Review Candice (La Belle de Luxe) – I’m in love
daok
Adventurer
- Apr 15, 2025
- 77
- 216
- 33
A dreary Monday night, facing a hospital stay in the morning, with my life potentially on the line, no less… so pardon this old hypochondriac for feeling a bit glum. Time to lift my spirits (amongst other things); and to be fair, it’s been two long, torturous days since I last indulged myself. Following three fantastic experiences at La Belle de Luxe (Bianca, Amira and Abbie), dare I hope for a quatrième beauté luxueuse? (Sorry, but they started it!).
A text or two, a buzz on the intercom, and I’m standing on a landing. Downstairs is LBdL, but I’m summoned upstairs by a young woman, booted, tattooed, with a huge welcoming smile, and led into the Sapphire Blue waiting room. Surprisingly large and nice with two sofas. But why so large, when punters reportedly turn to stone in this day and age if they accidentally sight each other? A lot of space for just moi.
“You know the way down”… and I do. I was strangely pessimistic, thinking my luck would surely change. But f#ck me, Candice is gorgeous. Her face lit up when she smiled, showing her perfect white teeth, face framed in a beautiful blonde bob, with her unmarked dancer's body accented in red lingerie. It’s her delicious body dancing on the website, have a look, tell me I’m wrong.
It was when she spoke that she really grabbed my heart (and balls). Her voice has the openness and friendliness of a country girl, but with the sophistication and confidence of one honed in private school. I know some of you like to f#ck the third world or destroy a woman’s rear end and the like. And all power to you. But this is what I like. Someone with the qualities you’d want in a lover, a friend, an employee or someone you get to just hang around and admire (or stalk if need be)… and for them to do dirty stuff to/with you.
Candice asks me if this is my first time. “No, not even the thousandth time”, I reply unconvincingly. “I’ve been here three times already”, I confess. Which results in a light scolding for not choosing her first. What was I thinking?
Showered and on the table, the magic happened. The conversation just flowed. My first real lover ingrained in me the three traits (other than looks) that women crave. So, I’m shovelling these into all of my much-practised anecdotes, she responds by telling me all her hopes and dreams. After it seemed like I had babbled pretty much non-stop for 30 minutes or so, she apologised for being so talkative. We start doing the dirty; I request a modest extra; she requests a ludicrously inadequate price. (When I later pay her double, she shows genuine reluctance to take it.)
The hour has long come and gone (no one else down there) as we realise that we “get” each other. She understands my compulsion to succeed and dominate in my field, to do so outside of social norms - she desires the same. The many irons she has in the fire convince me that she will make it. What a perfect match we’d make, but for the small matter of 35+ years and about 8 points on the 10-point attractiveness scale. Nevertheless, she’s looking for a ticket into my lifestyle – I have tickets for sale.
In full disclosure, I’m in a hospital bed, high as a f#cking kite, so take that into account. In a week or so, I’m out of the country for a few months, so if any of you dirty bastards think you’re worthy, get in quick – I hate to share.
A text or two, a buzz on the intercom, and I’m standing on a landing. Downstairs is LBdL, but I’m summoned upstairs by a young woman, booted, tattooed, with a huge welcoming smile, and led into the Sapphire Blue waiting room. Surprisingly large and nice with two sofas. But why so large, when punters reportedly turn to stone in this day and age if they accidentally sight each other? A lot of space for just moi.
“You know the way down”… and I do. I was strangely pessimistic, thinking my luck would surely change. But f#ck me, Candice is gorgeous. Her face lit up when she smiled, showing her perfect white teeth, face framed in a beautiful blonde bob, with her unmarked dancer's body accented in red lingerie. It’s her delicious body dancing on the website, have a look, tell me I’m wrong.
It was when she spoke that she really grabbed my heart (and balls). Her voice has the openness and friendliness of a country girl, but with the sophistication and confidence of one honed in private school. I know some of you like to f#ck the third world or destroy a woman’s rear end and the like. And all power to you. But this is what I like. Someone with the qualities you’d want in a lover, a friend, an employee or someone you get to just hang around and admire (or stalk if need be)… and for them to do dirty stuff to/with you.
Candice asks me if this is my first time. “No, not even the thousandth time”, I reply unconvincingly. “I’ve been here three times already”, I confess. Which results in a light scolding for not choosing her first. What was I thinking?
Showered and on the table, the magic happened. The conversation just flowed. My first real lover ingrained in me the three traits (other than looks) that women crave. So, I’m shovelling these into all of my much-practised anecdotes, she responds by telling me all her hopes and dreams. After it seemed like I had babbled pretty much non-stop for 30 minutes or so, she apologised for being so talkative. We start doing the dirty; I request a modest extra; she requests a ludicrously inadequate price. (When I later pay her double, she shows genuine reluctance to take it.)
The hour has long come and gone (no one else down there) as we realise that we “get” each other. She understands my compulsion to succeed and dominate in my field, to do so outside of social norms - she desires the same. The many irons she has in the fire convince me that she will make it. What a perfect match we’d make, but for the small matter of 35+ years and about 8 points on the 10-point attractiveness scale. Nevertheless, she’s looking for a ticket into my lifestyle – I have tickets for sale.
In full disclosure, I’m in a hospital bed, high as a f#cking kite, so take that into account. In a week or so, I’m out of the country for a few months, so if any of you dirty bastards think you’re worthy, get in quick – I hate to share.
