Lea, companion in Belgravia
Auburn, small, and better in a room of six than a room of sixty.
- Age
- 23
- Her district
- Belgravia
- An hour opens at
- £250
- Arrives
- Suites and private addresses
- Height
- 161 cm
- Hair
- long, wavy auburn
- Eyes
- hazel
- Figure
- petite
- Languages
- English
About Lea
Lea does not fill a room, she settles it. She is 161 cm, petite and hazel eyed, and her auburn hair is long and wavy without having been asked to be. She dresses in soft colours and good shoes, and she is the sort of guest a restaurant seats without being asked twice. She is neat rather than showy, and she understands the difference. She looks expensive in clothes that are simply well chosen.
She is twenty-three. Her English is kind, which is not the same thing as careless. Her humour is quick and slightly mischievous, and it arrives once she has decided you will enjoy it. She likes water, cold or warm, and swims whenever she is near any. She reads slowly and finishes everything she starts, including conversations. She is small in a room and considerable in a conversation, which guests work out quickly.
Belgravia is home and she treats it as a village, which is roughly how it behaves after eight. Dinner is often at The Star Tavern on Belgrave Mews West, up the cobbles and behind the stucco, a pub with a fire and an upstairs room and no curiosity whatsoever about who anyone is. Lea takes the corner by the window, orders without fuss and keeps the table for the evening. Afterwards the square is two minutes away and the walk back is lit and empty. She knows the two or three houses on the way with the curtains never drawn, and she will point them out.
Two hours is her sensible minimum. She visits hotels and private addresses across Belgravia and Eaton Square. Describe the evening you want in a line or two and her hours follow by return.
- 161 cm, petite
- Long wavy auburn hair, hazel eyes
- Twenty-three, English speaking
- Swimming, slow reading, small rooms
- Lives in Belgravia
Booking her evening
Lea prefers evenings of two hours or more so that dinner is not rushed. A mews table behind Belgrave Square is easier with a day's notice.
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 Lea
Lea's evenings are small by preference. A drink where you are staying, one that takes half an hour rather than ten minutes, and a conversation that has properly begun before either of you moves.
Dinner in the mews is a village dinner in the middle of London: a familiar room, unhurried service, nobody performing at the next table. She is warm here, and funnier than the first hour suggests. Afterwards she likes the short walk through the white streets, quiet enough at that hour to hear your own footsteps. Back at the hotel she is unhurried and entirely present, and she leaves at the time that was agreed, having said a proper goodnight rather than an efficient one. She is good at goodnights, which is a smaller skill than it sounds and a rarer one.
Lea, in her own words
Six people, at most. Past that I am watching a play rather than being at a dinner.
Anywhere heated and half empty. I am brave about cold water only in August.
Long enough that the first hour is not the whole of it. Two is the sensible minimum. The first hour is spent arriving, in every sense. Two lets the evening settle into something neither of us is watching the clock through.
Where she sits
In the margin
The remarks card for Lea 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.