Sometimes funny things happen during bookings. Things that the girls giggle about and tell me when they leave. I remember Daniella telling me about a client that got over excited and pissed himself, or Zoe telling me she wandered into the wrong house (door left ajar – she thought the client was being saucy) and terrified a woman breast feeding her baby, or even Kat telling me she cajoled the hotel bell boy into a threesome. Nothing was more amusing though, than the story an Elite girl called Sienna told me one night.
I’d sent her to visit a client in deepest, darkest South West England. He’d used us before, but usually did outcalls to a hotel. This time however, for the first time, he had invited one of our girls to his home address – a large, working farm. Very concerned about his neighbours spotting Sienna (married man, the wife was away), he informs me that she must call his mobile when she gets close so her can direct her in. No problem – this is quite a common scenario. What the client forgets about though, is that he diverted his mobile calls to one of the old boys that works on his farm earlier that day. Ah.
So Sienna gets close and calls the mobile. A man answers. ‘Hi, it’s Sienna, just calling for directions’. It’s a pitch black winter evening – she follows the man’s directions down a country lane to a small house. An elderly gentleman comes to the front door, closely followed by an elderly lady. Before Sienna gets a chance to mention her fee is higher for couples she is ushered in. Dirty old buggers she thinks.
The couple take Sienna through the house, out the back door, through the garden and into a barn. She begins to worry – just who or what else were they inviting to the party? In the corner of the barn stands a dusty, battered old wardrobe. The man gestures towards it. ‘Here it is’ he says ‘been in our family for years’.
That’s when it dawns on Sienna – i’m at the wrong fucking house. She smiles at the couple and spends the next 10 minutes looking over the wardrobe, discussing the merits of its deep hanging space, it’s shabby chic appeal and how someone would pay a fortune for an item like this in Laura Ashley. All the while her mind is screaming fuuuuuuuuuuck!
Of course she doesn’t want the wardrobe, and even if she did (which she doesn’t because it’s shit), she wouldn’t have any success squeezing it into the boot of her Fiat Cinquecento. After what seems like an eternity, she thanks the couple for their time and totters back to her car, sinking her heels into cow shit as she goes.
Sienna finds the real client’s house just a few hundred metres down the road. She explains to him what has happened – that the mobile number he gave was answered by someone living nearby. The client realises, with horror, his mistake.
His saving grace: the old boy and his wife were obviously expecting someone to arrive. And despite reassurances that she hadn’t aroused any suspicion at all (even dressed to the nines in stockings and stiletto heels), the client coughs up the fee and sends Sienna packing. He feels sick…that couple know his wife!
Sienna was a star that night, a consummate pro, discretion was her middle name. As for the client, how does the old saying go? Ah yes: the best laid schemes of mice and men, go oft awry.
