My cab wasn’t making the best of time as it navigated across North London to get to the party house – or the ‘house for sex in North London’ that Tamara had referred to. I figured she must have just got her words mangled up; the sexy North London girl had probably imbibed a few already. But Tamara loved a party, a sex party that is; her life was never complete without sexual thrills and spills. I guess in times gone by they would have called her a nymphomaniac and locked her up but thankfully in our more enlightened times we appreciate that different people have different sex needs – Tamara basically needed hot sex in North London every day!
And with her intoxicating presence, her bohemian, devil may care attitude Tamara was the sexiest, best escort in North London and the love of my life. One that would never be tamed and I knew that we did not belong together. But that was fine; I had no intention of trying to change the nubile beauty. I bathed in her free spirited sexy Greater London girl style and to change that would be to change the thing I loved.
Eventually I arrived at the place, a large, old house in Brent Cross with a forbidding, gothic novel exterior and a lack of any kind of external lighting. The windows were shuttered or featured dark, dank fabrics strung across them as makeshift curtains. The wooden frame of the door and porch was rotting away, in need of a lick of paint or three. The garden was overgrown and sported an old, rust bucket of a car, left to the earth to conceal, plants growing all across the door less chassis.
I stepped out of the cab and immediately called Tamara to ask how she was. The Greater London escort answered the phone almost immediately and told me to hurry or I’d miss the best bit of the party. I figured the foreplay had already begun.
I paid the cab driver and walked up to the front door, conscious that I was dressed more for the West End than the dump before me but I reminded myself that my sexy Greater London girl friend Tamara was inside and waiting for me. I knocked on the door and it was soon opened, a hunky guy in his late thirties standing before me clutching a bottle of Beck’s Vier in one hand, his other resting on the door frame.
“Tamara’s pal?” he asked and I nodded sweetly, “She’s quite something. She’s in the lounge. I think she’s still got some clothes on...”
I rolled my eyes but I smiled. That was Tamara, one wild and carefree sexy girl in her own tale of the taboo. And now I was here and these guys wouldn’t know what hit them when the two sexy North London girls put on a show...