Thea, companion in Kensington
Green eyes, caramel hair, and a refusal to be hurried by anyone.
- Age
- 29
- Her district
- South Kensington
- An hour opens at
- £250
- Arrives
- Suites and private addresses
- Height
- 165 cm
- Hair
- long caramel blonde
- Eyes
- green
- Figure
- curvy
- Languages
- English
About Thea
Thea is difficult to rush, and she has made that a virtue rather than a habit. She is 165 cm, curvy and green eyed, her caramel blonde hair long, and she dresses in black almost always, with one detail in it that catches the light. She is twenty-nine. She has the settled quality of someone who stopped auditioning years ago and is simply pleased to be at dinner. She is curvy and dresses to it, and she has never owned a garment that was uncomfortable.
In English she is warm and measured. She is a listener by instinct and asks the question that the conversation had been avoiding, gently, usually at about the second hour. She swims, she keeps a garden on a roof that should not support one, and she is interested in food as craft rather than as theatre. By about the second course she has made a difficult week sound manageable, which is her particular gift.
In Kensington she chooses Clarke's on Kensington Church Street, a plain, serious room where the kitchen cooks what is good that week and writes it down afterwards. It is not a place for an occasion, which is exactly why she likes it, and it sits among the antique shops she walks past on the way. She lives in South Kensington, ten minutes down the road, and she knows the quiet way through the garden squares. She will ask what came in that morning and order whatever the answer is.
Early tables and long evenings suit her best. She is booked for dinners across Kensington and the streets towards the gardens. Send the day you have in mind and confirmation follows.
- 165 cm, curvy
- Long caramel blonde hair, green eyes
- Twenty-nine, English speaking
- Gardening, swimming, cooking as craft
- Lives in South Kensington
Booking her evening
Thea prefers an early table and a long evening after it. A day or two of notice is sensible on Kensington Church Street, where the room is small.
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 Thea
Thea's evening starts at seven and is in no danger of being over by ten. She likes an early table, a slow first course and the sense that nothing after it has been scheduled.
The room on Kensington Church Street is small and plain and very good, and she treats it with the respect she thinks a kitchen deserves: she reads the menu properly, asks one question and then stops interfering. Conversation with her deepens rather than widens. By the second hour she is asking about the thing you did not mean to mention. Afterwards there is the walk down the hill towards the gardens, and at the hotel she is affectionate, calm and in no hurry at all. The last hour is the one she is best at, and she never shortens it.
Thea, in her own words
Because the kitchen is fresh and the room is quiet, and because it leaves the whole evening in front of you.
Herbs, one stubborn fig and a great deal of optimism.
I am unhurried company. Serious happens later, if the evening wants it. Serious is something an evening earns around the second hour, not a mood I arrive already wearing. Until then I am content to let dinner take as long as dinner takes.
Where she sits
In the margin
The remarks card for Thea 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.