The Business Model

The Business Model

I am back on the road again. Bags packed, condoms sorted according to size, lube by flavour, and lingerie by cost.

Yes I sort my lingerie by how expensive they are. Why? Because depending on what the client is paying will be a great determining factor to what I will wear. I take the airline business model to hoing now. The more you pay they more I am willing to fluff the ego, with champagne, nibbles and a blow job.

My Gulfstream and Lear clientele are those who are spending 1xxxx, and above. 5 figures in a first world currency, GBP, USD, EUR, AUD, AED, NOK, CHF, SGD, HKD. My base price is set in GBP, when a client calls an asks for a quote, I ask them what currency would they like the quote in. It facilities an easier understanding for the client to register what he is dealing with. If I am honest, I am still shocked that anyone these days is mono-currency. I can do quick calculations in my head as to what things cost in different currencies, but that is just me.

Now these gents get AP, La Perle, real silk stockings and a designer shoe collection that just thinking about it makes me wet. They get Christian, Jimmy, and Guiesspi. Manolo’s, though lovely to look at, but are designed for alien feet. They offer the best champagne, cavier, smoked salmon, nibbles. In other words, I have to be kitted out to kill. I make one hell of an effort. Even the fragrances are rare and expensive. Not the commercial shit available in department stores. It is expected, considering when you are flown in half way around the world for someone’s entertainment, usually on said Gulf Stream or Lear. Luggage is designer, as is every piece of clothing I am wearing. But well worth it, as these gents keep me in the little luxuries of life, well the big luxuries.

The next level of service offered is for my first class, premium, and platinum members. These are paying my premium hourly rates. The lingerie drops a level, not too far, but instead of thousands on lingerie, they get hundreds spend on the stuff. Mylar, Pleasure State, Simon Perle, Chantal Thomas. They still get designer, but from a season or two ago. To be honest, most gents don’t notice the difference. Red soles are still red soles.
They are invited into the lounge, chatted with, treated like royalty. They get sucked and fucked with genuine interest to their comfort and I pay attention to desires needing to be met. I become a geisha in a matter of speaking.

Here we come to the unfortunate reality of the business now, premium economy and economy class rule. Now, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it is just that there are more clients in this category and it means a girl has to work a bit harder. And for some strange reason more and more desperate hos are donning knickers and going on the game and aiming their wares, as it were, at this over saturated segment of the market. I tend to find this particular demographic annoying in that they are spoiled for choice and come with an over inflated sense of entitlement, which just baffles me. It is amazing how a man paying for sex seems to think he is entitled to everything and anything. This particular group tends to spend the most time researching. This is bordering on obsession. I find the list of demands far too long for my patience level, and will usually ignore them. Any man that spends that much time mulling over the idea of sex, is either going to be a total pain in the ass, a complete disappointment, or require far too much of my energy to fluff the ego, that the ratio of compensation isn’t worth me bothering. I will fluff egos with the best of them, but there had better be a serious pay check at the end.

All the flashy trimmings are gone. Designer lingerie is packed away in the silk box, and locked up. Why, I am not having someone coming in for a quick shag
manhandling my expensive lingerie, that cost more than they earn in a week! This also prevents me for being done for justifiable manslaughter. Believe me it is better I wear the cheap and cheerful stuff. Purchased in bulk, with 2 or three matching knickers at a time. Thrown in the washing machine along with the other clothes and discarded after a few weeks of wear and tear. No drinks offered, no nibbles, and straight down to business. And I dare the cretin to expect ego fluffing at the price level. Seriously, they should just be glad I am keeping my mouth shut.

And I love when a budget class makes the mistake of calling me, and complains my rates are too high. I spare none. I don’t want these clients at all. The hardest work of any. It shocks me still, men who willingly spend thousands expect nothing and are usually grateful for whatever happens, whereas men who have to scrimp and save, are expecting the world for 50 pence. I guess the poor man knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

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