Do you think you ever grow out of a liking for the bad boys? I ask because I’m an older escort – and I’m in great demand, I assure you – but at the age of, (well, let’s just say Kylie and I aren’t that different in age), I’d assumed I might be over my bad boy crush by now.
See, when I was growing up as a precocious teenager living in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere, I LOVED the bad boys. I always felt my stomach fizz and crackle at the sight of them. Rough, ready, and raunchy. Give me tattoos, ripped jeans, oil-stained fingers and leathers over smart suits and clean shaven every time.
Anyway, I do my fair share of outcall escorts jobs and I had one the other night – I was called to this private house on the outskirts. The door opened and my eyes lit up. A bad boy! I could tell straight away because I felt like an over-excited 14-year-old girl once more.
He grabbed hold of my shoulder and pulled me in, quickly. Better and better. It appeared that my client wasn’t keen to be spotted by anyone who might be waiting around outside.
Sure enough, he wasn’t clean shaven and his language was rough and ready. He grabbed me round the waist and pulled me into a room at the back of the house. I watched him unbuckling his belt and I sighed in contentment.
Then I noticed there was a gun in his jeans pocket. And it wasn’t that old line, “is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me”.
“Is this going to be dangerous?” I said. A girl has to be prepared.
He grinned at me. “Always!”
I sighed once again in contentment. Nothing like a little danger to spice up a Tuesday night. And Mr Dangerous will be repeating his experience, I reckon, though this time I might insist on an incall escorts visit.
