29 April - 3 Degrees & Blog separation

How’s this for more examples of a small world! Am now at two degrees of separation from two other prominent bloggers. I have Dear John to thank for the connection (Babette calls him 'my wonderful Irish man' below -I feel somehow guilty that I never wrote about him in such glowing terms but second everything she says re. his prowess) and I do know one of the women, the less prominent one, miss Bad Babette as I call her, subject if you recall of some of my fantasies while in India. Anyway.. it seems Belle de Jour has also stumbled on Babette's blog and it all stems from the same literary Xmas party we all attended daahlings. So for once am going to save coming up with diary stuff of my own and exploit the B girls.. I am also thinking of changing my name to start with a B as these two have got a literary agent and I haven’t. Maybe I can be Beyonce’ Lisa, Blondie Lisa, Bjork Lisa, Brigitte Lisa, Britney Lisa, Barbie Lisa etc.

So, first, Belle de Jour’s entry and then Babette’s entries from her www.kissesme.blog.co.uk diary. Ps. I too, like Belle, have a problem with anal virgins, shall discuss Babette’s fears soon, maybe I can overcome them? oh, am off fantasising again...

jeudi, avril 27
'Oh, mate, I had to phone you,' I said. 'You remember that girl from the Christmas party?'N did. We'd been to my agent's Christmas do last year, incognito of course, and he left with the number of the hottest girl in the room - unsurprisingly, the one whom everyone thought must be me.Granted, had you polled the people present and asked them to rank the ladies in attendance in order of "most likely to be me" to "least likely", I doubt I would have shown up in many Top Tens. Either a nod to my superior skills at subterfuge, or a wake-up call that I really must look after myself a bit better. I'll leave it in your capable hands to decide which.Anyway, N and the Hot Christmas Girl never so much as met after that. N was up to his neck in some German lady and two or three flexible athletes, and the HCG had gone home with someone else (hello P, hope you crazy kids had a good time), so their hooking up amounted to a bit of talk but not much else. And at any rate, N's seeing someone now, so it's a moot point. But I spotted something of interest, and knowing how he likes to play the long game, thought I'd pass the knowledge on.'If you still have her number, lose it,' I announced. 'I've found her blog, and you are not going to like this.'I read a few lines of the site to him. Turns out HCG may be fit, she may be fine - but she's an anal virgin. Who declares with some vehemence that the very idea of any minor discomfort puts her right off.Now, I know that not all kinks involve pain (but a lot of them do), and not all kinky people like anal (but a lot of them do). I also know that not all sex is kinky and N does non-masochistic beautifully. And he's blessed with one of South London's nicer cocks. But really. If I was N I would stay well clear of someone with such arbitrarily prissy sexual demands. Intolerance of sexual experimentation definitely crosses my "can't be doing with that" threshold. HCG has reached her advanced age, and was previously married, and has lovers stacked seven deep, and has never been tempted by anal? Not even a tickle?'Serious case of princess complex,' I declared.Granted I'm being a complete hypocrite in this regard. Who am I to tell someone else to back away from the prude? How many lovers have I inducted in the darker arts of sex? How many people, even years later, have commented that I was easily the best they've had? But I made a promise on getting out of the call girl business, and that was unless True Love was involved, I am so not going to be anyone's tutor again. It's one thing keeping up the kindly and interested facade when being paid, and quite another to have to do it on a voluntary basis. I like them experienced these days.(There is, in true hypocritical fashion, one person who would be the exception to this rule, but that's a story occasionally expanded on in the Telegraph, so not certain if I am permitted to rehash it here.)'Okay, yeah, I see your point,' N said. 'But should it ever come down to it, that's a face that needs a comeshot. It would be a good one-off just for that.'I thought. 'Fair enough,' I said. 'Just thought I'd give you a heads-up, anyway. File it with the rest of the pertinent information.''Cheers.'
posted by belle @ 6:29 PM


Thursday 15th December
by BabetteK @ 2006-05-10 - 13:08:13
The literary party the dogs and I went to yesterday, was fantastic, pulling ground heaven!!!
I had spent the entire morning deliberating on what to wear. I wanted to blend and had absolutely no inkling what people wear to book parties. The last thing I wanted was to stick out like a sore thumb, looking like the obvious billy no mates… bimbo in the corner. I had nobody to call up and ask about dress code to literary dos - apart from Sebastian, Soho’s resident dandy. Partial to a bit of diamante to the extent he has Liberace spinning in his grave racked with jealousy. So, I decided on the safe option black shirt, black skinny jeans, Jimmy Choo boots and topped with leopard coat. I needed to relieve all the black as it was not a funeral so added my Chanel bag with the gold chain handles and for good measure a gold Gucci belt. Leaving the house, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realised my subtle attempt to try and blend might not be quite as discreet as I had thought. I looked more like a 70’s pimp that would have fitted very nicely on the streets of Harlem. No time to change! I had done it again, my penchant for subtleness gone for a burton so just grabbed the dogs, Molly my Cavalier and Monte the Chihuahua and left for the party. Well Molly was the real reason for the invitation to the party and Monte and I was just tagging along as supporting cast.
I had expected it to be quite a dull event, considering I did not know any one and nobody knew me. I had never been to anything remotely booky, nearest thing was an art gallery opening. Wow! Was I so wrong… loads of devastatingly attractive men. I did not know where to look it was just like being in a fabulous sweetie shop. I thought it would be packed full of dull academic people, all looking a bit grey and moth eaten around the gills and only having high brow conversations. But, hello… instead surrounded by gorgeous Byron’s, belonging on a set of Wuthering Heights and all sporting a rather sexual glint. Think I like this literary world!!!
The one downer of the entire party was for poor Molly my Spaniel. She did not hit it off so well this time with Alfie her potential paramour. Even though, Molly’s heart ached terribly she valiantly accepted every morsel of food offered to her through out the party, in true girlie style. When in doubt eat, best way to mend a broken heart and then starve for a week.
As the party progressed the dogs had craftily planted themselves all in a row and by size order under the table groaning with mince pies and alcohol. Desolate little faces, eyes racked with the pain, of many days of hunger, sat in prime position looking up at any passing sucker who happened to glance their way. This little charade guaranteed a mince pie each from the hapless victim. By the end of the afternoon the mince pies where coming fast and strong. With this endless supply the dogs became bold dropped the starvation act preferring the pastry casing rather than the filling. No longer unsure of when the next mince pie would come Alfie devised a way of getting the lid of the mince pies and scooping out the mincemeat with his paw and leaving the pastry. Monte and Molly swiftly followed his lead and soon they where surrounded by a mountain of discarded pastry casings. All three happily licking their paws and chops as they became a sticky contented mess.
Like them I had a great afternoon chatting to so many interesting and clever people it was untrue. The one, major tragedy… not a goody bag in sight! This was outrageous, would never ever happened the fashion world! Quite simply, the PR machine would not allow it. No champagne either, it’s one thing having to force myself to drink gallons of warm white wine but one does expect a little recompense at the end. Not even asking for the latest chick blockbuster would have been quite happy with some inane book on fishing, which could have passed on to a friend at a later date when in desperate need of a present.
Oh! Well, I suppose on the bright side, I did leave with a handbag full of business cards, all very promising and a dashing Irish man on my other arm.
This Irish man with more charisma than any male should be legally allowed took Monte, Molly and I on a world wind crash tour of London’s drinkeries, from The Colony club in Dean Street and ending up at some Art exhibition in Queens Gate. Dogs in toe spoilt and made such a fuss of, bowls of the finest tap water offered to them where ever we ended. But, eventually exhausted the dogs and I protested “No More” and instead suggested to the dashing Irishman that he come back to ours for a nightcap.

Friday 16th December
by BabetteK @ 2006-05-11 - 13:58:33
Today I was only slightly hung over but happily giddy from the last 24 hours and reeling from an amazing night spent with the divine Irish man. A wonderfully early Christmas present, so generously and beautifully endowed… and better still knew how to use it.
He was shooting some documentary so had to leave at some obscenely early time in the morning. Kissing our goodbyes like the sexually deprived we arranged to meet again tonight at the Colony. Exhausted I went back to bed floating on a little cloud of sexual satisfaction. Snuggling in to my soft bed I drifted back to contented sleep. With only happy thoughts of how he could possibly be the good luck that would end the horrible run of very average penises that had been coming in to my life of late (no pun intended).
Dreaming of beautiful manhood I woke with a startle to a text message from Noelle one of London’s most beautiful women confirming our lunch today at Nicole’s. I shot up from bed texted back, ran to have a bath and get ready. I had to meet her in one hour. I arrived only 5 minutes late to see her waiting for me at the bar looking disgustingly glamorous in a brown satin halter neck top showing off her divinely skinny arms and the perfect pair of grey flannel trousers that I soon found out where Tuleh’s. The darling Maitre D’ soon found us a table even though we had not booked and offered us glasses of Champagne on the house, which was gratefully accepted. Thankfully Noelle does not drink so they where ALL mine and very needed.
During lunch she told me she was having dinner with a group of people that included Stelios my serious crush but her other half Matthew was not feeling quite up to it so they might not be going out. Well you can imagine my disappointment, so near yet so far from my beloved, yet again. I promptly told her all about my infatuation and how I had actually never met him. I know she valiantly tried to hide her disgust not being her type at all as her current boyfriend looked more like a model from GQ. Though incredulous she could not stop laughing and promised to tell him the next time she saw him.
My day was getting and better and with that we left to the Baglioni in Kensington for a meeting Noelle had, to invest in some potential fashion company.
I had never been to the Baglione befor even though a lot of parties have been held there (sadly I never got the invites). I found it a strange place with its beautiful black marble lounge and super sleek interior. The air was oddly suffocating and I found the girl Noelle was meeting even stranger, she could sell but it was exhausting listening to her spiel. My mind could not help but keep wondering from the meeting back to dashing Irish man, when I felt some one touch my hand. I turned to see who it was and there was no one, not even a person who could have just passed by. My blood turned cold as I realised I had just been touched by a ghost. Probably a nice spirit who was coming out in sympathy and wanted to show its support for having to bear with that woman rattling on. Noelle wrapped the meeting as soon as she could. She is amazing I don’t know how she does it, eternally polite, showing much interest and an expression of enthusiasm so firmly pasted on her face through out. I was so relieved when it was finished and itching to get out of this weird place, Hotel Phantasm and away from that woman whose vibes was freaking me out.
I dropped Noelle back home and went on straight to the Colony to meet my lovely dashing Irishman with his lovely rolling lilt and even nicer member. I was desperately tired and anxious for bed with my new beloved. Did not take me too long to convince him to stop the carousing and come back to mine. Like an obedient puppy dog he followed me back to mine and straight to bed we went.

Saturday 17th December
by BabetteK @ 2006-05-12 - 14:24:20
Help! He wanted sex again in the morning. I know not to look a gift horse in the mouth and I sort of tried. It was not as if getting into the mood was the problem, especially with such close proximity to a marvellous specimen of manhood. The thought of another work out session…too exhausting! The other problem no matter how incredible a lover he was there simply was not that je ne c’est quoi about the whole thing between us. Our course had run out. There has to come a cut of point - I was absolutely knackered and down there was getting drier than the Sahara desert and the lube was running out fast.Realising it was not happening and with only the style of the Irish. With much aplomb my lovely one suggested brunch at the Piccadilly Café. I had never been there and fabulous, it was proper old style greasy café in Soho, with all the original 50’s fitting and even the most delightful waiters dressed up in the original uniforms of the period.
Completely and utterly worn out from the last couple of nights and in desperate need of a female catch up and to boast of my latest conquest’s crown jewels. I said my goodbyes and the minute I arrived home, called Lilly. I knew she would be an appreciative and attentive ear. Did I learn a few things from her! Not only was it common knowledge that the Irish where well endowed but the ones in the far out reaches, of a slightly more backward disposition where hung like donkeys and strong as an ox. I had no idea! Thinking about it, Philip ex love of my life Mr. Generous was half Irish and was particularly gifted in that department. Actually the biggest I have ever seen or had to date. They really are quite a package these Irish silver tongued devils and what more could a girl want. Think a trip to Ireland in the near future could soon be in order.
Checked messages and saw a zillion from Richard, called him back and thankfully it was voice mail. Really do not want to see him any more he is no good for me and to be honest sex was fine but not great. Suppose could have worked on it.
The real suprise, was a message left by Lucas a devastatingly gorgeous ex sex god of a lover I had a fling with for a year and who broke my heart. It was a really sweet message saying he would be in London next week and would love to meet up but understood if I did not want to see him. Not only did he leave his phone numbers but a whole load of stirred emotions.
First time I had met him was in LA, at the Chateau Marmont, my favourite hotel in LA. I was having dinner in the garden, thinking what another boring evening with my assistant not that my assistant was boring. We where having to hang around LA for weeks not knowing any one, as the celeb we where to restyle was ill. When munching the best Ceasar salad of my life…minus anchovies my eyes locked onto an attractive stranger. Things where looking up and I started to encourage my assistant to bugger off to his room or go amuse himself in some gay bar or other. He did finally but I am not sure which but possibly the latter as on the day of our return back to London he discovered he had crabs. Well as soon as he left, I just kept on slurping my wine nonchalantly and trying not to be too obvious but all the while willing this gorgeous man to come over. He did!
We went up to his room and talked and talked till the wee hours. He was English, a composer, doing the sound track for a film, lived in New York, separated from his wife, wanted to come back to London but had two teenage boys that he still wanted to be near. I explained why I was in LA and had to hang around another week. That evenining was the beginning of an incredible passionate affair which carried on for a year between New York or him coming to London. Ahhh… Chateau Marmont… whenever I think of that hotel I am immediately transported to a world of incredible sex, sunny days and the beautiful white rose he sent me every day.
Well heart in hand I dialled the number, hands trembling as waves of nostalgia and memories ran through me. He answered Immediately, leaving me no time to change my mind and hang up. It was sweet he apologised for the way he had finished and for not having been in contact. He explained the last year had been a mass of confusion over his marriage and had missed me and our friendship. He had tried for the boys sake to give it another go but it had not worked out and two months after they had started divorce proceedings. Presuming I would want nothing to do with him, he had not got in touch sooner but for the last few months I had been constantly on his mind. It was like we had never ended we just talked and talked for over an hour.
Wow!!! I was completely bowled over and just hearing his beautiful voice on the phone combined with some delicious memories, especially the bed related ones, I had to see him and we arranged to meet the following Wednesday he flew back to London.
I was right I think my Irish man has broken my run of crap sex and small dicks as my lovely Lucas has the most beautiful cock and from memory definitely has mastered the act of penetration amongst many other things. I got all quite warm just thinking about him when I remembered the ghastly situation I had this passed summer with Marcus and Josephine. I seem to be collecting married men at the moment and to be honest not a good look. Maybe this was not such a good idea as he was not yet divorced… nearly, not being quite good enough. Also I have vowed never again to get tangled in couples in the process of splitting up, to much hurt and emotion. Well, it will not hurt just to see him…can’t have enough friends and he makes me laugh. I adored his company and conversation. Oh well it will probably end in tears.

Sunday 18th December
by BabetteK @ 2006-05-15 - 11:40:51
Finally I have caught up on sleep, after my love marathon but I still feel a trifle fragile. Therefor I have decided to set aside my day to doing nothing but watch TV and the occasional old film. I was not expecting so no point in dressing and much more comfortable to potter about in my pyjamas. Also I am still boycotting all newspapers, filled with so much Christmas cheer I want to gag. So had not intentions of setting one foot out the front door. Bah humbug and all that… can’t help it, thats the way I am this year, lonely, sorry for myself, childless and lacking necessary accessory for Christmas - a boyfriend. I know, I am just a sad cow.
Happily watching a weepy, romantic oldie, the phone rang, went to answer and wonderful... I got the most obscene call from a guy. I had met him at the literary party the other day, literally just wanting sex. Well of all days this was not the best one to catch me on. I was fully sexed out and could not believe his insolence. Not even a normal would you like a drink but instead a do you fancy a shag? I admit he had a rather fine body, fully muscled, sporting a fabulous extremely broad set of shoulders and must have been over 6ft and I was momentarily tempted but remembered my need for a solid relationship. And hello, even an old tart like me needs a bit more subtlety than that. Well befor I put the phone down on him, I told him exactly what I thought of him and my aspirations for the future: children, cottage in the country and all that. Think I will probably regret it in a few weeks really should have kept him for a rainy day or should I say time of draught.
In the middle of my film I had another interruption, this time by the doorbell so much for a quiet Sunday I was thinking as I went to answer it. Slightly confused and bewildered by whom it could possibly be on such a sacred day. When I remembered Caroline was supposed to be coming to stay a few days. Caroline is the gorgeous daughter of a friend off mine who has been coming to stay with me during holidays since she was thirteen. Poor love she was greeted at the door by a slob, looking like hell and completely unprepared but over the moon to see her. She would be fabulous distraction from my mood of self-pity.
Having shamefully forgotten Caroline was coming, I had not got any food into the house, Not being the most domesticated girl in town, cupboards and fridge where utterly and completely bare. Though, I have noticed for all her protestation of needing to diet, she is stick thin and spends most of her waking hours grazing. Teenagers definitely need feeding even though she would have preferred starvation. The only option was for us to go out for dinner and what better place than the Wolesey for a bit of celeb watching.