escort diary® of Sofia Rushh: My time as an escort in Christchurch
I've recently arrived as an escort in Christchurch, it's my first tour in a long time.
Christchurch has me feeling dangerous in that quiet way. The kind where you look innocent walking down the street, but your underwear knows better. Clean air, polite smiles, all that calm surface energy — it makes the mischief underneath feel sharper.
Checked into the hotel and immediately claimed the space. Lingerie laid out like a promise, heels kicked off, body finally exhaling after travel. Touring always does this to me: I arrive wound tight, then slowly remember how much power there is in being wanted somewhere new.
Spent the afternoon teasing messages back and forth, letting anticipation do most of the work. Christchurch clients are subtle — fewer words, longer pauses, lots of “when can I see you?” energy. I like that. Makes me lean back in my chair, cross my legs slowly, take my time answering.
Walked by the Avon later, sun hitting just right, pretending I wasn’t already thinking about hands on my hips and the sound of my name whispered wrong. The contrast is delicious — this gentle little city and the very ungentle thoughts it inspires.
Tonight was my first booking. Clean, respectful, hungry in that controlled way that snaps if you tug it just enough. I wore the red set. I always wear the red set when I want to be remembered. Left the room smelling like skin and expensive soap, pulse still humming when the door closed behind me.
Now I’m back in bed, makeup smudged just slightly, legs sore in the best way. Christchurch is soft on the outside, but it knows how to take a secret. And I’m happy to give it a few before I leave.
