Escort

What am I up to?

Question: What am I up to?

Answer: who cares?

Vero..risposta legittima..e completely condivisibile..anche to me ... but since I have done is question might as well give you the answer.

I am returning to the scene of delitto..cioè I'm coming to stir in the forum and dell'escorting. Because? In fact they are never released but last year I did some experiments ... some prove..insomma I enjoyed doing the idiot (I can benissimo..interpretazione by oscar).

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

It still takes a po..non are not ready yet but I think the end result will be interesting, for sure I will be the new "friends."

I also have other threads to resume and riannodare..vi just think that I have about 53 drafts waiting to be riviste..cosa strange 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 does it mean "ays"

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

Recently returned the curiosity around "Bibiebibo" ..alla signature ... and other little things; all we can not reveal anything but yes.

And then we reveal the mystery of the "signature" that is, the mystery of "ays"

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

Those were different times, namely London .. a long time ago unknown (otherwise .. it starts with 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 have written in the past. London from the point of view "escorts" is the maximum; it was then and still is I think. I already had this trend and here I attended 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 definitely 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..tante ... cose..ma one thing primarily: provides a service (at least ..nella 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 honey ... here I inizato to use "ays."

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

There is still a long way to define ... like how did the nick ... the story on the ship ... school age (this ..neanche 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 or I take you by the mad (oddio..mica so difficult).

E 'success at the official presentation of the new project that I will not explain. In two parole..ricordate when I wrote that I had gone to Rome to meet an asshole for parliamentarian? Bene..da 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 words that I know Russian. There were also people who came from those parts, and then I found myself scarrozza three gals for roma. 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" socio remember that I know four crap in that language and I pretending to be a fine speaker and expert on the ways of Gogol .. (the bastard inside ...) and assures the ladies that I will be their guide ... (bastard inside and out ..).

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

It starts immediately for dinner and I have to improvise by drawing a random local trasteverino and luckily 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") is limited to watching and snacking little or nothing. The "chick" is normal, but instead gives us inside a little too much with the wine of the castles.

At the end of dinner, the "buoy station" (the Russian) gives disrupted last "tiramisu" swallowed up and wants to return to the hotel. Undecided until the last moment whether to call a cab or a tow truck, I go 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..li mortacci ..".

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

They are dicks ... they want to go to the disco to dance ... Now .. I am a certain age, I do not deny that as a boy I attended clubs but we talk 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" ... fuck 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.

Scholar in five seconds on the nightlife of the capital, and I propose to launch a first local gals. Via ..this part.

We arrive in this place and honestly I was expecting something better but this is what passes the monastery and considering that by entering I saw in the distance the Dome ... I think an appropriate 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 provide a pole ... I do not know where they would disappear .. I had stayed at the dances maybe a little more "normal", here it's 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 the vacche..ed Christians during the summer.

Where I come from is also to indicate those funny looking stubbornly to mate and copulate with all the girls, women or the like that happen to shot. At the disco they were 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 they're 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?" .. How ... where to now? There are two options: to sleep or fuck ... NO..terza opzione..in locale..perchè another one is not enough, wants to see Roma..ect. ect ... ect ...

Sorridenndo and bestemiando, move away the "gadflies" from the normal with both gain and output 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 restaurant in the Testaccio and I find myself in a pit pazzesca..locale decidedly low-level people that music is like but the two girls goes well, will be the alcohol I think.

The chick is taken immediately assaulted by two really interesting examples of "male jerk" that is what makes the "conquistador" in disk specimens have in common ... a nice pitch in where you can park the head coach of the faithful headed to St. Peter's , a physicist asciutto..ma nn certain athletic front have a discreet "graveyard of tortelli" as they say a couple of comedians. And the eyes ... I do not know if I only noticed but I have 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 ... oddio..che 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 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 license because he has a gun in your pocket or at least I think.

I "gadflies" at this point you throw all the normal beginning to show signs of slowing down and at 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 themselves? I opt for a solution suggeritami by Quintus Fabius Maximus, temporized.

The chick continues to amaze me in practice because she is almost a 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 to that there are modo..non words really, I should just do a photo but I feel that if I want to get out alive is something to be avoided.

In the taxi to the big two 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, they 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 asked 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 company, raced to go to conferences or take positions for short periods in remote locations to be able 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, anzi..sono were also good at stopping. What can I say?

I can only say that I did the escort and all in all it was fun ... that I 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 to even more. Girl with a suitcase has devoted a page and did very well.

Today one made me laugh like few .. in part because it is related to my recent past and in part because it means 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 whore (but I will remain only an aspiration ..).

Dear amico..a 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 substances that are in king's cross, for 80 pounds will 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 euro escorts are of little or nothing.

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

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 declarations of the 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, for him a blowjob at times lost the White House, for a blowjob you've had to make only one Minister and risk losing Villa San Martino but you have other residences .. in Sardinia, the Caribbean ... to Hammamet ...

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Tamzin

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, soldi..solo ..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 used to call 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 mestizo complexion that brought out his eyes, dark and deep most of the deep bottom there is. And a smile that opens the heart.

Hurry economic formalities, I find myself talking to her but also to caress her and all the rest. I'm not good at writing erotic encounters, this is something that I leave to others the most talented, but I can say that it was a real bomb.

After we talk again and you eat something together, has a brain mica from 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 it and the British pure love her tits and that's it.

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

We talk between a potato 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 moment. 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 says 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 will understand ..).

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 really becomes a professional finish. E 'from her that I learned to appreciate the professional compared to improvvisitate, the pseudo no prof.

It gives you everything and anything, but in every moment gives you what you want. When he leaves, I greet you and she said that was fine and I believe it but I have not called.

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PS is an experiment, and perhaps musica..racconto ..not so..però I wanted to try something different.
Maybe there will be a second parte..magari no.

Christine

Prologo: tempo e luogo

Londra, tanto tempo fa.
Come si fa a non innamorarsi di una città così quando non si hanno grossi problemi, non si hanno vincoli e ti girano un pò di soldi in tasca?

In quel periodo della mia vita ero in questa idilliaca condizione; giovane ma non troppo, nessun vincolo particolare, discreta disponibilità finanziaria dovuta ad un buon lavoro e nessun mutuo da pagare. In questa condizione mi trovo a vivere a Londra per circa un mese. Li chiamano “stage formativi”, in realtà per me è una vacanza a tempo pieno.

Prendo casa in una zona centrale. Il primo tentativo è un disastro allucinante, contatto un'agenzia che mi trova una “kind location”…vicino a Kings Cross Railroad Station. Tradotto in pratica mi trova un cesso di camera in una specie di ostello vicino alla stazione di kings Cross, quella dove son bruciate una valanga di persone durante un incendio.

A parte il cesso in comune con un gruppo di sconosciuti che ad occhio e croce hanno molti anni meno di me ma molti più problemi di me a far quadrare i conti e forse anche qualche problema con il corretto uso di sostanze derivanti dall'oppio, il resto della camera è semplicemente la copia del cesso di cui sopra. La “location” è inserita in un angolo magnifico con vista su “pizza hut” e conseguente usufrutto gratuito dei profumi ed aromi provenienti dal medesimo. Se si considera che il bianco è un colore non frequentissimo tra i frequentatori notturni dei marciapiedi circostanti, ecco il quadro di un perfetto luogo dove poter spararsi in santa pace ed averne tutte le attenuanti del caso.

Passo due notti nella mia magnifica stanza, dormendo poco ma stringendo una sana e sincera amicizia con una famiglia di blatte che vive lì da tre generazioni. Di giorno passo il tempo alla ricerca di un alloggio dove trasferirmi anche se so che così facendo spezzerò il cuore al mio vicino di camera, un giovane spagnolo arrivato due giorni prima di me che al mio arrivo mi ha abbracciato come se fossi un fratello. Ero la prima persona “normale” che incontrava da tre giorni.

Finalmente il terzo giorno trovo una sistemazione alla portata delle mie finanze. Detto per inciso, sarei stato disposto a rubare il Tesoro della Corona pur di andarmene. La nuova “location” decisamente più accogliente. Mi sono trovato un'altra camera a Knightsbridge. Come dire dalle stalle alle stelle. Per chi non fosse pratico, è (..era..forse lo è ancora..) una zona molto carina, a due passi da Hyde Park, vicino ad Harrod's, vicino alla mitica King's Road (la strada famosa per la moda)..insomma come si dice “ho svoltato”.

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 they say that happiness is hard to get!

For three or four days fooling 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 pointless 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 of the convent garden and the theater district. Dancing a little bit everywhere and I find the area of ​​Camden. Well, 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's a godsend. Among other things, it is not even very far, 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 the 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 I saw right away. The first time I telfonato from a booth, I was astonished; throughout the cabin was covered with andesivi and business cards for escort, escorts, bdsm, ethnic, call girls, call-boys ... ect ect. in short, the whole sample 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 ... ..ricordate?

"Hello, mercedes speaking, may I help you?" Sure you can help me ... and so between a joke and a bit of embarrassment fixed the meeting. It is not exactly 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.

Mercedes try after some other girl. Can anyone say "sorry but why do not you look for one without paying? 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 recklessly and lose dards, 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.

At closing time I find myself with two girls in the group, nothing special, but pretty average. "Italians do it better" and crap like this and I finally found himself to sleep from them. Dormire..eufemismo to say that I am to spend the night with them. I've never been a lover of the orgy, dell'ammucchiata; I do not like the traffic "on the bed", however, will have been alcohol or another in the end it turned out well with two girls "normal."

Seeing a girl dle my internship, I attend in the sense that sometimes comes out to eat and ended up there. It 'a Hungarian girl who claims to be related to not know who's important in his country. Very cute and even a little strange. will also be related to an important person, but one day while we eat sitting on a bench in a small park asks me if I Farel a favor. "Of course," replies the Italian turkey doc (Of Origin crap). "Can I borrow 50 pounds?" Is the angelic request. Now, she has about twenty-two, blonde, a beautiful body, two blue eyes that now are model puppy cooker and stares at me hopefully. What do you think has answered an authentic Italian gentleman d.oc.? Yeah, just that. Incidentally I have no ulterior motives but rest a little surprised by the request and in any event advance that this loan is yet to be paid years later. Let's say that I have funded the development of an emerging country of Eastern Europe.

This explains why the use of tickets and ads. Much more relaxing and less complications and misunderstandings. If I go out with a call-girls and this asks me the rest of the money is not surprised, it is normal. if I go out with two and we end up in bed, I'm not surprised, it is normal. You only live once and that cazzo..almeno quietly.

The choice is wide and varied, it is a supermarket open 24 to 24 Are there sectoral agencies and ethnic for lovers of the genre. I do not have particular tastes and then go on classic things. One evening I call an agency and I answered a nice enough guy, fixed the meeting and sent me home the girl Christine.

And here begins another story.

Part Two: You

Christine arrives on time like clockwork. I open the door and the space is occupied by a mass of curly blond hair, wavy ... and a fabulous smile. Green eyes with golden reflections smiling and shining with its own light. "Hi, i'm Christine" has a beautiful voice, friendly and kind, cheerful. Definition of the day: a calendar girl.

First rule issues financed by the usual envelope and then begin to talk a bit. Beh..non talk to much to be honest because I honestly can not stand to look at her very only. What about what happened? I can say it was a remarkable experience, she smiles, laughs and then smiles again. I often shoot shit in English and talk about anything and everything. At the end we are talking about a lot of things and our between a drink, a laugh and a kiss. At the end of the evening we say goodbye and tells me "You are very funny, thanks."

In the morning I do not go to the stage, go to the park, not Hyde Park, prefersico the other is near. Rest there for a while to look around then I go up to Covent Garden underground and stay there to see who has the bigger head. My head is muffled, I seem to walk 30 inches from the ground or close to heaven depending on your point of view. I have a feeling the space / time considerably distorted. In the late afternoon return to my room and call Christine.

He left me the number of his house. The night before, he told me that he lives with his sister who is now on. have recorded a song as an answering machine that says it is a hoot. I dial the number.

"...... Hello." And begins a song for two voices is a disaster but definitely fun because you feel that you recorded in a time when the alcohol is going to take a trip outside of the liver, and spent the evening with the duodenum.

At the end of the voicemail leave a message with my phone number. Phrases that do not mean anything but at the moment I seem intelligent and beautiful. After about half an hour the phone rings. And 'her.

"Hello funny italian! How are you? "Thus begins and is already over or maybe it iniziata..non know what, but I know that at that precise moment" something "happened. Laughing and joking arrange to meet us for the evening. A payment is clear.

While we're on time, we decided to go get something to eat together. Idiota..non even know where to take her! I do not know who the other places where I eat sandwiches or other crap in some pubs and I invited her out to eat! Christine arrives on time as always, a little in advance, and if yesterday had seemed nice, now I'm sure it is beautiful. I do not know yet where to go and she must have realized that they are a little messed up. It offers her a place nearby. Ok, gone. It 'a place very similar to where I am going, sandwiches, some crap and nothing more. A beer and some crap that I honestly do not know what it is but I do not care. She is in front of me and that is enough and move forward. He tells me he wants to get the breast again would increase. It seems to me that he is fine as it is. "Noooooooo .. i want to page Became a third girl." For those not practical, the girl of the third page is told the newspaper "The Sun" in the third page that has a habit of inserting the topless photos of various starlets and is the most read page of the newspaper for the rest makes it seem "Corriere dei Piccoli" an authoritative head. We continue to discuss the size of her tits and in general the perfect size of boobs. All this with a normal tone of voice and what do I see that it's interesting that the other patrons with looks more or less competent throw an eye on tits of Christine.

We go out and we are naturally embraced. Let's go back to my "home, sweet home."

And here begins another story.

Epilogue: ..and so be it ...

I open the door of my room and enters the light that is Christine. This time does not rule the question better financial standing or do not have time because I sling a meter of language and explores my tonsils. Due to the temperature we move into more appropriate place and start ...... "Wait a moment ..." he says and looks for something in her purse; 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. And so it was.

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 fell. Al boring lunch of 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 comes 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 manage to talk to her, good English studied at university, better than mine.

I release the interpreter and ask her to take me around the city, but always trivial 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, 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.

With 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 inlaid ivories. Endless junk of the past regime, pictures of Lenin, Stalin, and anyone else who has had some charge, of iron or plaster busts 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. Asking price, I will 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 cross dell'Arbat where turning a bit' on the right and a little 'left, we finally find a small cafe in an old wine 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 is 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. On 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 it's the same Italian mobsters who met in the night "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 great store of antiquities, now there's a stupid dress shop. On the way, I do not stop to observe more children; at night I can only see girls who are waiting along the way. 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 way I .

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 which I quoted 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 was proposed, and having a minimum experience of lived experience told.

Nuova iniziativa

Penso di essere arrivato al termine del viaggio. Questa è stata una bella esperienza maforse è finita. Ho fatto altre cose e son tornato ad altre cose che mi piacciono di più. Se poi queste andranno a finir nella palta…pazienza. E' qualche tempo che studio ed imparo. Ho deciso di metter su un forum. Tutti dicono che i forum son finiti; può essere ma i blog mi annoiano e quindi torno al primo amore. Tra breve inserirò il linke se qualcuno vorrà visitarlo…prego.

Attenzione però!!! Forum vietato ai minori dato che tratterà sempre e comunque di un argomento “proibito” e cioè escort, sesso ed affini. A presto e buone feste.

Una storia rumena

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.

Con mia grande sorpresa mi risponde, il telefono è sempre attivo. Con gioia ma anche imbarazzo mi faccio riconoscere e così decido di passare a trovarla subito. Abita in una bella zona di Milano ora, non un grande appartamento ma carino. Faccio fatica a riconoscerla, è cambiata e parecchio. Il fisico che prima era un pò ruspante è ora uno spettacolo; alta lo era sempre stata ma adesso è anche più slanciata, dimagrita di qualche kilo nei punti strategici e forse aumentata in altri.

Il colore dei capelli è cambiato e pure il taglio. Il sorriso è sempre quello invece. Mi insulta con allegria chiedendomi dove fossi finito.Scopro che lei ha ovviamente continuato, anzi si è “evoluta”. Dalla carta stampata è passata agli annunci sulla rete, è stata una delle prime ad entrare nel web.

Mi dice che ha cambiato “clientela” , è passata ai clienti da un milione come minimo e con gusti anche strani. Mi racconta di un tizio di Firenze che la pagava una cifra per andare a Firenze per il fine settimana e tutto quello che succedeva era che il tizio si spippettava con le sue calze.

E così di seguito.Ora aveva un “ragazzo” o meglio uno che la manteneva e di tanto in tanto aveva qualche cliente affezionato. In pratica stava bene. Non riceveva più a casa ma oramai ero lì e quindi….

Non l'ho più rivista e non l'ho più chiamata. Ho ancora il suo numero di telefono, un giorno di due anni fa mi trovai per caso a passare sotto casa sua ed ho visto che il suo nome è ancora lì sul citofono. Ora spero solo che qualche pirla non la prenda a calci perchè è rumena.