Classy is a word this business uses loosely, so let me be precise about it. Exclusive is not a photograph – it is how a woman carries an hour, from the door to the goodbye.
Alice, twenty-five, 159 centimetres, sixty kilos, a C cup. No silicone, nothing built, no tattoos, no piercings; what arrives is exactly what you saw, and it arrives faintly and expensively scented. Long legs, smooth skin, a figure I have looked after rather than bought. I am told the effect is closer to breathless than to impressed, which I take as the compliment it is meant to be.
I am educated and I speak well – genuinely well, in the sense that the half hour before and the half hour after are worth having on their own. Warm by nature, sensual by nature, sexy without needing to perform it, and accommodating in a way that has made a lot of quiet men surprisingly talkative. Have you ever wondered what an evening with a properly exclusive woman is actually like? Then stop wondering and write to me, and please do not take a fortnight over it!
Neuss