Sunday 9 August 2009

Screening The Gents...

Things are coming along nicely on the returning to work front. I had lunch with a lovely Gent last week. We chatted about our arrangement and it seems we both understand what we expect from each other. So now I’m looking forward to afternoons indulging in debauchery in a top hotel in W1, regular holidays in the sun and of course those lovely little gifts…


I met with another possible client last night. He was 70+. We went to the theatre and dinner afterwards. It was okay. Just okay. I think he will be a useful contact, more of a Sugar Daddy type than a client. But I’m not sure how I feel about that, with this one.

SD's are great, I want as many as poss! But maybe not this one.
 
When I was just a sprightly 24 years old, I had a SD who was 71. (actually, I had a few but that’s another story…) I still see him once or twice a year to stay in touch, but now he’s 90ish, so it’s just a quiet, respectful afternoon tea in Mayfair, reminiscing old times.

Back then, he may have been 71, but he was young with it. He dressed well, he strode out smartly with me on his arm, smiling and laughing, like a younger man. He didn’t seem 71.
Yes, it was so obvious I was with him for the money, but I didn’t really care what other people thought. I was having fun, going to health farms, posh hotels in the Cote d’Azur and being thoroughly spoilt. Everyone was doing it. All older men had a young sexy lady at their side, and nothing’s changed there, we all know that.

But now, being a respectful 43 myself, I was kinda hoping that this time around I would feel less like an obvious gold digging whore, because I would be with men of around 50- 60 or so. People would never quite know for sure, would they.



I knew how old this Old Gent was before I met him, but I was hoping he would appear a little younger. IBut it just didnt feel right being with him. I wouldn’t mind shagging this new Old Gent as a client, in private, but to go out and about with him, as he shuffles along in his Mr Magoo specs trying to cop a feel is just, well, embarrassing, I don’t care how rich he is.

He wants me to accompany him to Paris. Maybe I’ll go there with him, but I don’t think I want to go out and about with him in London. I might see somebody I know…


More men to meet next week!

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