Becoming an escort and being paid to have sex is easy!

Simon was struggling to make ends meet in London. Having come to England from Australia, he had returned after 12 months backpacking around Europe, and was finding it difficult to get work without a visa.

When by chance he came across an ad offering work as a male escort he figured it had to be worth a try. Further investigation revealed a number of sites offering loads of work for guys of any age, size or appearance, so he applied to the first one online. Pay a one-off fee of £50, fill out a quick online registration and we will send you an average of 4 clients a week, read the ad, and if they didn’t send you anything within the first month, they offered a refund. It went on to say that there was no sex involved, and hundreds of wealthy ladies were looking for partners to accompany them to dinner or events whilst they were alone in London. Easy!

Simon wasted no time in filling out the registration form: Pseudonym, hair colour, eye colour, height, weight, interests, (very important for conversing with the ladies) availability, the list went on, and finally when all was complete, he pressed the send button. It wasn’t long before a new message popped up in his email inbox with a confirmed ‘date’ with a lady called Samantha, for dinner and drinks, details of location to be supplied on payment of said £50. This of course could be paid online using the link provided via credit or debit card. After a moment’s hesitation, He filled out the payment form and again clicked send, and waited….

Two days went by, and no email confirming the ‘date’! Of course there was no telephone number on the original ad, and no one was replying to his emails. Realising that the ‘date’ had come and gone. He then decided to ask for the money back, whereupon an immediate message replied that as they had in fact provided him with a confirmed date, no refund was due.

Not to be deterred, and realising that he had done his money, our mate Simon then reasoned that perhaps a proper agency with a real person to talk to might be more fruitful, so trolling down the list of options, he found one which looked professional, and offered a phone number to call for registration. Dialling the number, he was greeted by a seductive sounding woman named Serena, who sounded very honest and worth doing business with. After the standard round of questions again, she complemented him on how well he spoke, and how educated he seemed, then asked him whether he was comfortable offering other services – the fee for dinner and drinks was £140 per night, paid in advance when he arrived at the venue, but if the lady decided, as they sometimes did, that they wanted a little something extra, then an additional £360 would be payable, in cash, and again before the ‘work’ commenced. It would be entirely up to him whether he accepted or not, and he could decide on the night. Perfect!

Of course there was a one-off registration fee of £150 this time, to cover insurance, as they were a reputable agent who only dealt with high-class clients, normally business women, and as soon as he paid, they would send him a client every night if he wanted it. They had literally thousands of ladies requiring the service. This time he was to pay the money into a bank account details of which were duly emailed, to which he complied and settled down to wait for his assignments again. Four more days went by and not a single offer. Ringing the number again, he asked for Serena, only to be told she wasn’t available, and would call him back. Surprisingly, he never heard from them again.

Feeling a little despondent and silly for being taken in, he wondered whether an agency with a street front office might not be a better option, so again searching, he found a Marylebone address offering a ‘discrete VIP service to lonely ladies’. This one had to be the ticket. Fronting up, he again filled out the application form – another £150, and was told there were a number of assignments for tonight, and he would be called within the hour. They would send a driver to take him to the date. Sure enough, the phone rang; he was to accompany Jennifer to dinner and drinks and the driver would arrive at his flat at 6.45pm. He was to wear a suit. another £169. By now, after a total of £519 spent, he was well behind financially, but reasoning that it would only take him four non-sexual gigs to catch up, he regarded the suit as an investment.

The car arrived on time as promised, and He was delivered to the Hilton Metropole on Edgware road. Asking for Jennifer at reception, he was greeted by a woman which, he told, me he would never forget. At least 20 stone, with lank grey hair, around 50, he couldn’t tell for sure, and worst of all, (his words, not mine) she was American! They settled at a table near the bar and She ordered a bottle of wine, and the rest was easy… She talked non-stop about herself and Simon proceeded to get quietly wasted as she ordered bottle after bottle of wine. Inevitably, around 10pm, and three bottles in, she suddenly announced “Damn you’re pretty, whadayasay we just go upstairs and Fuck!”

A quick mental calculation and Simon reasoned that after one night and the £500 he would earn for ‘extras’ He would have roughly recouped his losses and would never have to do this again, so they headed for the lift. I ran into him a week later working in a gay bar in Angel, at £5.52 an hour but a lot less traumatic….

Article source: http://planetivy.com/

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