彡★ Click here for » Episode One ★彡
Episode Two
Mummy’s latest squeeze is revolting. Seriously! He knows I am an international super influencer on Tiktok and Insta. He dribbles over the interviews I do with various trashy magazines like Vogue and I am sure he is a crack-head or a drunk.
Mummy wants me to lunch with them. Darlings! Can you imagine anything more tedious? Anyway, I headed her off at the pass apologetically, citing an appointment at the Spa. One which will last three days at least. Hopefully, she will have dumped Drunk Dribbly by then and it will be safe to return to Knightsbridge.
I phoned my public relations agent, Pru Dense. “I am burned OUT, Pru!” I wailed. “Can you recommend an up-market retreat?” The sound of shuffled papers accompanied her “Yah, yah, call you back in 5!” and I sensed that she was as stressed and desperate as ever. An image popped up from her on my iPhone…..
“Somewhere like this?” asked Pru in the text. “Or this?”
The link led to an exclusive luxury Thai spa in the New Forest. I mean, who knew such places existed? The lure of oriental pampering and mud baths sent a thrill down my thong, I can tell you! “Perfect!” I typed, “book for 3 days, prontisimo! Arrange photoshoot 4 final day, get that slick guy, Tarky, whatsisname?” Pru replied about an hour later with directions and confirmatory booking from 7pm that very day. She confirmed that she had Tarquin Slain hooked up and I squealed, throwing half a dozen slinky dresses out of my wardrobe in the general direction of my travel trolley thingy.
Three hours later I was on the M27 aiming for Lyndhurst, listening to some trancy music I had become addicted to while watching risky, racey porn in secret on my laptop. Tarky’s sultry bedroom eyes were beckoning me towards some proper R&R.
A call went to voicemail and I just knew it was Mummy. Get a life, mother, really.
As I pulled into the exclusive manor house car park I spotted Tarky, leaning against his Ferrari, smoking a Black & Gold cigarette. Gliding slowly alongside I lowered the car window and, almost purring in my best alluring voice “Here’s looking at you, kid!” I pretended to be so cool that ice would not melt on my navel.
We booked in and you can just butt out if you think I am going to give you any more than that for your jollies. Go find your own Tarky larkies. OK? 🙄
On the final day of our tryst “Ms Olympia Duhdashian?” chimed the intercom, interrupting piped music as we slithered around in the mud bath. “Phone call for Ms. Olympia Duhdashian!”
Who could possibly know I am here? Damned inconvenient interruption!
The sweet Thai attendant fielded the call “Ms Duhdashian is indisposed. May I take a message please?” She scribbled on a notepad and discontinued the call.
The note she held in front of my mud caked face was cryptic, to say the least.
“MI6 - interview asap. Mother strangled St Tropez.”
Ye gods. That woman. I knew Drunk Dribbly was dodgy. Whatever next?
Episode 3: https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashian-kerching
Episode 4: https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashian-disappears
Episode 5: https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashians-reality-shock
Can’t wait for the next episode