Men love the thrill of the chase, don’t they? When I speak to my male friends, they tell me they wish they could say they met their WAGs in a bar where she was alone, and he sent a drink over via the barman. It sounds very “Working Girl”, doesn’t it, rather than “I met your mother at work/online/via Facebook?”. But an elegant pair of legs, donning stilettos and stockings, atop a bar stool will send most male pulses racing. Even I can see why: as a woman, it’s empowering to be chatted up, even if it leads nowhere.
So I was talking to a favourite client of mine, Will, who wanted us to “try something new” for our monthly frisson. Twenty-four dates with his favourite London high-class escort, several wigs and aliases later, we were running out of places to go and have even started rotating them!
Will lives in central London and was tired of frequenting the hotels and restaurants close to home. Even the Maitre D’s know our names and have started hinting about our first anniversary! I suggested we live out a role play, and surprise, he wanted to ‘pick me up’ in a bar in town. So I did a little research and have created a venue – Amika in their Cocktail Lounge. Now, as most of you know, I do love Champagne, but I can’t get into the Champagne Bar without being a member. I’ve been a member’s guest before, and I rubbed shoulders with so many A-listers that it was difficult not to be star-struck. Although there are three rooms for regular clientele to enjoy themselves, Amika is so exclusive that they need to have somewhere for members only. If Will enjoys tonight half as much as I suspect, he’ll sign up immediately – the chauffeur and valet service should swing it if the priority entrance doesn’t. And even if we don’t go for another six months, I’ll disregard him flashing his membership card at anyone who listens.
So, back to our fantasy. Imagine me in the Cocktail Bar, sipping a Manhattan and wearing something black, short and glittering. My long hair will be tumbling down my back (exposed in a sexy V down to my cossie), and my red lips pursed around a straw. I will purposely ignore “Will” seated three down from me, admiring my legs and wondering ‘why I’m alone in a place like this…’ Then he’ll send me another drink, and I’ll look over and hold it up to acknowledge my thanks. That’s his cue to come over and say something clever like, “Excuse me, I don’t want you to think I’m ridiculous, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I just felt like I had to tell you.” So smooth…
I’m quite looking forward to later. It’s been a long time since I was chatted up long enough to take a man home and conclude the evening over coffee. If he’s fortunate, his nightcap might happen before midnight.
