Dark red, you know the one, like blood. I forget the name. Anyway, he wants that on your toes. Light-pink manicure β fresh, innocent. Underwear, yes.
He wants you in La Perla, off-white. Nothing whorish. Lauren [not her real name], 31, is mimicking her madam, putting on a breathy Parisian accent. Remember: act like you know him. She laughs, returning to her own voice, which has a faint Scandinavian lilt. Call me a courtesan, call girl, escort, whatever. Basically I was a hooker.
Just very well paid. There is an enduring fascination with illicit sex in high places. Hollywood sirens like Marilyn Monroe who made pornographic films in her early career and Joan Crawford who worked in a strip club reportedly sold sex too. And there was a media scramble to unmask the blogging call girl Belle de Jour eventually revealed as Dr Brooke Magnanti , who was trading sex while studying for a PhD.
She took her alluring nom de plume from the French novel of , made into a film with Catherine Deneuve in Changing times.
My clients were on the Forbes list. Men who owned private islands, who were huge in property, international industry and oil. If you knew who! These clients were powerful, powerful men. Having a hooker for them is nothing β like having butter on their bread. No fake boobs, nails or eyelashes. Like others girls in her earnings bracket, Lauren is clever.
