It seems to be the in thing for escorts to write books about their adventures or launch their own podcasts. At the moment, the Dutch daily newspaper De Telegraaf is even promoting a podcast by one of the Netherlands’ escort agency owners and one of her escorts.
Apparently, the adventures of us escort ladies are considered interesting enough for a mass audience, so I thought, why not share a few of my own stories in my blog section?
The following story is the first in a series of six. To give you a sense of what’s to come, here’s a preview of some of the adventures I’ll be sharing:
- Sailing through the Greek islands
- Joining the high-mile club aboard a private jet
- A Journey among the Michelin stars
- An exclusive island escape
- Lake Maggiore, by Ferrari
- Winter in the Dolomites
Consider this an invitation behind the scenes … and perhaps a little inspiration to start imagining your own adventure with me.
My favorite booking inquiries arrive with a quiet authority, precise and deliberate, leaving no room for ambiguity. This one was no exception: a brief message, impeccably clear, outlining time, place, and purpose with a decisiveness that left me intrigued. There’s an allure in that kind of clarity that I find irresistibly sexy. And then, the line that made my pulse quicken: We’re flying private. I packed with care, choosing outfits suitable for business lunches and dinners while also slipping in ample sets of lingerie, knowing that on this journey, appearance and privacy were equally essential.
The adventure began long before wheels left the tarmac. Instead of the usual crowded terminal and clamor of masses, I drove into a quiet enclave of polished hangars and discreet service vehicles, the private terminal where luxury travel truly begins. There were no lines, no waiting, only a courteous smile from an attendant who took my passport and guided me into a lounge filled with calm. And there he was: the gentleman I had been in contact with, the one who invited me on this business trip that promised enough time for us to explore our own pleasures. Minutes later, we walked straight onto the jet, sleek and gleaming on the tarmac, engines whisper‑quiet and ready.
Sliding into the cabin was like stepping into a living room designed for flight: plush leather, soft lighting, every detail arranged for comfort. A co-pilot, doubling as host and concierge, presented a flute of champagne with effortless grace, while the captain greeted us with the easy confidence of someone who knows high altitudes as a second home. There was no overhead bin tussle, no stranger beside us. Only an atmosphere of sensual anticipation.
As the jet climbed skyward, the world below shrank into patchwork fields and the shimmering North Sea coastline. The busyness of city life fell away, replaced by a hush; here, amid the hum of turbines and cloud‑kissed blue, time seemed to pause… or perhaps bend to our mood. Once we reached cruising altitude, the co-pilot arranged a display of fresh fruit, cheeses, and fine wine. Opening a cabinet filled with a wide selection of drinks, he quietly suggested we ring the service bell when ready for our meal. We sipped sparkling wine, pausing only to let the view enchant us. Airborne, unhurried, we were more caught up in anticipation of how we would savor this mile-high privacy than in any thought of our destination. A collision of warmth and desire unfolded, daring and inevitable, within our private cocoon above the clouds.
Somewhere above 30,000 feet, against the backdrop of cerulean sky and endless horizon, the cabin became ours in every sense. The sun played across the wing, sending patterns of glimmering light dancing across the cabin, where every glance and touch felt amplified by the world-class privacy only a chartered jet could offer.
I leaned into him, the soft leather beneath us a subtle contrast to the heat of our shared closeness. Fingers traced along familiar contours, exploring with a precise slowness that made each reaction feel electric. Every shift of weight, every press and tilt, became a silent conversation … yet in truth a silent scream to not stop.
His attention and warmth traced a path that left me suspended between anticipation and delight, each sigh and responsive movement deepening the connection. When I moved to straddle him, the subtle sway of the cabin heightened every sensation, and the tiny variations of motion made each pulse and pause feel like a secret language only we understood. The world outside blurred: clouds and an endless horizon faded to insignificance. All that existed was the press of our bodies, the whisper of skin on skin, and the shared, quiet laughter that bubbled up when we felt subtle movements of the aircraft turbulence. Every tilt, every shift, every careful, deliberate movement drew us closer to the edge of gravity.
When we paused, breathless, the cabin still hummed around us. The sunlight had softened into golden streaks, falling across the curve of his jaw, the slope of my shoulder. Our hands found each other again, the pace resuming with that same unhurried precision … high above everything else.
At our signal, the co-pilot served a curated menu tailored to our tastes. We ate with no ceremony but plenty of shared smiles pausing often to brush lips between courses. Later, as twilight softened the sky into lavender and rose, we leaned into the plush luxury of the cabin and surrendered to the heady mix of altitude, intimacy and a perfect relaxation.
When the jet finally descended toward our destination, the wheels touching the tarmac softly, the weight of the world didn’t rush back in. Even as the city’s bustle returned around us, the echoes of the flight remained, quiet, private, and entirely our own. Carrying the memory of laughter, whispered touches, and shared secrets, we stepped together into the hustle of the busy city, yet the intimacy of the cabin clung to me, like a private world folded into my awareness.
For a trip like this, the destination was never the point; it was the freedom to exist entirely, intimately, and unabashedly, suspended above the world, that makes the memory last.
O’Neill Summers is a Dutch-native high-class escort who divides her time between a professional career in accountancy and exclusive intimate encounters with discerning gentlemen like you. Her primary profession covers her daily expenses, allowing these engagements to afford her the extra luxuries she enjoys in life while fulfilling her intense sexual drive. This balance ensures she is selective in her connections, giving you the assurance of a truly exceptional experience with a tall Dutch beauty who combines intelligence, allure, and sexuality.
Unlike full-time escorts who may be on standby at any moment for bookings, O’Neill values preparation and quality. She requires bookings in advance, as her work commitments mean she can’t simply drop everything at a moment’s notice. This thoughtful approach ensures she arrives at your date refreshed, radiant, and ready to leave the unforgettable first AND lasting impression she’s known for.
To enhance your experience, O’Neill offers appointments in her premium incall apartment, regarded as one of the most luxurious incall locations in the Netherlands. She also provides outcall companionship and sex dates in cities such as Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague, and Utrecht. Given the relatively small size of the Netherlands, she is happy to travel to other major cities like Eindhoven or Maastricht to meet you.