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Category Archives: Diary of my experience selling my virginity to Roland

The main purpose of this blog: whatever I do with Roland, I write here.

Update on selling virginity

Since being in contact with potential virginity buyers on AdultWork and Seekarrangement, all this has happened:

One guy offered £20,000 then changed his mind

I’ve met up with two potential buyers in Edinburgh (both were offering £12,000)

I’ve recieved shedloads of time-wasting messages on Adultwork and a couple of emails, asking if I’m available today for outcalls or if I’ll accept £100 or £200

One guy (offering £15,000) changed his mind after seeing my photos, though he apparently thinks I’m “very pretty” and “cute” but not “what [he] had in mind”

I’ve had several emails and Adultwork messages obviously hoping for a freebie, and others who have exchanged several emails  with me only to subtly try to beat me down to £200 or £500 at the last moment (I. Am. Not. Stupid.)

And tomorrow I’ll be taking a photo of my hymen while holding a bit of paper with the guy’s name and the date on it. If only I had the photo that Donny took of it. I love how perverted some of my potentials are, though nobody seems to want to get into anything more than ageplay and spanking. Maybe I’m more kinky than most people. A lot of them want bareback/without a condom but are more than happy to get tested, which is fine by me. Roland also wanted it bareback and would’ve got a test.

The good thing is that I’ve learned (from male virginity seller @LegendaryDiego) that both he and Natalie Dylan tok over a year to sell their virginity. So at least I don’t feel so bad that the last time I sold sexual services to my initial buyer, Roland, was a year ago. I’m considering going to an agency within the next two weeks if I don’t find Mr Right before then.

 

 

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Merseyside Model Petition – Sign & Make a Difference

 

Roland pays me near my house

We were going to stop off where I lived and he would pay me there. It was wrong. It was exhilarating. And it was risky, because in this small area, a BMW is noticeable, and so am I; and my mum could be out walking the dogs. And she knows a lot of people in the area from walking the dogs, so what if one of them saw me and Roland and told her?

“Yes, what if you were seen getting out of a BMW when you were supposed to be in Edinburgh?” Roland grinned like a pervy shark.

I was trying to figure out what to tell my mum if she asked about my day; “She usually never asks me, or she just asks if I had a good time, but it’d be just my luck if she asked me this one time,” I explained.

“Yeah, you’ve got to get your story straight,” he said, savouring every word.

Earlier, I’d asked what his parents would think of this sordid affair.

“They’d think it was naughty, but then, boys are naughty,” he’d replied.

“So I’d be the naughty one? I’d be the slut?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they would think of you as a slut.”

Later, he’d taken his wallet off a shelf, and the wallet was hugely fat with all the money in it. The notes were bulging out. He looked at the money inside and stuffed some more wads in, all the time while driving. Then he told me to count it. I counted it 3 times and got a different answer each time, which is normal for me. This is why I always count money 4 times, so that 2 amounts will match. Like I said, I’m not good with numbers. Roland suggeted I fold a note around each hundred so it’s easier to count. I was dizzy from lack ofsleep when counting them. It was £740 or something. That’s what he’d thought it’d be. He said we coukl stop at an ATM where I lived.

Right now, I was happily fretting over being seen. What a thrill! Roland asked where there was a cash machine and I suggested we park at the supermarket, where there was less chance of my mum or one of her acquaintances spotting us. However, there would be few cars in the car park at this time, so if someone did happen to be coming out or going into the supermarket, we would be conspicuous. A BMW would be more conspicuous parked than it would be driving along, where it could just be passing through. (Most cars are old or cheap in this town/area).

Roland’s age would also cause more suspicion if my mum heard about it; if he’d been my age he could be a friend or another student.I wondered about saying he was my boyfriend if it was suspected, but decided no way. Roland seemed to agree, though to be honest I’ve no idea what he was saying because I was so wrapped up in my own fantasies of being caught. I know he rubbed my leg and said he wouldn’t say he was my boyfriend or that’s not what he’d call this relationship. Well, obviously; I don’t even think we’d qualify as fuck buddies or friends with benefits, as we’re not friends and money is being exchanged. I’m his prostitute and he’s my punter. If I was seen with him, and it was suspected I was sleeping with him, I would have to tell the truth about the deal. No way could I let anyone think this old fat guy was my boyfriend; I couldn’t bear the shame. Unless they knew he was a millionaire; maybe that would be okay. (I didn’t say this out loud, of course.)

“You must have been waiting for something,” he said, “You’re very pretty; you could have lost your virginity; you must have had many chances. But something was holding you back. And this Chastity character, you want to kill her, don’t you? Get rid of her?”

I understood what he was saying. “Chastity is a part of me, my sort of secondary personality? She’s been keeping me from losing my virginity and when I do, she will die?”

“Yes, that’s what I think. You’re part virgin and part whore. She’s the virgin and you are the whore. But it’s only now that you’re getting stronger than she is, and I wonder why.”

I was pretty stunned. “I think that might be true,” I said, “Yeah, I see it. How did you know?”

“I can just tell. Something was holding you back. You have all of these desires but something was stopping you.”

I felt it was all true. I know Roland is the personification of a part of me, too – the sexually adventurous, slutty, experienced, sadistic domme side. Chastity is the repressed, innocent and submissive side. Songs of Innocence and Experience – as a five year old I’d thought they should have been named ‘innocence’ and ‘evil’. But often it is experience or power that make us evil. And experience that makes us powerful.

Experience makes us formidable, changes us, makes the innocent easy prey for us. Before the Case I was innocent; a 9 year old still largely trusting even though I knew people could lie and be bad. Now I am experienced, trusting no-one, with an arsenal of tools at my side to challenge any libels and lies, to trick perpetrators into revealing their misdeeds, to win addendums clearing my name.

And prostitution will be much the same.

William Blake was right all along.

We took the shortcut we’d spotted on the way down, and Roland said he was a total pervert, and asked me what my mum would think of him – whether she’d think he was a pervert.

I said, “Well, you’ve got a PhD, so even though you’re a pervert at least you’re educated, so she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m an educated fucking pervert. So that’s okay.As long as I’ve got a degree.”

“Yeah.”

Earlier, he’d been a little worried that Magda would find something – a hair, something– and I’d said, “Will she spank you if she finds out?”

He’d chuckled. “No, it’ll be much worse than that.”

Roland and I came out into where I lived, and I pointed to my house, fairly close as the crow flies but still half a mile away on foot. He looked at it (well, the whole street, as he probably couldn’t distinguish this particular house. Or maybe he could, because I told him which number it was from the side.) He’d said he needed yet another coffee despite having had three coffees already – “that’s like a drought! I need 10 cups of coffee a day”. He’d asked me where to get coffee here and I told him. That cafe was the local daytime/evening hangout for teens and young people because there was so little to do here. I’d been for a interview there once – ironically just after I’d got a Saturday job. It was weird thinking of Roland in there.

I suggested maybe he could stop on the high street, as then I wouldn’t have to carry the £1000 very far if he parked in front of the bank (we both have accounts in the same bank). The High Street meant, paradoxically, more chance of people who knew me walking by but less chance of sticking out like a sore arse (heh) in a nearly-empty carpark.

Roland glided the car onto the main street and parked right in front of the bank. He got out, withdrew the cash, came back and counted it out, then made me count it. He was paying me cash because the bank had queried the cheque.

“And did they query it?” he’d asked.

“No,” I’d said, “The lady just said ‘wow, I’d like £1,000’ and I said ‘I had to work very hard for it’ but she didn’t ask me anything.”

Roland giggled at that. “The bank did query it,” he said, and so his secretary had asked him to approve it/if he’d signed a cheque to one Kalika Gold.

“I said, ‘yes, she’s a lawyer’,” he’d reported. I’d asked if he’d had to think before replying or got nervous but he said he didn’t.

It was £1,000. I kept thinking I was seeing people I knew or my mum passing by but it always turned out not to be them. It was such a thrill and I was having so much fun.

I told Roland I didn’t want to wait that long before seeing him again.

I still hurt from the cane, and said so. It was really funny, but sore. He said he was sorry.

“Don’t be sorry; it was fun,” I said.

A police car pulled in front of us. We were talking for a bit – not the wisest thing to do as really I should’ve got out of his car quickly to avoid being spotted. Roland asked me to kiss him, which I don’t like doing in case he gets attached to me and vice versa. Snogging is different because it means power.

We were going to kiss when Roland says, “Oh there’s a police car. We’ll wait till it goes away.”

It left almost immediately and we kissed, which was kinda nice and I liked it more than last time at the bus stop. Only much later did I realise that neither kissing (even of under-16s) nor prostitution is a crime (unless you’re soliciting or kerb-crawling – ie streetwalking is a crime but not other forms of sex work). So we were pretty stupid to think the police would be interested. I’d wondered if the police had parked and left so quickly because they’d seen Roland come back from the ATM and hand over a wad of cash, and suspected prostitution. But of course not, as it wasn’t streetwalking; perhaps they suspected illegal activities or maybe the police car was just a coincidence. I think we were wary of the police because we knew we were doing something naughty.

Roland said to enjoy the money. “And I do hope your bottom gets better,” he added.

“You’re not as cruel as [fictional] Roland, you’re a lot nicer,” I observed.

“No, I’m not as cruel as Roland. I do hope it gets better.”

As I got out he said, “Watch out for cars. And mothers. Watch out for mothers.”

Two minutes later after waving him goodbye as he sped to the cafe just along the street, having asked me for directions, I was in the bank putting the money that had just been taken out into its old familiar home.

The End of this chapter

Awaiting the next part of my adventure…

 

 

 

 

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An audience with a pervert

We were in Frankie and Benny’s and I was feeling very happy, even though it was terribly obvious how chubby and 25-40% bald Roland is. I felt even more pretty by comparison. I had battered fish and chips. Theoretically I should’ve been starving by now – I hadn’t had anything to eat after lunch the previous day – but I didn’t eat that quickly. I amused myself by thinking how none of the other diners knew my thrilling secret. They might be wondering what a pretty young girl was doing with a lump of lard like that, but they would never guess! They might think he was a work colleague or family friend, maybe; hopefully they wouldn’t think I was banging him but I don’t think so, because we don’t do the sort of body language that would make others think that. But whatever they thought, they would never guess! I looked at Roland and thought he was cute in his own way. Sometimes he loks good if the lighting is right or if I think about how much worse a man of his age could look. I wanted icecream or a coke float for dessert (which is the favourite part of a meal for me).

We were talking about next time, and the enema bag he’d shown me. I said I wouldn’t bring the knife next time because I could tell he wasn’t into it.

“I really thought you’d like it,” I added.

I said I’d get some supplies off Ebay for next time.

Roland: “Yes, but we have to make sure that it’s something we both want.” Sometimes I hate that law that says you can’t fuck people without their consent. Then again, as a woman I am not legally capable of rape*, so…

“Oh,” I said in a disappointed voice, “So no drilling?” I said it with a totally straight face. I really wanted to see his expression when I said it.

He looked at me for a few moments.

I could imagine drilling him right there as he was sitting, the fat slut. He was totally asking for it, acting like a whore, going with any woman who was nice to him, and his perverted ways. Like he’s been around the block, one more time wouldn’t count. I bet he secretly wanted it anyway, he’s such a pervert.

“I won’t,” I said, “I won’t do stuff you don’t want. You can trust me.”

We carried on talking about stuff. At one point when we weren’t talking Isaid, “Roland?” using his blog name, literally ‘Roland’ and he looked up and I asked him something – it was sonething I wanted to know, or say. Then after he’d answered and I’d gone back to my food, I went “You answered when I said ‘Roland’! You are Roland!”

I was nearly finished when he said we’d have to “go after this,” because he had to drive up to Aberdeen or Glasgow or somewhere to meet the lawyers.

“I thought you could maybe show me the sights in Newcastle,” I said, in a whine worthy of Anastasia Steele. “I never got to look around the city.”

We were talking about Newcastle and he sid there’s over a million people in Newcastle, and way more if you count Sunderland. He looked it up on his Blackberry and said there’s 3 million in the region, and I said, “So you’ve got a pound or every person in Newcastle.” Boy did he suddenly look more attractive!

Roland looked at me and said “You like money, don’t you? Some people might value other things but you see a lot of money in a bank account and you think, ‘that’s good’.”

“You think I’m superficial,” I said, pretending to be a bit sad. I enjoy putting on emotions to see how others react. They always fall for it. And Roland is an excellent psychological study.

“No,” he said, “No I don’t think that you’re superficial.”

After a bit he said “I don’t think we’re gonna have time for you to have a sweet, Kalika.”

I was worried he’d be late so I said we could go now, but he said I could finish it, so I ate more quikly. It was pretty good.

Roland paid, and the waiter chatted to us about what we were doing in Newcastle, and Roland told him we’d come from Edinburgh. After we left the restaurant I giggled about “imagine if we’d told him the truth about what we were doing!” and “What would he think? What would he think about you, if he knew!” and “He could never have guessed!”

Roland said “I think that you think it’s naughty. So you get a thrill out of it.”

“It is naughty. What would your employees and colleagues think, if they knew you’d skived off work with a hooker to take nude photos of two girls tied together?”

“Well, I think that everyone is entitled to their private life.”

We found the car and drove out of Newcastle, Roland driving the wrong way and passing the place whre we’d done the shoot. I read him the directions from memory, going backwards, as we left Newcastle.

We stopped for gas at the Newcastle Airport and I read his book on women in antiquity that he had in the glove compartment; he had shown me it once.

*It is prosecuted as sexual assault. Legally, there is no age of consent for male children, so in theory a woman could rape a male child. Obviously, as you’ll know from the news, the courts do prosecute female paedophiles for having sex with boys below the age of 16, though this is not a recognised offence. It is often prosecuted as ‘lewd conduct’ or similar offences, as it cannot usually be prosecuted as ‘having sex with someone below the age of 16′. Sadly, in Ireland the age is 17 for girls and 14 for boys – a reverse sexism which leaves male minors vulnerable to sex predators and suggests that their bodies/virginity aren’t as valuable as female minors’. It also harms girls by ‘protecting’ them more than boys, suggesting that their bodies/virginity is more precious and perpetuating the idea that women are harmed by sex but men aren’t. This only fuels the double standard. On a lighter note, I once told Roland that if I raped a man (i.e. him) I couldn’t be prosecuted for it. He saw through this very easily though, and instantly said it would be sexual assault. Roland, at other times, has said “I think you want to be raped” and “I could have raped you [at the photoshoot]”. It’s lucky I’m not in love with him, as he thinks, or it would be a very dysfunctional relationship.

 

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This blog’s weirdest/funniest search terms of all time

Honestly, I sometimes toy with the idea of writing down the craziest and most hilarious search terms that lead unsuspecting innocents to my den of sin. Just now I discovered the WordPress all-time search stats feature, so here are the ones that I think are the weirdest or funniest, for various reasons:

 

how to act dress and makeup like a whore or slut (Well, that’s easy – OTT makeup and slutty clothes. Cue Snog, Marry Avoid.)

redesign penis so that sperm and urine does not come out the same hole

the cleanest virgin pussy on earth video

peter griffin has sex with his boss angela porn video

the whore roland has sex with in dark tower (What?? A reference to Browning’s epic poem, but WHAT?? It was not a sexual poem!)

spanking queen nefertiti (As a legendary beauty, she must’ve had lots of guys from all different kingdoms wanting to spank her.)

tied virgins, may 28, 2012, tied sluts (hmmmm…specific…wonder what the story is there.)

nadine dorries prostitute (She did have a boyfriend while trying to enforce abstinence education on girls.)

spanked for prostitution (Roland did spank me for prostituting myself to him).

should daughter spank her mom survey

pee in those pink panties and youll be otk

naughty lttle girls who wet their knickers deserved to be spanked by mommy

Kristen Stewart fucking everyone (One boyfriend and one colleague isn’t everyone. Calm down.)

Sarah Palin whore

Gumtree porn jobs

I want to 50 Shades my boss

Is there a market for selling gay virginity

japs with panty poop remote

nadine dorries spanked (She does deserve it)

need phone number of egyptian girls spanked (? I don’t think you can get phone numbers this way. Anyway judging by my blog’s country stats, they like spanking there and often view my blog, so you’re certain to find a girl to spank.)

lolo jones spanking (Well, anyone who is abstinent needs a spanking for bad judgement in some people’s eyes)

stay virgin until marriage diapers

Bristol Palin slut

sell your self to shemale

virginity for sale (wasting no time! This person REALLY wants to buy those boys or girls!)

young teen sell your virginity (hope he or she intends on selling to someone of the same age or, if not, telling his/her client if s/he’s underage so they don’t end up in trouble for something they didn’t know about).

she was so humiliated with her bare red ass up in the air

selling virginity to sugar daddy

adults embarrassing peeing his pants accident and spanked for it (Does anyone else have a gut feeling this is going to happen to Roland sometime soon? No? Just me, then.)

gumtree jobs like porn actor in london

indian goddess kali handjob

queen tut spanking (A weird search, as Queen Tut is my original character. Maybe it’s a search from someone who already read the Queen Tut stories.)

husband made me cry on my wedding night while he was deflowering me

50 shades of slut

copy sex contract 50 shades

tips for having sex with a stranger you met online if your female an a virgin

facebook sell virginity

abstinence is sexy

sugar baby monthly allowance

vagina dententa (3 searches, all spelled differently)

call girl etiquette

dry humping situations

mum caught me reading her diary and spanked and fucked me

which pornsex  (The new ‘Which?’ Best Buy catalogue for porn)

lisa simpson slut

she howled, clutching her glowing red,well- spanked behind

 

And every day, there are between 1 and 3 searches about how to sell virginity. The commonest search terms are ‘sell virginity uk’, ‘sell my virginity tips’ ‘how do I sell virginity’ ‘sell gay virginity’ ‘sell yourself to a gay person’ etc. Sometimes terms such as ‘dating sites’ or Craigslist or adultwork are added. It makes me glad that I made the ‘Tips on selling virginity’ page, but also makes me worry that I didn’t include enough information in it or have missed out something important. But at least it’s there. Also, the number of people who spell ‘virginity’ wrong surprised me. Searches for SeekArrangement.com and porn featuring Family Guy and The Simpsons characters are also very common.

The country stats show that people in the USA followed by Britain consistently give the most views, and that people in Saudi Arabia, Bahrain and Libya (amongst several other countries in the Middle East and North Africa) view it too, so I guess you just can’t keep people from searching for porn. Or prostitution diaries, as the case may be.

 

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Rolandanny

I just applied online for a provisional driving license, just before midnight. I didn’t get one before as I know 5 people who either couldn’t afford regular lessons and therefore have never taken the test despite having had their provisional for 2 or 3 years, and any skills they learned are now rusty, or who did pass their test but with little opportunity to borrow siblings’ and parents’ cars and so have had very little practice and are now nervous drivers. But I’ll have a career soon, so it seems like the right time now.

With relevance to this blog, when we were driving to Newcastle Roland we were talking about me not having a provisional licence/going to get one soon, and he said I should get one and I’m like, yeah, I will soon. Then I went, “If I get a provisional, can I drive this car?”

“Ummmmm….no,” said Roland, grinning, “Next you’ll be saying ‘If I get a provisional will you get me a Ferrari’!”

Heh. He’s cuddly because he’s fat 🙂 I like him more now 🙂

I think I should not have pranked him; he’s a real human being with feelings, not my sex toy slash ATM machine. And old people have feelings too.

Anyway, I was watching the modelling and walking around, taking photos of his bank statement and one of the studio to put on the blog. Roland came over to where I was on the bench and said it wouldn’t be long. He put his camera on the bench and I tried to look at the photos he’d taken of me – this was before he took photos of the models – but he came over and took it back; I think he was afraid I’d accidentally delete them or drop the camera…but if he’s rich it wouldn’t matter if the camera got broken, so I bet it was the photos. He asked if I was texting my friends “that you’ve been abducted”, and I giggled and said no as I didn’t want a repeat of the ‘suicide’ thing.

“So what are you texting?”

“I’m not texting now,” I replied,”I’m just taking pictures of the Luxor bank statement.”

“And what makes you think that was Luxor?” he said with a devilish grin.

“Because you drew out £500, so it’s an account you control,” I said.

He smirked but didn’t have anything to say to this.

Towards the end of the shoot, he tied the models to each other with bondage rope and took lots of photos.

“I can’t believe you would tie two people together,” I said, for dramatic effect. The models were my audience. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”

Later, as the shoot wound to a close, Roland/Danny slapped my bum as I walked over to the bench. The models totally saw it; they were at the other side of the room, behind him, but they were looking at us. I dunno if Danny knew that or not. Maybe he didn’t care. He told me in the Tower that he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him. Actually, he’s told me that a few times. It’s an admirable attitude in today’s commercialized and socially-policed world, where trivial choices cause deep cultural divides and political rifts, and we’re all incessantly worried about what others think of us, a trait exploited by corporations sending us to the clothing stores and makeup aisles in our droves.

Roland paid them – £100 each I think – on top of hiring the studio. Danny told them he had to get back to his other job.

“Yeah, your wee, unimportant job on the side,” I said.

We said our goodbyes to Valerie and Daphne outside the studio.

“You still have to pay me for the photo shoot last night,” I said, for the sole reason of it being a delicious thrill to say this in front of Valerie and Daphne, who were still near enough to hear it.

A minute later I told him how thrilling it was to call him Danny and say those things. I said he forgot to lie about us being in Newcastle yesterday.

“Yeah, I forgot to lie.  Itold the truth,” he said. Hilarious. And the man has a PhD and all.

He asked me what I’d been doing with the photos I’d taken of the shoot – though actually I’d only taken one photo, not showing either him or the models, which you can see on Twitter.

“I thought you’d been tweeting photos the whole time,” he said. (Well, I did now!)

I said I would never take photos of him and put them on the internet because he could be identified. And generally I get people’s permission before taking photos and before posting them online. I have never secretly taken photos of anyone, nor posted photos to Facebook of people who weren’t my friends or acquaintances.

“Why did you think that?” I asked.

“Because you’re you,” he said, smiling.

I said, “You think me capable of anything.”

“I know you are.”

It’s probably good that I’ve kept my darkest fantasies hidden from him, then. I won’t reveal them to him until I’ve gained his trust and understand his personality more so I can manipulate him into acquiesance. Sometimes quite honestly I fear for him; I like him, and I would never want to see him get hurt by my depravity. And of course he is Magda’s property and I would no more damage another woman’s possessions than I would wreck her house or rip up her bag or clothes.

However, I am restraining myself a lot for the moment; that’s why I didn’t bring any other toys the last time apart from the bodystocking, anal beads, knife and needles. I have thought of a way to combine mental and physical torture, but I won’t ever do it; I don’t want to scare him off. I will be a good, doccile prostitute.

I think the hardest part of prostitution is pleasing the client and not (necessarily) yourself; taking care of his/her/their needs and not yours. That’s what makes it work, not leisure.

We went to Frankie and Benny’s – Americanized ‘Italian’ food.

 

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Someone else gets photographed nude by Roland for a change

It was cold in the multi-storey car park; I had the black fake leather crop jacket over the red jumpsuit. The purity ring was turned round on my finger and I had black dolly shoes on. To think we were in Edinburgh such a short time ago, drinking sweet coffee, and now we were across the border in Newcastle. That’s why I love travelling; even travelling relatively short distances, as in this case, is nice. I’d read the directions well despite feeling dizzy from lack of sleep.

While driving, I’d suggested that instead of fining people for speeding, the police should spank people instead because that’s less upsetting than being fined or having your license taken away. And they could make it a choice – a ticket or a spanking. Although, I added, in my case it would not really be a deterrent.

“I think you would speed just to get spanked,” Roland said with certainty. “‘This is the forty-second time this month, Miss Gold, that you have taken a spanking!'”

Roland came back from paying the meter and wow did he look more ugly when he wasn’t talking about spanking or semi-nude or giving a spanking. I was pretty awed at the power of my brain chemicals to make me see him as less ugly when I was aroused. I realised I’d have to make him talk about spanking again soon if this day out in Newcastle was going to be in any way visually bearable.

He was smiling as he came back.He’s always smiling, like me. It’s slightly weird; now I know why people say my constant smiling is weird. I also notice that he smiles every time he sees me or looks at me (if he’s been looking in another direction first). Perhaps that’s because he’s mentally undressing me.

Anyway as he came towards me I was all, I did THAT last night? God. I mean, yeah, he’s okay looking and looks younger than he is, but still…THAT?? How on earth could I…Oh yeah, £1,000. Cool.

Which reminds me that on the drive down, the radio said that one dumb celeb or another had spent $1,000 on his girlfriend in one night, and with the usual irritated envy I instantly went that’s so not fair, how does anyone get 1k spent on her in a night, etc, but then I remembered that I had! And it was £1k, not $1k, which is more like a bit over £500! I was pleased! Even though I had to earn it, unlike her. Roland seemed amused by all this. The drive had been fun and I felt relaxed with him by this stage in the transaction – actually, it seems like I’ve always been relaxed and never embarrassed or nervous around him. He gets slightly embarrassed occassionally, though he hides it really well. I’m utterly incapable of feeling embarrassed around him; dunno why. It all feels so natural. Anyway, on the drive we were singing along to the radio and chatting about stuff, or trying to guess the answers to radio quizzes.

So, we were in the street in Newcastle and I was cold. I was delightedly happy. It was like espionage; I was supposed to be sleeping at Kelly’s flat in Edinburgh and here I was wide awake in England with a pervert.

I was hungry but Roland said we didn’t have time to eat; dunno why I couldn’t just have bought some chocolate and juice, though.

At a street corner, I goes “I know where you live, I know your address now. So I could tell the papers if you didn’t pay the £8,000. That would be naughty, wouldn’t it?”

“That would be blackmail,” he said, “And that would be bad, not naughty. And bad girls don’t get spanked, they go to jail.”

We got to the place eventually and a guy came out and said “Just the two of you?” and took us up in a lift. When we got out he told us we couldn’t use the lift unless he was with us’ there was a sign to that effect. I realised I was trapped here with Roland. This really was like an abduction (we’d joked in the car about him abducting me to Newcastle).

We’d agreed on a story to tell the two models about why I was there – that I was at a shoot with Ro the previous night in Newcastle and missed the bus. I was introduced to the two models, who were good looking but not as pretty as me, and they must’ve worked with him before because they greeted him calling him “Danny” which is a name he uses for his photography so people can’t Google his name easily.I suspect he rents the studio under this name, too; they probably wouldn’t need to see ID. I’m not going to describe the models as they were dropped unwittingly into this adventure/blog/story. It was a thrill remembering to call Roland ‘Danny’ all the time as we chatted with the models. One of them made us coffee. Roland started setting up for the shoot; I helped. I thought he was carrying a whole brick wall which really surprised and confused me, until he said it was polystyrene.

Then he started taking test photos and made me stand there so he could take more test photos. Then I got talking to one of the models – let’s call her Valerie – and she was really nice. We talked about how schoolgirls and the general public think of modelling as glamourous, but it involves a lot of waiting around. I learned that she goes on tours around the UK, modelling in a few towns; she does it on the side while the other model, Daphne, does it professionally; they often tour together. She asked about me; I said that I was a student who modelled sporadically on the side and I had little real experience. She asked if I’d worked with Danny before and we were talking about him, and she said he was one of the nice ones who was good to work with, because very occassionally you’d get men who were looking at or touching you inappropriately and then you wouldn’t model well; one time she just left. She said she really liked working with Danny and had done a few photoshoots with him, as had Daphne. She asked me about the last time I’d worked with Danny, and I said it’d been yesterday evening in Newcastle but the shoot had gone on a little longer and –

“I did a photoshoot with her in Edinburgh,” Roland/Danny said hurriedly, clasping a huge silver-foiled disc, “I was just telling Daphne,” he added, for my benefit, “But Kali missed the bus and I couldn’t get her home at the right time for her so I said she could just come here and I’d drop her off on the way back.”

It was pretty obvious it was a lie.

Then the girls stripped naked and Roland started the photography. I sat with my legs up on a bench, listening to music and eating a Milky Way Crispy Rolls that I’d bought in the student shop shortly before Roland pulled up in Buccleuch Place. They made amazing shapes and I appreciated how light and shadow as well as angles of the body work and combine in photography. Roland was right that I don’t have small breasts and that most models hardly have any – these two didn’t have any. They were very slender, though. I tried to work out if they were skinnier than me but gave up; I didn’t want to distract or stress them by looking. Like the bigshot models, they had athletic/straight up and down/boyish builds, not an hourglass figure like me. It makes sense – though hourglass is the best figure and the easiest to dress as you can wear anything, if it’s on the catwalk then athletic builds look better; the clothes hang off them better.

I wanted to go and buy some crisps or a burger but I was worried I wouldn’t find my way back especially in my sleep-deprived state. And I didn’t want to ask the guy to accompany me in the lift. I felt quite content with my back and a bit of my side against the wall(s), feet stretched in front of me on the bench, listening to songs; probably I was sleepy. Roland asked if I was okay a couple of times. I told him I was. The way he looked at me whenever he glanced in my direction, with that smile of his, I’m sure the models would’ve suspected something if they’d seen it, though I don’t know if they saw it or not.

 

 

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