What am I up to?

Question: What am I up to?

Answer: who cares?

Legitimate answer .. true .. and quite acceptable .. even to me ... but since I have done is question might as well give the answer.

I'm coming back on the scene .. that I'm coming back to stir in the forums and dell'escorting. Why is that? In fact I'm not ever come out last year but I did some experiments ... some tests .. well I had fun doing the idiot (I can well .. interpretation by oscar).

So I come back to stir the murky world of the frequenters of the worst brothels of Calcutta as would clear ... but this time seen in a more ironic and funny ... less heavy.

It takes a little longer .. I'm not ready yet but I think the end result will be interesting, for sure I will make new "friends."

I also have other threads to resume and resume .. I just think that I have about 53 drafts waiting to be reviewed .. very strange thing for me because usually I write about the casting.

Surely most will end up in the trash because they are no longer relevant or simply because they feel the more my ... anyway ... unfortunately some will be saved for you.

What do you mean "ays"

Ok ... since it's Christmas I make a "gift" too.

Lately she returned the curiosity around "Bibiebibo" .. the signing ... and other little things; all you can not reveal anything but yes.

And then reveal the mystery of the "signature" or the mystery of "ays"

You understand that it is an acronym, it is about understanding what it means, but first you need to tell you how I found out.

Those were different times, namely London a long time ago .. unknown (otherwise .. it starts again with the age ..) but several years ago and I was an adult and vaccinated.

I was in London for a mixture of business and pleasure and something about that time I've written in the past. London from the point of view "escorts" is the maximum; it was then and still is I think. I had already attended this trend and here from time to time that is independent of any escort agency.

One evening I call an escort and I agree with you to a meeting. He comes to me and we spend a couple of hours decidedly pleasant. I remember perfectly the name "Mercedes", but unidentified Hispanic origin. I still have it somewhere on his business card that he left me, it was black with only the name in gold, phone number and a symbol in the name (in gold).

The symbol was the acronym "ays." All clear now? Not yet?

Clarified that is of Anglo-Saxon origin ... try to imagine what could be written on a business card to an escort. What does an escort? Ok ... so many things .. but .. one thing primarily: provides a service (.. at least in the Anglo-Saxon conception of escort).

So the "s" stands for "service" and now everything is clear.

The acronym is as follows: At Your Service, "at your service" literally but better understood as "to serve."

I liked the theme song and when I started writing in various forums and I had to find a signature, after using for a while, '"Love" but it was too saccharine ... here I inizato to use "ays."

The mystery is revealed that the signature was curious about a lot and not just here on the blog but also in various forums. It is a great mystery but that's it.

There is still a long way to define ... like how did the nickname ... the story on the ship ... school age (this .. even with pliers Inquisitor ..).

ays Bibi

I did the escort for ladies

The initial phase of the new project has started and I have to say it went pretty well, so well that it is already walking alone. The still follow very closely but will not have to always be present and that was what I was hoping.

On the sidelines of everything that has happened I have to explain the title of the post otherwise you take me for a madman (oddio.. Not so difficult).

And 'success at the official presentation of the new project that I will not explain. In two words .. Remember when I wrote that I had gone to Rome to meet with a jerk of Parliament? Well .. from there started a project and now has materialized. And in Rome this week it was launched.

And that's where I made the guide. I must say it was very strange, for years I have benefited from the services of "escorts" and at the end, as in Dante's hell of a law of retaliation, I found myself "companion."

And 'all happened by chance and because of the four Russian words that I know of. There were also people who came from those parts, and then I found myself scarrozza three gals to rome. Among other things, it is not the Roman Empire, it was not exactly a walk.

But first things first.

It all starts with the presentation of the project followed by refreshments ect. ect. ect. followed by a nice fuck in the programs because, at the end of the day everyone had to leave for his cabbages. Big mistake because the three gals want to go around Rome but do not know a word that is not Romanian or Russian (two and a Romanian Russian). And then my "brilliant" partner remembers that I know four crap in that language and I pretending to be a fine speaker and expert on the ways of Gogol .. (bastard inside ...) and assures the ladies that I will be their guide ... (bastard inside and out ..).

Now .. the ladies are not really "ladies" .... say things as they are; one (Russian) is a big woman about 40 years old and of considerable size, the two have instead Romanian thirty years, a normal and a considerable pussy instead is (to put it in an understandable way at all).

It starts immediately for dinner and I have to improvise by drawing a random local Trastevere and thankfully I'm okay. The big woman Russian launches a taste of everything the steps to throw a fork ... while the "normal" (as the distinction from the "chick") just look snacking and little or nothing. The "chick" and it is normal but it gives us a little too much into the wine of the castles.

At the end of dinner, the "buoy station" (the Russian) yields distorted by the last "tiramisu" swallowed up and wants to return to the hotel. Undecided until the last moment whether to call a taxi or a tow truck, I opt for the first and the fatigue load on the vehicle under the worried gaze of the taxi driver who tells me "aho ... I had just redone the armortizzatori .. .. Fuck them."

At this point it seems that everything goes well and I am going to call other taxi but the two stop me "hard" disk ...? That disk? Time? Steering wheel? Please specify ...

They are dicks ... they want to go to the disco to dance ... Now .. I have a certain age, I do not deny that as a boy I attended clubs but we are talking about places that no longer exist ... where I would go is to find the remains of scavendo ' time and store them in a museum .. And all this was not the case in Rome.

Desperate call for help to the owner of the restaurant that I pity rattles off a few names of the disco quite in vogue in the capital.

"Gilda" ... "Jackie O" ... "Piper" dick ... but they are the same names that were circulating in my day! That's why they call it the Eternal City! Then come other names unknown to me.

Learned in five seconds on the nightlife of the capital, and I propose to launch a first local gals. Via .. we go.

We arrive at this place and honestly I was expecting something better but this is what passes entering the convent and considering that I saw in the distance the Dome ... I think a proper comparison.

The two embark on track regardless of everything and everyone. Rest a little shocked because they give points to the local cubist, if they had access to a pole ... I do not know where they would disappear .. I had stayed at the dances maybe a little more "normal" here is all a rub and a mood from porn movie. The fact is that in a short time the area is filled with "gadflies". What is a "gadfly"? And 'that insect extremely boring and insistent that as few bites and usually torture cows .. and Christians during the summer.

Where I come from is also to indicate those funny looking stubbornly to mate and copulate with all the girls, or women who like to throw the captain. If they were in the disco always and I see that this has not changed.

The two girls have attracted the attention of all the "gadflies" local and I have to say that the Romans as a "tafanaggine" have no rivals ... but the two are laughing at great and I understand that you are having to take the piss the cloud that surrounds them. I do my "hanger" that I lean on the wall, I drink and I look and I slam the Maronites thinking about what I have to do the next day.

After a couple of hours and at least three comsumazioni, the "chick" comes and tells me "where do we go now?" ..... Like where are we going? There are two options: to sleep or fuck it ... NO .. third option .. in another room .. because one is not enough, wants to see Rome .. ect. ect ... ect ...

Sorridenndo and bestemiando, move away the "gadflies" with both the normal and the output gain chased by curses on my future generations and praise the professionalism of my grandmothers and great-grandmothers throw me from them.

I opt for a local Testaccio and I find myself in a pit .. Crazy local decidedly low-level people who like music but it is the two girls is fine, I think it will be alcohol.

The chick is taken immediately assaulted by two really interesting examples of "male jerk" that is what makes the "conquistador" to disk ... The specimens have in common a good pitch in the head where the faithful can park the bus headed to St. Peter's , a lean physique .. but nn certain athletic front have a discreet "graveyard of pies" as they say a couple of comedians. And the eyes ... I do not know if it's just me but I noticed they eyed, constantly moving on every part of the body of the chick. I find myself thinking if I was like that, too, if I behaved the same way ... oh my God .. that figure shit .... if that were the case I would have given hole alone.

The normal she also has her work cut out to disentangle the various polyps that surround it, it all goes smoothly. The thing I get out of hand when the "chick" in slinguazzare begins with a man who must have free-range firearms because he has a gun in your pocket or at least I think.

The "gadflies" at this point you throw all the normal beginning to show signs of slowing down and in the end ... she gives up and moves slimonazza quite a gadfly. From the position of the hanger look sad disperse the horseflies were not disappointed, all with guns in his pocket and without being able to fire a shot.

Now I pose the question: how to go to sleep and take a nap without having to face the two duels Rusticana with the two horseflies? Or leave them there to fend for sun? I opt for a solution suggeritami by Quintus Fabius Maximus, temporized.

The chick continues to amaze me because she is in practice almost scopazzarsi the gadfly while the normal is more a victim than victimizer. Things go for long and I'm almost asleep when the scenario changes abruptly. The two greet their horseflies, you slinguazzano and then calmly come to me and tell me that we can go ... I'm surprised but I do not find the exact words to describe the faces of the two horseflies downloaded that way .. there are no words really, I should do just a picture but I feel that if I want to get out alive is something to be avoided.

By taxi the two big laugh and then I speak a little bit of the evening. The discussion continues in the hotel and in practice, I trust that they just wanted to have a little fun, are both married and with children as well. Never had intentions to go further, just a bit of fun and nothing more, and indeed the chick asks me if by chance I have offended or if I have created problems. "Absolutely not," was my answer and I have to say that I know lie pretty well and I think he bought it.

When I get in the room I think back to the evening and I think of all the various managers that after stressful meetings or conferences eventually "relax" with various escorts. I worked for a while in a multinational vied to go to conferences or take positions for short periods in remote locations to go to whores.

The two gals had fun at the end and did not do anything more than what they normally do hundreds of men, indeed .. have also been good at stopping. What can I say?

I can only say that I did the escort and all in all it was fun .... I will open a new career?

80 pounds are not enough .. sorry

Today I glanced to the search terms by which some poor wretch comes in this wasteland that is my blog.

"The ways of God are endless," they say and also your search terms apparently. There are curious, strange, and crazy for even longer. Girl with a suitcase has devoted a page and did very well.

Today one made me laugh like few others .. in part because it is related to my recent past and in part because it means you just do not get the idea of ​​what you look for ..

In practice, a guy came to this blog searching with google: "escorts in london less than 80 pounds."

Now calculator in hand .. 80 pounds is equivalent to about 88 euro!!

At this point it is necessary to give some advice to this dear friend likely hood bitch (but I will remain only an aspiration ..).

Dear friend .. in London with 80 pounds ... if you can throw a party with a dark, understood as a Guinness at the pub. The escorts, escort girls meaning to a certain level, no toxic, located in King's Cross, for 80 pounds you do not even shake his hand.

And to tell the truth ... even in Italy I know that you have to continue to rely on Federica because with 88 € of escorts has little or nothing.

You know what I do? Send me an e-mail that you contact me Confucia ... maybe you can combine with 80 pounds ....

O Silvio, my dear whore.

Since we are in a democracy where there is ample freedom of the press and so there is no danger that the video with the statements made by D'Addario disappear like snow in the sun ... I thought I'd propose them.

A small letter to Silvio ...

Silvio, my dear friend whores along the course, you have to stay calm and accept the crap you do. In any case, they are less serious than the crap you say ... like that of a million jobs. Relax and think about Clinton, he was losing time for a blowjob in the White House, for a blowjob you've had to do only one Minister and risk losing Villa San Martino but .. you have other residences in Sardinia, the Caribbean ... to Hammamet ...

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I was torn between the memories of a foggy London or a solar Russia. Yes, solar because Russia can be solar. Duval has made me remember with a game of joints passed.

But I decided to go with the mind in London, about a certain number of years ago. And there I met Tamzin.

What to say more than what has been said before with Christine? London, money .. only .. ect. ect. pastry.
Tamzin was one of the pastries on display. Marvellous.

It was a melting pot of races and as often happens it was the best of both. Half Tamil and half English. Never figured out if a mother or father, and to be honest never screwed anything to know.

As already mentioned, in London there were (and still think there are) agency issues, if you wanted a black girl you called an agency, if you wanted an Asian girl another and so on.

One evening I called an agency that sent me Tamzin.

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It was wonderful when he came in my little room I was speechless and it is not something that happens to me often.

Beautiful, tall, bearing a large, two boobs from fear and trust me when I tell you to be afraid, huge, natural.

Mora with a mestiza complexion that brought out his eyes, dark and deep, most of the deep bottom there is. And a smile that opens the heart.

Economic formalities are completed, I find myself talking to her but also to caress her and everything else. I'm not good at writing erotic encounters, that is something that I leave to others more talented but I can say that it was a real bomb.

After they still speak and eat something together, has a brain mica laughing the girl. The craft has chosen independently and without many problems. He tells me that for a half-breed like you there are many perspectives. The British of Indian origin not love and British pure love her boobs and nothing else.

So he decides to use them and becomes companion. It does this for about two years (tells me to be 20 years old ... I think maybe ...), but had already bought a house. Not a palace but a small house standard quintessentially English with a small garden at the back. For her it is the achievement of a goal. Now thinking of a different investment.

We talk between a potato chip and another and it seems to follow a seminar on investment opportunities in England held by a beautiful busty half blood lying naked on the bed in my room and I think if the seminars were so ......

At the end greets me and walks away. For the time being. The next day I do not have shit to do then call the agency and fixed another meeting with Tamzin.

She smiles at me when he arrives ect. ect ect and then I said seriously: "You must be very rich." I ask her why and she tells me that she costs a lot and then ..

True, it is not cheap but you only live once .. (read Christine and you'll see ..).

Pass another wonderful evening with her to talk, and of course to consume. Do not deny it, and I consumed a lot. Tamzin is sun and radiates an aura all around beneficial. From the sexual point of view, we define a volcano cold by comparison. But ...

But it becomes a truly professional finish. It 'from her that I learned to appreciate the professional compared to improvvisitate, the pseudo no prof.

It gives you everything and anything at any time, but it gives you what you want. When he leaves, I greet you and she tells me that it was good and I believe it but I have not called.

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PS is an experiment, music and story .. maybe .. I do not know .. but I wanted to try something different.
Maybe there will be a second part .. maybe not.


Prologue: time and place

London, long time ago.
How can you not fall in love with a city so when you do not have big problems, there are no restrictions and you turn a little money in your pocket?

In that period of my life I was in this idyllic condition; young but not too much, no particular constraint, discrete financial availability due to a good job and no mortgage to pay. In this condition I find myself living in London for about a month. They are called "internships" in reality for me is a vacation full time.

I take home in a central location. The first attempt was a disaster hallucinating, contact an agency that finds me a "kind location" ... near Kings Cross Station Railroad. Translated into practice, I found a toilet room in a kind of hostel near the station of Kings Cross, the one where I burned a ton of people during a fire.

Apart from the process in common with a group of strangers at a guess they have many years younger than me but many more problems than me to make ends meet and maybe some problem with the proper use of substances derived from opium, the rest of the room is simply a copy of the process above. The "location" is set in a corner with magnificent views of the "pizza hut" and consequent beneficial free of fragrances and aromas coming from the same. When you consider that white is a color that is not very frequent among the patrons of the sidewalks surrounding nightlife, here is the picture of a perfect place where you can shoot yourself in peace and have all the extenuating circumstances of the case.

Step two nights in my great room, sleeping but little by tightening a healthy and sincere friendship with a family of cockroaches living there for three generations. During the day I spend my time looking for an accommodation where to relocate even though I know that doing so will break my heart to my room neighbor, a young Spanish arrived two days before me that when I arrived he hugged me like I was a brother. I was the first "normal" person he met for three days.

Finally on the third day I find an accommodation within the reach of my finances. Incidentally, I would be willing to steal the crown jewels in order to leave. The new "location" decidedly more welcoming. I found another room in Knightsbridge. How to tell from rags to riches. For those who were not practical, it is (.. was .. maybe it still is ..) a very pretty area, a stone's throw from Hyde Park, close to Harrod's, close to the legendary King's Road (the famous street for fashion). . then how do you say "I turned."

The rent and also has turned a lot but you only live once and then ..

On the fourth day, I wake up, I open the window and see in the distance a piece of the park and then it says that happiness is hard to get!

For three or four days messing around on the streets like a moron, you know movies like "An American in Paris" or something? My internship has not started yet so I can try to enjoy the city and figure out how to move.

I find the London squares and streets strangest and then step guide to London with all the stops classic that it is unnecessary to list. Remarkable thing, a little bar with authentic Italian coffee in the heart of Soho.

Soho is rather a disappointment crazy, life in the neighborhood of vice London is a sadness. Much better move along "the thames." Then there are an infinite number of rooms in the convent garden and the theater district. Dancing a little bit everywhere and I find the area of ​​Camden. In short, the first week I like to fuck right and left like few others.

I begin the internship, commitment and minimum frequency only in the morning, in practice it is a godsend. Among other things, it is not even very far away, paddington area. I shall digress. Paddington is an area, in my opinion, very beautiful with a whole series of old style houses with white colonnades that is contaminated by a strong presence of Indians. I do not know if this has affected but the area is also teeming with ads for dating a fee.

Actually, this is one of the things that I saw right away. The first time I telfonato from a booth, I was surprised; throughout the cabin was covered with andesivi and business cards for escorts, bdsm, ethnic, call girls, call-boys ... ect ect. in short, all the samples was at hand. The feeling was that of a child left alone in the bakery.

And here the story begins.

Part One: the pastry or easy sex

What does a child left alone in a bakery? Of course ... taste the pastries.

And then one day I am at the regent's park sitting on a bench with a business card in hand. Business black with gold lettering in italics big "Mercedes" and below "the dreams become truth" and behind only "call at xxxxxxxxxxxxx).

You only live once ..... remember?

"Hello, mercedes speaking, may I help you?" Sure you can help me ... and so between a joke and a bit of embarrassment fixed the match. It is not really cheap, I would say pricey but does nothing. I will not tell how it went, and it went very well.

And so it all begins. If it had gone wrong I would not be here to tell and write.

After Mercedes try some other girl. Someone may say, "but why do not excuse you're looking for a no pay? a normal girl like everyone else. " Well, in fact I even found a couple of girls "normal" but normality is a very relative concept in England and London means specially. One evening I spend the evening in a pub drinking beer and playing dards and lose without restraint, however, I am referring to the snooker. Between dard, a beer and a game of snooker, I make friends with abitueè the pub. It 'a rare and difficult thing. usually the group of regulars not shit ever again, much less tourists but maybe because I lose a lot of darts became sympathetic.

Al momento della chiusura mi ritrovo con due ragazze del gruppo, nulla di speciale, carine ma nella media. “Italians do it better” e cazzate simili ed alla fine mi trov a dormire da loro. Dormire..eufemismo per dire che mi trovo a passare la notte con loro. Non sono mai stato un amante dell'orgia, dell'ammucchiata; non mi piace il traffico “on the bed” però sarà stato l'alcool o altro alla fine è andata a finire così con due ragazze “normali”.

Frequento anche una ragazza dle mio stage, frequento nel senso che talvolta si esce a mangiare e finito lì. E' una ragazza ungherese che dice di essere imparentata con non so chi di importante del suo paese. Molto carina ed anche un pò strana. sarà anche imparentata con una persona importante ma un giorno mentre mangiamo seduti su una panchina di un parchetto mi chiede se posso farel un favore. “Ma certo” risponde il tacchino italiano doc (Di Origine Cazzuta). “Mi puoi prestare 50 pounds?” è l'angelica richiesta. Ora, la ragazza ha circa ventidue anni, bionda, un bel fisico, due occhioni blu che ora sono modello cucciolo di cooker e mi fissa speranzosa. Che pensate abbia risposto un autentico gentleman italiano d.oc.? Esatto, proprio quello. Per inciso non ho secondi fini ma resto un pò sorpreso dalla richiesta e comunque anticipo che il suddetto prestito è ancora da essere saldato a distanza di anni. Diciamo che ho finanziato lo sviluppo di un paese emergente dell'est europa.

Ecco spiegato il perchè del ricorso ai biglietti ed agli annunci. Molto più rilassante e meno complicazioni e fraintendimenti. Se esco con una call- girls e questa mi chiede dei soldi non resto sorpreso, è normale. se esco con due e ci finisco a letto, non sono sorpreso, è normale. Si vive una volta sola e che cazzo..almeno in maniera tranquilla.

La scelta è vasta ed articolata, è un supermarket aperto 24 su 24. Ci sono agenzie settoriali ed etniche per gli amanti del genere. Io non ho gusti particolari e quindi vado su cose classiche. Una sera chiamo un'agenzia e mi risponde un tizio abbastanza gentile, fisso l'incontro e mi manda a casa la ragazza:Christine.

E qui comincia un'altra storia.

Parte seconda: Lei

Christine arriva puntuale come un orologio svizzero. Apro la porta e lo spazio è occupato da una massa di capelli biondi ricci, mossi…e da un sorriso favoloso. Occhi verdi con riflessi dorati sorridenti e splendenti di luce propria. “Hi, i'm Christine” ha una voce bellissima, cordiale e gentile, allegra. Definizione del momento: una ragazza solare.

Per prima cosa regolo le questioni finanziare con la solita busta e poi cominciamo a parlare un pò. Beh..non parliamo per molto a dire il vero perchè onestamente non resisto molto a guardala solamente. Che dire di quello che è successo? Posso dire che è stata un'esperienza notevole, lei sorride, ride e poi sorride ancora. Io spesso sparo cazzate in inglese e le parlo di tutto e di più. Alla fine ci troviamo a parlare e molto di cose nostre tra un drink, una risata ed un bacio. Alla fine della serata ci salutiamo e mi dice “You are very funny, thanks”.

Alla mattina non vado allo stage, vado al parco, non ad Hyde Park, prefersico l'altro quello vicino. Resto lì per un pò a guardare in giro poi vado in metrò sino a Convent Garden e resto lì a guardare chi ha la testa più grossa. Ho la testa ovattata, mi sembra di camminare 30 centimetri da terra o vicino al cielo a seconda dei punti di vista. Ho una sensazione spazio/tempo decisamente falsata. Nel tardo pomeriggio rientro nella mia cameretta e chiamo Christine.

Mi ha lasciato il numero di casa sua. La sera prima mi ha raccontato che vive con la sorella che ora è via. hanno registrato una canzoncina come segreteria telefonica che dice sia uno spasso. Faccio il numero.

“hello…….” e comincia una canzone a due voci che è un disastro ma decisamente divertente perchè si sente che registrata in un momento in cui il tasso alcolico è andato a farsi un giro al di fuori del fegato ed ha passato la serata con il duodeno.

Alla fine della segreteria lascio un messaggio con il mio numero di telefono. Frasi che non vogliono dire nulla ma che al momento mi sembrano intelligenti e belle. Dopo circa una mezz'ora squilla il telefono. E' lei.

“hello funny italian! How are you?” Comincia così ed è già finita o forse è iniziata..non so cosa, ma so che in quel preciso momento “qualcosa” è successo. Ridendo e scherzando organizziamo di incontrarci per la serata. A pagamento sia chiaro.

Già che siamo in tempo decidiamo di andare a mangiare qualcosa insieme. Idiota..non so neanche dove portarla! Non conosco altro che i posti dove mangio tramezzini o altre schifezze in qualche pub e l'ho invitata a mangiare fuori! Christine arriva puntuale come sempre, anche un pò in anticipo e se ieri mi era sembrata bella, ora ne sono sicuro: è bella. Io non so ancora dove andare e lei deve aver capito che sono un pò incasinato. Propone lei un posto vicino. Ok, andata. E' un posto molto simile a quelli dove vado io, tramezzini, qualche schifezza e nulla di più. Una birra e qualche schifezza che onestamente non so cosa sia ma non mi importa. Lei è davanti a me e questo basta ed avanza. Mi racconta che vuole farsi il seno nuovo, vuole aumentarlo. A me pare che stia a posto così com'è. “Noooooooo .. i want to became a third page girl!”. Per chi non fosse pratico, la ragazza della terza pagina è riferito al quotidiano “The Sun” che in terza pagina ha l'abitudine di inserire la foto in topless di starlets varie ed è la pagina più letta del giornale che per il resto fa sembrare il “Corriere dei Piccoli” un'autorevole testata. Continuiamo a discutere della dimensione delle sue tette ed in generale della dimensione perfetta delle tette. Tutto questo con un tono di voce normale e la cosa vedo che interessa anche gli altri avventori che con sguardi più o meno competenti buttano un occhio sulle tette di Christine.

Usciamo e siamo naturalmente abbracciati. Andiamo verso la mia “home, sweet home”.

E qui comincia un'altra storia.

Epilogo: …..e così sia

Apro la porta della mia cameretta ed entra la luce cioè Christine. Questa volta non regolo la questione finanziara o meglio non ho tempo perchè mi fionda un metro di lingua ed esplora le mie tonsille. Vista la temperatura ambiente ci spostiamo in luogo più consono ed iniziamo…… “Wait a moment…” mi dice e cerca qualcosa nella borsetta; qualcosa è un modo diverso di dire “condom”. Di solito non ci mette molto ma stavolta la perquisizione è più lunga del dovuto. “Damned..” capisco che qualcosa non va o meglio che il “qualcosa” non si trova. In pratica non abbiamo condom e la cosa non è piacevole vista la situazione del Big Ben che si trova dalle mie parti inguinali. Ci guardiamo..risata imbarazzante e poi decisione: ci si riveste e si va a cercare i condom. Beh..situazione un pò strana ma alla fine divertente. Usciamo ridendo e lei mi prende in giro chiedendomi perchè ho una banana nella tasca dei pantaloni…”are you hungry?” che detta così, in questa situazione è una cosa piena zeppa di doppi sensi.

Il primo posto dove cerchiamo ci dice male, niente condom. Proviamo un self aperto ma anche qui non ci sono. Ma hanno deciso di scopare tutti stasera? La ricerca ci porta in un altro posto ma orami è tardi ed è chiuso. Torniamo indietro, sembra impossibile ma non ho trovato un condom. Sono abbastanza rassegnato ed anche il Big Ben segna le sei e mezza in tutta tranquillità. Christine mi guarda e mi dice che le spiace, che domani se voglio possiamo vederci..non c'è problema figurati. Un bacio e poi un altro. Mi guarda ancora e poi ricomincia e ci ritroviamo sul letto ed il Big Ben è tornato a mezzanotte. Provo a dirle che non è …mi chiude le labbra con un dito e mi dice che si fida. Al momento non capisco ma è solo questione di un momento. Il resto della notte..beh non ci vuole un genio a capire come è andata.

E' rimasta con me tutta la notte. Non abbiamo parlato di questioni finanziarie. L'ho accompagnata a casa. Un bel appartamento, carino, disordinato all'inverosimile come solo può essere l'appartamento di due ragazze che non hanno voglia di sistemare casa. Mi fermo per un thè e poi già che sono lì andiamo mangiare qualcosa. E' giovedì, domenica ho l'aereo per l'Italia. La saluto con la promessa che tra poche ore sarei stato da lei. E così è stato.

In pratica mi trasferisco da lei, mancano tre giorni al mio aereo e si vive una volta sola…..

Avete presente quei film strani con lui e lei che vanno in giro sorridenti con le faccie deficienti con la musichetta allegra.. sole e vento nei capelli..ecco i tre giorni seguenti sono stati così. Ho passato tre giorni in un'altra dimensione. Sesso? Tanto e di più ma non solo. Le cose più belle ed i ricordi più belli sono altri. Ad esempio quando in cucina mentre mangiavamo un pezzo di pizza (pizza hut…), lei insisteva per insegnarmi la sua canzoncina della segreteria. Che c'è di divertente? Provate a cantare con in bocca un pezzo di pizza (pizza hut..intendo) con una ragazza nuda seduta sulle vostre gambe e poi mi direte ….

Poi è arrivata domenica. “Sunday, bloody sunday” è una canzone degli U2 e tratta di tutt'altro ma quella domenica è stata veramente maledetta. Però non è stata triste come si può pensare. Il mattino ci ha trovato svegli, abbiamo passato la notte a parlare e solo a parlare. Mi ha accompagnato all'aereoporto, l'ho vista per l'ultima volta attraverso un vetro e mi è sembrata più bella del primo giorno. Un saluto, un sorriso e via, si vive una volta sola…

Non ho mai più rivisto Christine, sono stato a Londra altre volte ma mai mai ho trovato il coraggio di provare a telefonarle, di cercarla. L'ho fatto una sera qualche anno fa. Una sera speciale in cui la testa va per conto suo e si tracciano linee immaginarie di bilanci di vita e si fa la conta delle cose buone e delle cose cattive che uno ha fatto. Il numero è sempre lì, l'ho ancora adesso a distanza di anni e così quella sera l'ho chiamata. Sono stato fortunato, non lei c'era ma c'era una canzoncina.

….si vive una volta sola….ma dentro si muore tante volte.

The Winter's Tale

It was a cold December 1991, yet people roamed the streets eating ice cream at will, even two or three at a time. The first time I saw such a thing I was stunned; I was told a lot of things but this was a novelty. Then the gentle interpreter told me it was a way as any to eat; the calorific value of the ice cream was a great help to the basic diet of the Muscovites and Russians in general, the fact that it was December mattered little to a people accustomed to cold and then the consistency of the Russian ice cream was different.

Unconvinced urged me to give it a try and he was right; different texture, taste great and very mellow, a good dessert that you could actually eat even while the snow was falling. At the very boring lunch circumstance I saw her.

High, slightly auburn hair, a sweet face but well-defined and strong. When I hear talk of Russian women most of the time it turns out the word "country girls". Perhaps, the climate and hard work have graced the faces of most parts of women, but next to them you can find the faces of a stunning beauty that leaves you breathless.

More than once I stopped watching children on the street who were the personification of the putti of Giotto or Michelangelo. Natasha, belonged to the second category of women, if they were smart in that moment I would have signed anything to go off alone with her. I finally get to talk to her, good English studied at university, better than mine.

I release the interpreter and ask you to accompany me around the city, but always banal excuse efficace.Con surprise agree and begin to turn to Moscow still marked by a coup attempt. The front of the white house in Moscow, the parliament, still bears the marks of the guns of the tanks. The cold is terrible when we get to Arbat street but suddenly everything changes.

By her side within a new world and old at the same time. Stalls with all the possible and the impossible; Russian watches alongside wonderful service of porcelain, precious Baltic amber with fine carved ivories. Endless junk of the past regime, pictures of Lenin, Stalin, and anyone else who has had some charge, or plaster busts of iron or as you put voglia.Bandiere red, American, early punk, illegal money changers that change a dollar to 55 rubles while the official exchange rate stands at 2.80 if I remember correctly.

In the midst of this humanity, Natasha who calmly and a sweet smile with me and guide me from one stall to another. Asks prices, I recommend what to take and what to leave out. Do not you realize that I'm not looking at the stalls but she and she alone; the slight drizzle that falls covering the tufts of hair protruding from his bearskin, it will be cold or I but his eyes shone with a special light.

After a while 'go in a side dell'Arbat where turning a bit' on the right and a little 'to the left, we finally find a small cafe in an old cellar that the new pseudo capitalist spirit has given rise. The "chai" Russian tea served in a classic glass of glass warms me like never before, or maybe the fact of me being there with her enough.

Rest in Moscow for five days. Natasha I have not known as an escort, I met her in a different way. It introduced me to a great country in a different way.

July 1996 I returned to Moscow for the last time.

The old Inturist near Red Square is a war surplus compared to the new hotels. In the streets the mercedes and bmw whizzing of the new rich in the midst of the lada. Step dall'Arbat and infinite sadness strikes me as soon as I see a nice name "Pizzeria Bella Italy". Maybe they are the same Italian mobsters who met in the night of the "Pribaltiskaja" in St. Petersburg in 1992 and arguing amiably about what "import" and "export" confident that the Neapolitan language is not easy to access if you do not have friends from Naples .

Where there was a fantastic little shop of antiquities, there is now a stupid clothes shop. On the way, I do not stop to observe more children; in the evening I only see girls who are waiting down the road. Progress can not be stopped; maybe .... but in some cases it should be stopped.

I have not seen Natasha; I never wanted to see her again, maybe I was right or I may have done wrong, certainly this story I will stay inside and will always be one of the many crosses that I had to face in life and where my destiny is changed depending on which road I took .

With love Bibi

PS Tonight fly it snowed and it's cold.

PP.SS. I decided to take the four seasons. "Winter's Tale" is something written so long ago and published in a forum and I have reproduced in full; the other stories are now already been written but has not said that I will not make additions.

A note in the margin of the already inserted "Autumn Tale" is a story that must be interpreted by localizing it in the forum where it has been proposed, and having a minimum experience of lived experience told.

New initiative

I think I have reached the end of their journey. This was a great experience maforse is over. I've done other things and I went back to other things that I like best. If then these will turn out in the muck ... patience. And 'some time that study and learn. I decided to put on a forum. Everyone says that the forums are finished; can be but blogs bore me and then I go back to my first love. Soon I will insert the linke ... if anyone wants to visit me.

But be careful! Forum prohibited to minors because it will always be a topic of "forbidden" and that escort, sex and the like. See you soon and happy holidays.

A Romanian history

Come molti ho avuto anch'io occasione nelle mie frequentazioni di incrociare delle escort rumene. Oddio, magari definirle “escort” è forse troppo, meglio magari il termine “loft” ma poco importa.

La chiamerò “Gala”, nome di fantasia anche perchè non so che fine abbia fatto. E' una storia cherisale a qualche anno fa, direi circa 7 o 8 per la precisione. Era il mio periodo di “ritorno” all'attività di fruitore di servizi di sesso a pagamento (puttaniere in vulgaris…).

In quelperiodo ero ancora molto legato all'uso della carta stampata e così gli incontri venivano selezionati e scelti in base agli annunci sui vari quotidiani. “AAaaaaa ect” o “Massaggi…ect” che però volevano dire solo una cosa. Anche lì c'erano dei segreti che “l'esperto” conosceva, alcuni giornali erano da evitare, altri erano solo per un certo tipo di servizi (basso livello) altri erano per escort di lusso..insomma non era semplice e forse il divertimento era tutto lì.

Ogni tanto cercavo anche di trovare qualcosa che fosse diverso dal solito, in pratica di “scoprire” qualche ragazza particolarmente interessante. Su un giornale noto per l'elevata possibilità di “sole” trovo un annuncio un pò naif e così mi lancio. Telefonata: voce gradevole con un leggero accento straniero ed in breve combiniamo.

Quando la vedo resto sorpreso. Gala è una gran bella ragazza, niente da dire. Tralascio le parti che solitamente interessano di più nei vari forum dedicati e cioè gli aspetti tecnici dato che non avrebbe molto senso. Diciamo solo che siamo quasi ad un 10.

Episodio curioso che vale la pena di raccontare.

Location: motel alla periferia di milano

Personaggi: due, io e lei

Costumi: nessuno in quel momento

Ciack, azione: lei si alza e va in bagno poi non riesce più ad aprire la porta per uscire.Provate ad immaginarvi cosa mi è passato perla testa in quei minuti.

A parte l'episodio, lego subito molto con Gala. Scopro che è al suo secondo giorno di “lavoro” e che non conosce molto bene “cosa” e “come” deve farlo. Breve bigino sulle varie situazioni ed una preghiera di attenersi sempre a “certe” regole e poi con il passare del tempo mi racconta un pò anche di lei. Rumena originaria della zona dove imperava il conte Vlad. Poco o niente in Romaniae quindi decide di fare il salto della quaglia e lo fa in un altro paese dove si sposa. Fine della prima parte della storia per fine del tempo.

Dopo un paio di giorni ci risentiamo e la rivedo. Questa volta a casa sua. Riprendiamo la storia e così mi fa vedere l'album delle foto del matrimonio,la cosa strana è che manco ho visto le mie. Allafine mi racconta che ha lasciato il marito e si è trasferita in Italia da un'amica ed ha anche trovato un lavoro. Piccolo particolare; con il lavoro si paga a malapena l'affitto ed allora quando ha finito i soldi ha cercato una soluzionee visto che dove lavora tutti le stavano dietro ha pensato di mettere a frutto questo aspetto.

Ci vediamo ancora per parecchie volte. Gala è forse stata l'unica che ho frequentato un certo numero di volte; solitamente avevo fatto mio il motto di Paganini ma Gala è stata l'eccezione. Quando mi sono accorto che le cose avevano preso una piega che non mi era consona,l'ho vista per un'ultima volta e poi basta. Gala era solare,divertente e per niente sconvolta o preoccupata,aveva scelto lucidamente cosa fare ed in autonomia.

Passano anni e poi un giorno di quattro anni fa ritrovo un biglietto con il suo numero di telefono.Curiosità, follia o chissà cosa e la chiamo.

To my surprise he answers the phone is always on. With joy, but also embarrass me and I recognize so I decided to go to see her right away. Lives in a nice area of ​​Milan now, not a big apartment but cute. I can hardly recognize it, and a lot has changed. The first physicist who was a little free-range is now a show; I had always been high but now it is even more slim, thinner than a few kilo in strategic points and perhaps increased in others.

The hair color is changed and also the cut. The smile is always that instead. Insults me with joy, wondering where I was finito.Scopro that she has obviously continued, indeed has "evolved." From print ads is passed to the network, was one of the first to enter the web.

He tells me he has changed "customers" has passed to the customers from at least one million and also tastes strange. He tells me of a guy that paid her a figure Florence to go to Florence for the weekend and everything that happened was that the guy spippettava with her stockings.

And so seguito.Ora had a "boyfriend" or rather one that kept her from time to time and had some loyal customer. In practice he was fine. No longer received at home but now I was there and then ....

I have not seen her and I have not called. I still have his phone number one day two years ago I found myself for the case to go to her house and I saw that his name is still there on the intercom. Now I just hope that some idiot not to take it because it kicks Romanian.