Erotic massage & escort in Notting Hill

If I could only take dates in one part of London, it would be Notting Hill. The streets are short and crooked, the houses are painted like sugared almonds, and there’s always somewhere still open for one more glass. Nobody rushes here; the pavements are too narrow and the windows too distracting. It’s twelve minutes from my flat by cab, which is exactly long enough to fix my lipstick, and it’s where I’m booked as an escort for evenings that feel like a third date rather than a first.

Escort and GFE dates in Notting Hill, W11

GFE is short for girlfriend experience, and Notting Hill might as well have been laid out with it in mind. We meet for a drink near Notting Hill Gate, or you collect me at the end of your road. We eat somewhere off Westbourne Grove. Then we walk slowly, my arm through yours, stopping at windows neither of us has any intention of shopping in. I’ll tell you which pastel house I’d buy if money were no object, and you’ll tell me yours. Neither of us is moving in, and it doesn’t matter in the slightest.

Somewhere between the last course and your front door there’s a kiss against painted railings, and after that the walk home gets noticeably quicker. That’s the whole idea of GFE with me: chemistry rather than a checklist. One hour is a drink and your sofa; two gives us the walk as well. I’ve written more about what GFE really means if you’re curious.

Dinner dates from Portobello Road to Ladbroke Grove

With a dinner date we get three or four hours and the whole neighbourhood. Portobello Road after dark, Kensington Park Road, the restaurants up towards Ladbroke Grove: I’m happy at a long table or a little one, as long as the conversation is good. If you’d like me to choose, tell me what you love to eat and leave the rest to me. Saturday is market day, so a Saturday date can begin in daylight among the stalls and run on long after they’ve been packed away. Book with a day’s notice, tell me roughly where, and I’ll dress for it.

Cut to: a pink front door, my back against it, your keys still in your hand.

Tantric massage near Notting Hill, at my flat

Not every night needs a reservation. On quieter evenings W11 comes down the hill to me for an erotic massage instead, usually a tantric massage: unhurried, warm, and by the end very much a whole-body affair. I studied tantric massage in India, and it wants things a tall terraced house can’t give me: a proper table, oil kept at skin temperature, a hot shower one step away. So the massage stays at mine and you make the short trip. Book it to close a date night, or on its own when your own four walls have lost their charm.

From Notting Hill Gate to my Earl’s Court incall

Notting Hill Gate (Central, Circle and District) is two District line stops from Earl’s Court, by way of High Street Kensington. From Ladbroke Grove (Circle, Hammersmith & City) a cab is simpler: down through Holland Park and along Earl’s Court Road, a quarter of an hour at most. Whichever way you come, my incall in Earl’s Court waits a short stroll from the station: clean sheets, the shower already hot, no one else about. All my massage lives there, nuru included. Some people like to do both: dinner up the hill, then the Tube down to mine for the rest of the evening, which saves your flatmates a great deal of explaining.

West of the Gate the houses get bigger and the streets quieter. That’s Holland Park, and it’s ten minutes from me.