Diary Of a London Call Girl
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A charming moment from her professional life:
I rolled over the edge of the bed to reach my purse on the floor. "Hold on." Brought back a small silver cosmetic bag and pulled out an emery board.
He shuddered. "I can't take files," he said. "It's a nails-on-chalkboard sort of thing."
"Trust me," I said, and sanded his edges smooth. He ran his thumbs over the smooth ovals, commented on the difference. Followed this with a hand massage using apricot oil, and a second try at insertion, and both of us were amply rewarded. No extra charge for the manicure.