Living the life of an escort is always going to have to entail some extent of secrecy and “cover-ups”. For some girls that are fortunate to have very supportive friends and family the extent of their secrecy is somewhat less than mine. I have found that despite general chit chat among my university friends of their liberated sexual outlooks, most guys and girls of my age are not as open minded when it comes to sex as I am. One of my girlfriends ridiculed glamour models for goodness sake, so how would she take it if I turned round and said “Guess what I do…”
So with my rather silly and overly-vivid imagination, I feel like I live a bit of a double life. Much like a spy. A spy that sneaks around with a giant handbag full of stashed high heels, massage oil, lube and condoms. A spy that desperately tries to wear a dress long enough to cover up that she's wearing stockings and really teeny tiny panties. A spy that has taken to wearing a full face of make up and having styled, volumey hair every day so it doesn't look odd when she runs out of the flat at 4pm done up to the nines.
In fact I make such a good spy/escort-pretending-to-be-a-spy, that I regularly forget my cover up lies but am able to quickly and convincingly lie on the spot without just declaring “oh screw it, honey I’m going out hooking”. No, funny as that image is to me (just imagining my flatmates' faces), instead it goes a little bit like this: “Oh you're making dinner, I thought you were going out for dinner tonight?” *shit* “umm…well…we're just…umm…watching a movie instead”. Oh yes, Charlotte Harrington – mistress of deception. Ish. Meh, my flatmates believe it and that's what counts.
I'm also now incredibly good at the sneaking in and out of the flat bit. So good in fact, that the other night I had to spend a good 10 minutes hiding behind the bins at the back of the house. Oh yes, I may advertise as being a classy girl and appear that way when you meet me, but when I get back from our date I lurk behind the bins in our dark scary carpark. Lush. Well, I saw my flatmate and a friend go round the front of the house just as I arrived back from a date so decided to change out of my heels and stockings in the carpark and go through the back door. Only, of course, for them to come out of the back door to sort out a bike chained up there. Hence, me diving into the bins and waiting for them to leave. Still managed to scare the lives out of them by popping up from the bins once I'd finally got back into my civvies…they were taking forever!
So maybe I wouldn’t actually make a very good spy. I'm going to view another place this week hopefully. Whilst I may have a few less opportunities to laugh at myself (and for you to laugh at me as well) over my ridiculous antics, it certainly will be less stressful actually being able to just walk in and out of my own home without question. Until then though it's Secret Agent Belle reporting for duty!