Hello! My name's Mandy and this is my first story on this account! It's a story that... may work out, I think. Review If You Like It! It's based on a television series in the UK, which itself is based on a series of books written by a real life prostitute.
London Is Just Stunning.
Why would any self respecting earth-resident bare to live anywhere else but the magical capital of England, Europe?
The fresh scent in the air of new leather and after shave; as do the towering buildings surrounding every square, street and alley.
The weather… oh the weather. So unpredictable – where's the fun in always knowing how the day would turn out? Wind, Rain, Sun and Snow – the widest and bestest variety of temperature and scenery.
The streets swarming with business representatives, workaholics and Londoners with strange but friendly cockney accents – a much wider variety of people than the weather, naturally.
The blondes, the brunettes, the redheads, the ones with no hair – the chavs, the teenage girls, the pensioners wandering round aimlessly – all also as unpredictable as the weather.
You see, all these people have secrets so far beyond any guess – the toothless biker stood outside the men's bathrooms on the corner next to the large motorbike is the Hairy Bikers answer to Billy Elliot. The beautiful blonde in the mini skirt and platforms coming out of the salon is in fact a virgin and works for the old people's home.
Do you ever wonder that the person you glance at in the street is really like despite the stereotype their appearance fits into?
The 40-something with the ridiculous makeup, slutty clothing and those silly cheap 'Fuck Me Boots' – what if I told you she was in fact a doctor, perhaps – and a good one at that, married happily with three children. And those 'Fuck Me Boots' are simply just… boots.
Perhaps the twenty-something girl in the corner of your eye, with the pristine clean knee length skirt, blouse and small heels isn't your average young business woman… perhaps she's in fact what you would of thought the 40-something year old was. This girl sells her body for money three or four times a week, quite high class if that counts for anything.
And how would I know? You ask.
That young girl in the pristine suit and small heels, who sells her body three or four times a week for money – is me.
You Like? You Intrigued? You Review? YOU REVIEW.