Tag Archives: Escort

I’m still here.

I’m not dead and I haven’t been silenced by rabid nuns.
I’ve been busy and the times they are a changin’.
However, those changes mean that I can post things I couldn’t write about before.

You’ll see. 😉


May You Live In Interesting Times…

Whoever wished that one on me had better watch out, because if I find out who it was, I’m going to stand on their bunions… HARD!

My life over the last six weeks or so has been eventful, to say the least, but it seems to be settling back to something almost recognisable as normal now, which means (fingers crossed) that I can start to catch up on my email. Well, I already have started, but if you’ve been expecting to hear from me and haven’t, feel free to prod me with a reminder.


Having changed my tune and started providing domination as a service, I have to say I’m thoroughly enjoying myself and can’t wait to get in a bit of practice in 2012. Which reminds me.

Naughty flatmate! Belated Merry Xmas and I look forward to giving you a good thrashing in the new year!

In case you hadn’t noticed (Yes you! pay attention at the back!), I’ve had a new field report.  So there you have it. Further proof – if you needed it – that I aten’t dead. Not only that, but that I am a sex goddess and social chameleon *preens*. Oh alright then, no I’m not, but I’m not half bad. In fact, as not bad goes, I’m really rather alright. Smile


Interesting times or not, I was alternately amused and irritated to see that the Highland News seem to have appointed themselves the moral guardians of Inverness. Their article on the dating website for married folk who fancy a bit on the side may have been intended to stop such shenanigans, but the cynic in me wonders whether it wasn’t just a sneaky bit of advertising for the “security company” mentioned. Ooh! Yes, we’re all terribly impressed that they’ve just taken on two ex policefolk, but really? You’re going to hunt down all the adulterers who fancy a bit of light entertainment because of the recession? Then what? Burn them at the stake outside the town hall? You’ll just cause a traffic jam and then nobody will be your friend. Or are you planning to tell their unsuspecting partners?

Excuse me Madam, I know you think that you are perfectly content with your life and you have a good relationship with your husband, but I feel the need to inform you that he’s been having it away with her at number seven!

If I’m not mistaken, you can’t just start randomly following people. You’ll end up being sued. People have been having affairs and quick knee tremblers when nobody was looking since time began. Right or wrong, it’s none of your business.

Whether or not the articles in question boosted business for the professional nosey parkers, I’m absolutely certain that they will have resulted in a dramatic leap in membership applications for the no strings sex site. So, yah boo sucks to you!

And just don’t get me started on the letters page where two Inverness residents were allowed to spout homophobic bile to a wide audience… Just don’t!

Aaaaand we’re back

But probably not for long.

Some of you may have noticed that my site was down. It’s back for the moment, but it’ll be getting a complete revamp over the weekend, so it’ll be up and down (like a tart’s knickers?).

You also may have noticed that I’m not working much at the moment, preferring to just meet up with my regular chaps/old friends. This is because I am currently working on another project and there is only so much of me to go around.  So, I apologise if you’ve been trying to get hold of me. My phone is next to useless at the moment, but I will endeavour to answer my email in a timely fashion.

In the meantime, here’s something to tide you over… Winking smile


We’re Off To See The Wizard

Well, I’m off down to Inverness again. Despite the snow and gale force winds. Honestly, don’t be surprised if my next blog post is co-written by the cowardly lion, it’s ‘orrible out there.

I’m posting this on my iPhone as I managed to knock my laptop off the table the other day. There was that moment of “I can’t look”, just like when you stub your toe and think there’s going to be a mangled lump where said toe was five minutes ago (or is that just me?), but as it turned out, the only casualty was the charger. Cue me rationing the remaining power in the battery like the last bottle of water on a desert trek. I’ve been a bit lost for the last couple of days. 90% of my friends live in Internetland. I’ve actually had to phone people and speak to them properly. How quaint!


In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m now offering domination and humiliation. I know I said it wasn’t my thing, but I surprised myself. I started off spanking a few naughty boys’ bottoms and it’s led to all kinds of shenanigans. I’ve even (almost) shaken off the voice of the woman in Personal Services saying “winky poos and bot-bots”… Almost.

As I’m in Inverness weekly now, I really need to get a little apartment in the city centre, so if you happen to have/know of something suitable, please let me know. We floozies really do make the best tenants (believe it or not).

A Lesson In Fuckwittery

Or “How Not To Annoy Me Before We’ve Even Met”

1. Don’t Tell Fibs.

Hi, I read your website. How much do you charge?

No you didn’t. If you had read my website, you would know that your question is answered there.

2 & 3. Speak English and don’t tell me to text back.

I wd luv 2 fuk u. TB

I’m not 15. I don’t understand your daft non language and I don’t respond well to orders. Continue reading

Gallivanting Again

Yes, it’s a hard life. Two visits to Inverness and a jolly to York to meet friends since last I blogged. Oh woe is me. *Grins*

It was my first visit to York and it’s a beautiful place, full of Tudor buildings and fabulous, winding, cobbled lanes. Unfortunately it was also full of people with cameras who feel it is their right in life to stop suddenly in front of you and while you are still on tiptoes, arms pin-wheeling helplessly,  trying to regain your balance without knocking them off their feet, they then step backwards (to get a better photo) and crush your poor abused toes. I say poor and abused because, just for once, I was wearing cheap shoes[1]. My Gran used to say that you should always wear good shoes and sleep in a decent bed. How right she was.

The bed that Claire and I shared in York (stop it, you smutty minded so’n’so) was perfectly adequate, but some genius or other had decided that not only was a mattress protector required, but that it should have a plastic backing. Add to that the fact that somebody had turned the electric heater up to “blast furnace” and the result is Claire and I waking up at 6:30am and looking accusingly at one another because the bed is soaking. Don’t worry, it was just sweat. If you’ve ever had rude thoughts about Claire and I sliding around on a bed, then there you go. Although I feel it only fair to let you know that we were both clad in rather fetching jim jams.

Going back to the shoes, I was seduced by the call of pretty, cheap shoes. They’ll do thought I. Pah! Bloody awful uncomfortable things! I ended up limping into M&S in York, grabbing a passing member of staff and begging her for comfy insoles. I was rather perturbed when she returned with a pair of the most phallic looking, gel based creations I have ever witnessed. Phallic or not, they were paid for and inserted into my boots rather sharpish, which involved Claire and I sharing a disabled toilet and making rather interesting sighing noises as we introduced our soles to the joy of gel.

There was a rather interesting array of market stalls in York. I (in my usual manner) would probably describe it as a “Hippie market”, although we overheard one woman refer to it (in finest BBC English accent) as “Ethnic”. In probably the same tone that she would command Jeeves to “Move those nasty Ethnics from the lawn”. Still, whether it was Ethnic or Hippie, the fact remains that odour emanating from the Pot-Pourri/Incense stall was exactly the pong I remember from 1970s bus shelters. Someone suggested that it was the mixture of whiffs which achieved this effect and whilst I’m sure there is at least the tiniest ring of veracity to that, I’m still shocked that A. Nobody outside our raiding shopping party seemed to notice and B. The stall owner hadn’t searched out the offending items and binned them.

Anyway, there was of course more to our weekend than pongy stalls and crippled feet, but I feel it has been covered by Laura and Claire, so if you really want to read about the river with ideas above it’s station, the fabulous food and company or that thing with the two girls and a sheep[2], then off you pop over to their respective blogs.

[1] To add insult to injury, on the soles of my feet destroying shoes, it says “Your feet feel wonderful”. I can tell you that this is absolutely not true.

[2] Ok, I made that one up… Sorry. Smile

A Lucky Girl

In many ways.

Last week I met a lovely new gentleman in Glasgow. I was treated to a 69792Jennifer Ellison fabulous evening which included a delicious dinner at an Italian restaurant and a trip to the theatre to watch Calendar Girls.

Mr J was also kind enough to write me  a field report.

Thank you Mr J. I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself and I hope to see you again. xx