Saturday, October 06, 2007

Looks 3

The taller and bigger girls I referred to can be described as Hooters Girls, or mainstream strippers as seen on screen savers. (Not to be confused with big as in BBW's.) Once in a respectable, big trade show in Manchester, there was a booth called Personal Services. There were a few blond Hooter type girls in there, wearing tight short shorts and tight short T-shirts, waiting to be booked when you finished with the show. They would be a head taller than the average Japanese visitors.

Once in a while you can see a tall model in a Hampton Court flower show. Her companion may be athletic but dressed more like a plumber. It must be his mates fixing him up with an escort that he dreamed about, for his birthday present. The give away is that her short dress is elegant but semi transparent. On closer look she looks more like a Hooter girl, meatier than catwalk models. In local terms, there are great mismatch about them and she is the obviously the taller one.

Once I saw a CFO type carrying his companion for weekend getaways. It was a well hidden part of Wales. The restaurant is well known, small, dark, discreet. There are exotic drinks to go with every course, including desert, if you can manage. Both are dressed up for dinner, he in an expensive suit for work, she in a sexy and elegant dress. She is obviously taller sitting down. They have two few words for having a secret affair. A wife may be but she didn't act like a trophy wife. He's 50 versus her 20. A sugar daddy may be but most likely an escort for the night. I wasn't drooling over her but I was thinking to get my hand on one of these. Looking back, it could be easy. He might be too happy to swap with my small girl that I brought. Though my girl would think otherwise.

With beginner's luck, I did run into a beautiful stripper type girl for cheap. I couldn't resist to try the telephone booth thing when I was in London. It was not the typical booth in typical locations. It was quite clean with few cards inside if any. There was a hand written note on folded A4 paper, with a large phone number and perhaps the name of the girl. The incall place wasn't nearby. The place fits the description of a Mayfair flat for expensive call girls. But rather than a flat, it was the basement level of a nice town house. She was tall and beautiful and very blond. The place looked blend new, fully furnished. I needed to go to the bathroom and noticed the spotlessly clean big bathtub with gold trimmings. I was so naive as to ask the girl if I can play with her in the beautiful tub. She declined politely by saying that the plumbing wasn't working. I believed her and didn't think twice. The sex wasn't memorable. I was nervous and excited. And for the price it had to be a quickie. She looked like an agency girl, the flat looked like a luxury flat for agency incalls. But they could finish off some telephone booth punters in between agency clients.

Once I was fully prepared to get what I wanted, with enough time and money. I took the train instead so I could have more time. But everything seemed to go wrong. I arrived late after 9 pm. I didn't have familiar agencies to rely on. For the few numbers that I grabbed from the Internet, some didn't have people to pick up the phone. Some didn't do incalls. I called this agency with just a number, a name but no descriptions. A guy picked up the phone. He routinely asked what I prefer. I was on autopilot and said something like 18, blond hair, blue eyes, voluptuous, hoping that I finally used the right code. Actually I didn't have much preference except the last one, but I hoped to screen out the weak agencies fast so I could call others right away.

After a short while he said "she would do it", and told me the girl will call me back. It wasn't promising as I was expecting that he would say, "I have this 23 year old blond girl...", or some other counter suggestions. Also, the price wasn't first class, which didn't help his credibility. But at this point, I was horny and just wanted to cut my losses. So the money saved would help. I talked with the girl briefly. She pretended to be something other than herself. Maybe she just tried to be everything to everybody. But I didn't know what to make of it. Even worse, her incall was in a seedy part of town. So I was prepared to walk away if she looked like a telephone booth girl rather than an agency girl.

A pale skinny drug addict opened the door. Obviously she wasn't the maid so I was turning my body to get away. But then I understood that the split second impression was a mistake. I was happily surprised and I was too happy to get in.

Her hair is light blond rather than peroxide blond. Not a lot of girls dye their hairs. It's an uncommon, tasteful but bold color, or she has Scandinavian ancestry. She has a trendy designer blob. Her eyes are blue, very blue. I don't think color contact lens were on the local market at the time. And I don't think she would be that active later when she had some lens on her eyes. She was ghostly pale with a geisha makeup to cover up her eye circles. But I was wrong. Her face skin color matches her legs, and everywhere else. There were little makeup on her except for her red lips. She wasn't anything that I asked for, but I couldn't be happier.

She is skinny but certainly not underweight. Indeed she has a very healthy tight body that model thin girls often do not have. She looked small but she isn't that small at 5'5, and her long limbs made her looked skinner than she is. The problem is that she was wearing a pinstripe skirt, probably from M&S, to make her look more mature and elegant. Her waist and butt lost a little in it. Also, with my current expertise, I know she was hiding her expensive taste in clothes, and didn't want to mess them up.

Her flat was bad, because she actually lived in it. It was small and not very tidy. And she had a lot of things in it, like expensive sound equipment and TV. She also had a bicycle by her bed. Everything showed that she was pretty new.

She called the agency but nobody answered. She was pissed off as nobody would be looking out for her. I didn't think she was scared of me physically but she was very puzzled. It was late. I was wearing a causal dark suit, too causal for work. But I did wear it to work. I had the latest cell phone with a very expensive phone number if you need to buy it. It happened that the shop was almost folding, begged the carrier for a good number for me so I would send a bunch of friends to them. It folded weeks after selling me the phone anyway. I think she was curious and cautious after getting my number earlier. She couldn't help and asked me "Who are you?" at some point during the conversation in her flat. It wasn't like "what do you do for a living?", that I could answer. I was speechless. She must had thought I had some secrets.

This girl took her time, I never seen anything like this. I couldn't wait to open the package to see what's inside. But she seemed rather successful to keep me sitting where I was. She went into the kitchen to boil some water with a kettle and made tea for two, big mugs. I was too polite not to enjoy her tea and jump on her. Thinking she was new, I didn't want to scare her a bit. She rolled a joint and shared it with me.

She talked a lot and she's a straight talker with a girlie voice. That's why she pretended to have a deeper sexy mature voice on the phone earlier. She told me she had a bisexual boyfriend who often left her alone and went out to play himself. Maybe she just told me the truth for nothing. Maybe she wanted me to know there's someone to look over her, she's attached but she could also have fun with other people.

She was so refreshing that I asked her how could she manage to go to hotels for outcalls? You know all hotel staffs play spot the hookers. She must be a sensation doing outcall like that. As I have mentioned, I went to Thailand once and my cute Thai girl hardly survives the stare from all the hotel staffs, "leave my man alone" stare from female staffs, and "I will sell my daughter for you" stare from male staffs, even though all Thai hotels are hooker friendly. So much so that she refused to leave alone and hide behind me getting out. This girl Tami is triple that sensation. But her answer is simple, "the other guests have daughters!". Silly me, that must be her disguise. But I wouldn't want to take her out for dinner.

We were still sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table when we heard the policemen's walkie talkie beeping noise outside the door. Her door was not right on the street but not far away. I then understood everything. It must be some scam to shake money out of me, which explains she taking her time. But nothing happened. Then I thought it must be her boyfriend, their plan to warn me that policemen do patrol the seedy area very often. I knew. So it could also be a real policemen walking pass the street.

The fun started when she jumped on me with clothes on. A second earlier I was talking with her, and I was still sitting on the exact same spot. She attacked me like no others. She wrapped her long legs around me, even I was sitting on the sofa. She held me real hard, indeed my hand had trouble doing anything. She sucked me hard, not leaving me breathless, but I struggled to leave some space between my nose and her nose, so I could breath. At this point I was thinking, "what was she smoking?". But since we smoked the same joint, and I was calm and composed, she must had a crush on me. Indeed, she was crushing me.

Since she was sticking onto me like velco, I thought of carrying her around. I thought of doing it on the kitchen sink but too far. I put her on a dresser instead. But furniture sex is a gimmick on movies. It's really bad unless it's custom dimensioned. So we did it on the bed. She wasn't holding back on me. She didn't mind at all to be manipulated into different positions. But I didn't know much. And if I knew what a spinner was, I would have sprung her around - she's the real spinner.

But suddenly she was frozen. It must be something that I did wrong at her back. I climbed over her carefully to see her face. She was conscious but speechless, holding her head. "What was she smoking?", again I though. If she opened her mouth a few second later I would have called the ambulance. She was frozen because she bumped her head on the bicycle handle beside the bed. There was no harm done, and told me to carry on bonking her hard.

I had the cigarette after, back on the sofa. I had my dark suit back on but not ready to go. I told her I need to recuperate a while before I could manage to walk back to the tube and then train station. I was exhausted alright, but I must had looked a little sad to her. She thought I wasn't satisfied. But I assured her that I was very happy, just tiny frustrated about things I didn't manage to do on her, such as furniture sex.

I knew she was new and tried everything to get some regulars. She wouldn't mind a bit about tips, but still I offered her tips as a token of appreciation. But I told her that was my last twenty, and I need some change to take the train back home. I must have some cash somewhere because she was cheaper than I expected. But I wasn't thinking, or "what was I smoking?". Now she was sure I liked her. And she wrapped her arms around my neck, and gave me a lingering kiss.

From then on, I downsized. Or, I didn't have preference on size anymore.


Anonymous said...

Ah... a classic "Player Post" We Love your blog... keep it upxxx

Anonymous said...

literally ;-)

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