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Russian escorts on the Catwalk for Brian

Brian worked in the fashion business. He was a designer, but he wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t in the realms of the Vivienne Westwoods of this world, or even old Jasper Conran for goodness sake (can you tell that we don’t know much about fashion yet?), but he had a certain charm to his designs and there were a number of people beginning to take notice. He was always excited when it came to London fashion week however, regardless of how successful he was going to be. He never had great expectations about that, but he did have high expectations from the Russian escorts that he booked every time he was in London. You see, Brian wasn’t from London, he was from Derby. You’re right, you don’t hear about many fashion designers from Derby do you? And this was arguably why he wasn’t successful. He’d studied fashion in school and college and always had a flair for it. His parents had encouraged him from an early age, despite the usual torments he got at school, and even the comments his parents used to get about him being gay. He wasn’t gay of course. Not that it mattered anyway, but he wasn’t. Although so many people thought he was, including the women he worked with. He had a bitter sweet time with this information, because he liked to keep himself to himself, and it delighted him to think that others thought things about him that were untrue. Yet because he always refused to correct them and make his sexuality common knowledge, it left him rather lonely most of the time. Hence the Russian escorts. Why Russian escorts? Well, it was all to do with fashion too. All the models he’d ever fallen for, yet subsequently failed to tell them, were Russian. He loved their look. They always looked so sultry and almost nonchalant, for want of a much better word. In fact, he would say that to describe a truly beautiful Russian lady was next to impossible. Ineffable if you will. So, he simply booked them when he was in London. He wasn’t short of a few quid, because his grandparents had left him a considerable amount of money that allowed him to indulge his fashion career, for what it was. And on top of this of course, he could afford to spend plenty of time with those girls. Brian preferred longer bookings with his Russian companions. He would book two to four hours most of the time, but sometimes even went out to dinner with one or two of them. It was always an excellent cover if he ever met anyone he knew. Because he worked in the fashion industry, he could always say that he was hanging out with some of the models from a show he was working on. Even though the truth of the matter was that he never really had the courage to ask one of the models if they’d like to go out with him. He was what was considered a reasonably attractive man, tall, well-built and with a pleasing face. He had come close to a date once with a Polish girl who was over in London for a show with one of the big designers. She used to see him around the same places and she always made a point of talking to him. She flirted with him for a good couple of weeks, and he could have been in with a chance, but confidence with regular women had always been Brian’s problem; and it wasn’t one that was going to go away any time soon. It was at the latest London Fashion Week that Brian decided to break this pattern. He had his eye on a very stunning young Russian, with a figure that most women would murder each other to get. She was near perfect. Not dissimilar to some of the escorts he’d met in the past. Another thing that prompted him to ask her out was that he’d been having a few cashflow problems after investing in a friend’s business back up north, and was not allowing himself any escort indulgences on this visit. A budget of around £2000 was his usual thing when he came to London, but he simply couldn’t do it. However, he decided he was going to take this girl out for dinner if it killed him. He could stretch to a nice dinner somewhere he was sure. In fact he was so sure that he booked a table for two at Chiltern Firehouse (one of his favourite places) and just came straight out with it one day. He’d spent the whole day chatting with her in between their various tasks and shows, and it was then that he figured it would be a good time to just ask her. “So, Diana, do you have plans for dinner this evening?” he asked bravely. He’d never done this before. “No,” she smiled, “Is that an offer Brian?” she asked, “because if it is, I’d love to” Could it really be this easy, he thought? He agreed to meet her at the restaurant at eight. When he arrived he felt as though he was meeting one of his favourite Russian escorts all over again. He didn’t honestly believe that this evening would lead anywhere further than simply dinner and drinks, but he loved Diana’s company all day, and there was no reason he couldn’t enjoy it a little longer. The evening went wonderfully, he couldn’t have asked for a nicer time. And the thought of taking her back to his hotel had never even crossed his mind. This must be what real dating was really like. “So, are you going to invite me back to your room?” Diana asked, as she sipped her cocktail at the end of the evening. The question took him by surprise, this wasn’t what he planned, but what the hell! “Yes, of course, if you’d like to come, we can order some champagne and make a night of it!” He was very enthusiastic. “Alright then,” she said confidently, as she took his hand, “you do know that I’m £600 an hour though darling?” She winked at him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Well, there goes the budget!”


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