Escort

What am I up to?

Question: What am I up to?

Answer: and who cares?

Vero..risposta legittima..e entirely condivisibile..anche from me ... But since I have done is question might as well give the answer.

I'm returning to the scene of delitto..cioè'm coming to stir in the forum and dell'escorting. Why? 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 return to stir the murky world of the frequenters of the worst brothels of Calcutta as seems clear ... but this time seen in a more ironic and funny ... less heavy.

It still takes a po..non are ready yet but I think the end result will be interesting, for sure I will be the new "friends".

I also have other wires being shot and riannodare..vi just think that I have about 53 drafts waiting to be riviste..cosa strange for me because usually I write jet.

Surely most will end up in the trash because of outdated or simply because they do not feel the more my ... however ... unfortunately some will be saved for you.

What does "ays"

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

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

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

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

Those were different times, namely London .. a while 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 perspective of "escorts" is the maximum; it was then and still is I think. I already had this tendency and here I attended occasionally some escort agency that is independent.

One evening I call an escort and I agree with you to a meeting. Comes to me and we spend a couple of hours very pleasant. I remember perfectly the name "Mercedes", Hispanic origin but unidentified. I still have it somewhere on his business card that I left, it was black with only the name in gold, the phone number and a code under 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 for an escort. What does an escort? ... Ok..tante cose..ma one thing primarily: provides a service (at least Anglo-Saxon conception ..nella escort).

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

The acronym is: 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 was too honey ... here I inizato to use "ays".

The mystery is revealed the signature that has intrigued a lot and not only 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 nickname ... 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 must say it went pretty well, so well that is already walking alone. The still follow very closely, but I will not have to be always present, and this was what I was hoping.

A margin of everything that has happened I have to explain the title of the post or I take for crazy (oddio..mica so difficult).

And '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 with a jerk of Parliament? Bene..da there started a project and now has materialized. And in Rome this week was launched.

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

And 'all happened by accident and because of the four words I know Russian. There were customers that came from those parts, and then I found myself scarrozza three gals to rome. Among other things, not being Roman, 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 the Romanian or Russian (two Romanian and one Russian). And then my "brilliant" socio remember that I know four bullshit in that language and I masquerading as a fine speaker and expert on the verses of Gogol .. (bastard inside ...) and ensures the ladies that I will be their guide ... (bastard inside and out ..).

Now .. the ladies are not really "ladies" ... .diciamo things as they are; one (the Russian) is a big woman of about 40 years old and of considerable size, the two Romanian rather have thirty years, a normal and a rather considerable chick is (to put it in a manner understandable to everyone).

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

After dinner, the "boa by stationing" (the Russian) gives upset 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 look 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 I block: "hard" ... hard? That hard ?? Hours? Volante? Please specify ...

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 it comes to places that no longer exist ... where I was going I is scavendo to find the remains of ' time and store them in a museum .. And all this happened in Rome.

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

"Gilda" ... "Jackie O" ... "Piper" fuck ... but are the same names that circulated 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 at this place and honestly I was expecting something better, but this is what passes the monastery and whereas 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 had available 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 movies. The fact is that in a short time the area is filled with "gadflies". What is a "gadfly"? And 'that insect extremely tedious and insistent that as few bites and usually torture vacche..ed the 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 shoot. 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 must say that the Romans as a "tafanaggine" are unmatched ... but the two are laughing at large and I understand that you are having to take the piss the cloud that surrounds them. I do my "hanger" that is, I lean against 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 to fuck ... NO..terza opzione..in locale..perchè another one is not enough, he wants to see Roma..ect. ect ... ect ...

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

I opt for a local Testaccio and find myself in a pit pazzesca..locale very low level and as people that music but the two girls is fine, I think it will be alcohol.

The chick is taken immediately attacked by two very interesting examples of "male jerk" that is, what does the "conquistador" to record ... The specimens have in common a beautiful pitch in the head where to park the buses of the faithful headed to St. Peter , a physicist asciutto..ma nn certain athletic front have a discreet "cemetery 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 it were me I would be on hiatus 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" begins to slinguazzare with a male who has to have free-range firearms license as he has a gun in your pocket or at least I think.

The "gadflies" at this point you throw all the normal starting to show signs of slowing and eventually ... yields and slimonazza herself quite a gadfly. From the location of hangers observe the sad disperse the horseflies were disappointed, all with guns in their pockets, and without being able to fire a shot.

Now I ask myself the question: how to go to sleep and bring to bed the two without having to deal with the two duels Rusticana gadflies? Or leave them to fend for themselves? 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 victim than victimizer. Things go for long and I'm almost asleep when the scenario changes abruptly. The two greet their gadflies, you slinguazzano and then calmly come to me and tell me that we can go ... I'm surprised but I can not find the exact words to describe the faces of the two gadflies downloaded to that there are modo..non words really, I should do just a picture but I think that if I want to get out alive is something to avoid.

By taxi the two big laugh and then I speak some 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 me wonders if I have offended or if I have created problems. "Absolutely not" is my answer and I have to say that I know lie well enough and I think he drank.

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 in the end you "relax" with various escorts. I worked for a while in a multinational, raced to go to conferences or taking positions for short periods in remote locations to go to whores.

The two gals in the end had fun and did nothing 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 tour leader and all in all it was fun ... that 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," he says, and even search terms apparently. There are curious, strange, and even more of fools. Girl with a Suitcase has devoted a page and did very well.

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

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

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

At this time, giving some advice to this dear friend likely hood pimp (but I will remain only an aspiration ..).

Dear amico..a London with 80 pounds ... if you can walk one evening with a dark, understood as Guinness at the pub. The escorts, intending to escort girls of a certain level, not the toxic that are in king's cross, for 80 pounds will not even shake my 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 are little or nothing.

You know what I can do? Get emails that I'll put you in touch with Confucia ... maybe with 80 pounds you can combine ....

Silvio O, my dear pimp.

Since we are in a democracy where there is broad freedom of the press, and so there is no danger that the video with the statements of the D'Addario disappear like snow in the sun ... I decided to propose them.

A small letter to Silvio ...

Silvio, dear friend pimp long course, you have to feel comfortable and admit the crap you do. In any case are less severe type of crap you say ... that of a million jobs. Relax and think of Clinton, for him a blowjob at times lost the White House, for a blow job you've had to do only one Minister and risks losing Villa San Martino but you have other residences .. in Sardinia, the Caribbean ... to Hammamet ...

Built by Embedded Video

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 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.

I say any more than what was said before with Christine? London, soldi..solo ..ect. ect. the pastry.
Tamzin was one of the pastries on display. Wonderful.

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

As written, in London there were (and still think there are) agencies themes, if you wanted a black girl you called an agency, if you wanted an Asian girl to another, and so on.

One evening I called an agency that sent me Tamzin.

Built by Embedded Video

It was amazing when he came into my little room I was speechless and it's not something that happens to me often.

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

Mora with a complexion mestizo who brought out his eyes, dark and deep over bottom depths there is. And a smile that opens the heart.

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

After talking again and eat something together, has a brain mica laugh the girl. The craft has chosen independently and without many problems. He tells me that for a half-breed like her there are many perspectives. The British of Indian origin not love it and the British pure love her boobs and just.

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

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

Eventually 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 it 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 .. (Christine read and understand ..).

Pass another wonderful evening with her talking and of course to consume. Do not deny it, and I consumed a lot. Tamzin is solar and radiates an aura all around beneficial. From the perspective of sexual, a volcano will define cool by comparison. But ...

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

It gives you everything and nothing, but at all times it gives you what you want. When he leaves, the greeting and she tells me she was well and believe it but I have not called.

Built by Embedded Video

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 not.

Christine

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, you do not have constraints and you turn a little money in your pocket?

In that period of my life I was in this idyllic condition; but not too young, 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 call them "internships" in reality for me is a vacation full time.

I take home in a central area. The first attempt was a disaster hallucinating, contact an agency that finds me a "kind location" ... near Kings Cross Railroad Station. Translated into practice, I find 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 who have to guess many years younger than me but many more problems than me to make ends meet and maybe even a few problems with the correct 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 magnificent corner with a view to "pizza hut" and consequent usufruct free of fragrances and aromas coming from the same. When you consider that white is a color not very frequent among those who frequent nightclubs surrounding sidewalks, here is the picture of a perfect place where you can shoot yourself in peace and have all the mitigating of the case.

Step two nights in my great room, sleeping little but clutching a healthy and sincere friendship with a family of cockroaches living there for three generations. By day I spend time looking for an accommodation where to relocate even though I know that doing so will break your heart to my room neighbor, a young Spanish arrived two days before me that on my arrival 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 accommodation within the reach of my finances. Incidentally, I would be willing to steal the crown jewels just to leave. The new "location" decidedly more welcoming. I found another room in Knightsbridge. How to say from rags to riches. For those not practical, it is (..era..forse still is ..) a very pretty, very close to Hyde Park, close to Harrod's, near the legendary King's Road (the road famous for fashion). short I like it says "I turned."

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

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

For three or four days fooling around in 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 discover the London squares and streets strangest and then step to the London tourist with all stops classic that is useless to list. Remarkable thing, a little bar with authentic Italian coffee in the heart of Soho.

Soho is rather a disappointment crazy, neighborhood life 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. Some discos everywhere and I find the Camden area. In short, the first week I like to fuck right and left as few.

I start the internship, minimum commitment and 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 nice 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 I've seen immediately. The first time I telfonato from a booth, I was astonished; throughout the cabin was covered andesivi and business cards escort, escorts, bdsm, ethnic, call girls, call-boys ... ect ect. in short, the entire sample was at hand. The feeling was that of a child left alone in pastry.

And here begins the story.

Part One: the pastry or easy sex

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

And then one day I find myself at the regent's park sitting on a bench with a business card in hand. Black with a gold ticket written in italics great "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 really cheap, I would say pricey but that's okay. 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. Can anyone say "excuse but why do not you look for one without paying? a normal girl like all ". Well, in fact I also found a couple of girls "normal" but normality is a very relative concept in England and in London means specially. One evening I spend the evening in a pub drinking beer and playing dards and lose without restraint, however, I refer with snooker. Between dard, a beer and a game of snooker, I make friends with abitueè the pub. It 'something difficult and rare. di solito il gruppo dei frequentatori abituali non caga mai i nuovo e men che meno i turisti ma forse perchè perdo molto a freccette divento simpatico.

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.

While we're on time, we decide to go eat something together. Idiota..non even know where to take! I know of nothing more than the places 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 is beautiful. I do not know yet where to go and she must have realized that they are a little messed up. Offers her a place close. Ok, gone. It 'a place very similar to where I go, 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's enough and advances. He tells me he wants to get the breast again would increase it. It seems to me that is fine as it is. "Noooooooo .. i want to Became a third page girl!". For those not practical, the girl of the third page is reported to the newspaper "The Sun" in the third page that has a habit of inserting the topless pictures of various starlets and is the most read page of the newspaper that for the rest does seem "Corriere dei Piccoli" an authoritative magazine. We continue to discuss the size of her tits and in general the perfect size boobs. All this with a normal tone of voice and the thing I see that it's interesting that the other customers with looks more or less competent throw an eye on tits 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 finanziara or rather do not have time because I sling a meter of language and explores my tonsils. Given the temperature we move in a more consistent and start ...... "Wait a moment ..." he says and looks for something in her purse; something is a different way of saying "condom". It usually does not take long, but this time the search is longer than necessary. "Damned .." I understand that something is wrong or rather that the "something" is not found. In practice we do not have condoms and it is not pleasant view of the situation of Big Ben which is located in my part of the groin. There guardiamo..risata embarrassing and then the decision: get changed and go to look for the condom. Beh..situazione a little strange but ultimately fun. We go out laughing and she teases me wondering why I have a banana in my pants pocket ... "are you hungry?" So that that, in this situation is something chock full of double meanings.

The first place to look for tells us bad, no condom. Let's try a self open but even here there are. But they decided to fuck all tonight? The research leads us to another place but it's late and it is also well closed. Let's go back, it seems impossible but I have not found a condom. I'm quite resigned and even Big Ben marks six thirty in peace. Christine looks at me and tells me that sorry, that tomorrow if we want vederci..non figured no problem. A kiss and then another. He looks at me and then starts over, and we find ourselves on the bed and the Big Ben is back at midnight. I try to tell her that it is not ... I closed my lips with a finger and tells me that he trusts. At the moment I do not understand but it is only a matter of a moment. The rest of notte..beh not take a genius to figure out how it went.

E 'remained with me all night. We have not talked about financial issues. I took her home. A nice apartment, cute, messy to capacity as only can be the apartment of two girls who do not want to fix the house. I stop for a cup of tea and then you are already there we go eat something. And 'Thursday, Sunday I flew to Italy. I greet you with the promise that in a few hours I would be with her. And so it was.

Basically I move from her, missing three days at my plane and you only live once ... ..

You know those weird movies with him and she who go around smiling faces with the idiots with the jingle cheerful .. capelli..ecco sun and wind in the next three days were so. I spent three days in another dimension. Sex? And so much more, but not only. The most beautiful things and the best memories are others. For example, when in the kitchen while we ate a piece of pizza (pizza hut ...), she insisted to teach his little song of the secretariat. What's so funny? Try singing in the mouth with a piece of pizza (pizza hut..intendo) with a naked girl sitting on your legs and then tell me ....

Then came Sunday. "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is a song by U2 and is anything but that Sunday was truly cursed. But it was not as sad as you may think. The morning found us awake, we spent the night talking and just talking. He accompanied me to the airport, I saw her for the last time through a glass and it seemed more beautiful than the first day. A greeting, a smile and go, you only live once ...

I never see again Christine, I was in London before but never have I found the courage to try to call her, to find her. I did it one night a few years ago. A special evening where the head goes its own way and you draw imaginary lines of the financial statements of life and you count the good things and the bad things that one did. The number is always there, I even now after many years and so that night I called. I was lucky, she was not but there was a little song.

... .you Live once ... but inside you die many times.

Racconto d'inverno

Era un freddo dicembre del 1991 eppure la gente girava per le strade mangiando gelati a volontà, anche due o tre per volta. La prima volta che ho visto una cosa del genere sono rimasto di sasso; mi avevano detto un mucchio di cose ma questa era una novità. Poi la gentile interprete mi disse che era un modo come un altro per mangiare; il potere calorico del gelato era un valido aiuto alla dieta base dei moscoviti e dei russi in generale, il fatto che fosse dicembre poco importava ad un popolo abituato a temperature rigide e poi la consistenza del gelato russa era diversa.

Poco convinto mi spronò a fare una prova e aveva ragione; consistenza diversa, gusto ottimo e molto pastoso, un buon dessert che potevi effettivamente mangiare anche mentre cadeva la neve. Al noiosissimo pranzo di circostanza la vidi.

Alta, capelli leggermente ramati, un viso dolcissimo ma ben delineato e forte. Quando sento parlare delle donne russe la maggior parte delle volte viene fuori la parola “contadinotte”. Può darsi, il clima e il duro lavoro hanno segnato i volti delle maggior parti delle donne ma accanto a loro puoi trovare dei visi di una bellezza sconvolgente che ti lascia senza fiato.

Più di una volta mi son fermato a guardare bambini per strada che erano la personificazione dei putti di Giotto o Michelangelo. Natasha, apparteneva a questa seconda categoria di donne, se fossero stati furbi in quel momento avrei firmato qualsiasi cosa pur di andare via da solo con lei. Finalmente riesco a parlarle, buon inglese studiato all'università, meglio del mio.

Mi sgancio dall'interprete e le chiedo di accompagnarmi in giro per la città, scusa banale ma sempre efficace.Con sorpresa accetta e iniziamo a girare per una Mosca ancora segnata dal tentativo di golpe. La facciata della white house moscovita, il parlamento, porta ancora i segni delle cannonate dei tanks. Il freddo è terribile quando arriviamo alla via Arbat ma all'improvviso tutto passa.

Con lei a fianco entro in un mondo nuovo ed antico allo stesso momento. Bancarelle con tutto il possibile e l'impossibile; orologi russi a fianco di stupendi servizi di porcellana, preziosa ambra baltica insieme a fini avorii intarsiati. Paccottiglia infinita del passato regime, foto di Lenin, Stalin e di chiunque altro abbia avuto una qualche carica, busti di ferro o gesso o come tu lo voglia.Bandiere rosse, americane, i primi punk, cambiavalute abusivi che cambiano un dollaro a 55 rubli mentre il cambio ufficiale è fermo a 2,80 se non ricordo male.

In mezzo a quest'umanità, Natasha che con calma e un dolce sorriso mi accompagna e mi guida tra una bancarella e l'altra. Chiede prezzi, mi consiglia cosa prendere e cosa tralasciare. Non si accorge che non sto guardando le bancarelle ma lei e solo lei; il leggero nevischio che cade le ricopre i ciuffi di capelli che fuoriescono dal suo colbacco, sarà il freddo o sarò io ma i suoi occhi brillano di una luce speciale.

Dopo un po' andiamo in una traversa dell'Arbat dove girando un po' a destra e un po' a sinistra, troviamo finalmente un piccolo caffè in una vecchia cantina che il nuovo spirito pseudo capitalista ha fatto sorgere. Il “chai” tè russo servito nel classico bicchierone di vetro mi scalda come non mai o forse il fatto di essere lì con lei mi basta e avanza.

Resto a Mosca per altri cinque giorni. Natasha non l'ho conosciuta come escort, l'ho conosciuta in maniera diversa. E mi ha fatto conoscere in maniera diversa un grande Paese.

Luglio 1996 sono tornato a Mosca per l'ultima volta.

Il vecchio Inturist vicino alla Piazza Rossa è un residuato bellico confronto ai nuovi alberghi. Per le strade le mercedes e bmw dei nuovi ricchi sfrecciano in mezzo alle lada. Passo dall'Arbat e un'infinita tristezza mi colpisce appena vedo una bella insegna “Pizzeria Bella Italia”. Forse sono gli stessi italiani mafiosi che incontrai nel night del “Pribaltiskaja” a San Pietroburgo nel 1992 e che discutevano amabilmente di cosa “importare” ed “esportare” fiduciosi del fatto che il napoletano non è lingua di facile accesso se non si hanno amici napoletani.

Dove c'era un fantastico negozietto di antichità, ora c'è uno stupido negozio di vestiti. Per strada non mi fermo più ad osservare i bambini; alla sera vedo solo ragazzine che aspettano lungo la strada. Il progresso non può essere fermato; forse…. ma in alcuni casi dovrebbe essere fermato.

Non ho più rivisto Natasha; non ho mai voluto rivederla, forse ho fatto bene o forse ho fatto male,di certo questa storia mi rimarrà dentro e sarà sempre uno degli innumerevoli incroci che ho dovuto affrontare nella vita e dove il mio destino è cambiato a seconda di quale strada ho preso.

Con affetto Bibi

PS Stanotte a mosca ha nevicato e fa freddo.

PP.SS. Ho deciso di riprendere le quattro stagioni. “Racconto d'inverno” è una cosa scritta tanto tempo fa e pubblicata in un forum e che ho riportato integralmente; anche gli altri racconti sono oramai già stati scritti ma non è detto che non farò integrazioni.

Una nota a margine del già inserito “Racconto d'autunno”: è un racconto che va interpretato localizzandolo nel forum dove è stato proposto ed avendo una minima esperienza del vissuto raccontato.

New initiative

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…).