The penthouse liaison

Catch up on earlier BVS episodes HERE.

Hi it’s me, Breeze Van Santo. I’ve just got back from three weeks filming in Thailand. I was the stunt double for little Daniel Radcliffe, who has the part of Lai Dee – a gifted young musician, struggling with teenage angst and dreaming of becoming a famous drummer. My job was to stand in for him in the scenes when he practiced his technique while at work among the roosters at a chicken farm. It wasn’t fun at all I can tell you, nasty little buggers, my ankles have been pecked to Hell. I’m not sure when it’s ready for release but with Lindsay Lohan as the love interest, “Lai Dee boy bangs cocks” is sure to be hit.


Anyhoo, let’s talk about the penthouse. A few months back I flew into Gatwick after a two week charity trek into the Black Forest, in aid of Sex Addicts Anonymous; a cause that I’m happy to say I’ve spent three highly rewarding years as the patron of. I wasn’t feeling too great after surviving on nothing but Schnapps, Bratwurst and Gateaux in the wilderness, while escorting eight Swedish Nympho’s past three secluded lakes and one luxury Spa hotel with the biggest private hot tub you have ever seen – in fact I was knackered! The hardships of the jungle were soon forgotten after bumping into a goddess, while waiting for the baggage.

We both reached out and grabbed at the suitcase at the same time, locking hands on the handle. “Oh excuse me, I er….” I faltered as I fell a million miles into the interstellar beauty of her eyes. “No, excuse me,” she said, “It seems we have the same taste in luggage, oh it’s gone…” we realised that we had now missed the case altogether, and watched as the leopard print & Diamante edged Gucci disappeared around the carousel. I struggled to regain myself as I stood staring at this vision of five feet six inches of glorious perfection. Her hair was fiery red and the natural curls reached right down to her beautiful pale shoulders, which was mysterious because I thought she was supposed to be blonde. “You need to concentrate on your continuity” she whispered sexily into my ear, before grabbing the freshly returned black rucksack and walking away. Now that is mysterious I muttered, as my leopard print Gucci came round once more, her bag had looked nothing like mine, so what had all that been about? I stood transfixed watching her perfect size 14 curvy bottom walk out of my life. Had her nose really been that cute when she smiled? Could her eyes possibly have been bluer? Would I ever get hold of those Double Ds? I was in love, no doubt about it.

I put my hand in my pocket to find a pound for the trolley and found some paper instead. On it was a telephone number, the name Lulu and “Call me”. Gasps around me told me that it hadn’t been a good idea to go commando under my thin summer shorts after all, I needed to think of something else – fast.

A few days later after the chance meeting with the owner of this blog, I pulled up at the plush Southbank apartment of this very mysterious angel and grabbed the Tesco ‘Finest’ Carnations and a bottle of Lambrusco Bianco from the boot and headed to the door (I know what you are thinking, well I may be old fashioned but I believe in spoiling a lady on a first date).

Lulu’s breathy voice purred sexily through the intercom and I was buzzed through to the lift. My heart raced and pounded in anticipation while the lift slowly inched its way to the 16th floor. After an eternity the lift doors finally opened with a ping and there before me was the doorway to paradise. I swiftly spat my chewing gum into a pot plant and with a huff of air into my hands and a sniff, I was able to declare my breath to be fine and rang the bell.

Checking my breath had been a waste of time, the vision inside took it away anyway. Lulu stood silhouetted by the city of London through vast windows, the light pouring seductively through her flimsy dress to reveal legs that would make even the staunchest gay reconsider. Her chest strained heavily to escape from its inadequate cover and the halo of light around her beautiful hair forced Kate Bush’s Babooshka straight into my head. I stood and gaped, unable to speak. Eventually I managed to regain control and compose myself. “This is some apartment!” I said as I walked casually over to view the impressive sight of St. Paul’s in the sunset.

“Why thank you Mr. Van Santo, it certainly suits our purpose!” I span around, my mouth once more agape; the voice had not been Lulu’s. In the corner stood an enigma, well actually she was a Nun, but she stood at an unrealistic 6 feet 6, with Amazonian shoulders and was far too hot to make sense. Her ruby red lips pouted as she waited for me to finish describing her, Lulu smiled a mischievous grin. Eventually my eyes discovered that the last 6 inches of the Nun’s height was being provided by some very high Stilettos that failed to hide the fishnet stocking covered perfectly manicured toes and “This Way Up” tattooed upside down on her ankle.

As Lulu poured all three of us a glass of Lambrusco with a giggle, I thought to myself that perhaps the ‘two for one’ offer on Ferrero Rochers wouldn’t have been too much of an extravagance after all. This was going to be an interesting night…