Sandra Cazac London escort

London Escorts Are Always Ready To Party

“Sandra Cazac?”


Glittering blue eyes shot around the bright area just outside the airport doors, attempting to see who had called her name. The pickup location was loud: voices shouted for loved ones, bodies bustled, suitcases rolled with great noise across the pavement. Sandra should have been used to it by now; she was in Paris every weekend these days along with a hand full of other London escorts all providing something special for wealthy international clients. But it never failed to make her dizzy, and she was used to finding her own way as opposed to being met at the airport and required to look for someone.


The man that dodged around a group of people trying to get to the curb wasn’t all that attractive, but Sandra had worked for worse. It was difficult to complain when she had an entire week in France paid for, and only three days of work required. Adjusting the purse slung over her arm, she placed her hand on the handle of her suitcase and rolled it forward to meet the man: Chester Collins. CEO of a rather large fashion company, and, from what Sandra had heard from an escort friend back in London, a bit of a sex addict.


“Let me help you, Miss Cazac,” Chester said as he reached a pale hand for her suitcase. The blonde-haired escort personally didn’t like anyone touching her things, but she knew to be polite and just allow the assistance. So, she relinquished her hold, put on her best smile, and moved closer to him as he took the suitcase.


“Thank you for meeting me here, Mr. Collins,” Sandra said, voice dripping with the sweetness she had so well practiced for her entire career. She was only in her mid-twenties, and she had learned quite a bit about how to please people. She pressed ruby lips to the apple of Chester’s cheek, and commended herself when she noted the blush sweep across his skin. Just for added effect, she lay a hand on his arm as they turned to walk towards a limousine a few feet away.


Sandra wasn’t expecting to be helped into a backseat full of men. Her brow lifted a bit as she glanced around the limo, but she quickly recovered, placing on another smile. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted, holding out her hand to an attractive blond man that reached out for her. He kissed it, and she found herself drawing her hand away quicker than she meant to.


She was used to parties, and men that liked to stare. It was a blessing that Sandra had thought to wear the knee length dress on the plane.