Bianka, companion in Knightsbridge

About Bianka

Bianka has the kind of warmth that makes a formal room feel less formal without lowering its standards. She is 165 cm and softly curved, and her long light brown hair carries sun-kissed ends that catch a low lamp. The eyes are hazel and very direct. She favours wrap dresses in good jersey, a camel coat through the colder months, and gold that she has plainly owned for years. Nothing she wears was bought for the occasion, which is rather the point of her.

She is talkative in the best sense: she asks, she remembers, and she returns to a subject an hour later with something considered to add. She has English alone and delivers it without any hurry at all. She holds firm opinions about tea, about punctuality, and about people who order for other people without asking first. Beneath the warmth there is a great deal of good sense, and an evening with her rarely needs steering.

She lives in Knightsbridge and hosts there more happily than anywhere else in London. She will propose Zuma, tucked into Raphael Street a short way from the museums, where a seat at the robata counter lets her watch the kitchen work while she talks. She orders a run of small dishes rather than a formal procession, asks what you dislike before she chooses anything, and takes her time over the last of the sake. Montpelier Street and the mews behind it make a pleasant twenty minutes on foot afterwards.

There is more about her corner of Knightsbridge on its own page, while what an hour or a whole night involves sits at rates. Tell booking what you have in mind and the desk takes it from there.

• 165 cm, curvy, warm without being loud
• Hazel eyes; light brown hair, sun-kissed at the ends
• Twenty three; fluent English and a real memory for detail
• Knightsbridge based, a short walk from the museums
• Small dishes, slow sake, the mews on the way back

Arranging her evening

A day's notice lets Delphine hold the counter seats Bianka actually wants rather than the ones that happen to be free. Three hours is her preferred length for a proper Knightsbridge dinner.

Her figures are the house figures, set out in full on the rates page, and the whole arrangement runs in one written exchange from the first line to the confirmation.

An evening with Bianka

Bianka arrives at the counter before you do, coat already handed over, and she will have decided which end of the robata is worth sitting at. She asks two questions before the menu is opened: what you have eaten today, and what you would rather never eat again. Everything after that is chosen around the answers.

The food comes in waves and she talks across all of it, returning to things you mentioned an hour earlier as though she had been holding them for you. Around ten she slows down properly. She likes the walk back through Montpelier Square best of all, when the houses are lit and nobody at all is about, and she will lengthen the route if nobody objects. What follows is left to you, without a word of pressure.