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Nineteen was a young age for such a high-class escort in London, though it wasn’t unheard of. Just rare. Perhaps that was why Edita was so popular. In her first week, she already had all seven days filled with clients, and she made note before she even started that she was going to have to talk to Clarissa (the woman that had gotten her into all of this in the first place) about overbooking her. She had never done this before, and Edita was positive that having sex every night of the week was not going to be good for her body, no matter what those studies said.

London looked different when she was out in it wearing a bright blue dress that looked royalty standard. Her first client was a thoughtless writer, or so Clarissa had described him as. How a writer could afford the kind of money he was paying for Edita’s company, the dark-haired teen would never know, but she was learning quickly that questions weren’t acceptable. Get in, do her job, be as personable and friendly as she knew how to be, get the money, get out. She could do that.

“Hi,” Edita said, placing her best smile on as she approached William Venkling just to the side of the entrance to a towering theater. He was charming, Edita was revealed to see; his hair was blonde and short, styled around his head in a way that suggested he had a large forehead he wanted to hide. He was taller than her, even in her four inch heels, but not intimidatingly so. Overall, he looked friendly, and Edita was grateful for that. She wouldn’t pass too much judgement just yet, however; all she could do was hope that the night didn’t turn out to be an utter disaster.

“Miss Edita,” William replied with a smile of his own, causing Edita to blush before she could reign it under control. This seemed to please him, however, and she took his arm to allow him to lead her towards the theater door. “I hope you enjoy comedies. This one’s brand new. We have opening night tickets and everything.”

Edita eyed him before letting her smile grow wider. “You wrote it.”

William’s free hand pressed to his chest with feigned offense. “Am I really so transparent?” he asked, dramatics coloring his tone. Edita laughed, tightening her grip on his arm and nodding cordially at the doorman that escorted them through. She could get used to this kind of lifestyle; on the arm of the creator of art himself, and the receiving end of plenty of approving looks.

“No, but I know you’re a writer, and, well…it was just a hunch,” she replied. “Shouldn’t you be mingling with the press or something?”

“Why would I do that? I have a lovely lady on my arm, a lady I plan to enjoy the company of instead of meddling with people that are likely going to lie about me anyway.” Edita’s brows flew up, and she looked at William in surprise. He stared back. “What? Just because I’m a writer, doesn’t mean I have to approve of tabloids.”

Edita was going to have a lovely night out in London, indeed.

“Happy New Year.”“Happy New Year.”

Camellia Luxx turned her head to view the man standing next to her with a surprised raise of her brow. It was as if he had materialized out of nowhere; she hadn’t heard him, hadn’t seen him out of the corner of her eye. The party was large, but Camellia who was one of the more street wise escorts in London was always under control and watchful enough to know every detail that happened around her. Using the ‘Prime Minister’ title for evils such as sneaking up on women wasn’t a very attractive look on him.

“Prime Minister,” Camellia acknowledged with a small, not quite perceptible turn of her thin lips. Her bright brown eyes were narrowed on him, and the only indication that she may not have been as fond of his presence as others in the room. One didn’t just ignore an invite from the Prime Minister, however. Especially not an escort working for the London service he hired multiple times a year. There were stories of girls going to jail for the simple word ‘no.’

“Happy New Year to you as well,” Camellia said in response, her voice non-threatening despite the look in her eyes. “Quite a party you’ve thrown.”
“This is your first year, I’m assuming?” the Minister asked with a faint smirk. “I’ve been throwing them every year since 2020. They always turn out as much fun as I hope they will.”

Camellia wondered if that meant it wasn’t all that fun at all. She didn’t ask. “It is my first year,” she confirmed instead. “I’ve only been with Alexis for eight months. This is the first year I was lucky enough to score an invite,” she added, almost teasing now.

“Only eight months?” the Minister asked in surprise. “You’re how old? Twenty one?” Camellia laughed, harder than she intended to.

“Twenty-seven. If I thought you weren’t hitting on me, I’d take that as a compliment.” She would. As it was, she had never been fond of the Prime Minister. She had met him only once before, and he had given her a vibe that she hadn’t been able to shake for quite a while after leaving his presence. That vibe was slowly beginning to rise in the air around her again.

“Well, as a gift for making it this long so far, I have something for you,” the Prime Minister said, and held out a hand for her to take. She eyed it only for a few seconds before placing her own in it; looking skeptical and untrusting wouldn’t do well, for her, or for Alexis. He led her from the back of the grand room the party was thrown in, through a set of doors to their right, and into a smaller room that could have been a study. Camellia glanced around, taking in her surroundings.

“I usually don’t start handing out gifts until I hire a girl, but your one of sexiest London escorts I met in ages and I think I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought,” the Minister said as he opened a drawer beneath a large oak desk. He came out with a square box wrapped in red velvet, and Camellia already had a good hunch as to what was within it. He stepped around the desk to stand in front of her, opening up the box and turning it to face her. Sure enough: the most polished silver bracelet she had ever seen, lined with diamonds and small rubies tucked just to the sides of them.

“I couldn’t possibly –“

“I insist,” the Prime Minister said, his voice changing a bit as he picked up the bracelet from the soft padding it rested on, then set aside the box. His hand took Camellia’s own, lifting it until he could trust her not to drop it as he undid the clasp and clipped it onto her wrist. She had to admit…it was beautiful. And it looked amazing with the deep red dress she wore.

But she also saw it for what it was: ownership. She was being claimed. The look in his eyes said it all.

It was difficult for high end escorts in London to care about client horror stories when said clients were so damn good in bed. Anita gasped and arched her hips against the pressure currently invading her, hands gripping hard at strong upper arms. The conservative clothing of the Prime Minister didn’t do his body any kind of justice; he was older, sure, but Anita had been quite impressed with how well-kept he seemed to keep himself. And she was quite sure she would have agreed to fuck him for free at one time or another, based on his performance.

Many stories flashed through Anita’s mind at random times, but she had never had the bad experiences other escorts from her agency seemed to have had with the Minister. Attitude problem. Too rough. Too rude in public settings. Maybe Anita didn’t mind a little attitude and roughness, and just didn’t notice that kind of behavior because of it. Either way, she was certain it all stopped mattering once he pushed himself inside of her and made her lose all thought.

“God,” Anita moaned, auburn hair splaying out on the thick pillow as she threw her head back against it when his fingers reached between them to press on her clitoris. She was absolutely soaked – he was one of the few that could manage that at all – and had been close to climax since the beginning of their little tryst. When his free hand left the mattress to grasp her leg and yank it higher up his side, she thought of all of the warnings about too rough, but the thought paired with the action only made her even more wet. Walls clenched in warning, but it wasn’t time yet; she didn’t finish until he did. That was the rule.

“Don’t you dare,” he rasped into her ear in warning, true to form. Instead of offering mercy, he quickened the pace of his thrusts, and Anita’s hands flew to his back to cling on for dear life, uncaring of whether her nails were doing any damage. She one those escorts in London who took orders well, and had learned to control her body’s reactions, but sometimes there just wasn’t a choice in the matter. She had only finished prematurely once, however: the consequences had been beautifully agonizing.

Perhaps there is a bit of sadism in there, Anita thought as she gripped around his waist with the leg he had hitched up his side. But he makes up for it with this part of our nights…

No matter what other escorts warned her about, Anita was hard pressed to believe that the Prime Minister was anything but charming and an absolute God in bed. To hell with what the others said; she was his perfect escort. Always dropping things at his beck and call to please him. She felt his thrusts get more erratic, felt her wet walls suck him in deeper, and she couldn’t take it anymore: as soon as she felt him throb inside of her, she let go herself, crying out into the dimly lit hotel suite as her orgasm moved through her trembling body. And he thrust into her all the way through it, drawing them both out, two moans blending together as they both collapsed onto the bed.

Oh, yes…she was his perfect escort in London. If only he could see it.

I am pretty sure we all have experienced the exact same situation I did a couple of days ago throughout my stay in London. The weather was quite windy and cold, so I decided to put on a beanie or something, you know, to avoid getting sick in the middle of my holiday. I was standing in front of the mirror all dressed up and looking at my awkwardly non matching beanie, it basically ruined my entire outfit so I was thinking and hesitating about what to do. As I was spending my holiday in the city and only had that one headwear piece to put on, it was a great dilemma for me. By the end I was actually scolding myself for not dropping another option in my luggage before depart or just simply for not being more prudent, smarter and not thinking over the dressing up, outfit options twice…

Finally I decided to change my entire outfit for a more casual one and put on that beanie. To make sure you, my dear reader will never ever get into this confusing and hard situation I am listing a couple of fresh and juicy headwear trends, universal hats that basically go with every outfit.

1. COOL KIDS’ BEANIES

These are our ultimate favorites. Chic and cool, very trendy. They go with almost every type of outfit and favored by many style conscious escorts in London . You won’t even ruin an elegant one with them, because (good news) this year’s fashion is all about chaos! Matching sporty with elegant and feminine with masculine. These are no simple beanies, if you can give them a more thorough look, you can see that they all have something extra, something special on them. The first one has a cool medal in the front, the second has a fluffy, interesting material and the third one has a very sophisticated knitting pattern and thread.

2. FEDORAS ALWAYS AND FOREVER

Okay, this one is a bit hard to carry in the luggage, but they can be worn with EVERYTHING! They will absolutely give your outfit a boost I’ve even spotted the odd chauffeur sporting one while waiting for a pick up at Heathrow.

3. DARE TO WEAR

At first sight, these might look a bit masculine, but after having a closer look, with all the accessories built on them and decorated they become extremely cool and feminine. This season’s chaotic fashion allows London women to wear such pieces and gave us wide liberty to wear whatever we like and feel that day. A hooligan style like this is great for all rebels. Just match one of these hats with a cool pair of ripped jeans and a chunky knitted sweater and you will look amazing. Ready to rock the streets of London?