Archive for December, 2017

21 Dec

Enter Mistress Rebecca

Steadily, smoothly with perfect posture she moved through the crowd toward the DJ booth. She walked with the confident stride of a catwalk model, one high heeled foot crossing in front of the other. It looked restrained but she was actually covering thr ground at quite a clip. She was not there to shake hands and back slap like a politician.

The crowd did not make a sound, but just parted almost serenely to allow she and I moved. Everyone looked at her and then briefly at me. Even the hottest and sexiest of the escorts and the most arrogant and wealthy looking of the guests. They looked at her with admiration and lust, and at me with vague inquisitiveness. I understood them wondering who I was and what I was doing with Mistress Rebecca.

steampunk corset escort gran canariaI did not look like a scary tough security guard. I was (and am) the grey man. That was (and is) my job. Mid grey linen suit in reasonably fashionable but not edgy style. Short but not aggressive hair, slightly above medium height. Fit looking but not hugely muscular or overly skinny. Tanned from my time around the haunts of the rich and famous. Eyes that were sometimes green and sometimes brown depending on how the light hit them steadily scoping everyone around us for potential threats. I also understood why they found it hard to take their eyes off the amazing, powerful and sexy woman ahead of me. She seemed to project sex and power through everything that she did, though she did not seem to do anything. Maybe it was better to say that she exuded sex from everything that she was.

Blonde hair with honey highlights cascading lose around her tanned shoulders. Which were well defined and exercised and nearly as broad as mine. I guessed swimmer or gymnast. (I later found that both were right, as was judo and karate fighter) Tonight her look was rather different to the sports wear she had on when I first met her. No Lycra or running shoes today.

Instead she wore a luminously white leather corset, cinched in to pronounce her already small waist even more. A floor length white leather skirt with slits from floor to the waistband. Through which slits showed her white high heeled thigh boots and about a mile and a half of bronzed, taut thigh that rippled as she strode. In her running shoes she was five feet seven inches. Tonight, she must have stood close to six feet, possibly a touch over. And she still moved with grace and athleticism.

12 Dec

Mistress is in Tenerife

I had been becoming increasingly bored with the day-to-day Close Protection jobs over the past few months. The firm´s investigation and intelligence team were so damn good that I had only been required to clear my Sig Sauer P226 once in the past year, and the sight of it sighted directly between their eyes had been enough to stop the target in mid stride. Sure, there had been a little bit of argy-bargy with protesting types, but nothing that any half decent bodyguard could not have handled. And a little “negotiating” with the security at strip clubs, brothels and lap dancing clubs. But the client´s cash took care of that without a lot of help from me. So, all in all, something different sounded like it was what I needed. I had no way of knowing how it would be my last body guarding job. Nor how much my life would change in the next couple of weeks.

The fun and games started when I was told where to meet her. Apparently I had not been specially chosen for the job due to my skills, charm, good looks or intelligence. I had been chosen because I was closest. Which dita von teese madam and 2 menmade me feel special, naturally. I was to meet up with the client in Tenerife, which was not on our usual list of destinations, but what the hell. What was more than a little strange was where I was to meet her. Not at the airport or a hotel. Not even a restaurant or a bar. No, I was to go and meet here at a Tenerife sex club. Where, apparently, she was staying as a guest of honour or something. Whatever, really. The job was the job and at least looking after some woman who was too old or unappealing to work as an escort anymore would be an experience.

It turned out that only one part of that sentence was true.

The following day after a tedious three hour flight jammed between an overweight sweaty woman from Liverpool and a skinny Spanish guy who smelled as though he bathed in paella I was on the ground and ready to start the job. Just as a hint, never fly in an orange plane or with anyone who sounds a fucking bugle when they land. But the sun was warm, and the island spectacular. Warm beaches and palm trees and a volcanic peak that athletes use for their winter training. They can swim in the sea in the morning, and then run to the top of the volcano and cool down in the snow.