divorcedlondon

The best thing about my life right lately is that it’s my own. I don’t really have anyone telling me where to go what to do, or when to do it. I don’t think I’ve truly been this free in my entire life!

As you may have spotted, I’ve been taking advantage of this situation as best I can, from my summer in Cyprus to my rather active nightlife. I suppose one has to capitalise on any opportunity when it presents itself.

Of course, all that will be changing now.

Fatherhood will certainly be a dampener with the added responsibility and demands on my time. Going back to work will also affect my freedom, though a steady income could help redress that balance, by providing me with some additional financial freedoms. Change doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

I didn’t get to see my daughter this weekend just gone. My wife gave me some nonsense about some family gathering at her parents’ place in the country that she and my daughter had to attend.

She didn’t, however invite me, which is not a bad thing. I don’t really like her family and after the way they treated me since the split, they hate me even more.

I was actually a bit surprised my wife didn’t invite me to come along. With all her talk about reconciliation, it would have seemed natural excuse to play happy families. For her not to mention it as a possibility is odd. Instead, it was just an excuse to keep me away, again.

In light of this, I’ve insisted that next weekend I get to see my little girl. My wife has agreed to this and then some; she wants me to take my daughter on the Friday evening and keep her until the Sunday evening. I’ve said, “yes” as I need to deal with my fears of being alone with my daughter.

It feels a bit like probation and if this visit goes well, there will be plenty more to follow. That makes me a bit nervous. I don’t mean I’m actually scared of her, but I certainly have some apprehension about being alone with her for that long.

I suppose being a new father means having new anxieties. What if she won’t eat when I feed her? Or if she won’t stop crying no matter what I do? What if she gets sick? What if I’m just a horrible father?

My family was a mess and my father was nothing to brag about. He drank, a lot. He’d rather shout or smack than say anything constructive. I’m not going to follow his example. I want my daughter to have happy memories of her childhood!

“Candy” didn’t stay the weekend with me either, though not for my lack of asking! I did see her on Friday night, briefly and all Saturday night into Sunday morning. I’m not complaining, any time I spend with her is fantastic (especially in bed), but I’m always left wanting more.

She had a party on Friday night, which meant we had dinner together then she disappeared. She could have invited me, too, but she didn’t. Don’t worry, I was in quite a good mood and had my own naughty discreet fun without her! More on that later!

On Saturday night, “Candy” and I went to the same club I met her in. She loves it there, but I keep coming back to my view that there’s no point in spending the entire night in some hot, sweaty nightclub, when you’ve already pulled the hottest babe in the place!

If it wasn’t for the charlie and the promise of shagging “Candy” senseless later in the evening, I would have gone crazy with boredom. I don’t really like the music they play in these places; thump, thump, thump, thump! Give me MagicFM’s playlist any day!

I tried to get Bob to join us, but he had other plans. Specifically, he’s got a new woman in his life that he’s trying to impress. I haven’t met her yet, but she sounds hot, if a bit up tight. She’s a rich, well-maintained divorcee according to Bob and he took her to some posh restaurant in Chelsea Harbour. She lives somewhere near there.

“Candy” really enjoyed herself, which I guess is the main thing. She’s a regular at this club and many of her friends were there on Saturday night. They danced like mad for hours and hours; Candy even offered me a pill. I think it was “ecstasy”. I’ve never taken it before, so I decided not to try it. Maybe I should have, perhaps I would have enjoyed the club more if I did.

I’ll stick to my coke, which seems like the perfect drug to me. It peps you up, makes you feel good about yourself and the world around you AND it means you can drink like a fish and not really feel it. That was especially useful on Thursday night, when I went out for drinks with my prospective new boss!

As you may recall, I interviewed for a hot new job recently and made it to the shortlist. The managing director of the company, a posh, mature and entertaining English gentleman in the classic sense, decided that the second round of interviews would be more informal. Specifically, the MD was going to take myself and the other candidate out for drinks on two subsequent evenings.

I got lucky, my opponent for the job was allotted Wednesday evening, and my turn was on Thursday. It’s always good to be the last man pitching!

My luck extends further as I have an inside source at the firm who has been able to keep me updated with information I shouldn’t have. It’s good to have an edge.

What I found out was this: On Wednesday night, the MD and my competition had a very uneventful evening of single malts, cigars and sedate conversation at the MD’s private gentleman’s club in Mayfair. The MD said that my opposition seemed competent, if dull and he was hoping I’d have more “spark” than him.

That was enough information for me to finalise my plan to impress him. I knew I needed to sparkle brightly, creating an impression of someone who could entertain big-money clients in a stylish way. I could do that in my sleep.

My first move was to contact Elvis. My supply of charlie was running low and I wanted to make sure I had enough to more than see me through Thursday night.

Elvis is great, a real friend. I explained the situation to him and he said he could pop ‘round on Wednesday night to sort me out. My thinking was simple; I’d be able to really sock away the booze if I had some extra coke. I was guessing that showing I could more than hold my liquor would impress my prospective new boss. As it turned out, this expectation proved correct and then some!

Elvis is always prompt, which is something I admire in him. As I saw him a bit earlier in the evening on Wednesday than usual, he was able to stay and visit for a while. We even ended up dipping into my coke together, something Elvis had never done with me before.

I was actually starting to think Elvis didn’t indulge in his own wares, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that he does indeed enjoy a toot. It was good chatting with him; he’s actually had a pretty interesting life.

Elvis is from Croatia, which you might think used to be part of Russia, but it’s not. It used to be part of Yugoslavia. There was a war there in the 90s, he said. I don’t remember it, unless he means Bosnia, but that’s a different country I think. What do I know? Politics and geography confuse me a bit and I was too embarrassed to ask.

Elvis left Croatia in the early 90s, landing first in Berlin, where he stayed for a while, before coming to London. He said he spoke some English when he got here, but it got better the longer he stayed, which now is around ten years. He started out seeking asylum, but now has an English passport. God Save the Queen!

He’s a really good example of a foreigner who’s come to this country with nothing and made good. He’s done very well indeed, if his expensive suits and chunky Rolex are anything to go by. Plus he told me he drives a Mercedes, a big late model, four-door sedan. Lucky bastard!

I don’t really understand why cocaine is illegal. It can’t be any worse for you than alcohol and to be honest, it doesn’t make you as sloppy. Coke actually focuses your mind, I mean think about this: After half a dozen pints, there’s no way I could safely drive a car, but after half a dozen lines, I could easily drive. As a matter of fact, I could probably get behind the wheel of a Formula One racecar and win a Grand Prix if I was charlied-up.

Elvis says he’s glad coke is still illegal, or he’d go out of business. Also, he said if it were legal, it would be a lot cheaper, which would cut down on his profits plus make it less exclusive! It shouldn’t be for just anybody, should it?

Elvis told me he learned a lot about black-marketeering during the war in his home country. He told me back then; he and his mates would nick flour and rice from the United Nations and other charities, then take it down the local market and punt it. He said the UN were miserable with distributing this food to the locals and he and his “gang” were actually doing them a service by getting it out to the people who needed it most, much sooner than the UN ever could.

Of course, Elvis made a profit on the deal, but as he said, he looked at it as “his wage” for filling in where this aid agency couldn’t.

He’s a businessman as well as a humanitarian. It’s not different with the cocaine. It’s in demand and Elvis is just taking advantage of this very big market. Isn’t that what free trade is all about? He’s an entrepreneur and small businessman, not a criminal!

I’m lucky to know Elvis; he really is a decent guy. I took his regular special, which is seven grams for the price of six. As usual, Elvis wouldn’t let me pay him for the new lot, just the previous one, so again I’m left owing him another three-hundred quid. He trusts me, I’ve never let him down, but the same can be said for him as well. He’s extremely dependable!

Elvis didn’t stay that late as he had other punters to see. That’s the thing about dealing I guess, you never get a night off!

He left me in the mood to party but without a playmate. I phoned “Candy”, but she was tied up with coursework. Bob couldn’t come out to play either; he’d taken his sons ten-pin bowling that night. That left me with fairly limited options, but options none the less.

I placed a couple of adverts on my favourite websites, but I suppose that’s a given. I had trouble getting my advert on to Gumtree for some reason. It took ages for the confirmation email to arrive and then my advert didn’t actually appear until Thursday lunchtime, which meant it was useless for Wednesday night!

The advert on craigslist, on the other hand, was online in about fifteen minutes. It’s not as busy as Gumtree, but craigslist is a far more dependable system. Sadly, though I didn’t receive a single reply, but late on a Wednesday evening, I shouldn’t have expected to anyway.

Plan “B” involved phoning a couple of chatlines. They were busy enough, but I couldn’t find anyone nearby who wanted to play. It wasn’t for lack of trying; I spent a good few hours trolling for fun.

I briefly debated booking a whore, but decided against it. Punting should either be a treat or an act of last resort and I couldn’t justify it on either grounds.

That’s the thing about having a discreet lifestyle; you may seek fun frequently, but finding it isn’t always guaranteed. When you sign on to my sort of life, you need to accept that some nights, all you’ll have for company is your hand. I went to sleep, late and alone on Wednesday night after two hard wanks.

I slept in on Thursday, just as late as I could manage. I wanted to be fresh for “show-time”. When I woke up, I showered, shaved and had a light snack. I wasn’t really hungry but I thought I should eat something. My hangover wasn’t too bad, as I hadn’t hit the whiskey too hard.

I picked out my sharpest suit and a really showy tie and gave my dress shoes a quick polish, just in case. They say some people judge a man by his shoes and I wanted to come in first place with my footwear!

I departed my flat early, as I didn’t want to be late for this very important appointment. I hailed a black cab practically at my front door and headed towards Mayfair.

I was about ten minutes early, so I had a little wander around. God, it’s a posh around there! Maybe I’ll move there next, when my lease expires in Paddington.

Mayfair’s known for being a fairly high-end centre of prostitution in London which I should really investigate further at some point, but there was no time for that sort of adventure then!

I arrived a few minutes before the appointed time and announced myself at reception. I was immediately led straight in the “salon”, where the MD was waiting, while sipping on a neat whiskey.

He stood up to greet me and shook my hand firmly; I gripped as good as I got. There’s nothing worse than one of those damp, limp-wristed, wussy handshakes and I expect many a job has been lost on this factor alone. As a salesman, I’ve really learned to appreciate the value of a firm handshake. It sets a tone and establishes one as someone who can be trusted.

The MD’s private club is one of those old, long running establishments that are nearly impossible to join without the right family connections or social standing. Maybe you know the type of place I mean, with dark panelled walls, big dark leather sofas and chairs and waiter/butler types, wandering around, catering to your every need. In this instance, our requirements were simple, double whiskeys and fine Cuban cigars.

I joined the MD, taking a leather chair adjacent to his, with a small wooden table between us to hold our drinks and ashtray. The conversation was jovial and pleasant and the MD was easy to talk to. I think that is his skill; his trade even, entertaining people and making them feel at ease. I liked him already!

After a while, the MD suggested we book a table at the club for a meal, but I had other, premeditated ideas. I proposed instead of remaining here all night, we venture out to a favourite club of mine. He was intrigued and without too much convincing or hesitation, agreed. We went outside, hailed black cab and I gave the driver the address on Tottenham Court Road.

You may have guessed our destination already, my favourite lap dancing club!

It was a bold gamble to take, but that’s the kind of guy I am; in for a penny, in for a pound! I knew I needed to differentiate myself from my competition and if naked hot women didn’t do that, I don’t know what would! Something told me the MD wouldn’t mind!

We arrived in no time. The doorman recognised me and greeted me warmly, which was not unnoticed by the MD. More points scored, I thought as we walked into the main bar, which by now was heaving with customers and barely dressed hot women.

I found two adjacent seats at the bar and claimed them. Without asking, I order a couple of double vodkas and passed one to the MD, who knocked it back in one go. I did the same, then order two more. This was going to be fun!

Once the second round arrived, I excused myself to the loo. It was time to dip into the charlie as this was shaping up to be a long night!

Once properly refreshed, I returned to the main bar, where I found the MD chatting to a gorgeous, very tall, busty black woman. He introduced me to the young lady or “enchanting creature” as he called her with his upper-crust accent. A tall blonde caught my eye and I beckoned her over to join us.

They both offered us lapdances, which seemed like a reasonable enough proposal considering the venue and I suggested we adjourn to one of the private alcoves for the show.

There weren’t many of the private booths free, but we managed to find one after wandering around a bit. The girls drew the curtains and the MD and I sat down.

These alcoves are very private, dimly lit and perfect for their purpose. There are bouncers just outside, should the girls need rescuing from an over zealous punter, but overall you are left alone with the young ladies.

The two girls (whose names I did NOT get), started to dance and strip. Their routine seemed somewhat rehearsed, but I didn’t mind, as they got increasingly closer to each other. When they kissed deeply, I thought the MD was going to explode!

I leaned over and asked him what he thought of this place and his beaming smile was enough of an answer. So far, so good.

The girls stripped off completely and by the end of the number, it was getting pretty hot. They finished and I tipped them both well, then asked them if they would like to join us for some drinks. They accepted.

I popped my head outside the curtain and ordered a bottle of champagne plus four double vodkas. I was guessing the girls would drink the bubbly, but decline the vodkas. I was right, so the MD and I had two double vodkas each, plus some of the champers.

By now, the MD was more than a bit pissed, while thanks to the charlie, I was still rather clear-headed. He leaned over said something to me that nearly made me tear-up with joy; he asked, “if one could purchase some cocaine in this fine establishment.”

I told him I expected one could, but one wouldn’t need to, since I already had plenty! His eyes widened and his smile broadened as I shared this information with him. He started to stand, but I motioned for him to sit back down. There was no reason why we couldn’t indulge right where we were.

I withdrew my wrap and showed it to the girls, who both nodded appreciatively. I got out my trusty supermarket loyalty card, (which hasn’t actually been used in a supermarket for a very long time!) and chopped out enough charlie for the four of us. It put a big dent into the wrap, but that was ok, because I had plenty more!

We all took turns snorting from a rolled up twenty-pound note. The MD seemed to really enjoy it and told me how good he thought my stuff was. Thanks again Elvis!

I poked my head out of the curtain and ordered four more double vodkas. When I came back, both girls were sitting close the MD, who was eating up the attention like sweeties. They were both whispering to him and he turned to the black girl, nodding. Then the blonde scooched back over next to me.

The black girl and the MD started kissing, at first lightly, then really going for it! I couldn’t see under the table, but it sort of looked like she had her hand between his legs. He wasn’t complaining.

The blonde girl asked me if I liked what I saw and would I like “a little sugar too”. She only had to ask once; she was so fucking hot! We agreed a price and then my snog began. Before long, her hand found my cock, which was getting quite stiff from the attention.

She unzipped my flies and reached her hand inside to find my todger. I undid the top button and opened them up completely, to give her better access to my love stick.

I glanced over in the MD’s direction; the black girl’s head was bobbing up and down in his lap. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back; if the music wasn’t so loud I could have probably heard his sighs of pleasure.

The blonde caught me looking and smiled, but didn’t say a word. She simply licked her lips and headed south to my now fully erect cock.

And guess what! No Vega, no Apcalis, that stiffy was all me!

The blonde sucked my cock like the pro that she was, deeply and expertly. She seemed to really enjoy it. She was up on the seats, on all fours, crouched over me, her breasts were easily accessible to my roaming hands, as was her ass, and so I took advantage of her proximity and had a good feel.

I glanced over at the MD, who was now watching the blonde suck me off. He noticed me noticing him, caught my eye and mouthed four simple, yet delightful words to me: “Dear boy, you’re hired.”

That was all I wanted to hear! Result!

That’s right my friends and fans; DL scored his dream job! This couldn’t have gone any better! It was as if I planned it this way! Oh wait, I did plan it this way and every step of my choreography was perfectly timed!

We finished the evening off in that alcove, with the coke, the vodka, the champagne and those two lovely and accommodating ladies. I don’t want to mention how much I spent that night, or even think about it for that matter, but it was dosh very well spent!

As we said our good nights, jumping into separate black cabs, the MD asked me to phone him on Friday morning to discuss the particulars. Then, as an after thought, he suggested the afternoon might be a better time to ring. With the night of carousing we had, it was definitely a better plan.

And as my black cab edged ever closer to my luxury flat in Paddington, it started to sink in that another chapter in my book of new beginnings was well and truly under way!

Hang on, but that’s not the end yet!

I promised I’d tell you about my Friday night! With all the excitement about my brand new job, I nearly forgot to share a discreet tale from the following night.

As you can imagine, I woke up on Friday morning, a bit worse for wear, but still elated none the less. A job like this has been my dream since I left my previous position. It was time to celebrate, discreetlondon style!

I had some coffee, some orange juice and I’m sheepish to admit this, but I had a line of charlie that morning as well. I won’t make a habit of it, but I needed a little something to cut through the fog in my head and this did it perfectly.

I tried to phone “Candy” on her mobile, but it kept going straight to her voicemail. She was probably in one of her classes and had it switched off. I didn’t bother to leave her a message.

I finally reached her just after three o’clock and I told her the good news. She was very happy for me, but not happy enough to cancel her plans to attend some party that night. She did agree to meet me for dinner, though. That was something.

She wanted to have Japanese food and knew of a place near Leicester Square, so we met near there. I’d never had Japanese food before, but I knew it was raw fish, so I was a bit worried.

It turned out, they don’t only eat raw fish, but they cooked things too. Even meat! It actually wasn’t so bad. I had something called “catzoo curry”, but don’t worry, it’s not made of kitten…! It’s chicken!! It was in a mild curry sauce that was nothing like madras or vindaloo. I’d have it again, so I guess I liked it.

Forget about the chopsticks though, I was bloody useless with them! How someone could eat rice with a couple of pieces of skinny wood is beyond me! I asked if I could have a fork and they actually brought me one, along with a spoon. I don’t know if they were trying to be funny, but the fork would have been fine on its own.

“Candy” had a sushe platter and mirsa soup. I tasted her soup, it was a lot like I think dirty dishwater might taste. She offered me some sushe too, but I thought I might gag on honest to god RAW FISH! She loved it, which is the main thing.

We had a bottle of hot saky too. It’s wine made of rice, if you can believe that and the “hot” part refers to the temperature; it’s not actually spicy. That was ok, but I prefer vodka or whiskey.

It was a bit anti-climactic, sitting across from “Candy”, yet knowing I wasn’t going to get to fuck her that night. I tried to convince her to visit me after the party, I even offered to pay her taxi fare, but she refused. She told me I’d have to wait until Saturday night!

If you want to split hairs, it was actually not until Sunday morning that I fucked her, since we spent all of Saturday night in that club and it was well after midnight by the time we reached my bed. Sex with “Candy” is worth waiting for, especially if you’ve got something to tide you over in the mean time!

After dinner, “Candy” and I went our separate ways and I had a wander around Soho. For a place with a seedy reputation, Soho is actually a huge waste of time if you’re looking for my kind of discreet fun. You’re more likely to end up with two grand on your credit card for a few ginger beers masquerading as champagne than getting your cock sucked. All of those places are clip joints, and I can’t believe anyone still falls for it!

It wasn’t that late, so I decided to head back to Paddington to assess my options. I had placed a couple more adverts online, but was still coming up dry. Perhaps it’s the weather, the cold is making people want to stay home, alone.

I surfed on a few escort sites and lost track of time. I’m sure the charlie and the whiskey played a part in that, but before I knew it, it had gone past three in the morning. Without thinking, I popped a Vega in my mouth and washed it down with some whiskey.

I knew I needed some action and I guess my subconscious had me fetch the little blue wonder, because I was going to find some discreet fun, no matter what!

At that sort of time, I really only had one practical option. I shed my charcoal grey robe and put on some street clothes and my shoes. I bundled up in a warm coat and walked up towards Sussex Gardens.

I had better luck than the last time I visited. Though it was cold, there were two young black women on a corner, nearer to the Edgeware Road side. When I got close enough, one of them asked me if I was looking for some fun…?

Aren’t I always? Would I be out here in the freezing cold if I wasn’t?

She said, I could have one of them, or both of them and they were doing a special that night, a double blow for thirty quid. That sounded pretty good to me and I agreed.

I followed them up a side street, and then down a narrow passageway, which was reasonably sheltered from possible passing prying-eyes. They both got down on their knees in front of me and I got my semi-hard cock out. The cold stung a bit, but my hot, viagra-souped-up blood warmed it up in no time and it started to get harder the second one of them touched it.

It was a good double blow, but not great. Had I paid more than thirty quid, I might have been disappointed. At least their enthusiasm made up for their lack of experience. And when I came, one of them swallowed the entire load, which for that price, is really good!

Once they were finished, I wiped my cock off, pulled up my trousers, thanked them both then made a move. I love the fact that it’s such a short walk from my flat; city living really is convenient! I was home so fast that I didn’t even need to wank myself off before drifting off to sleep.

I did phone the MD on Friday afternoon, as planned. He’s invited me into the office this week to go over my contract, meet my team and have a chat. I guess we’ll set my start date then as well and I expect it will be fairly soon. That’s fine with me, after this rather lengthy spell of unemployment; I’m really looking forward to getting back to work!

And when we spoke, the MD didn’t say a word about the previous night and I didn’t mention it either. My discreet nature, as always, served me very well. If he can trust me with his naughty secrets already, he’ll know he can trust me with anything!