Milena, companion in W1

At 175 cm Milena does not need heels and wears them anyway. She is curvy with it, black hair long and straight, brown eyes, and a presence that fills a doorway without any particular effort. At 25 she has worked out exactly what suits her and stopped experimenting, which is why she always looks finished rather than assembled.

Her English is fluent and warm, and she is more playful than the first impression suggests. She talks about food seriously, travels whenever a week opens up, and keeps the sort of photographs on her phone that make other people want to book flights. She is easy across a long dinner and noticeably better across a longer one. She is generous with her time in a way that shows itself late rather than early, and guests who book a short evening with her almost always book a longer one next.

In W1 she sends people to Roka on Charlotte Street, the counter if there are two of you, because the kitchen is the entertainment and neither of you has to provide any. Oxford Street hotels are eight minutes on foot from there, the Portland Place ones about six, and Soho ten if you feel like the walk. Milena comes in from South Kensington, twenty five minutes on a normal evening, and the desk gives you her departure time as well as her arrival. The walk from Charlotte Street back down to Oxford Street at midnight is one of her favourites and takes eight minutes.

Her entry is on the W1 page. Duration and figure sit side by side under rates. Three things in the booking note, please: hotel, hour, and how long you would like her.

Milena is at her best on bookings of three hours or more and says so honestly. Tell Romilly the hotel and the length you have in mind and he will confirm her departure and arrival times.

Every figure she works to is on the board of rates, and the rest is one message away.

Give Milena four hours and she will use all of them well. The first is a drink and the slow business of finding out who you are, which she does by asking rather than guessing. The second is dinner, ideally at a counter where the noise and the heat do half the work. She eats properly, drinks moderately, and is entirely unbothered about how long anything takes.

The rest of the evening belongs to whoever booked it. She is happy walking Charlotte Street at midnight and equally happy to go straight back and close the door. What she is not is a clock watcher: the last hour with her feels the same as the first, unhurried, warm and attentive, and she tells you plainly when the time is nearly up rather than letting it surprise you.