Bianka, companion in Knightsbridge
Soft dark cloth, one good bracelet, and a memory for small things.
- Age
- 23
- Her district
- Knightsbridge
- An hour opens at
- £250
- Arrives
- Suites and private addresses
- Height
- 165 cm
- Hair
- long, light brown with sun-kissed ends
- Eyes
- hazel
- Figure
- curvy
- Languages
- English
About Bianka
Bianka is easy company, which is harder to be than it sounds. She stands 165 cm and is curvy, and she dresses to that rather than against it: soft dark cloth, one good bracelet, nothing borrowed from a magazine. Her hair is long and light brown and sun-kissed at the ends, as though it kept part of last summer. Her eyes are hazel. In a bright, busy room she is the person nobody feels obliged to perform for.
She is twenty-three and lives in Knightsbridge. She has English and pitches it lower than most rooms do, so people lean in. She remembers small things: how you take coffee, the name of the colleague you were dreading, what you said an hour earlier. Food is her private subject. She cooks Italian at home, seriously, and will discuss it if you ask twice. She is unhurried with a menu, quick with people, and she has never once made a guest feel managed.
For dinner close to home she suggests Zuma on Raphael Street, a few minutes from the Knightsbridge crossing. The room is warm and full, the plates arrive in their own order rather than in courses, and a conversation survives all of it comfortably. Bianka orders for the table without taking it over, shares everything, and knows when a long dinner has become long enough. A taxi back to your hotel takes minutes from the door. If the evening is a long one she will suggest a walk between courses, which sounds eccentric and works.
Say what kind of evening it is and she will see to the rest. Her work is in Knightsbridge and the districts beside it, hotels and private residences alike. A short note naming your dates is all that starts it.
- 165 cm, curvy
- Light brown hair, long and sun-kissed at the ends, hazel eyes
- Twenty-three, English speaking
- Italian cooking, older clothes, long dinners
- Lives in Knightsbridge
Booking her evening
Dinner suits her best with a few hours of notice, so a table can be held. Say where you are staying and she will shape the evening around it.
Her figures are the house figures, printed in full on the rates page, and the whole arrangement runs in one thread from the first line to the confirmation.
Also on this wall
An evening with Bianka
Bianka's evening is built around one table and the hour that comes before it. She prefers to meet where you are staying, with something cold and bitter in the glass, and to hear how the day actually went before anybody opens a menu.
Dinner on Raphael Street is loud in the good way. She is unbothered by noise and very good in it, leaning in, asking the next question, letting the plates decide the pace. Afterwards she would rather walk the few hundred yards past the shuttered shop windows than take a taxi, if the shoes permit. Back at the hotel she is at ease with quiet and does not fill a pause simply because it is there. She has been known to leave a recipe written on hotel paper, with instructions.
Bianka, in her own words
Something with four ingredients. There is nowhere to hide in a simple plate, which is the point of it. Four things, cooked properly, and a table that does not need a third course to hold anybody's attention for an evening.
Not at all. A full room means nobody is listening to us, which is a kind of privacy.
Dark, soft, and cut properly. I would rather be remembered than looked at.
Where she sits
In the margin
The remarks card for Bianka is still blank, which is usually what discretion looks like. A note appears here only when a guest writes one, she agrees to it, and the house has checked that it reads as a first name, a month and nothing private.