottom as he already did, kiss me with his big lips, touch me more intimately than he already did and what do I get in return? Being stuck with a man that has never been in a long relationship, does not probably want to commit and simply wants good, kinky sex with somebody he knows and trusts. And then what? Kick the woman whilst moving to the next prey prepared to travel one hour to his location in the outskirts when I could very well get good quality sex closer to home!

He continued to text me under different pretexts as I made the mistake of telling him my volunteering pattern in the following weeks and I was surprised to realise that an intelligent man like him would not take no for an answer.

My present question though, as some spots are annoyingly destroying my deep layers of facial skin is where from do I get some easier sex at a central London location. ‘What does a girl have to do to get some easy sex around here?’ Who needs complications or the moodiness of a man you might meet in a bar? What is wrong with organising everything in a safe environment and then leave two parties equally happy?




July the 11th 2012


How many times you look at the picture of an author and you think ‘oh dear, that person should have remained anonymous for eternity!’ My days of reading books in one day are long gone as I found that fiction only made me dream for something unachievable......... Bring freakonomics or books on psychology, politics etc – so much more interesting and concise. But you cannot wonder, by looking at the picture of a middle aged woman on the cover of her multi million selling book, who never visited a gym, nevermind being attractive and she writes her fantasies invoking, the usual the super rich, good looking guy and the young inexperienced girl and then you realise the world is full of people who want to buy into a fantasy world rather than go out there, get fit, intelligent and glam and live their lives and own personal fantasies.

OK, is difficult to achieve this in say, Afghanistan but in 21st century London, where even the most bland looking 30 or 40, even 50 or 60 something person can look more interesting sometimes than a 20 years old covered in spots, does not know how to dress or behave, to properly express the ideas that form an irregular shape in his/her mind. On so many occasions I was so attracted towards mature men purely because of their dress code, physical allure, personality and life experiences than a 20 something years old guy who only says: ‘yeah, man’.

OK, any book that is being bought to be read could only be a good sign that masses as still interesting in reading 'something' as in today’s society where many people ask themselves if books have a future due to the direct competition with the internet............but sexual or S&M fantasy reading? Is this what society came to? A Dumas, H James, A Tolstoy, nevermind Homer and I am not talking about Homer Simpson, are they all too boring and less thought provoking?

Yes, you have the usual ingredients of the super rich guy and young student who become involved in the world of bondage and S&M and the inexperienced will always wonder: is this possible in real life? I mean, the author is as ugly as ugly can get, we know that was her fantasy, but come the Hollywood movie that surely will use some good looking actors and then you wonder how media distorts the way the masses perceive the whole situation..... and surely we will discover some teenagers thinking: that is the path I want to follow in life, that book was a complete inspiration and the main subject is my Hero.

Unlike the fantasists, I was able to distinguish and distance myself from such a man proposing such 'activities': he was rich indeed but not a billionaire. Of course older than me but man, no money could have made that man gorgeous. It was his skin, covered in little moles and probably the fact that he was married with growing kids, presented no interest to him in doing something about this issue.

I met him in a well known Mayfair hotel around mid afternoon and apparently he chose a small table whilst waiting for me, not having anyone around him. As soon as I arrived, all the other tables got taken away by other professional mature men, probably in a meeting or a drink before going home. I immediately suggested to move to a quieter table as I noticed how the other men kept looking at me and my date probably wondering what brought us together or if this was a ‘naughty’ meeting?

He told me over the phone that he was into bondage and S&M in Japanese style, involving lots of knots to ensure ‘the slave’ will not escape and even advised me to check several youtube pages to form an idea how is being achieved. Honestly, I was becoming very moist watching the clips but no way I was going to allow this to be done to me by a man I do not fancy and most importantly in the middle of nowhere as he liked conducting these meetings on his yacht anchored on the south coast, way out of London. Just imagine what could have happened with me tied up on a rocking yacht, at his mercy, in the middle of the sea. Some years ago I used to have a friend and she used to say: 'I am crazy but not stupid'. Now, how many logic people do you know to give in to this kind of repetitive scenario, until one day the master might even want to take this further, push the limits, when surely accidents can happen...........

The reality is that young students who are virgin will never be interested in guys who could easily be their fathers, even if he is extremely good looking and rich, but take out the rich emphasis and how many young girls would be interested in doing this with a penniless middle aged man? Take out the good looking factor and do you think the young student will still be interested in other than guys her immediate age? OK, of course there will be some exceptions, but they represent a very small percentage and trust me the guy is never a multi millionaire. Well, maybe a millionaire on paper, with all the cash tied up in mortgages and investments.

Conclusions one draws from the whole promotion of a fantasist book is that another writer wants to milk the ‘millions’ sexual appetite’ for own personal profit forgetting that some things should indeed remain private. No wonder in today’s society one sees teenage girls with tights designed in the shape of suspenders that would have raised an eyebrow a decade ago, or worse sees multimillion dollar selling artists dressed in attires where you can clearly see the G string. Does it mean that in several years’ time this would be the norm to wear on the street?

What happened to me and my date? Well, he kept texting and emailing some of his fantasy stories, not badly written but this told me that actually this is a major issue for him and I really felt sorry for his poor wife. Is much easier for us to write about us removing our knickers but when you read the words of a massive non-attractive guy saying: ‘ and he delicately removed her small lace knickers’ all sounds a bit dodgy.

Give me a mature office worker any day, I would say. He performs his fantasies with a chosen girl and then goes home relaxed, thinking about next day’s work. Clean, mature way of thinking, don’t you agree?




July the 7th 2012


I just returned from overseas and I was seriously considering if I should enter the busy shop where I had to buy some items for the house. You see, the reason for me being scared was the repeated abuse I seem to be getting when I come back from overseas: could be the glowing skin after staying a bit in the sun and not stuck between four walls in front of a computer, could be the relaxed attitude or the holiday clothes I keep wearing as my slightly tanned skin cannot accept but flowing, cotton or linen clothes. I remember some years ago returning from South France when an old foreign lady from a nearby estate started abusing me that I did not give her a chair near the supermarket cashier fast enough. After all, I had two heavy bags and in some 5 seconds I was gone but I guess that was not enough for her. She even sent her friend to abuse me whilst pointing at my knee length white trousers and white shirt knotted just above the belly button. ‘Look the way you are dressed’ she said as if I was dressed in the bikini bum revealing I saw this Russian girl at the Kheops Pyramid in Cairo. No one dared to tell her anything due to the presence of her massive boyfriend. The camel riders abusing everyone only kept looking with mouths locked. Yet rituals have to be respected in a Muslim country. Returning to my two abusers I kept thinking: ‘talk of the culture of entitlement where no one appreciates anything’.

I decided to enter the shop though and yes, whilst looking at something to buy, a girl in her mid twenties looking rough and pushing a pram decided to put herself in front of me. I said ‘excuse me’ but noticing that she prefers to ignore me, I shook my head remembering how an educated person will just apologise and this would be enough. But no, the young mother followed by a partner said: ‘why are you shaking your head, love?’ She further did not choose to acknowledge my logic explanation but to swear at me saying: ‘look at the way you are dressed’. Again I was dressed in a cotton, flowerish jump suit with wide trousers and tight top starting from underneath my arms.

It was the same jump suit that received lots of compliments in my trips in South East Asia as is very classic, elegant yet unpretentious and is good enough to travel in a plane reaching a 40 degree Celsius in a hot country and returning to the 20 degrees Celsius usual London summer temperature. It was also the same jump suit that I wore it the other week when visiting Europe and got a gorgeous English guy at a small airport launch a very interesting conversation. He was so good looking in his black petrol business suit with ‘80s glasses that made me almost tingle. I had however to keep a distant approach as I was with some very important people in my life, hence my relaxed ‘nice to meet you, nice conversation, have a nice trip’ approach. At another airport, a young cute French student behind me at the security lines asked me: ‘I love your hair, how long does it take to grow?’ And then: ‘I like your jump suit, it suits you’. This landed us into another conversation where I had to point to him that I am older than him to which he blatantly and arrogantly dismissed as not being important. ‘Airport testosterone’ I thought with a smile on my face whilst the security airport people decided to move my French follower to another queue. ‘Ah, airport jealousy’ I said to myself, as I noticed the security staff were watching us when the French cutie started flirting with me.

I wish the flight back to London was less eventful but I guess such peace will never be allowed to me. The two guys near me in the first row of the plane started talking to a lady colleague, as I realised later on, who could not be bothered to pay for a good seat and politely I chose to cease my seat in her favour, moving to another row. I thought they would appreciate the gesture, but disgusted I heard the younger guy who kept singing aloud to himself, clapping his hands as if he is high and wants to attract somebody’s attention saying: ‘I cannot believe a 30 years old stripper gave her seat’. What??????????????????????? I thought to myself. I initially thought there was a story in the newspaper he was reading on his iPad but then meditating on the events and his behaviour up to that moment, I concluded he was referring to me. He was in his mid ‘30s, non-interesting looking due to the over washed T shirt and the amount of gargle that kept coming from his mouth made me realise that he had a Degree but he was viewing himself above others and probably considered that every foreign girl living in Britain and not that ugly must be a stripper. Sometimes I wonder indeed what my life would have been, should I not have gone to University studying for a very difficult Degree, then furthering my education, try to make a living, travel the world, do some charity work and studying even more.

Even his lady colleague to which I have ceased my seat called him a clown for the way he behaved during the flight, I simply chose to leave the plane very fast after landing, trying to maximise the distance between me and the ‘clown‘. But he kept walking fast near me probably hoping to joke or start a conversation as if I had a short memory or I do not have a very good hearing, just as another guy stationed near me in the plane when I left the UK behaved. Sometimes I wish I had a brain scanner to convert a man’s brain into words and understand why men behave in a certain way, when there are better modalities of explaining one’s ideas using……… the mouth or even the written form?

I fancied the guy who stayed near me in the plane when leaving the UK but hey, I am not supposed to always start a conversation with a guy who looks at me but does not say anything. Are only the guys supposed to by shy? Us girls cannot be polite and a bit shy…….despite having our sexual fantasies just the way men do?




June the 21st 2012


I was looking at his beautiful facial features wondering how such a gorgeous and bright man can fall for the tricks of a girl who could be his daughter or even grand daughter. I was yet again, set in a blind meeting by a friend of mine with this guy who was at the pinnacle of his legal career, yet his busy life denied him a normal family life…… or what he told me.

Surprisingly he chose to fall for a very young girl who made a ‘mistake’ as a teen, and now she had a little boy which she left back home in her country with her mum in order to try her luck in London. Yet despite not being interested in education or pursuing a job, her claim to a better life was via men she was meeting where she was talking through her very broken English and with a childish voice how bad and full of troubles her life was. More veridity to the whole fact was brought by her little presence, the very tiny frame which men feel like protecting, assuming that a small figure brings a little brain and never a devilish one by contrast.

I was wondering why he was telling me this story? Did he want me to feel sorry for him how unlucky he is in life or because my sympathy will make me jump in bed with him later on. OK, he was gorgeous with his short grey hair with little curls, a cute nose with delicate glasses and very intelligent eyes, common to people in high positions designated to take decisions on behalf of others. But it was this last idea that actually concerned me: if this guy takes such ‘life changing’ decisions on behalf of some people via his legal career, the way he handles his life does not tell me very positive things about him. We all know how our jobs are influenced by little things that happen in our private lives, so when your life is not that stable, how can you trust somebody to take such important decisions via his job?

After an initial honeymoon period where he provided for his younger, foreign friend and even brought her little boy to London to live in his massive house near the river where he was called ‘daddy’ by the young boy, he quickly learned about the mood swings of his young girlfriend to the point that she took sudden trips back to her country. He only learned later the reason why she did this: she got in touch with the young father of her child and advised by him and her mum she was planning ways to get as much money as she could out of the old guy. All the little nasty things she did to him culminated with an event where he assumes he was poisoned as he woke up in the kitchen floor some three days later during which she took several thousands of pounds from the house and went back to her country. When managing to call her and learn what happened to him in those three days he was unconscious on the kitchen floor, she pretended to be concerned about him yet distant. But weeks later she asked him to send her some more money in order to start her visa proceedings in order to come back to the UK.

I did not know what to think of all the situation and why he was telling me all these: of course I was too embarrassed to tell my friend who organised the blind date with him but hearing the other side’ story would have made me picture the whole situation and understand it even better.

Either way, what happened to him should not happen to anyone I thought to myself and I tried to change the conversation to bring it to merrier territories and talk about happier things. He offered to take me home in his little van parked outside the private club we have met, but his expensive attire told me that his car would be equally expensive and now he was simply showing off.

With the corner of the eye I saw him jumping in the latest Jaguar model whilst I managed to get into a taxi. The taxi driver later told me that we had a Jaguar following us for a while but we got rid of him in the busy evening traffic. Thank God a good friend and client who lived nearby sent an SMS asking if I was in the area and I would like to meet him for a ‘quick shagg’. Of course is not going to be a quick one, but some very intense several hours as it was always the case in the past. After all, that is why I always go back to see him as he always combined good looks, style, imagination and energy in such a brilliant way.

I have not heard from my ‘legal date’ ever since, so I assume what he wanted was a one night stand, but some time later I saw him with again, a very young girl on his arm and I thought: ‘some people never learn’. They looked out of place, simply wrong, with a huge discrepance which could be read on their faces especially when he happily looked in a different direction but could not see the grimace on her face……..

The question that I remained with ever since was, if his story is real and he allows himself to be so misled by a young, un-educated girl with his private life undoubtedly affecting his professional life, then ‘who is judging people like him when they are at work?’ His decision could be affecting too your life without knowing.




June the 12th 2012

'COS WE ONLY LIVE ONCE - somebody smart said

‘Is she trying to reach my cock through my pocket?’ one of the three youngsters near me said loudly as if showing off that a tall and good looking guy like him can easily get any teenage girl. His friends laughed and for a second I meditated on how ignorant and full of himself this guy was. OK, he looked late teens and he could easily have passed for early or mid twenties if more intelligent words were to come out of his mouth. But no, he chose to disrespect the fact that probably a young girl fancied him and gave in to the pressure of her peers and chose to have sex with a guy her age or maybe tried to induce him into thinking that more is to come if they were to be friends. How pathetic this is, I thought to myself, that young males do not seem to understand how easily they get it in the UK as opposed to other parts of the world where young girls would not be doing such things as is not part of their culture and family image is more important than anything, or education or other issues. Why waste time on satisfying a young boy’s needs when this will not lead to anything long term?

Ten minutes later I encountered a different kind of love, a motherly love where a young mum was adoringly striking her baby’s head in the warm afternoon sun. This put a huge smile on my face and could not stop myself from talking to the child whose face instantly opened in a huge smile. I always seem to be having the same effect on kids and babies who start smiling at me when I talk to them in a high but soft pitched voice. Or the worst case scenario when they start pulling my hair………

Yes, we encounter all kind of love around us on a daily basis in all shapes and sizes and life is so much more beautiful as opposed when you encounter the negativity some people spread deliberately: I was leaving this very central London hotel after several hours of amazing fun with a client when despite being shortly after midnight I decided to have a quick walk before taking a taxi back home. I heard somebody shouting incoherently something behind me in this quiet street but decided to make a sprint for the major road where I could see the taxis passing. The guy behind me kept trying to slow me down with words like ‘hey, sexy lady’ or ‘you, the gorgeous one’ but as his accent was so un-educated I thought: ‘well he sounds like an opportunist thief and drug addict’ and how right I was. As I finally reached the major road he touched me to turn to see this guy who wanted probably to snatch my big bag but deterred by the traffic and maybe CCTV he chose to run away and disappear into the night. I heard my voice saying ‘go away please’ but I did not realise it was me, that’s how shocked I was.

I still had fresh in my mind my beautiful experience with this amazing lover I just met and takes you by surprise how good French men can be in bed. He was the type of guy that I normally fall for: very tall, cosmopolitan, very well travelled and extremely choosy with women he likes to bed. We had a brief conversation in the elevator where he told me that he did send lots of girls home in the past as he did not like them despite them having excellent reviews (which shows how generous some reviewers are) but we simply clicked as we met. When reaching his very large suite in the hotel and while I was busy with taking out all the stuff I brought for our meeting, I felt his fingers underneath my coat and reaching my pussy. ‘You are so wet’ he said very pleased and hungrily he pushed me on the big bed where he starting licking me fully dressed in his expensive suit.

Only half an hour after our agreed time passed we realised that midnight was approaching and it was the time for me to go. It took me further half an hour to organise my stuff, shower, brush my teeth (you do not know who is going to ask you for direction) and get going. Honestly I do not know when the time passed: it was only briefly interrupted by his conversation with a family member during which he lovingly licked and massaged my toes to fully suck them later on while he was shagging me vigorously. Nothing was denied and we were having sex like fully blown lovers: so passionate, energetic or slow and sensual at times. ‘I should get a boyfriend’ I thought for a second and experience this more often.

Why should I repress my energy and high sexual levels which according to the people I met, is off the charts. You are born with this and as we get older it only gets better, I thought to my self. Of course we react differently to different people as we all pass through different situations in our lives but once we meet a person who is undisturbed by other events and concentrate only on seducing a person, how gratifying and sweet the experience becomes! And yes, I simply adore when a man makes the effort to seduce me. It makes a change from me trying to seduce a man and do all the things where he assumes that I should do everything and he cannot even be bothered to use his hands! ‘Come on‘, I think sometimes, ‘having great sex is a two way street’. Don’t just sit there waiting for the girl to do a lap dance, give you a blow job, shagg you in several positions, come, then wipe yourself and go home. Thankfully I hardly remember when this happened to me, as my high energy levels wants much more from a meeting. But hey, it could happen anytime to meet a guy who cannot separate work from enjoyment and then leaves me knocking at other hotel doors looking for a guy to shagg. Just kidding. Enjoy life……… we only live once.




June the 1st 2012


If you had a bad week, well do not complain, better times for you are to come. I guess it was my time to have a short break away from the madness of London. Not that two small incidents did not happen just before I left, more precisely two women abused me verbally, simply because of the way I look and probably sensing that I am a polite and respectful person. If you do not believe me, then wonder for a second how many times have you seen a 6’4 tall man being abused for no reason? Exactly, it is always us, smaller people, especially women who have to put up with the abuse coming from some very unhappy or angry people who hate you for no specific reason.

I guess the balance has been temporarily restored, with me having a break for a short period of time. Just like in that commercial where somebody falls on his head at the other end of the planet, purely because somebody has a brilliant idea here. The visual image of this commercial always makes me laugh and manages to put a smile on my face if I encounter a similar case in real life…..

Anyway back to me and my short break which led me to Algarve for several days of peace, sun and getting sunburnt, as usual, during my morning run on the dramatic coast line of Falesia beach. Prior to my departure I learned that a dear friend and customer I met on several occasions also had to travel to nearby Lisbon, so he asked me if he could come to visit me at my hotel for a night. Since he has always been great fun to be with, a wonderful lover and companion, of course the pleasure was all mine. Plus he has always been very generous and he even offered to upgrade my flights to business class.

The weather was nice and a bit windy and must be something in the water there as my hair looked double in weight. One morning as I was about to start my daily run on the beach, the owner of a very big, hairy belly as if he was pregnant with octuplets shouted at me in broken English: ‘mermaid on the beach!’ I smiled and as I started my run I could not think that probably even mermaids would prefer fit sailors rather than a huge beer belly, ha ha

As I was having a walk with my client on the beach at sunset and despite him just having arrived only hours earlier he could not stop himself from misbehaving and I naughtily asked him if the sand would interfere with us having oral sex? He quickly decided to get his cock out but then changed his mind as the cold wind made him shiver. Thank God the erosion of the cliffs prevented the authorities from putting cameras there, otherwise we could have been in trouble with his naughty thoughts. ‘My partner might get suspicious if I get a tan’ he said to me, as this was a detour from his business trip, so we stayed indoors almost one day misbehaving in the bed all day long or having sex in the balcony when our neighbours were not around to see us. But what a view that was! Cliffs, the most dramatic sea with waves crushing so loudly some 500 metres away from us. I doubt that my cries of pleasure would have been heard anyway, ha ha

Several days later I returned to London only to receive a confirmation from a client I was not sure I will be able to see purely because of some personal circumstances. But I liked the way he sounded on the phone, so macho and confident, happy and energetic, plus he was as fussy as me about people he likes seeing that I decided to make this train trip to Oxford less than 24h after my arrival from Portugal. ‘Travel first class, I will cover that’, he said generously to me. He waited for me at the train station in this massive car and I liked his sporty attitude and very fit body. ‘Miaowwwwwww’ I thought, I could not wait to put my paws on him. And yes, how right I was. He was a wonderful lover. He could not wait for me to change as we arrived at his place, he just started kissing and undressing me before showing him all the changes of outfits, stockings, suspenders, crotch-less knickers, toys, massage oil and other stuff I brought with me. We had a very long first session and how pleased I was that he was able to last so long: he was so hard and actually he was getting bigger by the minute. Several hours later we went to sleep but I could not let him go away so easily, so I woke him up with a blow job which he did not complain about. He kept moaning quietly, so several hours later I applied the same technique on him. ‘How can you sleep with a hard cock?’ I asked him. In the morning we woke up earlier to have another long session, followed by anther relaxing massage on him.

As I left Oxford, I noticed several suits of different ages discreetly eyeing me or placing themselves close to me in my carriage. ‘Ah, so there are lots of men with potential around here’, I thought for a second and concluded that I should travel more often outside London for an overnight, ha ha.

As I said, do not despair if your week has been bad, I bet something good is going to happen to you and something not very nice to me. And then maybe something good is going to happen to me too. We only live once, so we have to welcome the good and bad and learn from it.




May the 19th 2012


‘These fuckers are getting younger with every day‘, I was thinking whilst looking at the tall, slim professional guy, dressed in a smart suit with a white crispy shirt and white handkerchief. In this rhythm, soon I will be asked for milk by teens. He kept looking at me but as the bartender kept sending me drinks to taste with a smile on his face as if he had discovered his other half, I was quite drunk, hence a bit immune to the charm of all men surrounding me. But no, this guy kept pushing his luck and eventually he pushed his warm body against me in the packed bar. I could feel everything from his strong arm muscles to his huge bulk between his legs that seemed to be warmer than the rest of his body. ‘Must be a big package he has got down there’ I was thinking and I managed to get some straight eyes on my smiley face and look at him while he asked me: ‘why are you being rude and ignore me?’ He further told me he worked in a building across the square and asked me where I live? When he discovered that I lived some one mile from our location he immediately asked me: ‘can I sleep at your place tonight?’ ‘Come on’ I thought, these young guys are the new bitches, they sell themselves cheaper than some street corner workers!!!!!!! It wasn’t the first time this happened to me and I was wondering why some men are so cheap and would just sleep with anyone based on looks? Not that I was interested in him, despite the fact that he was quite good looking and he could easily land a modelling job. He was very well spoken for his young age but this trick did not work on me: I find mature men more interesting to dominate them or be consciously dominated……….

I spelled some apologies whilst looking at me as if shocked that his good looks can get a refusal and I moved to another place. Unfortunately this new place was as well packed and I was wondering why is the population of London so in force out on a Friday night? It was a live music place and found myself placed near a Med looking couple in their late ‘20s who kept taking pictures of themselves. ‘Tourists’ I thought and tried to move away remembering the thousands of pictures I was in my past trips to China. I was about to make a step away when they managed to take a picture of their faces and mainly me, whole body with my white bandeaux dress hugging my body and blonde hair. I could not believe it, there was me taking one third of their picture, all white and despite me asking them politely if they could take another picture without me, they could not be bothered to say anything polite in return. I tried explaining this in Spanish but they were so rude and aggressive as if it was my fault I was taking such a big part from their picture. I felt so upset and angered that some people who looked so un-educated and rude and smelled as if they were just out from their waiter job, cannot be bothered to even say something nice in return. I always look around to ensure I do not upset any other people or have pictures of other people or children in my pictures, why on earth others cannot behave like us?

I moved away from them sickened about this incident, when I noticed a mature couple looking as if they were colleagues from work who decided not to go home yet, dancing not far from me. After a while, the guy brought a younger guy which he pushed towards me as if asking him to make me dance with him. The woman got so upset, mentioning that she was being used as a puppet to make the introduction to me and I was thinking: ‘why do these things always happen to me?’ Is not like I was interested in any of them, I was not even making eye contact as I was again becoming drunk as the bartender gave me another free drink and anyway I was passing Cinderella time, so I had to head home pretty soon.

I decided to walk the last half of a mile from home in order to get some fresh air and clear my thoughts when I noticed lots of cars passing as if they were a convoy following something. My eyes ‘opened up’ when I saw a black cab driver but with the driver busy at the back with ‘something’ hugging under a blanket. ‘What on earth is happening there?’ I thought. ‘Are they having sex or is he getting a blow job?’ ‘Naughty, naughty man’, I concluded and moved on when I was surprised to discover a guy from a car parked on my side, hence facing the traffic who said: ‘hello pretty woman, why are you alone?’ He then mumbled something else which I could not hear as I was walking quite fast but met another guy who got out of the car pretending to clean it. He too, said something which again I could not hear it but I was wondering what is going on? Is this always happening on my road, a busy artery of London or is it the night of creepy things?

Too often during the day, some men seem to leave you alone but you discover these predators start misbehaving as soon as the sun settles as if catching some extra powers. Now, how would they like it to be aggressed by some women they do not fancy? Now wait, this did happen in the past I heard, unfortunately the women were really ugly and un-educated and not making anything with their lives and the guys were the decent ones caught in the wrong neighbourhood or at the wrong moment and time.

Of course, I could have played my cards differently and make it easy for any guy to take me home and shagg me hard…..or soft and slow, after all I am dripping went all the time these days, but why should I make it easy for somebody to get it fast and cheap?




May the 5th 2012


Of all the countries in the world, holiday cities and hotels in a holiday city he had to make his appearance at my hotel! One would think that so many coincidences will not happen in the real world, but as lots of coincidences seem to happen to me all the time, I thought ’let’s go with the flow and see what happens next. Time will tell’. Yes, I initially thought this was too far fetched, but however old you get and despite having lots of experiences, some people like me never lose that ‘green person’ attitude or ‘giving the benefit of the doubt’ to whatever happens to them.

As I arrived at this holiday location in the Med, I decided to have a walk on the empty beach in the sunset with a terrible headache, probably provoked by the fact that I have not eaten much and I was very tired. The fishermen kept smiling at me, the 'vision' as one described me (yes, I do understand the lingua) dressed in a long dress at the back and shorter at the front just above the knee with my hair flowing in the wind as I was trying to avoid them looking for a restaurant, when I received a message from a guy I met some two weeks earlier in London. I liked him then, despite being so very tall but thin with strong arm muscles and very well cut suits which he left nonchalantly as if not caring if somebody stole his expensive jacket. He was well spoken and seem to be having lots of great life experiences which made him attractive, although I was quite annoyed with the fact that he was drinking so much, as we all know that the worse case scenario with a man who drinks too much is that he might not be able to getting it up if we decide to take it further or worse fall asleep on you saying: ‘sorry, darling, next time’. In all honesty, that night in London I had arranged to meet a guy at his hotel nearby for two hours which turned out to be two very fabulous hours. So, the question was: ‘do I stay with a guy who drinks a lot and might have a problem getting it up or I meet a guy who is guaranteed to enjoy himself as much as me?’ Plus I never knew if I am going to fancy my date. Truthfully I was a bit scared of him, due to his connections which easily categorises him a macho male, and yes, I do like when a man is stronger than me mentally and physically: it makes me come all the time with anticipation. But hey, that is me and my weird ways, ha ha

It was very difficult for me not to make him take me to my London home, so I managed to instead jump into a taxi which took me to my client thinking I am never going to hear from my date, probably annoyed that he did not take me home where probably he would have invited himself inside as some men like doing. So as I was walking on the empty beach, imagine my surprise when I received a text message from my date saying that he was at my location and he just arrived hours earlier than me purely because Monte Carlo, where he was supposed to go was covered in rainy clouds. As I was walking on this busy road near the harbour packed with all kind of restaurants and shops I hear my name called by a tall, well dressed man. It was him, my previous date, all looking glam and cool in his black suit and white shirt, although a bit drunk - fact which I really disliked. We went to different locations, annoyed that he kept drinking more and more to the point that he kept losing money on the floor. His eye sight was not straight and he even managed to hit his head as he jumped in the taxi with me, arguing on lots of little issues as men do when they are drunk and thinking they know better. He was swaying and even worse, he did not know where he stayed. The taxi driver took me to my hotel nearby during which my date kept asking me to kiss him or ‘come to my place’ as he said several times. No way I could have done that, due to his condition plus another reason which I will disclose later. I really felt sorry for him as I left the taxi whilst massaging his bumped head, but he was a mature man who has been drunk many times before. Full of guilt I had a terrible night, woke up some 8-9 times and I kept wondering ‘why these thing always happen to me’. You try to have a sensible short holiday, it was my first holiday since last year when a very bad event occurred in my family and I surely did not sign up for havoc.

I was reading something discovering that two gorgeous guys with some posh accents placed themselves near me when I returned from my morning run on the beautiful beach when I heard some strange noises as if a man was pushing his lungs to the limit in the cold swimming pool. I turned around and surprised I discovered it was my date. Until now I wonder how on earth could he concentrate his eye sight on me on my sun bed near the swimming pool, with huge black sunglasses on my nose and wet hair waiting to get dried and only in a bikini? There are lots of people, me included, that can hardly look at a person when swimming after a drinking night, so I was starting to suspiciously wonder his whereabouts at my location. The night before he told me he can find a person anywhere in the world if he wants to, that only made me analyse briefly ‘what does interest him about me?’ Was that a bet with his friends that were after me too, was it that maybe he fancies me and he went to this extent for a holiday shagg?

He quickly jumped on a Bali bed near me and whilst laying there he told me his adventures from the night before: after he learned he cannot come to my place, he told the taxi driver to take him to a strip club. Of course he disclosed what suited him but he did not remember when I said to the taxi driver: ‘now take him to his hotel’, ha ha, which was my hotel actually. Imagine a roundabout with a hotel to one side, a taxi taking the client to the strip club at the other side of the roundabout and then the taxi driver taking the client back to the original point.

We could not stop laughing at this and he kept saying he has to tell his mates the funny bit: ‘now, take him to his hotel’ but then agreed to meet later on in the evening for a night out in another nearby town. He did not get drunk though but as we kept moving locations meant that I will have a drink in each place which he knew is way out of my limit, therefore I will get drunk. Probably he was watching me as I left him to go to my room when we were back at the hotel, but I still could not invite him in as it was the last night of my ‘monthly’. ‘Come inside darling if you fancy a bit of blood on you’ I could have said, but I decided my funny sense of humour will not be well received.

I thought we are going to do something about this the third night, me free of ‘problems’ and him free of too much alcohol. He kissed my on the cheeks as I met him in the morning when I returned from the morning run and as he was about to curiously start his. As I did not hear from him the whole day, I decided to call him in his room so I learned that he had a 14 mile walk from which he just returned and then he said: ‘sorry, I need to sleep now’. He knew my intentions for that night was to go watch a local flamenco show, so if he wanted to join me, he knew how to reach me.

My heart stopped and my holiday was destroyed the moment I saw him getting out of a taxi that just stopped in front of the hotel as I arrived after midnight. He followed this brunette girl in jeans and a black leather jacket who walked as if she has been there before and reached her hand as if they were together, nonchalantly passing the reception.

He did not walk like this with me but instead walking some one metre in front of me or near me the both nights, he did not look drunk near her the way he was near me and I was wondering ‘why on earth did he go to this extent to come to my holiday location?’ His argument he repeated some 6-7 times that ‘in Monte Carlo was raining’ did not stand. Did he meet this girl every night since we ‘met by mistake’ and took her from the local strip club after learning that I am not going to sleep with him?

How stupid it all looked? I know that men’s brains work in strange ways but why on earth would he chose a woman working in a dingy club looking all stupid and not that bright? We passed near a place like this one night and he made a funny comment and joke passing the seedy girls located outside. So why now behave in an opposite manner?

Why not wait for a woman who gives you compliments when you deserve them and touches your hand suggestively as she cannot tell the man: ‘hey baby, I am all bloody but wait and you will see what I am going to do to you!’ After all, it is known that the ‘je ne sais quoi’ that highly educated, travelled and experienced women possess will work the art of seduction on a man in a nice pair of heels and lace garment which I happened to possess for some naughty pictures I was going to take…………… Instead what he chose? Somebody who gets her cheap bum out of some dirty jeans for everybody in some dirty, ugly place! Cultivate your intelligence there, if you can.

Yes, I hardly slept that night, maybe some two hours only and I thought why was this happening to me? I did not fancy the guy to desperation, but thought this whole story and his tactics were noticeable if not difficult to forget. But again, I had strange things happening to me all my life and surely there are more to come my way. And yes, three very interesting men were strategically positioned near me in the plane. The pity was I was too tired from the night before and I could hardly keep my eyes opened. Even the Hotel Reception Manager felt under my spell or how can you explain that he did not charge me the very expensive late departure fee. The easy explanation is that he does this to every woman travelling alone but would he put himself in trouble every time? Hmmmmmm

At least the several people I spoke about the list of coincidences convinced me they were not as such, pity my date could not imagine that a last coincidence where I see him with another woman would happen. Anyway, probably nothing more will occur and hopefully I will change from being upset about this story to actually remember the ‘chase’ and make me wet for nights to come, ha ha




May the 3rd 2012


If you had a great week, well you are much more fortunate: it started with me getting upset over my instructor who paired me up with a guy who some months earlier was so dirty due to his ‘handy man’ job which secretly I wonder if was one of the multiple factors that gave me tonsillitis, never mind about him having a huge attitude problem. While I was doing greatly practicing my fighting technique with a lovely and sensible Spanish guy, until now I wonder why my instructor had to be so bossy and not understanding and only said: ‘I am sorry you will have to fight with your new partner’. Of course I had to leave the class as my delicate health is more important than anything.

The next misfortune was to use this internet café to print some pages as none of my printers seem to be working efficiently and to come across this foreign guy who did not even know how to use his computers and a simple printing technique took over some 20 minutes with him sending unnecessarily some pages to be printed. Of course they did what most of these ignorant men who treat their women with disrespect and wanted to charge me extra for his mistakes. When my several arguments involved his fat boss sitting several metres away, another guy with a huge, fresh cut on his forehead and sun glasses covering his face (wondering if he had some black eyes from being involved in a fight) started shouting abuse at me. I was thinking, hang on, what is going on here? Three men dealing in a abusive manner with a woman? What for? Is it because this reflects their background and their un-educated ways or purely because they assume they can easily treat women with disrespect? I quickly left their place as I felt so disgusted and sickened by the whole experience, only to have the guy with the forehead cut come after me and shout more abuse……….

I thought that I am going to have a better time by going out to meet an old friend which I knew that he secretly fancied me, but again I knew that he fancies any woman that crosses his path, so I gave up on the big slice of watermelon that kept winking at me waiting to be eaten and met my friend on a cold, rainy night. We made the mistake to pop in one of the bars of a top London hotel, the kind that has even an in-house florist spending thousands of pounds of money every week on amazing floral arrangements that could be a winner at the Chelsea flower show. We crossed the lobby packed with our ‘friends’ coming from the countries where is already 40 degrees Celsius, eating so late at night that and I was wondering ‘how come they do not care about putting on weight’ never mind about the health implication about eating so late? We finally reached the bar and noticed to one side the ‘blonde European type girls’ busy reapplying the bright red lipstick and on the other side the ‘darker Middle Eastern girl’ so concentrating on the phones while coming and going towards the front of the hotel as is some HRH is going to be announced in a minute.

Hilariously, a dark European girl appeared and joined the Middle Eastern Girl with pretences of a tough business woman in collecting business cards from the young Saudis, probably organising some mutually rewarding hours in the following days. I found all too stupid and concluded these women live in a completely different planet where the inhabitants are not ashamed at doing something like this in public and not realising how easily others can read these women so easily. Of course the bar tenders did not give them any troubles and wondered how big their tip is going to be for allowing something like this?

Whilst my friend was telling my the story of a 22 years old girl with pretences of living in Mayfair and then Chelsea in order to be close to him (and probably having him pay her rent), how she one day disappeared to see her ex boyfriend in south France who once again rejected her and send her back to England.

And then you start reading between lines and you realise that my friend was telling me only one side of the story and did not tell me the girl was slightly off a normal track and possessed huge delusional and lying traits. After all, she could have easily been his daughter or even grand daughter and his wondering eyes while we were together in the bar told me that he would be just happy with catching any girl in his net. This made me meditate for a second about the transition experienced by a young man who might get any girl he can purely because of his background and skills in bed, to becoming a proud father yet messing around purely because his wife is not interested in the sex act to becoming the old guy who lost his hair but has plenty of teeth and eagerness for any 20 years old slim girl who he thinks she is an angel because she does not open her mouth much unless to have a cock there. She is not even good at that as she is love with her equally young boyfriend and her mind frame and ‘intelligence’ matches her naïve years. We all have been there, so close your eyes and think about that time in your life. Now open your eyes and tell me honestly: ‘do you think I am wrong here?’

Nowadays I always tend to read between the lines, give people the benefit of the doubt and yet try to read from their actions. A teenager recently asked me: ‘what is depression?’ The quick answer was: ‘un-realisation of dreams you have fought for quite some time’. Another asked me: ‘why are some people so fat?’ The fast answer was the comparison with a building’s pipes: you clutter those pipes with lots of junk and even a plumber cannot help you, ha ha

Of course I did not further say that one needs lots of exercise, especially cardio, like lots of sex to keep sharp, healthy and slim, ha ha

Talking about sex, I was always amazed how easily men talk to each other, whether meeting in the underground, gym or a bar. I was discussing about this with a guy in the sauna of a club purely because I thought his ‘young George Michael’ looks would pass him as gay. He turned out that he was not but most interestingly he confirmed what I thought for a long time: ‘men talk to each other easier than women because they know they will not be misunderstood’. But the question that follows is: ‘misunderstood for what?’ What if the other man is gay? What about the Middle Eastern or Mediterranean men who never had a problem talking to women and accepting a rejecting when a woman does not want to give her telephone number and meet him?

Everything can be misconstrued, yet English men chose to behave in such a way because this is a cultural trait that characterises men of these isles. So thank God for who invented the alcohol, after all even Andre Maurois, a 19th century French who served in several French embassies spread throughout Europe, hence writing the History of England and other well documented books expressing different ideas and the way he perceived them. He mentioned that even 2000 years ago, people here liked having a drink with lots of rye to warm them and protect them from the cold. What Andre Maurois was not aware, is that, if an English man gets down to business he never messes around. If the men here did not have such a great head for business, the place would be packed with very well performing Porn Stars………..




April the 18th 2012


A: ‘Good weekend?’
B: ‘Yeah, man.’
A: ‘Did you shagg her?’
B: ‘Yeah man, the whole weekend, she is a fox.’
A: ‘Did you eat pussy?’
B: ‘Yeah man, I ate her pussy the whole time’
A: ‘She loves you man’
B: ‘Yeah man, she is mad after me’.

This was a conversation I heard behind me recently, between two guys and this quietly put a huge smile on my face. If you imagine the conversation somewhere in the countryside between two middle aged local farmers at weekend in the local pub, smartly dressed in some tweed jackets whilst having a pint then you are very far from the reality. The whole discussion happened on the streets of central London and despite not being very curious, as the accent and nature of the conversation made me think it was between some guys in early-mid twenties with ‘modern trends’ aka wearing very baggy low jeans and all the usual attire, I decided to quickly have a peek whilst flicking my hair, purely to confirm that I was right with the way of my thinking. Of course I was right and the guys quickly moved their eyes from my body as I had my confirmation look. I was not that shocked with the way some people chose to converse, after all you hear worse things in London, but I was more shocked to discover how deluded some people are. I would describe guys like these as people ‘with potential’ as they weren’t that ugly looking, but never in one million years I would ever bother to even consider their advances. And I was wondering, if the subject of their conversation is indeed ‘mad’ after one of the guys, based on his looks and the way he expresses himself? After all, such a way of expressing denotes a person is not that educated, hence very low employment potential and high achiever capability in the future. And when the looks are gone, even say if you are good looking, what are you going to do with your life? By contrast, how gorgeous and interesting are sometimes the men in their ‘50s or even ‘60s, purely because of the nobility of their thoughts, minus when they meet a woman.

We all got used to see the deluded people featured on main TV programmes, like singing contests etc and then you realise there is a rather huge majority of the population that is deluded to an extent or other. But when do they actually cross the line and they become, from being deluded to actually being mad and not diagnosed with a certain disease that might make them a danger to the population and our society?

I was recently sick and coughing quite a bit and out of respect of the people surrounding me I used to always cover my nose and mouth but I discovered how badly interpreted this can become to certain people who for example have not travelled to south east Asia where is common for people to cover the nose or mouth and travel like this to work purely because they are sick, or they do not want to get a flu, or they cannot put up with the polution or any other reasons. This rather old Iranian woman dressed in a smart suit turned towards me before leaving the train and she said out of the blue: ‘Next time take a taxi!. I quickly said to her: ‘But I am protecting you from my couth’. She did not apologise she just preferred to leave the train thinking she must be very bright!!!!!!!! Or maybe she was smelly and she knew she was!!!!!!!!!!!

Another case is that of the deluded woman presented recently in a newspaper where she was complaining that ‘women hate her because she is so beautiful’. Come on, you would think: she was not a spring chicken anymore with droppy face and jowls, nose as big as her 5’11 husband as she was a big girl herself, thinning short hair and a spare tyre around her hips. On one hand you feel sorry for such a woman, so deluded into thinking that her flirting which saw her having sent a bottle of champagne by the pilot travelling by plane to New York without revealing probably that the pilot was not English. The fact is that English men very hardly make presents to complete strangers as she claimed to have received presents from people she never met. This pattern of behaviour when men send presents to women is more common in the Middle East or maybe France, as it happened to me when I used to live there and indeed I received anything from gold presents to shoes, dresses, never mind perfumes, flowers etc from people I have never met. But why men make the presents? Purely to spend their money? Of course not, this is a way of introducing themselves and a way of saying that more presents are to come, hence inducing a woman into thinking she has lots of things to gain from such a relationship. One thing the women can obviously do is to accept the present as this does not mean that she has to return any kind of favour, so no un-written contract has been drawn………

But women who think that they get presents because they are so beautiful even they are not youngsters anymore and live on a long gone dream and still call themselves beautiful and think the whole world hates them, well yes, they are deluded to the point of having a mental issue. Any woman might have problems with words, looks given by another woman, it happens to everyone, just the way it happens to me all the time. But I attribute this to the nastiness, lack of intelligence and education that other women possess and the only thing one can do is to distance herself from such negative characters. You can change the ideas and thoughts of young children, but you can hardly change the opinions of mature people. And they always think they know better than you, despite having very little knowledge of the worldly ways………….

But sometimes you cannot wonder, what kind of people are better: the deluded ones or the very mischievous ones? I recently came across this guys: tall, good looking, highly educated and very, very naughty. I thought: ‘great, this is a guy I would like to get to know better’. But our texts, quickly changed from being the usual texts one changes over trivial matters to being texts of high sexual content. He kept describing how big he is, what he would like to do to me and how he would like to contribute to me spending some hours with him in return for an exorbitant financial incentive. Straight away I thought, this is a married guy who gets a fix out of describing himself in texts. As I tend to be very fast on a phone pad, I kept the pace with him and he quickly said that he has a fantasy which involves bringing his friend who is even bigger than he is, and to both take me at the same time or watching each other doing me. As I have never been with two men at the same time, to be honest, having two huge, clean cocks and four hands on my body rather turned me on and I kept getting wetter with every second. You cannot change who you are and your bodily functions but my brain kept telling me this guys was full of rubbish so eventually I lost interest in his lies. But he kept texting every single day to re-ignite my interest after which he kept losing interest like a guy who cannot get a hard on. How pathetic was the whole thing! And if you think this interests me purely from sexual point of view, you are so wrong! I got used to look at a person and read their thoughts before they open their mouth and this whole new case showed me how right I was when I read something devious in his eyes as I looked at his picture. If he has a wife, surely she knows what she has got in her hands or how doomed their marriage is. The question is: do you feel sorry for yourself or for him?




April the 2nd 2012


Yes, I am quoting that famous song and I am wondering more like ‘what’s sex got to do with it’. I am looking at my skin in the mirror and I am wondering how is it possible just some hours of continuous sex to make my skin so glowing, so shiny in a beautiful way, so vibrant and full of energy - no creams, serums or a simple good life free of all the bad things, cannot seem to achieve. The catalyst of such a new, glowing me was a man I just men in a blind date. Although we had several telephone conversations, each telephone conversation extended to one hour as I seem to be such a conversationalist and times flows so easily when I am on the phone - according to people I spoke with in the past - there is always a chance that you will meet that guy that does not match the portrait you picture in your mind and you make your excuse and leave after 15 minutes, one hour or maybe two hours of a meal shared at some restaurant.

I liked his voice on the phone, so young, despite his mature age, indicating to me his clean lifestyle with lots of trips to his local gym and his vision of life made him even more appealing. He picked me up dressed casually smart but oh, such great tastes in clothes and the way he mixed his colours showed me he had an eye for beautiful, exclusive things instead in just ‘throwing’ on himself some badly ironed shirt. I later on discovered everything was tailored to his specific needs and since I make my own clothes since I was 13 years old or buy sometimes exclusive items, I realised we had lots of things in common and the telephone conversations were not just presenting the facts in the good light some people tend to present themselves. Since the show we were supposed to see was later on, he recommended to go to a local ‘high class watering’, the kind that actually has a bad reputation as it attracts lots of girls fishing and which I always tend to avoid. As I am not a drinker, I realised I was drunk after only sipping one third of my cocktail and with a slightly blurred vision and huge smile I nodded when he said that even girls were checking my body and bottom in my tight short dress. I only noticed the girls pretending to be deep into some conversation waiting for some Prince Charming to offer them a better lifestyle and his services in their honour and the odd girl sipping the drink whilst looking around with vulture eyes checking the competition. For a split of a second I was thinking how pathetic for some girls to call themselves high class when they advertise around their services when they have nothing in common with the word high class. If in real life, a high class person is say, a rich aristocrat who might not be highly educated or a highly educated person who just like the aristocrat can travel the world, experience the best, speak lots of languages, have varied interests from Politics to Architecture, Art to Finance why these girls who have never been interested in such issues call themselves high class? Buying some Lejaby lingerie or having some D&G glasses or belts does not automatically make you high class. Just like visiting a museum or a gallery once in while does not make you a connoisseur with a solid history in art.

My alcoholic drink was making it’s full effect by now and I was so relaxed then I even made the audacious thing I never do and I leaned towards him, depositing a light kiss on his lips. We left the premises, going to our theatre where a bottle of Champagne was suspiciously waiting and I was thinking if his intention was to actually get me so drunk that I did not know what I was doing. I managed to sip a bit of it admiring how he was able to drown the whole bottle in only two intervals and deeply wishing I wasn’t so delicate. I only sensed that people were paying too much attention to us at the theatre as one American leaned towards us saying not to whisper anymore and I thought: ‘ come on, with this loud music, how can you even hear what we say if you concentrate on the show?’. But he regularly looked with the corner of his eye towards me and behaving sensibly not to overstep on my furry coat. Even later at the busy restaurant we went to, packed with people as if we were in celebration land: table after table celebrating birthdays, hen parties etc and deep inside I was thinking ‘where is that New York website that advertises on an hourly basis which cool places in NY are packed with guys or girls in order for men and women to know where to go and calibrate the balance?’ This restaurant was 90% packed with young women and all were dancing like mad, taking pictures and occasionally breaking glasses and plates. I was annoyed though, why whenever I start dancing, the girls kept clearing the floor as if we were in some kind of competition? I have been told on several occasion that I dance very sexily, it is not though that I want to dance like that. It is years of dancing lessons, classes and techniques, so mixing belly dancing moves with Motown is not a problem. Rather than gossiping at some corner all day long, I prefer to go to the gym, train my stomach muscles and then achieve some movements that the lack of stomach muscles will not allow. Shake that booty!!!!!!!!

It was close to 3am and we were together for some 9 hours now, a bit tired but amazingly the coffee I kept tasting from his lips did not allow me to fall asleep. My usual Cinderella ‘go to sleep’ time was long gone and I felt a bit sorry for him to let him drive all the way to the other part of London, especially since he kept me so amused in the little rickshaw that seem to stop buses, with a driver who did not know on which planet he lived and could not find the location where my companion’s car was.

I decided to allow him to come to my place, although I knew that ‘I will sleep on your coach’ trick will not work with me. My naked body was easily devoured by his hungry mouth and I was not surprised that he was such a great lover, sticking his fingers and mouth everywhere but I was shocked when, with his hands busy with my body he started sucking my toes. This is something which I always found so sensual, so sexy and so deeply intimate - so much more intimate that a condom splashed over a cock - as is unique and very few people do it. He was as gorgeous naked as he was dressed, OK not perfect, but who needs perfection? After all, it wasn’t as bad as my blind date I had in the past when the gorgeous professional I met in a well known Chelsea restaurant was on a wheel chair. The table was set for only one person, which means even the restaurant knew he is in a wheel chair, yet he decided to make this a surprise to me - after all, we sang to each other our compositions on our pianos over the phone!!!!! That is intimate and when you reach this level, you tell people ‘hey I use a wheel chair’. Don’t you think so?

After several hours of continuous and sensual sex, sometimes energetic, sometimes slow listening to the night birds singing to us, with lots of juices flowing out of me, especially when coughing with my pussy in his face that seemed to bring a huge smile to him, we have fallen asleep in each other’s arms with him declaring me ‘the juiciest girl in the world’.

I thought he is going to wake up early and leave - that is what man do normally, don’t they? - but no, so I decided to have my fun with him again, which involved not only sex but a delightful presentation of tea making (yes, I learned something in my recent trip to Japan) and then giving him a proper facial and some scrubbing, massage and creaming after exiting my bathroom. Since he accepted to be my doll for the day and since this does not happen every day, why not have proper fun? He later left, after we ate at a local restaurant and I thought that maybe this will be his chance to exit the scene and do a Houdini. Don’t we all know that man are mainly after sex? Ha ha, every fibre of their being tells them ‘have sex and then dump the bitch’. OK, OK, not everyone is like that, I am just having fun at the expense of the men who play like boys.

My ‘more than 24 hours lover’ was back though some 3 hours later, as he promised and despite being tired after the missed sleep the night before, I was surprised that actually he kept his promise and he was back. Was it the scrub, the facial, the massage, the sex or me that draw him back? We watched a bit of TV with me fully naked having my toes caressed and massaged by him and eventually we decided to go to bed. But since he was the guest, I thought ‘why not take advantage of the situation, I bet he will not complain’ and slowly, slowly I started seducing him again. He did not say no but as we had a busy previous night he decided that a faster approach will be beneficial to both of us aka cuming faster. After all he had to wake up at 6am and be on the road before 7am for the busy day ahead.

What I got out of this? Hmmmmm, a shiny, healthy, glowing skin that will last me for several days.




March the 26th 2012


Imagine a guy in his late ‘60s walking in front of you and then about to fall down. So just like in a Matrix movie, just stop it, stop it there and in slow motion think of his 4 steps he is making and you are wondering ‘is he or isn’t he going to fall?’ I was walking right behind the poor guy and whilst wishing he will not fall, I was thinking how anglicised I am now. I should have done a Rupert Murdoch wife’s gesture when she protected him from the custard pie but instead I did the Anglo thing of making a high pitched sound and after cover my face in shock.

Although one hand was free as my two other shopping bags were in my right hand and my cross over bag did not restrain my movement, I did not do the foreign ‘movement’ of anticipating a person’s fall and jumping to help that person but instead I did the Anglo thing of looking and wishing he will not fall. Fortunately he was soon back on his legs, thanking everyone around him but further 5 minutes down the road I saw a guy whose bike let him down on a busy intersection. An accident could have easily happened and I was wondering if this was the day when I do not bring luck to people around me? Two minutes later though another biker passing nonchalantly near me with his fake aviator glasses on his funny face shouted at me: ‘you are fucking gorgeous’ and secretly I wondered if the bad luck day was over?

I have been sick for quite some time, nothing major, just a silly cough and a very high heart beat that woke me up one night and scared me so much that I went to the local Accident and Emergency. Isn’t it annoying when you wake up and go to see a doctor to shed some light into what is wrong with you and you have to wait several hours at the hospital and afterwards only to be told: ‘there is nothing wrong with you, just take some aspirin’. And if I wasn’t depressed enough by all this, I had to put up with some strange guys, well bums as I call them (since I was able to see their underwear peaking from underneath the jeans) following me from one side of the large room to another. Initially I thought that was a coincidence, so I moved to the other side of the room, but then two guys moved to my side as if pretending they were sleeping like me on some two chairs. I then realised there was no other woman in the A&E and no security guy either. ‘Come on’ I thought: ‘I do not have any make up on me, my eyes were hidden in fact behind some ‘secretarial’ kind of glasses and I was simply dressed in a black jumper and beige trousers pulled in some black boots. I avoided making eye contact with them and I was thinking ‘why men behave like hunters even in A&E locations’. Or maybe ‘did they want to steal my bag?’ When I later left the hospital the streets were empty but noticed a man following me from the distance and I was wondering briefly ‘what is wrong with people who think they can behave predatorial?’ Just because we are weak on the outside does not mean our brain is weak too.

I was frustrated that my flu changed from being viral to something that needed some antibiotics and help my voice which was more comfortable with the low tones which I know that men find it sexy, but hey, that is not my voice and I kept meditating ‘why doctors need to see you sick before prescribing you some antibiotics?’ Is not like we are going to take them as we take the vitamins for example and abuse the way our immune system functions. The good bacteria within us needs to work, like billions of little workers and protect us against germs and viruses that want to destroy the delicate balance within our bodies.

Sometimes when a doctor wants to lecture me on issues I am aware of, I am thinking ‘come on, is not like I am going to grow a penis’. And I always remember the story of the South American man featured some years ago in a documentary who actually had two penises. His wife said: ‘sometimes we use one, sometimes we use the other. And sometimes we use them both at the same time’. Imagine!!!!!!!!

I was always aware that big, taller men have stronger immune systems as opposed to us, smaller people and I was wondering if I took the germs from this guy’s hair I was paired with at my local fighting class. It was my first class and he was telling me to pull his hair harder. ‘Oh, no’ I was thinking. The hair was curly but greasy and it smelled. He told me he was a day helper but as he looked rather bright, although poorly dressed I thought he might be just unlucky in life at that moment in time or he might not be paying attention the way he dresses. I chose to travel by underground that day and two girls positioned themselves in front of me. Despite looking glam although in the style of the R’n’B clips and being ever so loud with their pure rubbish of talk I thought they will ignore me, the woman reading quietly a book and dressed simply in a knee length black dress buttoned up to the neck.

But no, as soon as they noticed me, they started talking how they wanted to have everything smaller, referring probably to my long hair and big breasts and I started meditating how unnecessarily women, and not only, chose to conveniently assume they are superior and we are inferior or they are better and us the quiet ones are worse. Isn’t this a characteristic of a bully who unknowingly discloses how un-educated, un-receptive to their environment and change they truly are? And what do you do when people like these strike? Do you start having an argument bringing lots of logical thoughts into this? No, you are wasting your time. They will laugh at you, subconsciously surprised you are lowering yourself to their level and acknowledging their presence. So the best think is to let them be to their nastiness and get on quietly with your life.

By contrast, when I was returning from my fighting class, as the rush hour passed, the train seemed to be packed with very quiet professionals. The guys near me kept looking via the reflection of the glass or one guy, and I must say with a very snappy dress code, physically turned on several occasion to look at me better. ‘Hmmmm’, I was thinking, ‘I should wear this dress more often...... And maybe wear some gloves too'.




March the 14th 2012


I was speaking with a friend of mine about how different men are nowadays and how us, women would love to discover men with those long standing values that makes them so attractive: confidence, maturity, elegance. So, I was watching two guys running in the park the other day in their shorts revealing their strong legs and some fine hairs on their strong stomach muscles when they stopped to stretch. Up to that point I thought: ‘what nice specimens of human male being!’ Their white socks in white trainers subconsciously disclosed to me they are not afraid of using this colour so easy to get dirty, hence they had a high regard for personal cleanliness. But as I passed near them again, following my path to a London location I heard them bitching in French about some girls and I thought to myself: ‘what whinging bitches have we got here!’ Gone was my high regard for them and instead I remembered how even some men, who normally seem to be the tall, older and mid weight talk about guys like these: ‘they are not men, they are just little boys!’

How many times I came across men I expected to be strong, confident, reliable only to discover later you cannot disclose anything to them as they seem to be bitching like little girls, tell a secret to anyone who has ears and then laugh with that confident laughter or winking at another men as if he won a million pounds and he knows something we do not know. ‘Are you supposed to be a shoulder your weaker partner is holding onto?’ I am thinking. ‘Does she really know that you are up to?’ I wondered many times. Well, truthfully speaking, surely she knows, and probably she gave up the hope of managing to change her man. But by contrast how easy is to change a woman, almost at any age, just with the help of a loving hand and mind? Why women possess this capacity of changing for the man they love whereas men make so little changes. And then some men say: ‘oh, we are the hunters!’ But how come the hunter behaves like a Neanderthal sometimes, instead of behaving like a sophisticated, intelligent man, the thousands of years of mutation and education were supposed to change him into?

I was meeting regularly this American in his late forties, very mysterious, so I decided not to ask him many question but opt instead for discussing general issues. I am saying mysterious, purely because he said he worked in architectural and historical digs in Italy, yet he was not able to provide some specific answers, as architecture and history are some of my passions. I was really enjoying my time with him and it was a pleasure to touch his Adonis body looking better than some 20 years old guys. Fine muscle definition covered all his body, plus he was a snappy dresser. I was even able to enjoy my time with him as he was shagging me for the two hours continuously he used to book and I did not even miss the fact that he did not kiss me or change positions or ask for anything else. He was good at what he was doing and I am sure that other girls would have complained for being stuck only in one position and shagged for two hours continuously. He liked the fact that I was coming constantly and I did not fake my pleasure. There was only one thing I managed to changed with him: the fact that he always smelled of tablets as he was taking so many vitamins to keep himself healthy. When I managed to get to know him better I asked him if I could wash him in one of the designer shower gels I keep buying and he happily accepted: he just needed a woman’s touch!

But what a contrast this experience is compared to the experience, that happens extremely rarely, you meet a man who books you for several hours, yet he does absolutely nothing: he does not go down on you, he never goes on top, he does not kiss and you are wondering ‘what are your expectations of a good time?’. OK, you try several positions in order to keep him interested, you go down on him but after all there is so much you can do, when the other party only sits on his backside without doing anything, not even using his hands but at least running a decent conversation from time to time. ‘Do you ever go down on girls?’ I asked him. He confirmed that some two weeks earlier he was with two girls and he had a great time……… apparently. And then I wondered: ‘OK you go down on two girls you met in a bar, assuming just because they are not in this business, they might not be shagging a guy every day and yet you chose to assume the worst about escorts?’ OK, there are escort and escorts, some chose to see ten guys a day, but there are lots of girls really exclusive who chose to see a guy once in a while purely because of our life styles, commitment and projects we are involved in. We are simply ‘blessed’ to have very high sex drives and chose not to sleep around with guys that throw themselves at us in a club, bar, restaurant or even the local supermarket. This does not mean that we are not very fastidious about our cleanliness and probably I am the most ‘anal’ in this respect. Nevermind my hair which needs washed, conditioned, cut and styled every other day, but what about my body cleanliness? Every single wash involves designer shower gels and scrubbing with lufars to keep me free of celulite and stretch marks but afterwards even my little toes get dried separately and the whole body creamed with different lotions and potions according to their ‘standards‘. Call me a nutter, but that’s my way. My only annoyance is when I keep coming too much in my knickers! Sometimes I wish I had used this on a man, rather than being busy with other daily issues!

I used to see this guy who during our first telephone conversation he was so moody to the point that I was about to make an excuse to get rid of him: he wanted all kind of services, he wanted several changes of outfits during our one hour meeting, everything was like ‘I want, I want, I want’. I tried explaining to him that will not be possible, bringing the right arguments in the process. He then agreed I was right and only when meeting him he explained the reasons why he was so neurotic: he had several bad experiences with girls who promised him the earth but did not have the right attire, never mind about having the right attitude. Since then we became very good friends, meeting regularly and he gave up on seeing other girls. Our scenarios at different locations in central London keep his imagination busy with lots of things. I am just happy that I can use his gorgeous body and mind and yes, the fact that sometimes he walks back to his office in pain (which he loves) puts a huge smile on my face and people think that I am a dreamer or a crazy woman in the underground, ha ha




March the 7th 2012


There is a memory that follows me for quite some time and I will probably always wonder if I should have behaved in a different manner? How many times, on the spur of the moment, we behave in a certain way and afterwards we think: ‘damn, what a fool I have been?’ Whether these are minor or major issues, there is always a certain idea that makes us wonder: ‘ should I have done things differently?’

It was summer, birds were chirping and people were having beers at the local pub near my home when I decided to go out to make some payments. I was dressed in summery colours with a knee length skirt matching my top, a hair band to keep my long fly away hair in place and some beautiful golden sateen slip on shoes with a kitten heel and beautifully covered in little pearls. As I was almost reached an intersection, one of my shoes got caught between the square tiles that pave our roads and made my foot come out altogether of the shoe. Since I am a very careful walker and not the usual person that covers the road thinking it belongs to them, it really surprised me and made me burst into laughter. It was like a scene from Cinderella when she loses her precious slipper and just like in Cinderella, while I was trying to remove my shoe which was really stuck, here comes out of nowhere a tall guy with his blonde wavy hair flowing in the wind and jumps from his bicycle to help me with the shoe. He looked like the typical country side Tory voter, dressed in his summery colours and beige trousers, highly educated and very fortunate in life. His sudden appearance really took me by surprise, me always trying to avoid the surprise and the uncertainty, especially since the ‘Evil queen’ was near me too. Well, not a really evil queen, more like a lovely old woman who stopped near me and was looking at me trying to remove my sleeper. Most annoyingly and in typical me way, I said to my Prince Charming ‘thank you, I can do it myself’. Probably it came across so confident, maybe rude to the point that it made him disappear just like that. And just like in stories, I finally retrieved my shoe, I crossed the intersection and off, I was gone without looking back.

Now, isn’t that a bad way to behave? But what makes me wonder, why is it that people like me, can recognise when Prince Charming crosses our path and most importantly he recognises Cinderella too and yet unlike my ‘friends’ I chose to be blunt and insensible. And I know for sure, if I was not to fancy him, I would have been full of smiles and maybe would have struck a little conversation. This situation happened so many times in my life and yet I have never managed to change, probably it is down to my background and being used to be ‘chased’ by the boys since I was very young, all in a very childish way, when for example if it was the ‘head of a group’ fancying me, all or the majority of his group of 7-8 friends would have fancied me. Unfortunately this never went to my head, as I grew up in a society and environment where education and spending all day studying was the norm, so I never bothered with boys fancying me for a very long time.

But why did I say ‘unlike my friends’, purely because I noticed how easy are some of the girls I go out clubbing for example. They seem to struck conversation with the most un-palatable characters, yet afterwards they have the pretences of being high class and meeting clients of the highest standards. The antagonism of behaviour versus pretences only makes me think how immature and insecure such people are and deep down I know they are not my friends. I was out clubbing with such a friend when we were chased around the tiny streets of Mayfair by two guys in a very expensive Hummer and thank God I did not tell my friend that one of the guys I recognised was the son of a long gone dictator by now. Her attitude, as proven in the past, would have been to stay for hours and talk about things which would have easily taken a sexual direction, exchanging telephone number and probably meeting later on that night or in the following days. Why do girls have to stop and stare at say a Ferrari or Lamborghini which would have temporarily stopped near a car at some traffic lights? You look at the guy who probably brought his car by plane from his country and despite all this wealth, how skinny, small and unattractive he is. If the guy was tall, gorgeous and with some muscles on him, would my friend have ditched me and her car in the street and jumped in the Ferrari?

One night I met another ‘friend’ in a posh hotel for some drinks and in the usual almost two hours that became the normal waiting time for her (until now I wonder what on earth was she thinking and doing those two hours?) I was chatted by three guys in their early thirties in a party that looked like the main guy with his two bodyguards. Soon after my friend arrived we decided to go to a nearly night club without giving further thought to these three guys. But imagine my surprise when at 2am coming out of the club, these three were outside the night club wondering whether to enter the premises? Me and my friend burst into laughter when the guys recognised us and we started having a little conversation declining the offer to go back into the club. At this point, the guy who was like the main guy came towards me and asked for my telephone number. Since he was visiting from Macau, I thought that we do not have any chance to meet again, quickly ignoring that later on that year I was supposed to visit Hong Kong and Macau was only a ferry away from where I was staying. But when asking my friend for his telephone number in the following days, as he gave it to her in order to pass it onto me when I will be sober, she came up with so many excuses and lies that I gave up completely into asking ever again his number. Probably she called or texted him to organise a meeting with him without being embarrassed of asking for some financial help. This assumption, after all I knew what she is capable of doing, together with all the other lies, plus always being delayed by two hours when meeting me, made me realise that was a cause that needed no pursuing. Who needs friends like these?

Maybe like me, you have friends to go to the Opera or Ballet, friends to go to a jazz club, friends you can travel with or friends you think you have something in common and share your passion for dancing. But when all is too much, you start reading between the lines and think there are causes that determine this kind of alienated behaviour. So what do you do with such people? You simply give up on them. Life is too short to fill it with negative people who always blame others for their misfortune.

No wonder the previous days, when I was reading the story of two very old women born almost a century ago, married at almost the same time, always holidaying together and supporting each other when their husbands passed away, now died in an interval of months as one could not survive the other passing away, I had my eyes filled with tears. Friendship and humanity at its best!

And since Prince Charming does not exist or probably is too busy drinking his soul away in some pub, I better get back to enjoying my single life, and whatever that might bring.




March the 2nd 2012


I was reading an article recently about older men having higher chances to drop dead during sex with a younger partner, according to the American Heart Foundation and this put a huge smile to my face purely because of what happened to me recently.

I have been set up, once again, in a blind date with a guy who sounded great on the phone, a combination of mid west accent due to his roots and eastern US coast probably because of his education and fortune in life. He looked very smart in his pictures, just the way I like my men: well cut suit with matching tie and handkerchief and yes, the quality of the suit was one of the finest when I touched his arm after I met him kissing the air near his cheeks. He was smart and well spoken but somehow I was disappointed he lacked ‘je ne sais quoi’ probably because us, the younger generation can discuss certain issues in a different way. Don’t get me wrong, I like older men, in fact I prefer posh older men than the younger ones: I can easily cover more interesting topics related to history or art, wars and geo-economical structures, as opposed to say posh, young guys who sometimes are so stuck up and think that if you do not have an Oxbridge education, or worse you are born overseas, you have a lesser education. My US fellow conversationalist was however quick to make fun of a fatter British version who was busy getting drunk with an equally young lady in one of the town’s most posh hotels we chose to relax, as our first meeting place was too noisy for having a decent conversation.

It amazed me though that in the several minutes I reached the first place telling him were I was, I saw this Slavic girl waiting at the empty bar and having a glass of Champagne who was so fast to chat up this older guy who approached the bar moving his eyes from me to her as if, he was thinking who to start chatting up. ‘Yuck’ I thought, ‘I am not here to pick up guys’. But how fast this Slavic girl was, thinking that I was competition and I might steal her bread and butter on a Tuesday night. I felt sorry for her, for instead of enjoying her life she chose to go to a bar to pick up a guy to milk some money out of him. Her skinny face with blonde hair, black dress and insecurity reminded me that she looked like the photoshopped pictures of a girl I saw on several websites and I was wondering: ‘since you live for such a long time in a town, why don’t you chose at least to blur or cover your face?’

It was very interesting though to have such a good conversation with my US friend in the new, quieter location and I quickly discovered that he was a Vietnam war veteran which probably made him in his sixties maybe even early seventies. This fast arithmetic revealed his true age, which actually I was not keen on discovering. I thought, let him impress me with the fact that he is the CEO of several companies, after all, don’t we all try to reveal only positive things about ourselves? I never understood why some men, choose to cloud a conversation with negative things, when life on earth is so short?

He was pushing me to have the second drink after I disclosed to him how easily I get drunk and then he said to me: ’if I make a payment to your favourite charity, would you come to my place?’ I started laughing and for a second I thought: ’hmmm, he might have a great sexual drive after all’. He smelled nice, he looked nice, he made to effort to impress me, he had style, he was well mannered and spoken, so why not? But then he made a huge mistake. Through the buttons of his crisp shirt I saw his chest with droopy tits. I mean, come on, I am not perfect either, but at least I am a cup 32F to G, but the quality of my skin has been compared on many occasions to silky-velvety smoothness and everybody said how they can even see the muscles on my legs, abs or my back when I just returned from the gym.

He said that he goes to the gym and he cycles and I was not scared how his bum might look, after all why should I look at things that one does not like to look? One of my massage therapists told me once that even he closes his eyes when he gives massages to very fat, smelly or people with bad skin, so yes, probably every profession has it’s ups and downs.

But my area of concern was purely his heart. I have been told on numerous occasions I am not the usual girl one finds around to have sex purely because they have to support a child or hardships, hence money and time orientated. Since I am keen on having only good quality sex I chose who I want to see and when, and no amount of money is going to drag me to see somebody I do not fancy: the way he speaks, or writes or behaves, smells or the quality of his skin and age as it was the case now.

So I politely declined his offer involving a large amount in US dollars and I tried to leave. I could see his disappointment in his eyes as he said: ‘you do not fancy me’. I smiled while kissing the air near his cheeks again and tried not to show him the fact that I was so upset that I disappointed him, so I quickly disappeared in the night.

Maybe other girls would have taken the offer and went to his hotel, happy to take the money whilst staring at the ceiling, but this has never been on my agenda. Several days later I had a spot coming under my skin and briefly I wondered maybe this spot would not have come if I was to have a bit of sex, me snooty bitch so choosy in sex. But then my spot cleared, left me with a bit of brown mark that probably will disappear in weeks but in the meantime I will find somebody to have lots of wild sex and please the body. Because it looks like the brain is stronger these days………even sex addicts can change, ha ha




February the 22nd 2012


The other day I was meditating on how differently we all perceive reality and how this depends on how old we are, the way we age, our education and upbringing, our view on life and the way we pass through life, our experiences and why not, the ‘phase’ we are passing though at a certain moment in time or ultimately our travels.

I was having a conversation with this gorgeous guy in his late forties, so naughty and yet so polite, not embarrassed to meet me and the ‘friend’ I brought to meet his business partner in front of his posh hotels. Several workers doing some external work to the building kept looking and making sure they made contact with me, jealous probably that the mature rich guys could afford to stay in the expensive hotel meeting ‘younger birds’ which them, the workers, will never be able to afford. But what shocked me is why on earth these guys would just stay there staring at us when like me, they could have chosen to look at the floor trying not to make eye contact? ‘My teenage daughter thinks she knows better than me’ he said and we kept laughing on how youngsters, as soon as they reach the age of 13-14 years old they look at their parents as if they are a nuisance or with that look on their face ‘what are you talking about, you are a dinosaur. I am young, I have a boyfriend and life is ahead of me’, ignoring the fact their poor parents are paying for their education and they might be more sexually active or better in sex that the teenage children. OK, you have the exception like the one I was reading recently, when a forty something mum was complaining her teenage daughter has a better sexual life than her......

I started my sexual life in my early twenties and you know what? I am not sorry at all for leaving it for so late. And why should I be sorry for? Missing on my education to concentrate on boys and their needs instead? The teenage years are the best to concentrate on studies and I will never forget what a Mathematics teacher once told us: ‘you will not have the same learning capability or possibilities when you will be older’. How right he was! When you are at school or University you have the time to properly concentrate on learning new subjects, assimilate new languages faster, or new musical instruments. Do you really need a boy to mess up with your brain, worry why he might do something that does not make sense at that age or why would he mess up with other girls?

But I will never forget (and how hilarious people find this) when I discovered the literature that contains sexual pages. You spend your time reading books whilst travelling to different locations and reading a book per day, sometimes reaching 100 pages per hour but how slowly you read when the author describes the sexual scenes: this was my first book on such things and it’s discovery took me by surprise. The author described the visit of Peter Romanov, the tzar Peter the Great to Versailles at the beginning of the 18th century and his affair with a French aristocratic woman. I read those pages containing their sexual act during a storm under a tree so many times, the poor book gave up on me in the end and started coming off from the middle. Since I could not discover any other books in our huge library, my next step was to read books on sexual diseases, ha ha. Thinking back about these books and their discovery in my teenage years, I cannot stop smiling on the impact they produced at that moment in time as opposed to, if they were to be discovered today. After all, we have the internet with the most shocking pictures and stories to be discovered, although I am sure there are things out there to shock, upset or to wonder me on the diversity of the human mind.

The other day I was walking towards my massage therapist and I saw from the distance a 5 years old child coming towards me on this scooter followed by the young mother and other sibling. Noticing the child did not look in front of him/her and the mother did not bother to say to the child to pay attention, I jumped on my high heels to the side of the road and you know what? The child changed direction coming straight to me to the point that almost hit me. ‘Is a child only’ said the mother without bothering to apologise or tell the child to pay attention. If the child was to step in front of the car, would the mother have said the same to the driver? Why is it convenient to hit a pedestrian or not even pay attention to the way we walk on the street? Why these mothers with rabbit like production capabilities never learn to behave like us? It was not the first time that strange things like this happened to me or I noticed happening to other women but what all these incidents had in common was the fact that the young mothers never accepted responsibility for the action of their young children. Just because they were born in unfortunate circumstances in different war torn parts of the world, does not mean they should not continue to learn or at least adapt to the new way of life?

I try not to concentrate on negative experiences but only on the positive things but it looks like my elephant memory keep remind me of everything. And by association, I always wonder, what a pleasure is to enter the premises that belong to a chain of shops as opposed to a newsagent or shop that belongs to somebody that perceives those premises as providing to their family without giving any quality of services in return. ‘You ask too many questions’ one un-educated girl said nastily from behind the counter of such a shop when I asked her only a question in order to understand what I was buying. Probably her rudeness masked the fact that she did not have the capacity to provide a coherent answer or to follow a logic. I sworn never to return to that shop but I still find myself entering to buy some sweets, although I still promise myself not to return when I noticed the family staff looks with nasty eyes at all the clients in the shop...... Now, why entering a chain shop, the assistants are polite, some even smile or some make my day. I noticed whenever I enter a certain chemist in central London which I prefer not to name, I always hear the same song with the words: ‘you are lovely, you are lovely’ and I wonder if there is the same security guys who might secretly fancy me and they always put this song to see my facial reaction. Or another chain shop where the sale assistant, finally asked me out ‘for a cup of coffee’ after flirting with me for such a long period of time. Or another chain in my area, unfortunately soon to be closed down, where I became so good friends with a girl sales assistant to the point that she told me that several customers asked her for my telephone number!!!!!!!! Wouldn’t be much better if all the people made the effort to be at least polite rather than throw abusive comments from say their cars assuming that just because one is not religious, might be spiritual, or have great values and education? But doesn’t the vocabulary of such abusive people reflect their upbringing or issues they are fighting with and the fact they do not want to change to our ways?

A positive encounter which I keep thinking about, was with this guy I met sometime ago: really gorgeous with a body to die for, fit and slim and a behind that could be featured on any poster. I met him at his hotel, on the top floor of this huge suite with a sitting room on a level and stairs leading to the attic where the bedroom was. It even had a ceiling window where I could see his gorgeous body working mine. It was similar to this historic hotel in Paris’ Saint Germain which was converted from a convent into a hotel with the top rooms similar to our hotel. A night for spending your Valentine day or your birthday, when you retire with your gorgeous partner and whilst laying in the bed you see his amazing body in the reflection of the windows above, probably this is the purpose of such hotel suites on both sides of the channel, ha ha...................... Hmmmmm, that is a view, girls, give me that any day!!!!!!

My client told me about his daughter and all her teenage tantrums which made him even more attractive, like the ‘cool daddy’ or ‘yummy thing’ and I still wonder if our paths will ever intersect again? Surely there are lots of women throwing themselves at him or maybe he likes experimenting with other girls in order not to create a dangerous addiction to a person only, either way I cannot stop dreaming that one day I will meet him again........... or why not, somebody similar.




February the 16th 2012


One day in your life it comes the time you feel like experimenting with new things and depending where you are born, it can be the peer pressure to start your sexual life or the peer pressure to have your first glass of alcohol. Thank God I was never under such a pressure, apart from when I was in holiday with a group of friends at the age of 15 and they asked me to try some liqueur. It was sweet and I loved it but I guess my palate was not ready for alcohol, after the first sip I realised that it was too strong for me, so a more ‘mentally mature’ girl than me was quick to finish my drink. But how hilarious is this programme on BBC3 ‘Sun, sex and suspicious parents’ which follows parents checking on their teenage children and their antics in different holiday locations. And then you realise indeed how the peer pressure works in the UK and how the ‘weak teenagers’ according to their parents, are pushed into having sex, kissing a stranger’s bum or drinking to oblivion until they have to crawl back to their hotels. I cannot stop laughing when the BBB’s editing team write ‘parents’ on the parent’s bus as they pass near their dear children’s locations who drink unaware of their parents’ proximity. My smile is not that huge though when at the end of the programme, the parents are quick to blame their child’ friends and not take the responsibility themselves on the way they brought up their children and their values.

I was under no peer pressure to join a sex party I attended some time ago, more like curiosity as to why people would join such events. I was under the impression that I had to go with a male partner, so on the site I have registered to join the party, a rather gorgeous architect wanted to join me. It wasn’t his first time there and despite being choosy, he was apparently known by the person who organised the parties. He was cute with his strong legs and kilt that he could have lifted easily, should he have chosen to join the party. But prior to choosing him to accompany me, I was contacted by a more mature guy who looked rather interesting in the pictures he sent to me. ‘You can come to the after party at my Dorchester hotel suite’ he said and realising that his intention was to go to the swing party purely to pick up girls and take them back to his hotel, I politely declined in order to allow him find other girls. You see, it was my first (and as it turned out only) party and I did not know what to expect, the quality of people I am going to see there and whether I am going to participate!!!!!!! I received several other invitations, probably the most interesting came from a famous lesbian singer who even wanted to take me to a Caribbean location for a relaxing and probably sex packed holiday. I am not bi and I have never been interested in women, so her offer really puzzled me………

Coming back to the party, I was very impressed with the house: probably the most unique and architecturally interesting I have ever seen. I have travelled the world mesmerised by all kind of architecture from all periods and I can honestly say this house was a piece of art: the original structure of the house was kept in place but inside, the architect cleverly built a house within a house with a Moroccan barbeque area on top of the little house leading via a stair case to the remote movable glass ceiling that covered the top of the whole house. It was here, on top of the observation deck, with 360 degrees view over London where the Dorchester guy approached me and my companion with two girls on his arm. Was he trying to make me jealous? Was he curious how I was in real life? I realised straight away it was him and asked my companion to go downstairs, remembering the mature guy approach over the phone when I refused to join him at the party, purely because I did not know if I am going to stay for 5minutes or 5 hours. ‘You want money’ he said to me over the phone. I said ‘What? Are you serious?’ after which I put the phone down. Did he chose to address me like this purely because I have a foreign accent? I will always have a slight foreign accent and there are very few languages which I speak with no accent. Having said that, I do understand the psychological background of people that make such statements, but still they manage to take me by surprise.

It took some time for my companion to join me back but when I questioned him what the Dorchester guy said, he refused to say anything. ‘Did he say negative things about me?’ I further asked him, and his negation to disclose anything, confirmed to me that indeed the Dorchester guy was indeed not a gentleman. How do you call such men who chose to draw conclusions that suit them without knowing anything? He disappeared rather soon afterwards, one would say this is the proof that he came there simply to see and insult me………

The party turned out to be the kind of mix one would expect from such parties: some gorgeous mature city guys, too polite to participate but only look from the distance near their younger girlfriends as an incentive probably to have sex later on. The young city guys, too shy to have sex with the crowd, but choosing instead to do it behind the thick curtains, with the risk of being seen by neighbours on the other side of the small courtyard. And indeed the real participants: mainly lesbian girls surrounded by young Spanish, Italian and African ancestry guys who somebody referred to as ‘Stallion gigolos’. Maybe the person who addressed them as such knew much more than me.

I only recognised a girl who looked nothing like her heavily photoshoped pictures I have seen around on adult sites. Her mistake was to add some un-glamorised pictures (probably taken by some of her friends) which made her recognisable and sometimes you cannot wonder: ‘why do girls put photoshoped pictures near normal ones or worse near videos that cannot be photoshopped?‘ I know, having only photoshopped pictures does not reflect the reality and especially if the girl does not contribute with anything else to her site, like having a blogg etc but having only lots of reviews that say how great she is when the reality is completely different, one only thinks: ‘well, whatever rocks your boat!’

I quickly realised that party was not my cup of tea, hence an early departure was required. The whole atmosphere, the whole pretentiousness of the place without having the quality of people that one would match the place did not raise any interest for me. I realised I feel better meeting a man on a one to one basis and having him all to myself: do the naughtiest of things in an environment I know with people I have exchanged some ideas and I can sense their background matches mine. Is it wrong to be sensible and choosy?




February the 9th 2012


He was gorgeous with his dark blonde hair and blue eyes and looking at his younger brother, a dark haired and blue eyes variant I was wondering who was my favourite? ‘Double trouble’ I thought and I meditated for a second who did they look like: mum or dad? But then I saw their father, a mature variant in his late ‘50s and I thought ‘miaowwww, this is where all comes from’. Pity their sister had a high pitched voice, full of hysterics and constant whinging, with a boyfriend that was so twisted, the first time I saw him I thought ‘what is she doing with this good looking gay guy?’ Probably he was trying to ‘find himself’, but hey, these were the new people moving in the flat underneath mine. Actually it was only the whinging sister and the older, blond brother but the whole family was trying to help them move in their first new flat: brother sharing with the sister. As I allowed them to pass one of their massive mirrors through my bedroom window overlooking the courtyard which belonged to their basement flat, I thought, well maybe they will remember this and will not be too noisy in these converted flats with poor insulation where one hears everything.

Her bedroom was underneath mine whereas her cute brother’s bedroom was on the other side of the small courtyard, so I could see everything in his room dominated by a massive bed with white sheets. So, it is true, the youngsters nowadays cannot be bothered with buying lots of cushions or paintings or beautiful furniture, they prefer to spend their money instead on the biggest flat TV, some gizmos and the latest electronics, maybe a car which truthfully you do not need if you live in central London with the rest of the money being spent at the weekend socialising or impressing the friends in the trendiest and the most expensive bars, clubs and restaurants.

After the friendly ‘thank you’ for allowing them to pass through my flat (after all the drug addicts above them at the back of the building would not open the door to anyone during the day as they were awake only at night when they were fighting, arguing or disturb the rest of the building with cooking and burning the food sometimes on a nightly basis) I never heard from my basement neighbours. I could see and hear them preparing every Friday with the showering, music etc before going out, with the ‘blonde stallion’ which I shall call BS bringing back to his flat a girl at the end of the night.

I thought that BS is going to be more discreet and buy some curtains to put at his French door leading to the courtyard or maybe he was an exhibitionist, I thought. One night, soon after midnight, me and my boyfriend at that time were about to go to sleep when we were disturbed by noises coming from the basement flat and I could not believe what I saw my eyes: BS having sex with a girl. It was the first time I saw other people having sex, I was a bit shocked. These people are your neighbours, they live near you, is not like they are some complete strangers! The girl was so skinny, she did not even have breasts when she was on her back with the legs in the air and man, what a bush she had!!!!!!!!!!!!! He did not even go down on her, maybe this was the reason, but after calling my boyfriend to see what I was seeing, I could hardly drag him back to sleep. ‘Shall I bring coke and popcorn?’ I laughed at him, as he was sitting there for more than 15 minutes watching them. I thought this is going to be a one off, but no, the following Friday, BS brought home another girl. This girl was tall and skinny, again no breasts and the session lasted much shorter. I thought, OK, let’s tell BS's sister about what I thought was too embarrassing to tell him. ‘He is going to have a huge laughter’ she said, when I told her about this, and straight away I thought how immature they are despite their wishes to have full of responsibility, well paid jobs. Ten minutes later, there was BS knocking at my door with a pretence to borrow something. He had a huge smile on his face as if a naughty kid has been caught playing with his friend’s toy. No embarrassment, nothing. At least he bought some curtains, so no more visions for me and my curious, fantasist ex.

But isn’t this interesting? A professional woman would be probably be so embarrassed to be seen by complete strangers, naked or having sex, whereas most of men do not care much. It shocks me when sometimes I see girls in the changing areas of my gym revealing themselves to have a full grown bush that probably never experienced a trim or girls who display a complete shaven pussy. I try never to look, or worse, make eye contact but I feel sorry for the little boys 6 or 8 years old brought my their mums or nannies for the swimming lessons who stare at these naked women’s bodies. The vision is going to haunt them for the rest of their lives, no wonder that according to statistics, most of the UK boys start their sexual life around the age of 16 or 17, some of them even starting it at the age of 14 years old. My ex told me that he started his sexual life so early purely because he saw naked women at his local gym when he was a little boy.

Everything is questionable at that young age and I do not know who to blame more: the mums or the nannies who do not use rooms dedicated for changing, the culture we live in or the little boys themselves for not taking the option of adopting different values or simply not looking?

The mature pervert that filmed me once, apparently filmed other women he asked to jump on the bed with him in order to be in the middle of the view point of his little camera hidden in a wooden box. I was too naive and too polite to ask him why he would like such a thing that not only was strange but did not produced any pleasure. Eventually he got caught by other girls, had the film destroyed and surely if he did not stop such a hobby that was not consented by both parties, by now he could be behind bars. After all, there are lots of girls who like to be filmed and lots who do not like that. Even the most twisted of people should accept the other party’ wish and respect it. Otherwise we would not live in a democracy.




February the 2nd 2012


‘Why do we like a bad boy?’ a recent article asked women and I could not stop and meditate for a minute about this issue. But most importantly ‘do women like a bad boy?’ I asked myself. And the answer was ‘no’. The writer of the article made the classic mistake of associating a bad boy with a well known Hollywood actor portraying a bad boy in some series and yes, he is tall, good looking and successful, all making it so hard for women to refuse his advances. But does this really portray reality? What man or woman for that matter would like to get involved in a relationship with somebody of the opposite sex or even get married knowing that despite he or she brings home good bucks to support their kids but in return has to put up with his or her lifelong unfaithfulness. And trust me the majority will give you a categorical ‘no’.

Forget about French, as they say that wives in France have to put up with the husbands’ affairs even in a small community, since we do not live there, let’s concentrate on what we know and take for example two guys equally good looking, equally intelligent and having maybe the same salary. But one is well known to have a flirting reputation with new girlfriends at every opportunity and leading the life of a lothario. This might take him through his very first years of escapades but trust me, several years down the road this lifestyle will show on his face just the way the drinking habits of a man used with lots of alcohol on a daily basis will show after a while. And whilst satisfying his needs for new carnal pleasures, comes a time when he will look around and will notice that all his friends are married with children, happy and with a loving wife, and some acquiring in the process the mature beauty that all of us acquire after years of blissful happiness with somebody we know, love and trust. A friend of mine who is very successful in his business he used to say: ‘who needs sex? Making big bucks gives me a bigger thrill’. OK, not everyone is fortunate in life to make lots of money, but doesn’t this summarise what makes us happy in life instead of having sex all the time? For some is money, some a great family life, some travelling around the world or maybe even helping others.

But coming back to the original question and the need to associate it with some famous Hollywood faces, isn’t this actually very frustrating when you analyse it from this point of view? Come on, compare the face of a baddie from a 1970 movie or worse a 1920 mute movie and what conclusion can you draw? Whereas in the 1920’s mute movies the baddies were fat, maybe bald, hairy and ugly always being made fun of, in the 1970s cowboy movies for example, the baddies have missing teeth, they are ugly, badly dressed as opposed to the ‘good cowboy’ who is always shining and gorgeous, a true beacon of hope for the helpless woman. Yes, I am sarcastic.

But take a baddie from our times and he is equally good looking as the main character, sometimes even better looking (we all have our fantasies) with shiny white teeth, shiny shoes, a great hair cut and that razor sharp jaw. Gone are the bad clothes of the baddies from previous generations, today’s baddies are dressed in designer clothes and can make even better bucks than the main character.

But isn’t this discrepancy between reality and movies even more confusing for the new generations and top it up with articles written probably by the educated exponents of this young generation who are day dreaming thinking they can make millions and get the guy purely because they have a University Degree?

The conclusion is that whilst we might not be attracted to a bad boy but we always dream of changing the bad boy, make him better and why not, ours. But the bad boys are always craftier, smarter and more inventive purely because they have to cover their tracks more often than the decent guys who cannot be bothered to lead a life full of lies. And if one has a smart partner that sooner or later will find out what he does all the time, the question is: ‘is it all really worth it?’ OK, we are not all perfect and we all have our little escapades until we find the one or until we learn the one is worth giving it all away and then we settle down but isn’t it worse when one gave up away only to discover many years later that it was all for nothing. Yes, this is the worst case scenario when you discover that all your sacrifices were for nothing, but hey, no one can predict that your partner is going to behave in such a way. The best is to ran away from that person and try to forget what made everything happy near him or her. Could take months or years but eventually the healing comes………..

Talking about bad boys knowing how to cover their tracks, I always remember the situation when I went clubbing with a girl who does nothing else but being involved in this business and after some 30 minutes of being chatted by some guys who looked like baddies, except they were not my style at all, the guy who was chatting my friend comes to me and asks me ‘how is working together?’ You see my lady friend told him that we worked together, whilst the two guys talked in advance what they are going to say to girls regarding their jobs ect. I saw this scenario repeated on so many occasions and it always amazed me how guys always prepare their answer or say ‘you have to ask my friend for that’, whereas girls chose to lie on behalf of the friend rather than say ‘ask my friend’. Why is that occurring? Because baddies are prepared for covering their tracks. It wasn’t the first time they did this.

So, don’t forget when a baddie comes your way, shagg him, use him and take every little breath of him, after all that is what he wants. He has a sexual potential that not everyone possesses at that moment in time and he wants to participate in a un-written fantasy. Well, I met him recently: he was tall, rosy cheeked, successful and stylish. He was not a baddie 'per se' but he leads the life of a baddie and who am I to blame him? The gorgeous penthouse in a well known hotel probably contributed to our elevated arousal (or maybe is me to blame, as I am always naughtier in a place I do not know) and for the very first time I have tried things I have not tried before. He was very keen to try them and never said once ‘no’. My only disappointment was that after so many hours together, he was really tired. But deep inside I am wondering how would I have behaved if I was to accept his male friend to join us? Was he a baddie too, equally gorgeous and thrilling? Who can say no to a good cock? Hmm




January the 25th 2012


I was meditating the other day about the news that, following the success of Sex and the city, the Hollywood producers want now to make a series of the ‘Teen years’. Imagine that, somebody plays with a squeaky voice the puberty years or what precedes the ‘sex years‘, which surely will come with a string of boyfriends, fantasies, maybe some bullying - aren’t we all subjected more or less to all this in our teens? - but without the sexual innuendo we got accustomed to see repeatedly after 11pm on our TV channels. I mean, come on, you milked the cow and re-milked it for a decade with a series and two movies, now move on and let nineties be nineties - I remember how shocked I was looking at the first poster back in the days, featured in the morning everywhere on the streets as I was walking in the morning rush hour. Seeing the word ‘sex’ written in big letters everywhere and afterwards becoming normal to tell everyone ‘hey sexy’ without becoming reddish with embarrassment, but didn’t this change the perception of the new generation? Gone are the times when in the ‘30s or ‘40s you had women like Ginger Rogers, Claudette Colbert even Mae West being told they had ‘sex appeal’ purely because of the glamorous way they dressed, when nowadays you take the young girl reaching 16 stones who just because she squeezes herself in a short skirt and a small top with rolls of fat on the belly exposed but looking taller with the help of very high heels and despite screaming on top of her lungs for something un-intelligible or intelligent, making a huge fuss of herself in a cold night out fuelled by tonnes of booze, you will have a guy who will give her pretences of attractiveness by calling her ‘sexy’ when she has nothing to ‘touch’ or ’to do’ with the term or the term of ‘sex appeal’. Talking about how a decade changes the world wide perception of several worlds in our vocabulary with the unique scope of delivering programmes that reach millions, purely viewed from scoring point of view and not quality of the programme. No wonder some people invent now a new English vocabulary that does not make any sense to the educated English people, maybe in some 50 years this newly adopted vocabulary will be used everywhere.

Not that the movie did not touch some interesting points but how delusional that was: you take a good looking writer who surely came up with lots of ‘made up’ facts - at least they have more interesting stories to tell as opposed to the ugly writers, who come on, we have to be honest, how many ‘interesting things’ happen to the ugly girls; hence the need to make up stories - and brings three other ‘friends’ who never seem to be perfect as her, as she is never as sexualised as one of the friends, or too stuck up like the other, or too career orientated like another one. Does it mean the ‘teen years’ will be packed with more ‘not so perfect friends’? Surely they will be gossiping a bitching a lot and I cannot stop laughing thinking how often I was meditating about this issue and how women who seem to be ‘staying at corners’ slating the others seem to be living longer? Apparently even scientists came to this conclusion, ‘gossip is good’ they say, and since is backed by scientists (yes I am sarcastic now) we have to accept it too. Since scientists said that a women touching her hair whilst in a conversation with a man, means she is flirting with that man, now every man thinks this must be a sign that woman is interested in him. Thank God this kind of rubbish is limited to English speaking countries as nowhere in Germany, Finland, Greece or other parts of the world, men will think of that when having a conversation with a work colleagues or any other woman. But doesn’t really drive you mad, when you are passing through a really bad period of time in your life and go in a shop to be asked by a complete stranger who simply works there: ‘are you OK madam?’ I am thinking, no, I am not OK, I feel like punching people, I am so mad. A smile from her should have been OK, she did not care if I am OK nor she can do anything about my issues. That was a period of time in my life following a bad break up for me, not for him though. He chose to torment me for quite sometime with his lies so in the end I had to cut completely any connections with him. But what a fool I was to still go in holidays with him thinking he is trying to used this method to get back with me but only when being in Varadero for example I realised I was wasting my time: so every morning I decided to direct my anger and energy by having long runs on the beach whilst giving him the chance to wank himself in our room. I realised that enough was enough when in Vegas he put a blanket between us before going to sleep as if I will try to shagg him when he was asleep!!!!!!!!!!???????????

Some men can be so deluded! I decided to take the underground some time ago to see a client as it was faster than travelling by car when, as I was standing near the front door and absent minded I was dreaming what I am going to do my client, I noticed this guy looking at me intensely. My eyes changed from the absent stare to the ‘making eye contact’ for a second. Probably he thought that ‘we had a moment’ because he turned his back onto me. It was so rude, so tangible, so in my face, although he was some 3-4 metres away from me that he made me think briefly of what that actually meant: surely he noticed me (although I have not noticed him up to that point), probably he fancied me (unfortunately the thought was not shared) but most importantly he wanted to make this memorable as if saying: ‘me, me, me, me’ or ‘I have a girlfriend or boyfriend’ etc. I always remember this scene when trying to analyse how deluded some people are and try to explain to otherd things that do not make much sense but you have to read between the lines. Most importantly my shagging trip was great, thank God the return train trip was less memorable. Who needs lots of memories to add to an elephant memory anyway?

Some years ago I was in Santa Monica and I saw this skinny guy with a big nose poking out of his huge hood trying to fish. I asked him ‘any luck with the fishing?’ ‘Not really’ he replied. In a split of a second, looking at his face lots of memories came to me and I asked him: ‘isn’t your name X?’ ‘How do you know?’ he replied. ‘And weren’t you a DJ in this Y Middle Eastern town?’ He could not believe it that, some 10000 miles away from a far away location and some 15 years later I was able to remember him, purely the friend of a friend.

More interestingly 6 months ago, while briefly attending this new gym, I saw a gorgeous guy, just the way I like my guys: tall, great muscles, full of integrity. I only saw him looking at the mirror from time to time but as I am not a starer, only now 6 months later when re-joining the gym, I remembered all the details of that split of a second: he was also looking at me through the mirror, but shy me, as I moved too fast and thinking that he could be a married guy or guy with a girl friend, that he is not interested in another women. I am saying this because I met him briefly some 2 months ago as he was dating, searching for ‘the one’ but only when re-joining the gym I realised that I met him before in that gym. The conclusions I am drawing is that indeed despite having a great memory, returning to a certain location helps me open some tiny rooms in my brain packed with lots of details like colour of items or even smells. It looks though I cannot change and not be this shy person who tries to be business like with a great shake of a hand but inside my poor soul is trembling with anticipation of negative things that normally are to be expected. I always wondered why cannot I be like one of my ex-s, who psychologists tend to call ‘the General’ purely because of his bull like passage through life, destroying everything in his path either on a personal or business level, with no much education but oh, so many achievements. Pacifists tend to say ‘what goes around, comes around’ but does it ever?




January the 20th 2012


I have always been very sporty, which combined with my passion together with studies of different forms of dance and art in general probably formed my body and mind. Romans used to say ‘Mens sana in corpore sano’ or ‘healthy mind in healthy body’ which Chinese seem to be very keen to be accredited with as I recently discovered in my trip to a well known institute in Beijing, despite our knowledge this a well known Latin motto????!!!!!!!! So no wonder, that continuing my interests in different sports and probably because of my lack of different vitamins that seem to affect my body in different ways, subconsciously I have decided to train hard in the gym: my legs, behind, even the stomach that sometimes (if not full of liquids or food) can sport the shape of a six pack: not that I want that but it looks like the hundreds of sit up and leg raises that I do for medical reasons to straighten my poor back bone affect other muscular parts of my body. The gym code I learned long time ago to mind my business and be respectful towards others was recently disturbed by this guy with some massive head phones as if having bigger ears, a funny orange T shirt and shorts as if he was new to the UK and the gym. I was looking at him for quite some time as I wanted to use a machine behind him he was blocking and seeing him stop for a second I thought that he finally acknowledged me: ‘can I use’ I started my sentence at which point he shouted at me ‘don’t you see that I am exercising?’ ‘I wanted to use the machine behind you’ I briefly told him, but before that he started his tirade of abuse at me. I could not believe that a person that was supposed to be educated would speak without thinking or listening the end of a sentence. ‘I doubt you would have spoken like this if I was a big guy’ I told him to which he replied ‘I am a sensible man’. This sentence made me actually briefly meditate about how many people I have encountered who chose to assume they are sensible, thoughtful or polite, thinking they are entitled to something subconsciously, but so not in touch with reality? There are so many people like this around us and long time ago I realised there is a hierarchy of abuse we tend to practice. Imagine several categories of people, like the steps of a ladder, with each group bullying the smaller or younger groups than them: the category of big older men, bullying the category of younger men, but both categories bullying women, all three categories bullying younger women but all these bullying younger, good looking and maybe fashionable women. Of course this does not apply to everyone, but how much sense this made to my friends who identified who the last category and received lots of abuse from the other categories……

The ‘sensible man’ not only further stepped on my mat twice, this showing not only how blind he was but completely oblivious to his environment, and probably the massive head phone did not help him in this matter, but suspiciously started using this heavy metal disc moving from his left to his right towards me. Imagine having this liability near you, coming from a man who thinks and behaves like this. What would happened if ‘by mistake’ he would drop this metal disc? Later on he left his towel for more than 10 minutes on his bench as if marking his territory and to ensure that no one would dare to use his spot. Whether you are in a gym or on the street, this kind of encounters with some rude people tends to change your perception to your environment and I keep wondering ‘why is London such an angry place, packed with people keen on being nasty or worse prepared to steal from you in different ways’? More on this on another occasion.

I am fortunate though sometimes to meet some very nice people and probably of great importance is the fact that I am so choosy. Don’t get me wrong, I sometimes get the funny calls from the same guy who does not have any self respect for himself and keeps calling speaking with an accent I hardly understand and will not take no for an answer. The nice people I meet create the balance and I cannot forget this amazing guy I met recently: I haven’t laughed so much in ages, my cheeks were actually hurting. It was my first time using electricity based devices which he brought with himself and naughty me, I kept pushing and pushing him further after I tied him to the bed with some scarves. But how awful I felt when several hours later after ending our fun, I received a message from him saying that after he left me he had to go urgently to the hospital due to some blood clots. I offered to visit him at his location outside London thinking the worst and promised myself to keep in touch with him several days later. But imagine my surprise when ‘several days later’ I discovered another review detailing his trip to a dungeon. ‘Ah, he must be very well then’ I thought, so silly me, as usual I blamed myself for caring too much about people.

But aren’t I the person who had not only pigeons sitting calmly at my 4th floor window listening to my music whilst watching me, but even had a squirrel coming to my kitchen via the pipes outside the building, leaving little marks on the kitchen tops and advancing some three metres into my flat? Even the little mouse who kept walking nonchalantly in my kitchen while I was on the phone with my legs up, or watched me from underneath the washing machine could not be bothered much about my presence, so probably they all sensed my calming environment and quiet persona. Jumping around and shouting when seeing a mouse or rat? You must be joking. I shouted more when the gym guy took me by surprise with his pathetic approach.

Some years ago I was in the underground in the morning rush hour when I was surprised to discover something touching my behind in a rather conspicuous way. ‘Is that a hard on somebody is having early in the morning?’ I thought as I turned to see if this is true? The owner, a rather gorgeous dark haired guy in his early thirties did not even glimpse as he looked straight at me. I did not read embarrassment or shock in his eyes. He looked like he was rather pleased with himself and probably he knew that women like me will not make a fuss of it, will just politely try to move further away in the crowded train. What could I have said without attracting the attention and maybe smile in the morning train: ‘Sir, can you move your hard on away from me’ or ‘Sir, you are gorgeous, can I have your telephone number, if you are always so potent in the morning?’ I remember on another occasion, the train stopped brusquely which had me gyrating around the pole I was holding onto and making me land on the lap of this good looking guy who started smiling happily and not complaining. ‘I am so sorry’ I said straight away. It could have been worse, he could have had a jealous partner near him landing abuses at me, as I normally get for no reason.

Would I have gotten this kind of reaction if I was a show off, loud ‘look at me’ kind of person or a short girl covered in spots or with funny skin and a silly dress code like ‘I am a little student with no money?’ Probably not.




January the 13th 2012


There I was, crossing the big intersection that separated me from my taxi and his hotel. I was wearing the striking but simple red dress as he requested with the tiniest of bikini matching one of my huge bras, stockings and suspenders I was hoping would not leave any lines on my dress. Surely in the mass of black City suits I looked very striking and I was hiding my embarrassment behind some huge black glasses. You see, I have never been a fan of showing off, I prefer to chose a ‘blending’ approach and dress according to the location, time of day and carry my ‘accessories’ in my bag or hide my body in a decent coat. ‘You look like the blonde in The Matrix, actually better’ he said as he welcomed me with a kiss on the cheeks in front of the hotel. But isn’t that what he wanted, all the suits to pay attention with the corner of their eyes to me as my peripheral vision kept telling me. And he wanted to be seen as he met me. Surely I was shaking my body from right to left as I always do when I wear high heels as if I have my own cat walk and I wished that for once I would walk differently and that years of sports and dance would not have made my walk so athletic and shaky, ha ha!

Yes, we all have strange fantasies but as long as I am not asked to walk in my underwear in the street I do not have a problem with satisfying one’s desires. I am not an exhibitionist but aren’t I the girl with the most varied of clothing to match any of the demands? From rock chick girl to super glamorous and discreet, all organised and waiting their turn in their packs or boxes. I remember I was in Soho recently looking for a taxi soon after midnight to take me home and a guy shouted at me ‘you look like that girl from that series, The sex and the city girl!’ Surely he was referring to my walk which I recently discovered that all these people telling me the same thing could be right: I was looking through some pictures from the valley of the Kings in Luxor downloaded on my computer when I discovered a 10 second video clip of me, probably when I was trying to take pictures using the timer on my camera and by mistake I hit another button in the 40 degrees Celsius. With a smile on my face I discovered that indeed I tend to walk moving my behind to a higher degree that the normal female population. I remember a friend of mine once told me that he is a sex addict purely because he cannot resist a woman’s shapes or the way she walks. Of course he missed altogether on blaming his testosterone level, but again he was very young and he did not understand issues related to all this. I only told him he was fortunate to be born in this time and age where we try to understand such things and find a scientific explanation and a way to minimise the negative impact this might create on a man’s life. But imagine he was born in the Middle Ages and not the son of a powerful or influential person or even nowadays in certain parts of the world where shagging lots of local women in a small community is punishable in different ways!

Indeed some people have a higher sexual drive and there is no need to hide it, but more to understand it. As life progresses and especially if this person is an ambitious person and prefers to concentrate on daily life and being a high achiever at work and not rely on his sexual drive to take him through life, surely the daily routine, then a committed life with a wife, children and problems will minimise the sexual drive. Basically one has two options: either let the testosterone level ruin or dictate the lifestyle or learn how to direct all this energy in a beneficial way. But again, the girls he was shagging just to do some friction, even he was embarrassed hours or days later. In time he learned to be choosier when he wanted to have sex and just like me, he learned to strike a balance and just not go for every single girl that threw herself to him but have sex for a long period of time with the person he chose based on looks, sex drive and IQ levels.

Many times you see men who were simply gorgeous in their twenties and as they let different insecurities or bad traits to take over their lives that make them not interesting at all, grumpy and unsociable in their mature years (and I am not talking about them getting a few lines) whereas plenty of guys who were not attractive at all as youngsters and turn out magnificently in their say ‘40s purely because of their life style, achievements and inner beauty, now reflected on their faces. And trust me, these guys are yummy even when they are in their ‘60s. Everything is about a balance!!!!

But talk about balance to the little freak that destroyed my night out recently. That guy, just like others have that inner nastiness that probably is passed down through his genetic line and I wonder if our society and way of life will manage to change him? I was about to go home when his friends approached me, talking about my body and my hair and how much they liked that. I thanked them but ignored them after so eventually they all left trying their charms on other girls. But here comes this guy in his mid to late twenties, very well dressed and he says to me: ‘if I pay you, will you come to my place?’ I was shocked. I never go out to find a guy to shagg, in fact if a guy really insists to take me home I always mention to them that nothing is going to happen. But this guy was there to hurt me and make me feel like an insect, as probably this gave him a sense of superiority and surely later on he will go to his friends to tell them he is the man!!!!!! I could have told him to ask this question his mother or sister, as a friend of mine tells this to guys in order to upset them but I chose to say only ‘you are pathetic’ with a mental note to once again stay clearly away and not even allow guys from a certain part of the world to address me. You see this was not the first time this happened to me and as I have a very long memory I tend to remember my experiences and stories from the media that until recently, living in a politically correct society, one wasn’t allowed to disclose.

I was so upset with myself, probably more upset than I wanted to recognise and being a very sensitive person, I guess my immune system gave up on me. The next day I woke up with a minor flu, bad skin and feeling all down and depressed. Thank God I learned my lesson in the past and had all the necessary medication near me and eventually several days later I felt better. But I cannot wonder, what is wrong with these people? Why don’t they learn to integrate and behave like us, why don’t they want to learn from the positive things our society gives to them and they only take, take, take and don’t give back. Some people pass like ducks through water in life and they make lots of noises! Sometimes I wish I was a Superwoman and have an invisible finger that makes them kick though the air, bends and twists them and everyone makes fun of them. Maybe then, they will learn how to treat others with respect. Or maybe they just need a life coach to take them by hand for the rest of their lives and tell them: ‘you are a bad, bad boy, you should be punished’. Will they learn from their mistakes and maybe speak to women in a polite and respectful way? Wishful thinking.




January the 9th 2012


Last week I was watching Mamma Mia, the movie set in an idyllic Greek island and I was wondering why our lives, the normal people, cannot be similar to those of the characters in the movies, where everything ends perfectly and everybody lives happily ever after. Or at least to have a small percentage of luck of all these movie stars/glamour models etc who seem to be living in their own blockbuster! I remember years ago I was in a relationship that led to nothing would be put mildly! Nevermind breaking my heart despite investing so much in that relationship: physically, emotionally, financially but really dragged me through a stage of lies and depression that my memory who never ceased to amaze me, keeps reminding me to always read between the lines. But I remember, in the period of time I was with him Britney got married, gave birth to her children, divorced, even had the time to shave her head!!!!!!!!!! What I got in return? Lies, lies, lies.........

I have to thank my father for making me ever so happy and positive and eventually I started waking up with a smile on my face, got my energy back and even managed to start shagging again........... after an abstinence of several years, getting rid of my under skin spots (aren’t they the most annoying?) and being able to somehow put a tap on my juices: yes, some of us are born with it; thanks to all those who advised me to become a Porn Star but I will never be interested in that..... probably I will break the box office, ha ha.

Now coming back to Mamma Mia and the contrast to my experience and I cannot wonder ‘why does it always rain on me?’ I remember I was in a beautiful Mediterranean location with amazing sands where yes, boy meets girl. I met a local boy, rather gorgeous and not that stupid as his family was in the gold trade and one night he started kissing me passionately on an empty beach not far from my summer holiday home. One thing led to another, but why on earth did I have to almost lose my leggings? We kept searching for them, after the ‘sex on the beach’ session ended, only to discover my poor leggings some 20 metres away washed on the beach by the waves. I even contemplated briefly me running in my almost transparent long shirt, if I could use it as a dress and with a bit of luck not to come across any neighbours, some more religious than others. So what do you do after sex, with all that water moving? You either want to sleep or you think that you want to go to toilet: ‘I need a wee now’ was my case, yet you do not want to leave the guy near you. Probably that was my first attempt for water sports, but hey, it was encouraged by him..... Until now I do not understand why, as normally mature guys like this, especially after being ‘baptised’ by their babies...........

I have always been a very organised person, so organised that I am even able to put make up in the dark! Some years ago I was returning from Las Vegas with my ex and despite going First Class, paid by him, he did not manage to convince me to spare my money on an upgrade return. So we came back in economy where I was at the window, my ex in the middle and near him, near the alley, what he called a ‘bum’ who has been gambling his New year’s eve money in Reno. After eating, my ex turns to my beautifully organise tray, better organised than his with only two little boxes where I squashed my rubbish, as opposed to his where there were some four little boxes or worse, his neighbour’s where there was a mountain of rubbish deposited on his tray and he says to me whilst pointing to my tray: ‘super anal’, then points to his tray saying ‘anal’, then to his neighbours’ tray saying ‘wanker’!!!!!

Besides the funny side, I think this defined how organised I am compared to most of the people, but recently I have discovered that I have my moments when I just throw on a chair some micro tiny bikini near to an expensive dress and shawl or a massive bra (that even managed to pass me through security at the Japanese airports: a cocky guy in his 30’s which apparently in Japan is the spoilt generation, checking my luggage discovered a small pack with something hard in it. He opened only to discover some four massive bras which were part of my 10 kg ‘support team’ through several countries in South East Asia. But he still wanted to show me who is the boss and he called this little 5 feet Japanese girl to pat my body, especially my breasts and the area between the legs!!!!!??????? Whatever for? What was the logic in that? There were people travelling with some 4 pieces of luggage without being stopped, looking funny and smelly and there I was, elegant and smart after having travelled Business Class to Tokyo from Kuala Lumpur to be stopped at what I though is going to be the most civilised country on earth! Wrong, you pass though several levels of security in Malaysia in order to reach Japan and yet the Japanese want to show you they know better! I think some people in some parts of the world are very strange with a strange logic indeed!!!!!!!!!

Coming back to how disorganised I can briefly be sometimes and how my clothes lay around as if I was in a major sex session with shoes thrown to an end, a suspender belt to another, I wonder if this is the work of my ghost? It looks like he or she likes talking off constantly the thin strap of my nighties, in which I lazily wander around the house and to drop it to reveal my breasts: whether I am cooking, ironing or doing whatever. Since it is only me and him/her I cannot stop thinking if he/she will be bothered to push my dildos up and down inside me (yes, I know ever so naughty me) as me doing this does not give me any thrill. I need the real McCoy, somebody else doing this for me in order to dry me up. Those girls who can do it on their own should consider themselves ever so fortunate: the trick does not seem to work on me. A friend of mine says she can do it up to the point she blacks, out or the way I put it ‘until her cataract kicks in’, ha ha




January the 4th 2012

AREN'T I A LOVER?????????????????????????

OK, this might not make sense to you if you are a man, especially over six feet tall (unless you are like one of my friends who works in advertising/fashion and likes wearing the sheepskin coat or some floral shirts which give him the edge, and no, he is not gay) but how much abuse/harassment or even stalking us girls have to put up with for reasons that might make you laugh or .......... cry. Some of the stories are so unbelievable, most of my friends remain completely shocked to the point that once, I remember and I cannot stop laughing as I write, a fly entered the mouth of one of my friend as I attempted to tell him ‘close your mouth dear’. We all laughed with tears after, not sure if shocked about my story or about the end of the fly!

More recently, a more mature guy I met via a social site, later disclosed after several messages we have exchanged, that he was married with grown up children. In all honesty I am not keen in having an affair with a married guy despite him saying he is un-happy and looking to find somebody else before divorcing his wife. Some guys even insist their wife is a drunk and she is not interested in him, but I decided a long time ago, after getting burned myself, this is a no go area and surely there is more than meets the eye and there is also a different side of the story. He looked cool and shaggable in his picture sailing his boat, a real man that looked probably more interesting than he was in his twenties. After all, he expressed himself in a very elegant manner and the years spent managing different companies made him all so interesting. As soon as he disclosed that he was married I decided however that I am not prepared to have an affair, after all is not like having several hours of fun........ We left it to that and I thought that he moved on, but no, some one week later I received another message from him asking to meet him and see where this goes. I categorically refused him, saying that he ‘fully knows what he really wants’. Apparently this drove him mad, as almost instantaneously I received a message that ‘I should learn to know my place’ and that he is ‘a very powerful man with lots of connections’ that can destroy my life and make it miserable. I wasn’t that shocked, after it was not the first time I received these kind of messages, but what shocked me was the fact that even a highly educated and achieved person can behave with such low manners and drag himself from the pedestal I put him. How many times you come across a decent man in the street, full of integrity and decency, respect and accomplishment and you think ‘well done Sir, you have my esteem’. It wasn’t me who contacted him, it wasn’t me asking of anything from him and yet I had to put up with this abuse again!!!!

At least I have not met him and worse, be stalked the way it happened in the past with other people. You try to be friendly and polite and see that he enters your house, amusingly checking every corner, even after the screen that covers you shoe boxes to see if there is something hidden in there, then drinks a whole bottle of whiskey you think ‘come on babe, don’t die in an alcoholic coma here’ or ‘don’t let your cataract kick in at my place’ and then not be able to drive to his place. Then he comes back with pretences of boyfriend and he keeps ringing your buzzer hoping to get in your building!!!! But I learned a lesson long time ago: never run away from a stalker or avoid a discussion with him. Talk to him in a mature, calm way saying that you moved on and most importantly, delivered in a nonchalant way by you, that he is not the first to do these kind of things. After all, the stalkers want to be original babies! The realisation they are not, brings them to reality like a cold shower, although surely they will call you ‘fucking bitch’ or other names. They are innocent little things and you are so bad and you will be so sorry to discover what a better path they are following......... The trick they are doing is always to work on your conscience and the un-known that is our worst enemy: weren’t we the little girls who played with dolls pretending to be princesses waiting for their prince or read novels where the knight fought for their love? Well, wake up girls, no one is fighting for you, you have to fight for yourself! It is a jungle out there and you might be oblivious to your surrounding when you are in your teens or twenties, protected by your parents who say ‘you are so green and naive’ but sooner or later you will discover life if a long path of discoveries and little battles. Nothing is set in stone and however highly educated, travelled or experienced you might be, there will always be those things to test you and lose the faith in human beings.

I remember some time ago I was exchanging emails with a guy who said he would like to meet for several hours. Nothing wrong with that and we discussed the dress code and other outfits, but by the n-th message I said is the time to finalise the location, time and everything else. I have not heard from him for several days and I thought ‘OK, he just likes wasting time and working on a fantasy’ so no big loss, moving on, but then he decided to respond in a similar manner. I asked him to meet somebody else and I thought that was the end of it. But no, he came back with a very nasty response saying that I am like Glenn Miller in Fatal Attraction, hunting him and making myself a nuisance. I thought ‘What???????????’ ‘Are you real boy?’ I realised he was a nut case, but again he was not the first and probably will not be last. After all is not like when I was some 4000 miles from here when several cars were following me asking my male friends who were in the car with me to give me to these guys who surely did not want to give me an early birthday present. Or worse on another occasion when a group of men kept me and my friend and threatened us with shot guns. Until today I never realised why we were kept against our will, even though for a short period of time..... But I really don't like when somebody hits me on top of my head to lose my consciousness just to make their point and only be saved by my friend and a cillinder of methane. This happened on two occassions in my life, being hit and lose the consciousness, not being saved, and I disliked it every single time. After all, if I wanted to get hit in the head for no reason I would have tried to become a high performance sports person like say a boxer or kung fu fighter...........

All my friends know that I am a very good judge of character and can tell certain things about a person purely by looking at a picture, or worse can tell things that are going to happen (after all isn’t our face an expression of our souls and more or less we follow the pattern dictated by the emotions set that rule our behaviour?) but recently I discovered that I am a lip reader too, ha ha. I know this does not do me any favours as we all want to think we are un-penetrable and especially men do not like somebody that can read them. They might say things like ‘I like an intelligent woman with great body and kissable lips’ but what he means is that he wants a woman who is not that stupid or at least she knows how to say the right things at the right time and not talk too much, but yes, to look after herself and shagg him desperately. Well, mind you, if you are famous your money will cover most of these things anyway, so do not worry much! You look at these young celebs with a decent face and body and you can see that you cannot read much intelligence there, even though some might have a degree, but does this mean that mean you are a very intelligent person? Most amazingly, you see the same people in their ‘30s or ‘40s looking the same as when they were in their ‘20s with the same facial expression, and no, not because of botox or other stuff, and then you realise they live on a completely different planet: ‘planet sweet’ or ‘planet ignorance’ or ‘planet look at me’. But there is nothing more to read there.........

I was looking recently at the picture of the boyfriend of a friend and she was amazed to discover that everything I told her about his personality was completely true and sorry, I had to tell her the truth that he is going to break her heart. But at least she was enjoying his shags, because that guy looked like dynamite in bed. Not good looking, or what I perceive as good looking, but he had that kind of sexual energy and dominance that some people do possess. It is mainly a quality of Latin people and I am saying this from experience. You meet this guy and shags you so hard you feel like crossed by a train. You think that your head as at one side of the bed to discover that actually is at the other end. And no, I was not drunk. A man’s sexuality plays so many tricks on your head, you forget he is not that good looking. Even the stories that his grandparents used to do it in their ‘90s as he heard them as a child when playing around the house, only contributes to the conviction that your partner owes his sexuality to his ancestors. The stories how he travelled between the UK and the Mediterranean in his small 2 seat plane with a handkerchief on top of his head to stop the sun burning his head and with a battery operated fan to keep him cool only tells you what a great personality he has and the sex is going to be just as good.

Yes, I like men. You cannot live with or without them, as some they are really good at making your life a living hell, but until then why not enjoy staring at their tight bottoms, covered or not in hair, scratch their back if they do not have a partner, touch their pectorals or..... flab and kiss those ideally full lips and enjoy the smell of coffee or chocolate (rather than red wine or smelly foods) when you get their delicate or powerful kiss. Aren’t I a lover, ha ha?




December the 27th 2011


I recently spent some thrilling hours with an amazing lover: he was into experimenting with lots of things, kind, considerate and very delicate with some parts of my anatomy that required a more detailed attention, whilst others he managed to dry them completely after hours of elaborate shagging.. But above all, he paid attention and remembered the little details that I mentioned to him will drive any girl mad and the order in which they should be done. You cannot just do a certain technique for hours when you can experiment with several techniques and positions, all dedicated to maximise the thrill. But probably the most I liked the fact that he is so choosy with girls he meets and just like me he thinks the brain is the biggest sex organ. We want to be stimulated by intelligent people with great stories and conversation skills who can impress us not only with the jokes and self deprecating narration but also with a sexy voice that reveals how naughty they can get. Give me a person like this any day, rather than the Porn Star with the IQ of a peanut or the PhD student with the personality of a blank page. Not that you cannot find some great people in these two categories……

But he reminded me the contrast between him and a fellow guy working in the same industry in the City, although the other has a high profile position that I was wondering whether subconsciously dictated the way he performed when we were in private. He was not gorgeous but had something ‘je ne sais quoi’ that made him attractive: a combination of a very fit body, slim but with great muscles as he likes training every day, with clothes that always looked perfect on him making him look like a male model from the face down and most importantly that brain that we tend to categorise as belonging to very intelligent people. He was fortunate enough to have travelled via his job to all places around the planet and just like me, he collected lots of furniture and painting, of course him spending a higher budget. I know lots of men would like to be women but sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t better if I was to be born a man and get that highly paid job that we deem as achievable when somebody has several decades of education as I do.

I thought he could be a decent guy and I decided to take the step of taking a taxi to a man’s place for the first time after spending some delectable hours in a top Mayfair restaurant. He had these killer eyes, blue, confident and ever so empty as a person who saw lots of things in his life and does not take bullshit and the combination with his perfume made me give in easily. He was an excellent kisser and in no time he had me naked but this is where all the fun stopped. He had a huge penis, so huge that I was surprised his trousers did not give anything away. How on earth were we going to have great sex when he behaved as if ashamed how big he was for his great job in the City. He did not go down on me, he did not use his hands and only the fact that I kept coming as usual like a little piglet helped the situation. We tried it to one side, otherwise he was not able to do anything and then he had the decency to come. I thought he will be embarrassed with this, but no, after getting dressed and about to go I found him walking out of the kitchen completely naked and his huge penis hanging down. I was thinking ‘man, I could do lots of naughty things to you if you weren’t so uptight’ and with this in mind I left.

I though he was history and I will never hear from him but some time later we started emailing again and he asked me if I wanted to come over to his place. I assumed that maybe he fancied me and he took my quietness in the wrong way. So I went again to his place and the sex was no different. Last time he told me he is going to go to New York and I asked him now if indeed he went to New York and how was it? He said ‘oh yes, I went with this 20 years old Russian student who lives in Notting Hill’. ‘I like her because she does not say much and she stays where you put her’. I thought ‘what?’ Who does he fools? When I moved to London and I was studying, no way in my dreams I would have been able to live in an expensive place in Notting Hill unless I was in the escorting business and no student coming from Russia will throw their money down the drain for some expensive flat when they can very well stay in zone 2 or 3. Of course if her daddy was a Russian oligarch she would have been able to afford to live there, but surely ‘a Russian oligarch her daddy ain’t‘, I thought. Their daughters don’t go with men double their age who are not super rich. At the same time I was thinking how a friend of mine who just finished a PhD in mathematics now working in a supermarket and living outside London, the only reason she got employed was because they thought she knows something about numbers as opposed to the cashiers who just finished school and couldn’t be bothered to keep the low paid job for more than one week. Of course in her calculation, meeting a man who could be her father's age is out of question completely. And yes, I love the purity of her mind.

I did not tell him anything, I think that deep inside he knew what he did but I decided that I wasted enough time with him. After all, according to statistics he could marry the girl then divorce her, as apparently 3 in 4 marriages like this end in divorce; or have her build up her security by quickly giving birth to one or two children but with the relationship ending up in the same manner. Men never learn. They want to burn themselves up over and over again with un-realistic dreams. Maybe they all need a mirror to really tell them what the majority thinks about them or why not, have a post - it note on their foreheads saying: ‘I just want to shag women’ or ‘I want to mess around’ or ‘yes, indeed I am serious about being in a relationship’. This would definitely make our life easier. Sometimes you think ‘men are the new women’. Some men are so insecure, so bitchy and gossipy, cannot even decide what colour of a tie to buy, whether to have a thinner or a thicker line in the fabric of the tie. Whereas women will say decisively: ‘I will have that or that or that’. No time for messing around and wasting energy. Where are those gorgeous, confident, full of integrity men that are mentioned in the stories, they save the princess and stay together forever? I know, in the 18th of 19th century books. Move on now, new millennium, new kind of homo sapiens. Or Neanderthalic man.

Several days ago I was in this bar and as I was getting a drink, 3 guys starting talking to me. Several minutes later, this Slavic looking girl decided to push me around in order to get her drink right near me and close to these 3 guys. I decided to leave the area and went to the next room where another bigger and more crowded bar was and some 10 minutes later there she was near me again. I was thinking ‘is she a lesbian’ or ‘is she trying to use this place to pick up a guy’. Again I moved to a different part of the bar where I noticed a free chair and annoyingly she came after me and picked up the chair next to mine, asking me with a heavy Slavic accent - as if she arrived in London some months ago, she made some money and decided to become cocky like other girls in the business I saw behaving in the past - if she could put her feet on the stand of my chair. I nodded with my head, now a bit drunk and thinking that I should go home and tried to avoid eye contact in order to understand that she should stop following me around.

Thank God she disappeared or so I thought and her place was taken by this Australian guy with a strong chest bigger than a C cup, some girls would dream about. Nonchalantly he told me he was ‘a male stripper with a big cock’. He then asked me for my telephone number. I was trying to explain to him that I am there only for a drink and nothing else when somebody pushed me at the back. Who was it? The Slavic girl who positioned herself between me and this rather gorgeous guy. She said that she lives in Earl’s Court and she is so embarrassed to live there as all her friends live in Knightsbridge. ‘Is she real?‘ I thought. She looked very cheap and nasty, desperate and so off putting……. It was evident that she was so deluded into thinking that guys will be interested in shagging her………..or maybe not and then get rid of her. So I decided to move to another side of the bar, finish my drink, before receiving more drinks from some curious guys. The smiling airline Captain guys (probably with a lover in every 'port' or hub) that kept staring at me several hours earlier and were trying to make some conversation, only to be welcomed by a twist of 180 degrees by me, probably would have made her so happy and thrilled with excitement. But not me, hard, tough bitch - nothing gets through my tough shell......... Well, maybe only sensible, genuine guys!!!!!!!!




December the 20th 2011


I always considered myself a very giving person, yet Christmas has never been a good period for me. Or December for that matter. Is not because I am humanitarian or do lots of charity work, but I tend to shower those very close to me with all kind of presents and not one or two items, one would buy when visiting somebody but sometimes up to a dozen of presents per person. I do not even want the other person to maintain a balance on this like making lots of present to me, but it looks like I receive little or nothing in return. Does this upset me? Not really, but I hope at least they will be there if I will ever need their help. Not that I like complaining so I doubt that I will need their help. But I learned a long time ago that I am a stoic and just like a true stoic I just learn to put up with everything and then move on……..

I recently met this gorgeous guy, I mean a truly gorgeous guy, with that kind of beauty that comes from inside and is reflected on his beautiful face and eyes that always smiled. He was very tall and I felt his strong arm muscles when I took his arm to hide from the rain under his huge umbrella. The dress code normally a City guy has and his American accent with a very happy laughter reaching sometimes some crazy notes made me believe that he could be great fun. In fact I have not met such a gorgeous guy in ages and I could not keep my big mouth closed and I told him: ‘you are fucking gorgeous’ and ‘you could be a male model’. I did not expect him to be so attractive, maybe shorter, maybe uglier as we have been on the phone and exchanged messages for such a long period of time, delaying our meeting for different reasons. Big mistake on my side! As soon as I laid my eyes on him, I had an instantaneous crush, like that kind of crush you have when you are at school and fancy a fellow colleague so much. What this proved me, despite being older and as I hoped wiser, was that I was not immune to crushes. I knew that I can still blush if somebody takes me by surprise with certain statements and especially if I have a high regard for that person, but a crush? You think that you are immune to all these things, that years of education, experiences, travel and constant verbal kicks from certain ‘elements of our society’ will make you develop a thick skin……..but it looks like our human nature and our feelings and sensitivity always prevail and remind you who you really are.

He kept looking at me and smiling, doing chit chat, mainly maintained by me which was a bit annoying, so I started singing to myself. After all I was still drunk since the previous Friday, which was two days earlier, when upset that I could not see him as he had to travel to see his children outside London although not meeting his ex of whom he was apparently separated but not even in divorce proceeding. I knew that he previously had several mad and jealous girl friends because he looked at other girls when he was out with them and I was not upset that he started talking to the American girls near us in the bar as if he paid attention to their conversation. I found it a bit strange and wondered maybe the jealous girls could have had some reasons? I was rather impressed with the fact that as a church goer he never slept with a girl from the first time and his English colleagues found this strange, especially coming from a guy as good looking as him, with that body, personality and I don’t know, call it ‘aura’, maybe provided by the fact that he used to get a UV tan once per week. Maybe I should try that and get an aura in the process!!!!! At that moment in time I thought: ‘Wow, a real man!!!!!’ and truthfully speaking I still think of him…….. He is a huge puzzle to me. Normally, if I am to meet a man, I instantaneously imagine how he kisses, the way he moves his body or what he wants from a woman, but on this occasion my mind went completely blank. Once again, was that a real crush? (yes, I kept going to the toilet some 3 times, ha ha) or just the fact that I was drunk for the last 2 days when I decided to go out.

Earlier on that Friday, I briefly met this guy I promised to see him for quite some time, but he turned out to be so rude and out of order that I left straight away. Why should we have to put up with guys like this, when our time on earth is so short, it should be filled with enjoyment and the wonder of discovering new wonderful human beings!!!!! I had a very expensive drink in a place nearby (places like these should be banned for doing night drink piracy), then a bit mellow, I took the underground to nearby Mayfair (meeting in the process this gorgeous guy in the train who kept following me at a safe distance, sometimes a bit audacious - probably he wanted to strike a conversation), then meeting some more interesting guys on the street - I was wondering, was that the night of disappointment and gorgeous guys making a pass at me? I decided to go to this crazy place I have been only once before as it gets a combination of Essex type people, City guys and anything in between, all fed up with paying a huge entrance fee to a pretentious night club or the over priced drinks. Plus it’s location, secured the status of a bit of a high brow place. As I was sipping my drink near this Indian girl kissing desperately a German guy, I got approached by all kind of guys, even a black guy looking smart in his dark clothes with a dark head piece as if he belonged to a certain ‘group’ calling me anything from mermaid to ‘Rapunzel is in town’. I was getting a big more relaxed after the earlier on experience with the rude guy, after all, that was my second drink which normally brings me to the conclusion of the night and ‘no more drinks for me, please’. But the head was very clear, the speech was not ambiguous, only the legs felt like in shaking mood. So I went downstairs for a big a booty shaking, only to be begged by some youngsters to drink with them and after have some shots. I asked them to sip from my drinks, after all I had my drink spiked some years ago by an Australian guy - which I managed to find some details about using the social sites and have the club closed down in the process - and their request to go somewhere else, specifically told later on, to one of the guy’s place that he really fancied me. I declined and with a huge smile now on my face, I was trying to go upstairs when this very strong guy looking like a boxer hold me so forceful by my waist while his friends kept looking on to the point I was seriously wondering if they are going to rape me? I am a strong person and I like being very fit and exercise really hard in the gym but no way I could fight this guy. My brain kept seriously wondering if this guys could drag me outside, put me in a car and take me somewhere and do whatever he pleases to me. I was not scared of the attempt of rape as I came across this situation several times in my life and knew how to talk myself out of it - trust me, however careful you are, strange things can still happen if a man’s mind is up to that - but of worse things. I managed to distance myself from this group and went upstairs for some fresh air. I was sitting on this chair near the bar wondering if ‘my drunken smile’ was worse than the drunken and abuse behaviour of some girls that were passing near me - after all, don’t we all reveal our true personalities under the influence of alcohol? Some people like me, smile a lot, some people become very nasty and rude.

Probably my calm persona, or maybe my smile attracted this group of City guys and the most interesting guy, one with the longish wavy hair started talking to me. We discovered we had several things in common and despite him being based in Europe where he had several business interests, plus the fact that I knew that I am going to sleep alone, as I always do, made me start dancing with him. After some 20 minutes of dancing, I could feel his huge penis going diagonally across his stomach and as it gave no sign of slowing down, I had to take the mickey of it. He was rather proud of him, as he put it, ‘being able to go on for hours’ so I had to bring him down to earth with me saying ‘sorry, but this is not going to work for me as I need to go home’. You see, I felt guilty that I produced this reaction in him, guilty with the fact that I was out, when my American guy with the kids and wife of whom he was separated only, was home and that I had to meet on Sunday. Probably if it was to have met him earlier in time, I could have slept with my dancing friend. After all, kissing him was so great, he was caressing my lips in such a great manner whilst holding me tight against his body feeling his huge penis!!!!!!!! I decided to leave though, so poor him, rather than loose me, he decided to take me home, after which he had to go to the opposite part of London. I felt so sorry, I had to tell him on several occasions that nothing is going to happen between us that night, but he preferred to walk with me in the sub zero temperatures for some 45 minutes to prolong our meeting. I felt so bad, like messing with two men’s brains!!!!! Messing? Guilty? Yes, I know I am out of my mind to even think of this, somebody else would have taken the chance straight away. But my little knickers were completely moist when I reached home and this is when my huge headache started. Probably a combination of no sex for me for quite some time, the talk of sex and the restrain of not having it. I thought that I will have a good night sleep, but no, I woke up several times with bad dreams and aches that in the end I had to take a headache tablet. My conscience was playing huge games on me.

In all honesty, the next day when my American friend called me baby sitting his children, I had to be honest with him and tell him what happened. He sounded seriously concerned and even when his youngest child asked who he was talking for hours on the phone with this very cute voice but wanting to be taken seriously with mature thoughts, I considered: ‘I would give up everything just to be with a man like that’. Such an inspiration, these values which one normally does not find in our part of the world! On Sunday he texted me if I am excited about our first meeting. Knowing that I have always been very bad in these kind of situations, I replied with ‘anticipation of disaster’. Yes, I was sick from the stomach, I cried and I felt so bad like losing a good friend, yet I had to meet him and know: ‘am I going to like him?’. As I sipped from my first drink together, this is when my drunk symptoms started kicking again, proof that the alcohol was not out of my system, or this is when I realised what a huge crush I had on him, so I behaved like I normally don’t, paralysed and not able to ran a conversation. I would have liked to tell him to take me to his place, do what he wanted to do to me and make me fall asleep in his arms. As I knew he does not do these things from the first meeting, I chose to instead punish myself with a long walk in the rain, take an empty train home and then walk a bit more towards home.

The next day I woke up so sick, with the realisation that I have done nothing to improve out meeting, that I behaved like a little drunk child. You think you are strong, secure and confident and nothing can take you by surprise and yet you can have surprises at any age. And when all around is a blur, you have music near you yet you cannot hear it, you do not feel like eating and lose weight overnight and feel comfy only under the duvet, you realise you have a huge problem on your hands. You feel like doing anything for that man, put him on a pedestal and be his slave, raise him a statue and pray for him and yet no man deserves that. He could me a bad man that in several weeks, months or years could mess up your brain so much that it would take double the time to come back to surface…………

The antidote to this is a good sex session, as we all know it and I had the chance to take it several days later. He was naughty, with a huge penis and these amazing oral, hand and penis techniques that made me come over almost every other minute. He took some pictures of me in his hotel suite and this is when he noticed that my beautiful black seam hold ups were all wet and he found it very sexy. After all, it was a tribute to his good techniques - not many men made me cry when reaching such a strong climax and your heart keeps running like after a marathon. Now, what would you chose? A fantasy and headaches or the reality of good sex? The latter is good for the brain, skin, body and moral boosting. After all, rather keep positive until you meet another rude man or a man you do fancy that much (so your brain tells you clearly what to do) or a man you fancy too much!




December the 5th 2011

I WISH I MET HIS DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Raise your hand, if just like me, you would prefer to go out to say a restaurant, bar or club with a man you know, you have exchanged lots of ideas, have lots in common and yes, you are so comfortable later on to have sex with, if your stomach is not full of food, drinks or ……… simply too tired. But it looks like I am not that fortunate one and if you think the masses of guys that try to approach me or simply throw themselves at me asking: ‘let’s go to your place’ makes me happy, you are oh, so wrong! OK, there are times, when in your teenage or early twenties years, you establish your ‘magnetism’ or what actually constitutes the ‘magnetism’ but one cannot survive on this for the rest of their lives. We all follow the same ‘developing paths’ whether sooner or later. In the small cities or countryside, where there are small communities and most of the people know each other, it makes sense, especially if you do not have dreams to follow and/or travel around the world and meet other people from far away lands, to get married after graduating and start having children pretty soon. But how different is this in a big city? We always tend to look in somebody else’s garden, well men especially, wanting more, wanting a better looking, a more intelligent and self-achieved girl friend or wife and if this is not done in ‘the hurry of procreation’ and actually you discover that you can maintain a long life path of self improvement and your partner’s persistent interest, then one tends not to divorce after several years of having a child or more interestingly after some 20-25 years!!!!!!!!!!! I always had a great respect for parents who stuck together through thick and thin, brought children together and died together of old age. I thought that nowadays this is a ‘secret of the East’ whether is Eastern Europe or Asia. But it looks like, this ‘western syndrome’ is starting to affect new generations from the smallest of European states going though all the way to Asia.

You might have guessed it by now, all this introduction because I have been recently out to this very exotic place, where the music reminds me of a far away country which I love so much. This place has a very chaotic crowd and since is not set in the dark environment one finds in a ‘teenage club’ where you have to always put your name on the guest list, it has anything from high end professionals to cleaners, struggling students and even probably ‘strawberry pickers’ from the farms of Norfolk or West Sussex.

On this particular occasion, as I descended the stairs to get a drink from the bar struggling to pass through the crowd, I got stopped by this very tall, late ‘20s early ‘30s New Zealand lawyer and started having a conversation which turned out to be interesting. After several minutes he asked me if I want a drink and thinking on one hand this creates a little commitment to actually have a longer conversation but on the other hand as I preferred to let him struggle with the bar crowd, I accepted to have a drink. As he went to the bar which was some 3 metres away only, here comes this very tall, thin guy with beautiful hair and glasses which gave him a very intelligent look. I saw him earlier on speaking to a girl who seemed to be early ‘20s and I discovered, very disappointed that he was a 21 years Swiss gaining some experience in this father’s hedge fund company. Where is the daddy? I thought. If the son looked like that, the father must be a super gorgeous piece of work. I pointed to him that I was older than him, to which he added: ‘I would kiss you’ while he leaned towards me to kiss me. The New Zealander disappeared from the bar where I last saw him, probably thinking the competition is too high! The Swiss guy then asked me, if I want a drink, at which point I was laughing, but thinking that he was too young anyway, I agreed in order to see what happens. As he left, from nowhere comes this gorgeous American guy in his mid ‘20s who looked like a famous American musician. We started talking about music and he confirmed he was the cousin of the famous musician and yes, he asked if I wanted a drink. Laughing, I told him what happened previously to which he added: ‘if I see you talking to somebody else, I will have your drink myself’. As soon as he left, the gorgeous Swiss guy came back asking if I wanted to go to a different place, but at the bar the American guy kept looking at me, probably wondering what I am going to do. I thought ‘enough is enough’, this cannot go on forever, plus they are all too young, they might have some interesting ideas to exchange but no way can match the brain or potential of a real man. So, I ignored the Swiss guy and the other guys that came after him to chat me up and smiling I waited for the American guy. He came triumphant to me and we started a quiet conversation, only to be disturbed by his ‘Chelsea friend’ who probably jealous that we seem to be so in peace with each other, he kept being rude, aggressive and abusive towards me. I have had some bad experiences with Chelsea guys in the past, not sure if it was because their ex wives took them to cleaners during the divorce proceeding or because the rent in Chelsea is higher or maybe because they think that a private education is better than any higher education you receive in other parts of the world. The fact is I came across several guys like this when they were drunk and I got even pushed to the ground in my super high heels purely because I was admitted in a club and they weren’t.

On this occasion, the Chelsea friend asked us to go to a nearby club where he was ‘known’, however there we discovered he did not have any cash to pay for the entrance, so as we were invited by him, no way I was going to pay the fee for all. Plus the entrance staff knew me, so this made it all more embarrassing. We decided in the end to take a taxi to go to a place and I don’t know why I put up with his abuse as the American guy did not say anything, probably I was too mellow because of my drinks, but I got really annoyed when the Chelsea guy decided to pick some drunken Slavic girl from the streets and take her with us. At the other end, they did not even have money for the taxi so I had to pay it whilst the Slavic girl disappeared in the night realising he did not have any money. I was getting tired of all his ‘aggressive posh vocabulary’ addressed to me and I told the American guy to chose between his friend and me. Realising his friend was not quite the friend, he chose to walk with me, probably hoping that I will go to his place, which was on the way to mine.

I am not into youngsters and more importantly men who cannot stand their ground and let a woman be abused by ‘their friend’, so of course, a nice walk through some small cobbled streets of Mayfair followed, then I jumped in the taxi, thanking him for the eventful night.

It is amazing how wonderful a walk at night is, compared to the busy streets during the day. But hey, again I am the person who also likes walking in the rain, inhaling the wet air in my lungs and getting the end of my hair soaked……… Sometimes you prefer this, rather than be near rude people who have bigger problems in their lives than they would like to admit………….




Novermber 21st 2011


I have been lazy recently and rather committing to writing something in my blog, I chose to participate in different Forums one finds around on the net on different subject from Politics to Economy, Health to Daily life, as a sentence or paragraph is less time consuming and soul searching that writing here. But probably the recent events in my family that affected me since July, also deter me from making but small steps in certain directions. Call it depression, life or whatever you want, but isn’t the contrast interesting? As a teenager, lots of friends my age used to tell me ‘I like your energy’ or ‘you give so much enthusiasm’, which still comes in a great dosage nowadays but not as when I was a child. One thing is to always be happy, positive and thinking that nothing can stop you and another thing is when all the above come with a small worry or wondering ‘is it worth it?’ just like a label would be attached to an item you purchase. However positive you are, there are always some people out there trying to destroy your day, as if they are little devils sent on earth to test you and test you continuously. Realistically talking, now I know these sides of their personalities simply reflect their background, education and upbringing and however much ‘GOOD’ they receive in their lives, they simply take it with both hands with a frozen smile on their faces and if they give anything back, they think that statues should be raised for them………..

So, I decided to take another dip into London’s nightlife and went to this club where you always have to be on some guest list but the advantage is that the happy and gay young cloak person knows you, the heavy and may I say gorgeous security guys recognise you and even the fussy entrance girl attempts a little smile when you pay her a compliment and tell her what a hard ‘job‘ she has……… As I went to the bar I felt a strong hand going round my waist to stop me from going further and in dismay I looked who dared to do such a thing to me, the super confident and slightly drunk but elegantly dressed blonde, she says…….

I made my dress some years ago (yes, I do make dresses since I was 13 years old, crochet, knit, besides painting, drawing etc to cover my artistic/design stuff - I would even design shoes if it was as easy) and is a piece of work, trust me. The back is open up to my bum, but my long hair covers it and the front has just a V neck, no sleeves but 2 strings of fabric embrace my shoulders, otherwise the dress might fall of me. Which sometimes happen, so I quickly have to re-attach it to my breasts. Depending how hot it is, as for me and my insulating hair is always very hot, I might wear some small knickers and hold ups, and of course ‘de rigueur’ high heels.

Coming back to the hand that stopped me from going further, I discovered the owner was this gorgeous six foot something dark blonde guy with blue eyes and the body of a rugby player. Wearing a white shirt and jeans, his eyes were sparkling or maybe his gorgeous tan made him appear like an amazing package. I thought he was late twenties or early thirties, but no, oh dear, he was only 22 years old and he was an Argentine holidaying in London with his brother, who looked just like him. ‘Holly Molly’ I thought. ‘Double trouble’ and they were both very interested to get to know me better! Since I am not that interested in youngsters, but prefer mature guys with great bodies and a mature brain, I thought, OK let’s just have a drink and then I am gone. I was getting drunk already, the club was buzzing with some good music, my ‘gorgeous blonde gorilla’ was simply amazing shaking sexily his booty trying to kiss me, but as I do not do these kind of things in public, he was getting a permanent refusal. Try refusing a hot Argentine stallion! He took me by surprise with his body pinning mine against the bar, locked my ‘fighter’ arms at my back with one of his arms while with the other he caught my head and deposited a long kiss on my lips. His tongue was so strong and yet so delicious! I tried fighting back, but this guy did not give up easily! Must have been a long kiss as his friend kept looking jealously and their London entourage formed of some 4-5 also heavy guys kept looking with a smile on their faces. I tried to hide my embarrassment by dancing quietly and thinking what is going to follow? After some 20 minutes, his friend who spoke a bit better English than my stallion says to me: ‘My friend wants to come to your place. Can I come too?’ ‘What?’ I thought. Shock, horror. I have never had a ‘menage a trois’ apart from an attempt when I was younger, but was dismissed by me with a very straight and fast refusal ……….more on this on another occasion. I was looking at them and I was thinking ‘what shall I do? What if these guys want to take the Falklands war on me and demolish my body with all kind of strange, foreign movements?’ Even communication with them would be difficult if they try something on me that is allowed in their country and they might have some diplomatic immunity that will always portray me as the baddie. ‘No way Jose’ I thought. Better safe than sorry.

I managed to convey in my poor Spanish which I seem to understand better than speak, that what they were asking is not going to happen and disappointed they went to find other girls. A good looking guy in their entourage asked me what happened and after telling him the story, he gave me his business card in order to keep in touch!!??? Oh dear, I thought, men do like trying where somebody else fails. As I was saying my good byes to everyone, here comes this gorgeous Columbian guy, dressed impeccably in a suit who was on a modelling assignment in London. We had a small chit chat after which he said to me: ‘can I come to your place? Just to sleep and not touch you’ and he put his head on my shoulder as if sleeping quietly. ‘But I just met you’ I said. He tried explaining to me that he saw me before and fancied me. ‘Tell that your mama’ I thought and left the area as the Columbian and the Argentine connection kept looking on together with their entourage. Nothing beats a good night sleep free of trouble.

Stay safe.




Tuesday, October 25th 2011

My friends keep trying to set me up for quite some time with all kind of guys and in my attempt to 'look normal' I, once in a while' do a bit of internet dating. OK, from the hundreds of messages I receive, I hardly find a guy who, following the theory that he looks OK on 'paper' then he might be OK in real life and not a weido, so I decide to give him a chance and meet him in a decent place.

But what amazes me, is that sometimes men sell themselves so cheaply and put half body naked pictures of themselves if not full naked ones. Imagine, us girls putting the same kind of pictures on sites and what kind of message will be sending? I mean, what do they expect? If sex only is what they are after, why on earth don't they use escort sites where everything is safely delivered with two willing participants where a list of services is discussed in advance? I guess they prefer to use dating sites in order to mess with somebody else's brain for an hour or one night, then go home thinking: 'who is the daddy!' Or worse blame everything on wife, saying how she lost interest in them and they cannot divorce!' And then they write on their profile:

Likes: movies - Porn, he says. And I wonder: 'only?'
sports - rugby, he says. And I think: 'what about your belly?'

He does not want: - girls with kids. And I think sarcastically: 'of course, think of all the interupted sex you are going to have'

He does not like: - galleries and museums. And I agree: 'of course, nothing better to do at the weekend than to stay on the sofa drinking bear, scratching the belly and asking for a blow job'.

And that is how you get an evolved Homo Sapiens who cannot be bothered to take the underground and cannot be seen on the buses where is never keen to give the seat to a woman and prefers to hide his head in a pretenced interesting book. And if something 'happens' to him, the subject is covered by his closest friend with the dedication to hide the porn from his family, as he is a good boy and porn has never crossed his path.

I came across clients with a varied selection of DVDs and I was never suprised by this, ultimately I have agreed to meet them for several hours of fun, so anything that works for them, will surely make me happy. If I was the 21 years old virgin I used to be, maybe I could have been shocked, but hey, life has thrown lots of thinks into my path. Like the good looking guy I saw recently in Soho in front of this club, and as he turned I could see he was wearing bum revealing shorts and shoes and nothing else. Although a bit tipsy I was brought to reality with this vision and burst into laughter. Imagine a family of tourists with kids passing through there at 11pm on a Friday night!!!!!!!!!!! The time is not an excuse to expose anyone to something like that! He thought it will be great to say something to me and he said: 'nice hair'. Come on boy, I thought, are you real?

But why use porn as a method to attract say, a future partner is beyond my comprehension. Porn should be private and only disclosed at the right time and in an intimate way. Saying that you only like porn, makes you wonder: 'but is there anything else you like'. And why don't you mention all these interests? If you like only porn, does it mean you have sex all day long, so why not choose then to be in the porn industry. Or if you like porn, does it mean you like it with lots of partners, then surely you are not after 'the one'.

Well, at least he was honest, he might meet another woman who prefers to bake cookies and cakes all day long, then surely they are not a match, ha ha.

The path of discovery.................

I need a holiday.




Wednesday, October 12th 2011

I was never bothered about issues that some people are eager to classify as being narcissistic, therefore the person is a lesser man or woman than others. With the introduction of dentistry for the masses in the 20th century and later cosmetic dentistry or the fact that women chose to die their hair platinum blonde as from the 1920’s, was it equal to being full of vanity? Is it wrong to have implants or cosmetic surgery when for some women life long diets do not lead to the required achievements. And who are we to blame them for choosing this path? I always say, let them do as they please, although to my surprise there are lots of people out there who seem to be sticking their nose in somebody else’s business and spread their nastiness in any single way.

Why all this introduction? Because I thought I was immune to one’s nagging: ‘tell me, shall I have Botox?‘ The question came from a guy in his mid ‘30s I recently met and went out on few dates. He looked early-mid twenties (especially when he was naked - to my annoyance,) due to his Oriental genes and the fact the apparently recently he lost lots of weight. He was cute with his dimples and very tanned skin which was quite a turn on when compared to my milky white skin that even numerous layers of fake tan could not hide it. But gosh, his constant nagging: ‘do you like my back skin? You have nice back skin too’ or ‘shall I lose more weight?’ really drove me mad when being repeated every single time we were having a discussion. Plus add to that the fact that he always asked if he needed botox when his perfect skin did not require anything like that due to his genes and lifestyle. The tonnes of e-mails we have exchanged made me believe he could be a decent doctor I should try to get to know, coming from a decent family with the same values as me, but God, how different people are in real life from the way they portray themselves in writing.

He later on told me when we decided to remain friends only: ‘I did not even know what to do with your massive breasts’ as my good quality bra always gives the impression I am smaller when dressed in my size 10 dresses. I offered to do him a favour and teach him how to kiss when he said ‘that was the best blow job I ever had’ as the poor thing only kisses in repeats of 2 seconds and in a very noisy way. I had to be honest to tell him that his shagging was the worst I had in living memory purely due to the fact that his pelvis bones kept hitting me and his muff diving needed more strategies to repeat. But I wonder, will he remember my advice? The next day he went to meet a friend who is apparently a Botox specialist, so surely he got his Botox. As previously he had lots of girlfriends, it looks like he did not learn anything from them and how to use his ‘gorgeous and perfect tools’. Maybe he is bi and did not want to disclose this to me, as his Botox friend is also the one who accompanies him in their regular visits to Miami…….

I was so disappointed that a man cannot be a man when you decide to do the charitable thing of shagging the ‘chosen one‘, until several days later I met this amazing guy in his late ‘40s with whom I had some amazing hours of naughtiness. He simply restored my faith in men and I did not need to tell him anything on how to do it. Everything flowed naturally only interupted by short conversation of 'move over, let's try this'. So, probably for a very long time I am going to avoid young looking guys. Mature guys, please come my way!!!!!!!!!!!!




Tuesday, September 20th 2011

Sometimes you sit down and think: ‘what is with men?’ There are thousands or maybe millions of women blatantly and easily ‘offering’ themselves in bars/clubs etc, yet most of these men seem to be ‘running’ after the unattainable as instead they choose the women who are there just to have a laugh before going home for a good night‘ sleep. Of course there are women that life throws them in all kind of situation and develop a certain maturity from an early age, one would think, these women were born mature. Sometimes what you read on their faces is beauty or intelligence or simply that metallic gaze that feels like ‘The All Seeing Eye’. But isn’t the voice a true expression of one’s soul and intelligence and once they open their mouth, you cement your understanding of that person?

I was watching at the weekend bits of the Xfactor and could not wonder how on earth, some people who come across as professional and decent, when they open their mouth and you hear them sing, before saying how good they are, the idea that crosses one’s mind is not ‘are they real?’ but more like ‘are they mentally sick?’ OK, it is such a thin line between one’s sanity and the opposite but you expect much more from a professional person who is about to reveal the state of their minds to the nation as opposed to a deluded teenager who is just embarking on the long path of life’s learnings.

New coming back to the original idea of men not ‘picking’ what is in front of them and the deluded ones, I cannot wonder why only in the UK and parts of Australia, there are some men who like to ‘do the mooning’. OK, is hilarious to watch if you are not the recipient, but how embarrassing is when this happens to you and you are there in a kind of official capacity!!!!!!!! Last week, I was supposed to meet a former work colleague who now holds a very important position and was running late due to some meetings. OK, I thought, is getting a bit late but I am in this historic pub/trendy bar in one of the expensive parts of London where the ‘boys’ seem to be the ones with the highest paid of educations, so I should be safe. It was a warmish night and there were lots of girls outside popping to the bar to get more drinks and rub shoulders with these rugby built muscles with rosy cheeks due to a combination of their young age and the high amounts of alcohol they were ingurgitating.

I was quietly drinking my juice whilst checking some e-mails on my phone, listening to the music coming from the jukebox when I noticed that some of the guys from the loudest of the groups kept coming closer and closer to my corner to the point of making my table part of their group. Lots of girls in their early twenties with silicons on their anorexic figures and long extensions attached to the scalp of their faces with too early collagen inflated lips kept rubbing their shoulders with them but the guys seem to be too deep in their show off City talking conversation to pay too much attention to them. At one point one of them, who seemed to be the loudest and rather good looking with his blonde hair and strong chest, moved to the jukebox and put one of those songs which I define as ‘boys’ music’ by some un-memorable boy band. He started talking to me but being ignored he decided to go back to his group. I thought that was the end of that but with the corner of my alert eye I could actually see that he started moving his body as if attempting to dance whilst moving his shirt up and unbuttoning his trousers. Oh no, I thought: ‘come on boyo, I could eat you 10 times for breakfast, give you 10min to get refreshed and eat you again 10 times and walk after that home if you can, but please do not make me the centre of attention here!’ As if reading my mind, this gorgeous guy moved closer to me and what he did next? A FULL MOON!!!!!!!!! Come on, so predictable, now don’t fall on top of me! Guess what? That is what happened next! All his friends were laughing, of course I could have been damn not to have a sense of humour not to start laughing to the point that my cheeks were hurting so badly. His friends all conquered my little table and yes that is how my friend met me when she finally arrived. Was she unhappy with that? Are you joking? There are some nice dishes between these Eton type educated guys and quickly she started chatting to some of them forgetting her age. After all she knows that near me she is always in safe hands in attracting lots of guys, ha ha. Pity I am not a drinker, even if I get drunk after one glass I can still do complex mathematical exercises, after all I have been doing this training since school days. My guy ‘ the mooner’ was really cute with his gorgeous, warm body whispering in my ears: ’you smell so nice, I could eat you’ but he got tired of asking me to kiss him and being refused. ‘I am older than you’ I kept saying, ‘I don’t care’ he said. Gosh, the new generation really wants to make cougars out of us! Forget older men getting younger women for decades, now the young guys want the same kind of ‘protection’, ha ha ha ha



PS. Maybe if I had these crotchless white or black knickers from my new pictures or the crotchless latex suit I just bought, I could have given it in and no one would have noticed? Of course I am kidding, let other girls do this kind of stuff, ha ha


Monday, September 12th 2011

I was watching at the weekend Calamity Jane, a movie made in 1952 with Doris Day and which I have been avoiding to see for a long time due to it’s very transparent narration where the boyish girl becomes a very attractive woman after making the effort. But I must say, on this occassion, I was stuck in front of the TV discovering the nuances of the conversation I would have not appreciated when I was younger. OK, we all like love stories, comedies or action packed movies but my deep passion for movies started as a very young child when I was watching repeteadly the history of cinematography from the 1880's Lumiere brothers, then moving onto all the mute actors like Lilian Gish, Pola Negri, Buster Keaton, Rudolph Valentino, then the ‘beautiful witches’ of the 1930-1940 and how much I would like to see movies I have never came across eversince where the beautiful blonde good witches with perfectly permed side parted hair fall for the gorgeous man while his grand house burns in fire. Very romantic if you analyse it as being purely a movie.

I will never forget, as a 12 years old girl, I once chose to hide from the daily ‘drama’ on a 30th of December in a cinema watching Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire in a local cinema........ France’s Gerard Philipe with all his duels or Spanish Sarita Montiel with her langurous eyes, besides all the major names of the post war musical Mexican or Egyptian even Hong Kong influenced by the success of the American musicals, all contributed to a solid cinema history which I still treasure. And apparently the new generation of France does not even know who Gerard Philipe is?

But why all this introduction? Calamity Jane’s story mentions a certain Adelaid Adams as featured on the pocker cards of the little US town men who was dressed the way burlesque dancers would be nowadays, plus some extra knee length feminine pants – still described by Calamity as ‘an undressed woman’ and I was wondering instantaneously what would she say about the bra and knickers only women’s pictures one sees on buses, underground etc nowadays, nevermind hidden on the internet...............

And some weeks ago after watching bits of Sex and the City, I pleasantly discovered that a channel showed very late The Great Gatsby which was so difficult to watch though, appart from the gorgeous Robert Redford, with all the little drama, whinging and little gossip of some of the main characters despite the book being so much more interesting leading one’s imagination to a more romantic portrayal. I later discovered that a new version is in post production now with Leonardo di Caprio and despite not being a fan, I am sure the director is going to exploit the decades of film progress to a better degree and will not only do it justice but create in the process new movie addicts.........

After all what can you do? Go out meet a guy like the one I met this weekend on a blind date and then have him trying to get you to his place, despite saying how tired he is as he spent his previous night in a strip tease place where apparently he and his colleagues sealing a major deal were conned of thousands of pounds. Why aren’t guys honest and say: ‘dear, I want to take you out, get you drunk, because what I want really is to get into your pants’ whilst mentioning a forthcoming trip to New York where he would not like to go away......... And if you think that I am dreaming, then I must let you know that yes, he mentioned he has hair-free-balls as he used cream to ensure he achieves a high level of smoothness..............Groovy.




Sunday, September 4th 2011

LADY LUCK IN WAITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Years ago I was told that I bring so much luck to people to the point I was called Lady Luck. But it looks like recently my luck knocks twice before paying me a visit, despite managing to bring luck to others.......... Or maybe I became too demanding, and to draw a similarity, is like when you go to school, start with one plus one or A, B, C but then you move onto other subjects at higher level, University etc. You cannot learn one plus one forever, hence your brain is on a exponential route to learn new things like driving a car, or travelling or cooking more interesting meals. But what is wrong with wanting more, as long as you are not a Bond villain, just wanting anything in moderation........

On Friday night I met a friend for a brief chat and drinks as she was feeling poorly, I thought, OK no problem I will just have an early night or watch a bit of TV back home. I was about to leave this bar when a guy came near my seat and we had a brief discussion which turned into deep thought Philosophy which I could not bother to concentrate as my drink had a quick effect on me, the no drinker, and my eye sight was not straight either. 'Well, it was nice speaking with you' I said as I was about to stand up, to which he replied while touching my elbow: 'Come on, stay and then we go to another place together'. I thanked him but decided to leave anyway. As I was walking, looking for a taxi, I came near this other trendy bar which I have not been to for years and after all, this was the place that started my love affairs with Passion fruit Mojitos, so decided to pop in briefly. As soon as I reached the bar, a group of men with their 'ladies' started talking to me but left me alone when noticed this guy approached me and as he looked rather posh and well dressed with gorgeous hair and delicate glasses on his nose I thought, OK, he looks like a gentleman, let's not ignore him as I tend to do usually.

Some 10 minutes later of silly drunken chat, and there he was touching me despite telling him I do not like to be touched in public, trying to kiss me and wispering at my ear that he would like to eat me or lick me for hours and wants to be slapped or hit by me and 'you can f%^k my arse baby' he later on repeatedly droped. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? I thought I had near me a decent guy in one of the most expensive places in London and there he was, the dirty rich bitch!!!!!!

I thought OK, at least he showed his true colours whilst he told me there are hundreds of women in LA, NY, London or Hong Kong who would die to be with him, yet I was not impressed. He then mentioned Annabel's and Tramp's and as I am a big fan of shaking my booty decided to give him one last chance taking him for a fast walk in the cold air until we found a taxi. He renewed his membership at the later but as the place was empty and I was gettting tired and embarrassed of being with a 'kid with a very dirty language' who does not realise that between closed doors you can be the biggest sex maniac whilst behaving properly in public. But I think guys like this simply like pushing the limits when they sense they are near a easy going person like me who likes behaving decent; but there are lots of things you can do with that body and mainly inspired by the eyes, probably that is why kept repeating himself in the same manner............... Ultimately there are so many POWER guys who keep bragging about things they have done in the boardroom!!!!!!!!!!!

But the question is, where are all those decent guys who like behaving in public and leave something for imagination? Wouldn't be much better if they were to lead you on a path of discovery and surprises? Isn't that more exciting?

So a Saturday night spent indoors followed watching the deluded characters of XFactor and a reminder of the excellent fight scenes and jumps performed by Mr Bourne in his ultimatum domination. No wonder so many people cannot be bothered to go out anymore these days!




Friday, September 2nd 2011


Another workout in the gym where after pumping some weights, doing some stretching, the usual exercises on my bum, legs and shoulders, cardio and ‘de rigueur’ cum on the PowerPlate, I headed for the swimming pool. Luckily it was rather empty and as I left, a gorgeous Oriental guy who probably was waiting to make eye contact and chat me up, decided to leave too. But it looked like it was the ‘national gorgeous missing guys' day’ as I came across an amazing blond guy when leaving the sauna. And surprise, surprise, in the glimpse of a second I managed to admire his super fit torso and stunning face with delicate glasses on his nose, but……….the off putting open mouth when looking at me. I mean come on, we learned there are guys who pout, just like some girls, but now guys with open mouth like they are in a photo shot? He looked like a fit City guy with nice abs and nothing like the would-be model, I could be wrong though, but why the open mouth???? Food for thought…….and maybe I will see him again to decipher his looks. Which reminds me of other guys in the past who followed me audaciously in the gym in the same manner………

But as I got out, I heard this couple, coming from that part of the world where girls are told by their parents: ‘be a good girl’ with all the known implications and I felt so sorry for the tiny girl about to start crying and not saying much, looking like something in the late teens, early twenties being told by her boyfriend: ‘go home, will talk later’. I mean, the majority of us girls have been there, where guys who call themselves men just have sex with a girl who is torn between the upbringing her parents gave her and the desire to please the man she loves only to discover later on that she wasted her time and youth on the wrong person. I looked behind me to see if she left the gym and I was so pleased that she was not behind but instead with that specimen of a man, otherwise I would have open my big mouth trying to advise her and help her somehow. But surely my advise would have fallen on death ears: we all know when you lack the experience, you chose to suffer quietly and cry for days or months even years for those moments you would like to share with a person you think you know. Years later, you think: ‘I wish time would have passed faster’ and was sooner where I am now!!!!!!!!!!

Earlier on this week I met this gorgeous guy after a brief conversation and emails exchange and I liked his positivity and outlook in life. I met him at this private club and he was dressed in the ‘uniform’ that always melts my heart: white starched like shirt that emphasised his muscular arms and little pert bottom tucked in some proper jeans, with hair all gelled up and nice perfume. Sometimes you wish men make the effort to look like this and not dressed in some stripy/checked shirts or worse, T shirts. I mean, us girls do the ‘whole package’: shaved/waxed, hair freshly washed, manicure and pedicure and sometimes even a new dress or shoes to find a reason to cheer ourselves up and fight depression or other issues and…………… start a new page. Although, I heard there are fellow women who do not adhere to the above. Well I am sure, the percentage is not as high as those of men’s percentage, wishfully hoping……….

Anyway, he pushed me to have more and more drinks, and as I could not he even chose to finish themselves up in a split of a second; moved away to other venues whilst discussing about lots of issues or places we had in common, laughing all the time and cuddling me to feel my breasts. His body language was right on track to the point that at one venue he stretched his legs on a bench he was sharing with me, as if he was on a horse. Wow, I thought, this guy is not messing around, he is really interested……….and trust me I had worse. I mean not guys who kept putting their hands underneath my bum or suffocating me in a corner ‘to be close to me’ but I am talking about the guys who play cool and look around the room all the time and then they say: ‘can I come to your place?’ I liked his foreign accent and the fact that he behaved in a way British guys would be to shy to behave in a public place unless drunk to exhaustion………… and then he asked me to come to his place. We had a great conversation in the presence of one of his friends and discovered his passion for Oriental art, collecting items for Asia just like me and even his apparently ‘untouchable’ cat allowed me to take him in my arms, almost starting to cry because of his old, arthritic legs……..To sum it up, what was like a great night, plus no kisses just hugs (although he asked me to sleep at his place) which straight away gave him the passage to ‘almost put on a pedestal posture’ I never heard from him again, just an e-mail ‘I had a great time, let’s meet again’. I was puzzled and thought that maybe he is busy with work, but trust me if a guy likes a girl, he will call her even if he is in the plane on route to Timbuktu. At which point two trusted friends tried to put me out of my misery, as they saw me after meeting this guy I was euphoric for some 24 hours. They got in touch saying they are after having sex with a man. Yes, there are lots of insecure girls out there who apparently they do this and there are not many man who say ‘No‘. One friend who said she had a son the same age of his sons, never heard from him after mentioning this and the second friend was invited straight away out with the option to go to his place whilst saying ‘I am big enough for you‘……… Which gave me all the answers I needed.

I thought that he rented the cat, the cute boys’ pictures in the flat, made up the story of his separation from his evil wife that likes nothing but to party and already left him and the kids for another man, rented even his friend, or maybe it was his friend’s place……but how many women out there would honestly accept all this ‘package’? One friend of mine told me that a friend of hers met a guy in his ‘50s with teenage kids and did not look as good in the pictures as in real life but with the ego of a dictator and when he pushed her to come to her flat and saw her young boy he said whilst pointing with the finger at him: ‘what is this?’ I mean, a young mum who is trying to raise a child getting this treatment in her own flat from a man who lied about his age, looks, personality! Some people see what they want in the mirror.

You fancy a guy so much and you think you have so much in common and then what you realise, what he wants is some pussy only. Or to have some pussy until he finds the one who will have sex with him from the first night. Why aren’t they honest about this? They go to escort sites once in a while, but they prefer the chase to hunt for some minutes of pleasure, saying that escorts are bad purely because they do not do their research and chose to generalise instead, because trust me, when you see they do not even know how to wash their cock, they do not want to do the work on you for hours or as pleasurable as you do it with a guy who would rather pay for your time. And man, the guys who do this, they want to spend wisely every single penny, that is why I LOVE THEM!!!! Value for money or call it what you want but at least you know where you stand. No broken heart, no destroyed dreams!!!!!!!!

And don’t you wish Beyonce would stop singing; ‘what comes around goes around’! All these celebs/politicians live on a different planet. Because to us the normal people these things never happen. You help lots of people in a discreet manner, do charity work and what you get in return? A second of happiness? Some years ago I was in Vienna at the time that Beyonce was there and I was told when visiting all those amazing museums with all that Habsburg history I could not get away from that Beyonce chose instead to send a double. Come on, singing all day long about things one does not experience when having the chance, does it make them superpeople or above us? Life.




Wednesday, August 24th 2011

'You are pretty' said this well dressed foreign man with a slight Nordic accent whilst dragging his luggage towards me. He looked like a business man off to London and probably some naughty ideas in his mind made him come up with his statement in a busy underground station without realising that what we tend to do here is only say 'thank you' without launching in a further conversation unless drunk like one would be in a club/bar/night club etc. That is the English way of life.............. I thought that my black jeans like trousers with a classic white shirt I bought years ago in Amsterdam, a gorgeous beige leather bag bought in Bellagio and matching high heeled Swarowski patched shoes will not draw any attention upon myself. On top of the heavy plastic bag which I keep using to buy my groceries and re-using it.......... to save the planet, would have made me pass as the woman who just went to the supermarket. OK, one receives lots of compliments according to what part of the planet they are in, like in Asia or the Middle East where people say 'you are beautiful' or in London where they say 'gorgeous' closely attached to the adjective 'bloody' or in New York where it looks like men are so full of testosterone whether you are in the City or upper East side or Broadway. Gone is the typical English politeness and the need for alcohol to put together some nice sentences, in New York I was surprised to receive compliments constantly to the point that gorgeous, mature, well dressed man (and trust me I can understand when the suit is worth over 1000 dollars) crossed the road to say 'Hey, blondie' whilst smiling at me or even a Rabbi came face to face with me to say 'Cutie'!!!!!!!!! Blame the English weather for me ignoring all these statements, but one can only wonder.

I prefer them though rather than hearing 'she is a fox' coming from the kind of guys that talk in the style of 'yeah, man' or 'cool, bro' or the usual wolf whistle one hears from traders or builders as they pass in the company car on the road. Last winter a lady neighbour of me pushing a pram reached me on the street to say that she has never heard anyone being whistled so much in less than 200 metres! And only dressed in trousers and a normal winter coat, I might add. Not a mini skirt or dress or revealing lots of chest.

Well, yes compliments are nice to receive rather than hearing people say nasty things to you, which I do not want to remember them now, but some years ago when I used to live close to Bayswater I was wondering why so many people were saying so many nasty things to me. Yes, they all belonged to the same socio-economical group and came from what looked like the same part of the world but one cannot assume that just because Bayswater has a certain reputation, everyone living in surrounding areas can be aggressed in the street in the same manner.........

Our Nordic friend's compliment followed anyway a decent foot massage I had booked at a nearby locations and blame KGB, Groupon, Wahanda, LivingSocial etc and their very cheap deals that makes me travel all over London for back or foot massages. You still pay double or triple for what one would pay in Thailand, Singapore or Hong Kong but probably a fifth or sixth from what one normally pays in central London. And how cannot you fall in love with foot massages whilst in lay on a bed, surrounded by all these cooling smells and soothed by some slow music. You wish should have been 3 men there for each foot and your back too! Can the foot guys stick my toes in their mouth too? Ha ha, I am kidding but the sensation is so amazing when a man does all these wonderful things to one's little toes!!!!!!!! Like dipping the toes in jelly but a million times better.........

I knew the sensation is going to be 'very relaxing', that is why I cushioned myself with a tampon, not to leave milky patches on my trousers the way I did the other day in the gym. You like the PowerPlate so much and you want not to relax on it anymore, but can you even resist not testing yourself every single time? And yes, I always fail. White patches always appear on my knickers. Last time I tried to massage my back using it's vibrations, the sensation was so strong that...... brought a huge smile on my face. A gorgeous guy some 3 metres away from me probably noticed my smile although we did not make eye contact as he quickly disappeared to a different room! Thank God he was English, other men surely would have quizzed my face further or would have tried to make me feel more embarrassed than I was!!!!!!!!

Hormones! One friend of mine told me years ago that as a kid he used to be sent to his grandparents in Italy and even though they were in their '90s, they were making all kind of noises whilst engaged in morning sex. Joan Collins recently said that she is so beautiful in her '60s purely because of sex. Does it mean that some people are more sexual than others........... for a longer period of time and have to put up with changing their knickers constantly?




Friday, August 19th 2011

Yesterday I have used for the first time in a long time a perfume I keep buying since coming across it long time ago: ‘Lapidus’ by Ted Lapidus and just like ‘One Man Show’ by Jacques Bogart is a very difficult to find perfume, with only a reduced number of stockists having it. Both perfumes are so intoxicatingly addictive with their masculine yet sweet smells, you only have to put 3 drops on you and can still smell it in your hair 24 hours later. Although I manage to buy it extremelly cheap, the contact with my skin produces this very rich scent that puts you in a different league to the point you can even get harrassed by other people for no apparent reason; well to me, it happens almost daily, so I got used not to take these pathetic people serious anymore – more on this maybe on another occassion if I feel like digging some memories I would rather prefer locked.

But aren’t perfumes just like men and every single one makes you feel and experience new sensations? You have the quiet kisser that likes caressing your lips with his big, juicy mouth then moving onto comple conquer of the area where you feel like your lips are completely eaten by an array of sensations with direct implications onto other parts of your body? The effect is complete or brought to perfection when he is also visually blessed with good looks and then you move onto his athletic body and you just wish that he has conquered the art of seduction and he knows that a Real Man cannot apply for too long the same technique. It can start with a caressing of the area slowly and delicately then moving onto phase two where a more advanced technique is required and the last phase where you just know how to do the right thing and touch The Small Spot with that kind of pressure that will draw a woman wild and will make you a Temporary Master of Her Universe.........

My addiction for men’s perfume started at University when I realised that is safer to wear a man’s perfume rather than have sex with all the guys that throw themselves at you intoxicating you with their macho smells. Clever thinking, don’t you agree? OK, must be strange for men to wear women’s perfume, thank God it works for women, reason why more than 60% of my perfumes are for men.

Don’t get me wrong there are lots of great perfumes for women I keep replacing for many years like ‘Samsara’ by Guerlain or ‘Chanel’ by Coco Chanel or some Kenzo or Thierry Mugler perfumes you feel like wearing when the weather is very warm and feel like having a cooling perfume on you, especially when you pass through the heat of some airport or heading towards a warm foreign destination. Yes, at a certain moment in time you feel like blonde men with great phisiques are the ones you prefer whereas on other occasssions you feel like: ‘no, my favourites are dark men’.

Ultimately you keep wearing only one perfume and subconsciously you realise the local 'atmosphere', occassion and the way you feel made you take that decision.




Friday, August 12th 2011

It is amazing what a good sleep does to one's body: not only you can think clearer but you feel better and this regeneration that starts at molecular level and not seen by us has reparatory benefits on our skin without realising it. And I bet my poor pussy feels it too. After all it was all bruised and hurted after over 9 hours of intense, non stop shagging. It kept 'salivating' with desire before meeting him (porn stars can only dream of having this kind of energy - is not only due to the clean lifestyle but a combination of genetic factors that make us the very few girls have this kind of potential) until it was dried, drop by drop. Although it looks like now is back on it's usual track of 'salivation', only 1 day later........... The only 'surface' area that needs healing is the area surrounding my mouth, chin and nose, all reddish and dry because of his passionate kisses. And man, this guy knows how to kiss!!!!!!!!!

I arrived at his hotel covered in this expensive knee length coat as underneath I had a very sexy outfit involving a classic 18th century white corset and not the cheap monstuosities one finds around, white lacey suspenders I bought in Tokyo with some very cute 'bridal' knickers, white hold ups and some beautiful Swarowsky covered white shoes which I changed into in front of his room, as I try not to attract any attention when I am out and about. My beautiful overnight bag contained other 4 changes of expensive outfits, besides massage oil, chocolates and lots of other items one needs for such occassion.

We started kissing as soon as I arrived and I was so pleased the amazing view over London did not deter him from touching me and sticking his fingers everywhere. A long shaggatron then started which took us from before 9pm when I arrived until after 3.30am, only interupted by having short pockets of conversation that lead to more excitment and us drinking bits of juice or water to replenish the lost moist of our bodies. I managed to use only 2 of the 4 outfits I brought, the heavy tripod I brought for the the camera did not have time to be used, nevermind about showing him my massage skills.

But instead I received a very relaxing massage myself and one cannot wonder about the characteristics of the shaggatronic man: always slim and sporty - after all how can a man with a belly possess such energy and never complaining he is tired........going on for hours - quite tallish, and of course losing the hair. Apparently scientists say that men with high levels of testosterone are the bald ones!!!!!!! So why Italians are not bald then? One can only meditate about this issue! Or maybe they think they are as good as English men are........... always giving besides receiving.

We went to sleep after 3.30pm but was woken up before 8am with his kisses, so quickly I went to brush my teeth and start another 2 hours shaggatron until over 10am when our delightful breakfast was ordered for. Which makes me wonder: one tends to have everything home, from beautiful wooden tray with 1200 cotton thread napkins, bread and butter, gems and jellies but never to be touched until you throw them away, whereas when you are in hotel rooms you feel like eating and touching everything........

Which reminds me how good are these longer overnights when you get to know a person very well, have time to explore one's body better and excite your senses in a way that daily life does not allow you to.......

I then put my knee length office dress, my impecable knee length coat, ensuring my hair did not look like out of bed and off I was. The gentleman in the elevator who smiled and kept looking at me in a shy way made me think I must have looked pretty good after only 4 hours of sleep. The office guys in the lobby stopped their conversation and kept looking at me and I wondered why: after all, I looked like I was going to the office too, ha ha.

But I am sure the Radio I installed on his laptop part of the iTunes package with lots of international radio stations structured in all kind of music styles will become handy and most sensual when he will try to seduce other girls with his SHAGGATRONIC TECHNIQUES, them lucky girls!!!!!! After all isn't it more exciting when 2 people are interested participants rather than only the 'paid girl' has to do all the work: from using all shagging techniques to ensure complete enjoyment to even using all kind of massage techniques on his body or even his calves......... And then you start wondering, what some people really, really want? Are they really happy and appreciative of the little things that one does for them, when others cannot or won't deliver?




Wednesday, July 27th 2011

Yes, he is good looking and he is wearing his age rather well. - Aren't there lots of rockers in their '50s who still make millions of women salivating with desire? - Plus he speaks with a rather posh voice, probably he went to a very good school or maybe the years of almost weekly international travel contributed to this. And there is something about the way he wears himself that makes him attractive to women: whether I am with him or when he waits for me or I go briefly away, he will buy drinks to other women that start chatting him up thinking that he could be 'the generous kind'. Probably they do not sense, this is where his generosity stops.

Last time I met him, he was drunk again and you cannot blame me that he got drunk waiting: no man that respects a woman gets drunk waiting for her whilst some 'friendly middle aged women' think they should chat him up and then in response he would gentlemanly buy them drinks. Probably realising I am 'tough' competition they will give him their telephone number and disappear waiting for his telephone call. He cannot be bothered to call women: he thinks he is above everyone because of his hard worked 'prosperity' and women should ran after him........... but let them learn this........

Remembering our first meeting, I decided to give him the second chance. So I took the second drink that I knew will make my world spin around (yes, I should take some alcohol resilience classes) knowing that once we are comfortably seated in the taxi he will start kissing me with those full lips in such a dream inducing way, you feel so lost in his powerful arms, then sleeping his fingers between my open shirt and underneath my bra touching and rubbing my nipples that would drive me mad. At which point he would move his arm that was holding my face avoiding his kisses (I still believe that no one should kiss in the taxis, ha ha) to touching the area between my legs and then actually supporting my bum with his palm. The most dangerous men are the highest educated!!!!!!!!!!

But just like the first time, I got so disappointed that he does not know to keep his big mouth shut: 'you know what we will be doing next' he said to the taxi driver that probably he got a hard one himself watching us in the rear view mirror for the almost 25 minutes he drove us to his place. I was not sure if he was happy for us, for the very big tip he got or for the fact that he will have a great saucy story to tell his mates? However drunk I was, it cannot get out of my head why on earth he told this gorgeous, young guy that got in the elevator with us and politely turn his back onto us, despite clearly seeing his face looking at me through the very polished doors: 'come on, don't be shy!' He behaved as if he picked me up in some seedy place and he was the low class guy who is telling everyone about his 'win'. And silly me, I was rather impressed with the fact that he was always introducing me to the bar/restaurant staff that seemed to know him or even to his young lady friends who seemed to use him purely to get in the 'desirable places' of London.

So, is true when they say the first impressions can be deceiving! After a very naughty scene involving him taking my clothes as soon as we got in his place overlooking Thames through this floor to ceiling glass windows, and yes, he certainly knows how to take off one's clothes, we went to sleep for several hours. I was pleasantly surprised with the fact that he woke up when I went to the toilet and then he started working on me from up till down, especially down for quite some time with another repetition again around sunrise. By then he was so tired that he went to sleep snoring lightly. I remembered that my swimming suit was still in the plastic bag since I left the gym, so I went to the living room to take it out to dry. I switched off his TV with the latest James Bond movie playing for the n-th time on his TV - I mean do guys put these movies on and on to teach them the art of 'smooth playing' with an edge to thrill and licence to spill (the beans)?

I later on came across his Facebook account and found even more pathetic some young blonde in a bikini's picture next to somebody related to him!!!!!!! The girl could have been his daughter or grand daughter but her Slavic name said otherwise. Add to this his rather 'unusable' part of the body that could never perform and then I realised that my charity work there was done. You think you have so much in common with a person and then you are brought to reality with the fact that some men refuse to grow up and would prefer to live etternaly in a James Bond fantasy involving younger girls and Facebook accounts to prove they are connoisseurs of the modern times. But aren't they missing the point on life? They will burn over and over again and still never learn..........

Unfortunately these guys seem to be attracted to the lights of London, LA or NY as they think they can hide in the big cities and live a fantasy life. Us girls move on until we find another guy out there to dissappoint us, ha ha. Until then you say: 'chin up' or 'keep happy' but don't forget to learn from the moral of the story.




Saturday, July 16th 2011

Another overseas trip and I was so happy to be back to the 'normal' life of London when I received some very bad news. So upsetting and so annoyed with myself: you go to sleep a person and you wake up a different one! And the most frustrating is, how long will take to go back to normality.......... But hey, this is life and I followed the New Orleans way of dealing with it: the musical way. I was wondering whether music will penetrate my shell, so often in situations like this, you simply stop hearing anything at all...........

A trip to see the latest production of ENO with the participation of two of most wonderful ballet dancer from Bolshoi theatre, followed by a quiet drink, transformed itself into another 'wild night'. I felt so guilty about it, even about stepping into that place after my visit to the ENO: a place that I passed near, on so many occassions but I never considered of accessing it. On this particular occasion I thought that the 'suits' would leave me alone absorbed in my own drink whilst trying to meditate quietly. Yes, on how many occassions many of us actually manage to collect their thoughts and come to the right conclusions in the foreign environment of different places and not in the warmth of their home.

Even with my back towards the crowd, tucked away in a quieter corner I had several groups of suits coming and chatting me up. As usual, I gave in after a group of drunken guys finally penetrated my 'shell' with one particular guy dragging me so closely to feel his manhood, his muscly chest and looking at me through his thin 'presentable' glasses speaking in the poshest of accents. How many times one passes near guys like this on the street, looking so decent and perfect with their good quality suits and expensive watches, thinking of their level of integrity? But aren't they all men? On my return to London, a guy that was seated near me trying to chat me up, despite me showing him the level of concentration in my literature in front of me and that I am not interested in anything at that moment in time and assuming that no one is interested in me, when he said: 'I can assure you, more than 90% of men on this plane fancy you'. I assured him that was not the case but he kept bringing the arguments to the point that I left that seat. I went to the front of the plane where shortly after the pilot came from his cabin to strike a conversation with me. He was after all, the same pilot that was looking with his co-pilot at me while smiling when I was passing throught the glass bridge into the plane!!!!!!!!

Anyway back to our City boy, minutes after buying me a drink, he introduced me to his colleagues, whilst inviting me several times to come to his house in a leafy and well respected suburb telling what he is going to do to me. He has not forgotten to talk about one of his gorgeous mates, mind you, in even better shape that even his lady boss probably was fancying him as she kept talking only to him, and how long and big his 'little brother' was. I mean, do work colleagues talk about this?

It was all becoming so seedy, this is not the night I had in mind, so I took the chance, when invited, to talk to the quiet guy in the group. You know, the ugly guy that you would not like in a million year and wonder who actually would, who dances so funnily you cannot stop laughing. But what have a triggered here? Twenty minutes later, a more voluptuous lady colleague was kissing him so desperately, I thought, hey after all, this guy has a chance with somebody! The tall guy disappeared with the ugly lady boss, ha ha, and my guy said he is going to wait outside for me to go to his place. Well, he wasn't there one hour later when I decided to leave the place tired of the guys who kept chatting me up, pulling my hair telling the story of their lives or dancing around me going up and down on me leaving nothing to imagination to the girls who kept looking thinking God knows what! But hey, in London, one cannot assume that even these girls are virgin themeselves, right? They could very well be some office girls desperate for a shagg or girls who might work in a sauna parlour!

But I cannot wonder about several things: the psychological layer created by one's actions that make others try to protect their man or launch themselves into actions before unthinkable or maybe triggering a new relationship and secondly, why on earth is it so difficult for a girl to have a quiet drink out! There is time for shagging, time for flirting or time for conversations. But it looks like some men do not know how to respect a woman's personal space. Do we always have to stay in and not go out to reflect about different issues when men can do this perfectly well?

And if so, where does Prince Charming socialise then? Instead it looks like too often we have to put up with guys on a drinking spree who think that their conversations full of innuendo are more attractive.

Oh, life...........




Friday, July 1st 2011

*****GAGA WITH PEGS IN THE HAIR?????????*****

OK, so once in a while anyone feels like going out, having a bit of fun, as they call it. I remember at University I was going out almost every weekend and I was always wondering where 'all the good girls AKA the ones with the nose in the book only' would disappear? Little did I know they all had boyfriends they were shagging quietly...... But I have a different perspective on a 'night out'. No, no, I am not going out to find somebody to shagg, apparently like most of people, I go out to simply enjoy myself! Yes, I got used to ignore the dozens of men that come to me with all kind of proposals hidden in different kind of conversations, the substance only to be revealed in the end and I try to laugh or smile when these proposals are not just like 'can I come to your place to only sleep near you' or 'come to my hotel, we are going to have fun' but the ones that are simply rude. Yes, these kind of guys do exist and despite how much money they make, you can read on their faces the lack of intelligence or education....... that make decent people so attractive.

But I never understood what is wrong with the girls that simply throw some very rude comments, like this girl said: 'This is fake and this is fake' whilst pointing to my breasts and to my hair. I did not even make eye contact and simply ignored her but I was wondering why these people behave like this only in the UK? Anywhere you travel in Asia, whether is Japan, China, Thailand or Malaysia, people say only nice things to you - well besides annoyingly taking thousands of pictures of you every day!!! Even in Europe or the USA, girls do not behave in such a manner. Is it the fact that there are so many girls with fake hair or silicon an incentive for them to assume that we are all alike? Not that I have anything against silicon or fake hair.......

The other week, some girls passed near me and I felt something on my hair straight away. Well, it was a peg!!!!!!!!! What am I? Gaga with pegs? I started laughing surprised with their audacity and nastiness, but when I met them again in the club I was going to, I noticed how they were staring at me while different guys were chatting me up. Which reminds me how outrageous some guys can be! This guy, after several minutes of conversation he was already declaring his love to me so repeatedly and with the same: 'I will be your slave, I will dedicate my life to you' sentence that made me wonder if he always said the same thing to all women. I got so annoyed with his sentence repetition, I was only relieved when a woman getting married next day apparently, put her arm around his neck and started having a very long conversation. But no, he came back, now with his shirt open up to his belly to show me his rather smooth and muscly chest! My friends would have been at the kissing or 'go to bed' stage if they were to meet him, ha ha But not me, super fussy bitch, ha ha

So what follows? Yes, a night out in town, hopefully less eventfull, appart from taxi drivers passing compliments and wondering 'how a woman like you is single?' Oh, nice people. But it never did the trick, to make me more confident and less shy. Well, at least no more blind dating with guys who want to know your life story, take you for a fast, boring shagg and then never hear from them again, probably back to their wives/girl friends etc

Better wait for the right shagg where Mister wants his value for money, hence will not be tired in 30-60minutes, ha ha




Sunday, June 26th 2011

OK, you decide that you want to meet a person with whom you exchange several e-mails, then have a telephone conversation to convince yourself he is a guy in his right mind and not a kid on a 'research journey' and agree to meet him at his hotel on a chosen day. Prior to that proposed meeting you even go to the extent of having your manicure/pedicure/hair done, even go for a massage and decide what outfits to bring, what toys/massage oil and other accessories, only to realise that your trust is taken for granted. Several hours before the meeting, your guy is not calling or texting and he is 'incommunicado'. You think: 'OK, he wasted my time, let's get into the pyjamas and have a relaxing night in with a big slice of water mellon'.

But no, 15minutes before the proposed meeting he texts you saying 'Are you coming?'. Hold on, you think, I could not reach this guy, I do not have his hotel or room confirmation and now he wants me to rush across town and reach him in some 1-2 hours, depending on the traffic and try to pretend that I am not upset of the fact that he messed me around earlier on?

But actually what happened here? Can we agree on the fact that actually he met other girl earlier on (as he wanted a longer booking originally at a very low price which I was not keen on) he shagged her for a lower price, then probably for some reason she was not pleased with him anymore and left. At which point the client decided to step on his honour and text me, remembering all the saucy details we have exchanged and my keen interest in him!!!!!!!!!!

What if this client has over a dozen of positive reviews from some girls and some negative ones, but written so badly, that you still prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt!!!!!! You decide to move on though thinking not to make the same mistake anymore, but one week later another guy with no reviews wants to meet you, makes a booking through the booking system but then says: Ah, I am a friend of the guy 'you rejected' one week earlier so we will have to cancel it!!!!!!!! So is my fault now? Thank God I kept all the e-mails/texts to back me up and show that I am not the liar here.

Why cannot guys be honest? You expect the most from professional guys and yet, you realise even when you want a straight forward shagg to use your high energy levels, a guy can still mess you around and not have the decency to accept that not all girls are fools and we can actually read between the lines?

If say, this guy pretends to e-mail you under a new identity then cancels it, what does it actually mean? Is he frustrated? Does he want to hurt you?

But why doesn't he move on with his life? Isn't this site packed with lots of shagging interests? ha ha

Just a thought.