Greetings and salutations my ravishing readers!

I am honoured and thrilled to be the travel correspondent for the global phenomenon that is emmaheaven.com. My name is Lady Perdita Fitzwilliam Tudor-Croft, Perdy to friends, Ditsy D to family and Dirty Dita to my unsavoury exes, but you can all call me Lady P.

My darling ravishing readers,

If one casts one’s mind back to this time last month, I left you teetering on a rather tantalising and juicy cliffhanger! I’m not usually such a tease, unlike my namesake Dita Von Teese...

I, Lady P, was on the verge of realising one’s long-held, desire and lusty ambitions to finally conjoin with one’s ‘fantasy frolic’, and absolute acting ‘Legend’, Tom Cruise. Please do excuse one’s gratuitous gushing!

Oh how I have long fantasised about our first coming together, in the minutest of delicious detail.

The locking of our eyes before that Top Gun’s other extremities ‘locked on’; salivating over each and every seductive, sensual movement, as he takes me in his arms, passionately kissing me, before ravishing my whole body, by slowly working his way up, verrrrrrry slowly from the tip of my toes, all the way up to my, oh oh my…

At *that* precise moment, the train jolted into the station, and I reluctantly returned to reality - albeit temporarily - as the best was yet to come. Mr Cruise would be taken to ‘Oblivion’ and beyond!

Upon arriving at The Gritti Palace - which is THE most perfectly-placed and proportioned palazzo - one was escorted to a spectacularly sumptuous suite, with a glorious view of the Grand Canal. That’ll be you and me both Mr Cruise...and don’t mention ‘root canals’. But then again...Anyway, I digress, and transgress...

Not that sightseeing and Venetian vistas were my top priorities for this assignment. The Murano glass chandeliers however, would probably be the main architectural focus of this particular trip… And the cushion-bedecked bed looked more than adequate for a good night’s sleep amongst other things…It’s a good job that the perfectly plump pillows cannot talk, as who knows what salacious, sensual secrets they would spill?!

Once I had settled in - thanks to the attentive butler service on offer - and taken delivery of a hearty meal accompanied by a bottle of their finest wine, I consulted the all-knowing and all-seeing oracle on precisely where and when I could ‘accidentally-on-purpose’ bump into the fabulous Tom. Google! I was reliably informed that he was filming on the canals in the backstreets.

Well buckle up buttercup, this ‘Legend’ was about to make Mr Cruise’s 'Knight and Day’! I had already planned my outfit, and it was now time for one to slip into *the* most darling, black sexy underwear set from Agent Provocateur, with matching stockings and suspenders, a teeny tiny LBD which just about covered one’s derriere, exposing more than a generous hint of décolletage, teamed with a killer pair of Louboutins and matching Louboutin red lip gloss.

With the femme fatale look almost definitely in the bag, one threw on a black leather Burberry mac, a liberal spritz of Chanel No.5, and one was ready to pull off *the* seduction scene of the century.

Although some of you may judge me a tad harshly, thinking my chosen outfit was perhaps a little too slutty and ‘déclassé’, rest assured my darlings, *that* was exactly the message I wanted to portray. Now was NOT the time for subtlety. One thing I have learnt is that subtlety has rarely stood me in good stead where matters of the heart are concerned. It was time to ‘go big or go home’!

Mercifully the streets weren’t too busy as one teetered along the cobbles, although I must confess to feeling more than a tad vulnerable and was starting to despair, when suddenly, out of all the canals, in all the world, he happened to gondolier up mine!

There he was. Like a mirage in the desert - and boy was I one thirsty gal, ready to drink him down and lap him up - but this was no illusion. Calm down Dita...calm down. Be cool. My pulse was racing, my heart thumping, my mouth ridiculously parched, yet bizarrely was the only dry part of me...but then he looked into my eyes and there it was: ‘Endless Love’!

I knew it would be a ‘Risky Business’ to proposition him, however this was my one and only opportunity, so I sashayed over, making sure his eyes were firmly locking on my rocking curves. Well he is but a mere mortal red-blooded man after all - and one was looking exceptionally hot, even if I do say so myself; I made sure to slowly unbutton the top of the mac, all the while maintaining eye contact, whilst giving him a tantalising glimpse of lacy bra and creamy skin.

All those hours spent reading and reciting those trashy sex novels in the all girl boarding school dorms have finally paid off. Hoorah! At last. I could come out top at something! Anyhow, not to digress too much...

He looked more than a little smitten as I introduced myself, which gave me the confidence boost I sorely needed to invite him for a ‘Cocktail’. One was trying ever so hard not to turn into a giggling schoolgirl as he graciously accepted my bold invitation.

Inside, I was doing cartwheels and somersaults, whooping and congratulating myself, but on the outside one maintained an impeccable air of cool, calm sophistication as befits my aristocratic pedigree. It’s incredible how easily impressed our ‘cousins from across the pond’ are with a title!

We exchanged numbers and arranged to rendezvous at the hotel’s terrace bar later that evening. He leant in and gently brushed his lips against my cheek. I swear this (inwardly giggling) gal’s legs turned to jelly, accompanied by flutters in personal places any hot-blooded lady reading this will know ALL too well...

My elegant exit was deliberately slow, provocative and undulating, full of promise - I wanted Mr Cruise to think of my pert posterior for the rest of his shoot that day.

On returning to the hotel, I bathed and preened myself to within an inch of my life, before slipping into another new set of lingerie, this time opting for a DVF wrap dress which spectacularly showcases one’s cleavage and a glimpse of leg when seated. But above all else, that frock is easily unwrapped, if you catch one’s drift...

When I arrived at the bar, Tom was already waiting with two generous glasses of Grappa. Was this a not so subtle hint as to what lay ahead?! I knew that I definitely had designs on grappling with this gorgeous guy…But just in case subtlety wasn’t in his repertoire, I made a point of insisting we follow up with some Pornstar Martinis, which I ordered with a knowing look and a wink as our eyes met for the umpteenth time that evening.

Conversation proceeded at quite a pace, and he was more than a little fascinated by the fact that I am an actual, real-life Lady, complete with title, country estate, royal connections, and an invite to the palace whenever the occasion should arise.

I revealed my single status and desire for travel and fun...I made sure not to divulge that I was in fact on the hunt for fiance number???….gosh, one can never remember! I didn’t want to frighten him off but who knows? Maybe he is looking for wife number??? Again the number evades me. I will have to consult my good friend Google later.

And there I had been, fretting that the only thing we’d have in common was a penchant for redheads - me with my ginger prince, and he with his ex, La Kidman! I needn’t have worried.

Within a few short hours we knew so much more about each other; and we were poised to completely connect in ALL ways humanly possible. I had slipped him my room key, exchanging yet another lingering look, both knowing full well what an aperitif back in my suite meant...

Anticipation was building fast after he discreetly let himself into my room, before pouring us both that promised aperitif.

And then, my dahhhling readers, he kissed me!!! Quite how my body didn’t simultaneously implode and explode with excitement and desire, I will never know. All I did know was that I needed another drink. Pronto! My body was on fire, and I needed some Dutch courage before I could pull out ALL the stops, before giving Tom Cruise a night to remember…

And oh boy was it a night to remember.

But alas, for all the wrong reasons! Sob!

After consuming the best (worst) part of a bottle of cognac, in my quest to acquire some much needed bravery, I’m absolutely appalled to confess that - rather than seduce the dreamboat and roll around the bed with him - in a most uncharacteristic and unladylike fashion, I made a complete and utter disgrace of myself!

Without being too graphic, let’s just say that once the hiccups started, I should have excused myself to the bathroom to compose myself. Alas, that fit of hiccups were but a mere prelude to what followed (through) next...Not even our family cat makes such a noisy, messy show of herself when coughing up furballs...Oh the shame of it Dita...the shame.

I bundled him out of my suite in a feeble attempt to salvage the last vestiges of my dignity, muttering profuse apologies of an alcohol intolerance/allergy. With him gone, I threw myself on the bed and sobbed myself to sleep.

Now you’re probably thinking that the only thing blown that night was my chance to capture Mr Cruise’s heart. I must admit that I did too, until I checked my phone the next morning to find several missed calls and at least 20 text messages. Maybe it hadn’t been such a disaster after all?!

Apparently, Mr Cruise thought I was amusingly charming, quirky, endearing, and a refreshing change from the starlets he’s used to dating, and that he would love to take me out on an ‘alcohol free’ date in the near future.

Now as much as I’d like to believe his spiel - call me a tad cynical here when I say - methinks perhaps Mr Cruise would quite fancy an English title of his own?! Lord or Sir Tom Cruise does have a certain ring to it, and one would obviously become Hollywood royalty in return. Win-win I would say, non?!

Oh how I danced around the room, singing at the top of one's voice, celebrating the fact that Tom Cruise is utterly fabulous and he really could be one of ‘A Few Good Men’. There’s not that many of them out there these days...believe me...I know. It’s one of Daddy’s frequent laments!

So my wonderful readers, I bid you arrivederci and I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year...may all your wishes and dreams come true because I know mine are about to, and hopefully 2021 is the year I get my man.

Look out Mr Cruise - looks like my ‘Mission Impossible’ is about to become a possibility and we are about to embark on the greatest adventure of your life.

Take care dahhhhlings - this column won’t self-destruct after reading - although Daddy might, once he’s finished reading my latest exploits and got the lawyers to redact most/all of it!

Toodle pip,

P.S. It’s a fallacy that ladies don’t ‘kiss and tell’. That is soooooo last century dahhhlings.

 

xx

***Note to Team Heaven gals at HQ - thanks awfully for suggesting the glass-blowing trip. However, I need little to no training in THAT area!

I am still on cloud number gazillion and nine after my recent dalliance. I don’t wish to sabotage this fledgling romance, so I would appreciate you making discreet enquiries about Mr Cruise’s next destination, so that ‘Lady Luck’ can intervene with an assignment I can carry out in his vicinity.

Of course, he could surprise us all, by inviting me along on one of his press junkets.

My only concern is that he doesn’t repeat that Oprah/sofa-jumping thing, when I take him to meet Mummy and Daddy. Our archaic antique furniture wouldn’t be able to withstand such exertions!

Daddy still hasn’t forgiven me for reducing one of his prized Chippendale dining chairs to matchsticks, after a rather energetic round of musical chairs I played with the gamekeeper one night...And on that note...