It wasn’t our first meeting, but it was the first time Paul asked for roleplay. By now I’d grown used to it — in fact, I’d come to like the way slipping into a character could soften the edges of an evening. What had once felt artificial now felt like a secret doorway into intimacy. Pretending to love someone, though, is far harder than playing at being a nurse. And that’s the trick with being one of the South Kensington escorts who offer the girlfriend experience — it is never really about costumes, it’s about affection that feels like it belongs to you.
We met at a South Kensington hotel restaurant. I spotted him straight away and waved, my smile blooming bigger the closer he came.
“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed my cheek.
“And hello, handsome,” I teased back, letting him slide the coat from my shoulders.
The brush of his breath against my neck was deliberate. I rolled my eyes but felt the warmth rise anyway. We sat, ordered, and lost ourselves in talk — his week, work dramas, little details that people only share when they want you to lean in closer. A bottle of red arrived, and I prayed he wouldn’t try to coax me into more than a polite sip. Work always taught me caution, but part of me softened when he told me he was a lawyer. It explained his measured way of speaking, and I found myself enjoying the stories more than I expected.
After dinner, he suggested we continue upstairs. I agreed — roleplay or not, it felt like the night was only half-written. His kiss as the door closed behind us was full of urgency, and though I hesitated for a breath, I let myself be pulled into it. The way he touched me carried a tenderness that made resistance seem silly. His fingers found their way through my curls, and I let out a quiet sound I hadn’t planned on making.
The evening blurred after that. We kissed as if we couldn’t pause, pressing closer in the narrow corridor, half stumbling against the wall, laughing at our own clumsiness. At one point, I whispered, “I want you now,” and he answered with words so close to my skin they felt breathed into me rather than spoken.
It wasn’t perfect — fumbling with clothes, wine-warmed kisses, the awkward squeeze of space — but the imperfection only deepened the heat. His touch grew more insistent, his lips branding every inch of me as though he wanted the world to know I was his for tonight. There was something in the way he held me, not just hungry but protective, that pulled me further into the game than I’d expected.
When it was finally over, we both collapsed against each other, breathless and flushed, pressed against that same wall. His forehead rested near my neck, and I smiled without meaning to. For someone who had promised myself to keep things professional, I had to admit — it felt dangerously sweet to be with him like this.
If you enjoy stories like this, you may also want to read about a more playful evening in Texts, Tease, and a GFE Date or step into something sharper with Caning Lessons from Two Domination Escorts