Perfect Fur Day

It’s another nippy day in Mayfair, a perfect fur day, and I have a client who likes the cold. Well, he likes me, his favourite London escort, to dress up as if I were cold, which I am. I'm waiting for a parcel to be shipped from Hong Kong today. I had to wake up reasonably early to take phone calls. My phone switches on at 8 am unless I meet someone for breakfast, but I like pottering about in my dressing gown and listening to the breakfast news.

So what am I waiting in for - a fur coat? It's white and dark grey, hooded, with a belt and perfect for keeping me warm for my particular client. He loves me to wear fur coats. And they look so chic and classy. The Chinese girls in the catalogue make everything look like it belongs on the catwalks of Milan. I have been to both countries, and I always come away feeling like I want to buy everything on offer to me. At least, the gentleman I've accompanied tends to want to flash his cash and spoil me. The kimono I will be wearing now is made of peacock-blue silk after a rather passionate week in Hong Kong.

Now, the fur coat I'm waiting for was bought by me, for me. I donate to PETA monthly and'm very interested in acrylic imitations. I own a full-length Sable bought in Paris by a fervent admirer. Perfect fur day luxury. He shipped it to London in a cream box with a velvet ribbon. And despite my ethics and morals, I tried it on. My God, have you ever felt real fur? Every way I stroked it kept the sheen and softness, and I thought I was great. I try to remain educated about the fur trade, but having something so luxurious in my hands was almost surreal. My client arranged for me to wear it the next time he saw me – thankfully, he sees me during the winter when a coat is needed. Otherwise, I may look a bit out of place in June or any other of the summer months when the weather gets a bit warm. However, I obliged by donning very little else underneath. It has been hanging in a protective sheath in my wardrobe ever since. I could sell it on, I suppose because I don't see him anymore, but stroking it often changes my mind.

Looking around my apartment, I can see my evident admiration for soft furnishings. I have faux-fur throws in wolf grey across one sofa and a sheepskin rug on the floor. I like my scatter cushions to be in velvets and furs - so I can dig my fingers into them - and the boudoir in the other room has many sumptuous drapes, throws and fabrics. Sensuality is of utmost importance to me. No one sees fit to complain if it feels good against bare skin.

Hopefully, this new jacket of mine (thigh-skimming, in case you were wondering) will arrive by midday. After all, if my favourite fur coat client does happen to book me, I can be sure I have a new coat to wear. It's a perfect fur day, and you never know who I might run into and who might want to take me home and stroke me.