D, a quietly spoken man, called early Monday morning requesting to see me at 11am, we’d tried to meet before but timings got in the way. So it was down with the garden tools and off with the wellies, before slipping on lingerie and stilettos: these days I slip into either mode seamlessly. 
An Orthodox Jew, D was the man in black, with blowzy white shirt and skullcap. He was between meetings, so introductions were short before retiring to the boudoir. I undressed and lay on the bed as requested, he stood at the end of the bed in a vest (white) and socks (black) wanking whilst taking in the view.
'Do you have any video's we could watch,' he asked, 'Yes I do, what kind of porn would you like to watch, Transsexual, heterosexual, actually, why don't I bring up Xhamster on the computer, they've got all-sorts on there,' he settled for Hetro anal.
'Do you mind if I come twice,' 'Not at all,' I replied. And so we both lay there, D and I watching and masturbating, I became the sideshow; five minutes later he was spent. 'Frances, can I ask you a favour, do you mind if I take a half-hour sleep before I have to go back to work,' I'm so tired' (no surprise there then), 'Not at all, I'll give you a call at half-past.' 
I put on a dressing gown, closed the bedroom door and sat on the sofa with a cup of tea and January's copy of Amature Gardener, it did seem slightly surreal. I awoke D as promised and off he toddled refreshed and merry, promising to return for another midday frolic...and power nap I'm sure.
Oh dear, what have they done to The Berkeley Hotel (Bamford toiletries); they’ve turned a once simple classically designed entrance into some modern steel and glass monstrosity. Perhaps, what with the room rates they charge as one of London’s finest hotels, they’ve surplus dosh sloshing about to splurge?
‘How’s your day Madam,’ inquired the doorman in the grey bowler hat, black scarf and grey cashmere coat, his warm breath turning into wafts of fine mist in the cold morning air. ‘Fine thank you, but can’t say I like the improvements much,’ ‘Honestly Madam, I can’t say I care for them myself.’ And with that, I collected a copy of Country Life from the front desk before taking the lift up to screw Mr Latex gloves, oh and acquire a few premier toiletries.
Returning to The Office, I was due a little nap myself, as I was off to see A in Essex at 6pm; it’s the next county over. Actually, Middlesex itself is no longer a county, it’s simply been renamed ‘Greater London.’ 
Thank goodness for Sat-Nav, as my ‘Final Destination’ was hid amongst a warren of thread-vein like lanes. There’s no more squinting at the trusty A-Z for me, I’ve worn a few of those out in my time, just the central London pages mind you, the rest of the book remained pristine.
A, had been doing coke before I arrived, the usual tell-tale signs, a dozen or more texts enquiring if I was still on my way and how much sooner I could be there than we'd already arranged, one ignores such text's after a while and carries on regardless.
Whilst I didn’t partake myself, I indulged A's fantasy by letting him do a line over my bottom and one along the length of my cock; oh, and as requested I brought along a pair of stockings for him to wear.
Due to the effects of the drug, we agreed that I’d stay another hour in the hope he’d manage to come, he didn’t but we had a good time all the same, though it meant I was the one doing all the fucking and he the sucking.
Yes, today was an unusually busy day for me; I entertained an Israeli and visited both an Arab and an Indian man. Say what you will regard different creeds not seeing eye-to-eye, but one thing they seem to have in common is their liking for Transsexuals. 

That was a long day, I'm off to bed goodnight...yawn. 

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