Roxi, companion in Green Park

About Roxi

Black hair down to the middle of her back, brown eyes and a very level gaze: Roxi makes an impression before she has said anything, and she is well aware of it. At 168 cm and curvy, she dresses to be looked at without ever appearing to try, usually in something long, dark and entirely plain. Her jewellery is small and her heels are high and she walks well in them, which is rarer than the shoe shops admit.

At twenty three she is more composed than the age suggests. She speaks English and is economical with it, which some people mistake for shyness for about ten minutes. She likes things made properly, particularly drinks, and she has a good memory for who makes them well. She is quick to laugh once she has decided she likes you and she does not pretend otherwise beforehand.

Her Green Park evening begins at Dukes Bar on St James's Place, in the corner of that small panelled room where the trolley comes to the table and the drink is made in front of you. She takes one, slowly, and never two. Pimlico is home, ten minutes by cab. Afterwards she likes the walk up through the passage into Green Park itself, where the paths are lit and the whole of Piccadilly is on the other side of the trees.

Her corner of Green Park is described on a page of its own, the lengths shown at rates. A note carrying your date goes straight through booking to Delphine.

• 168 cm, curvy, long black hair worn loose
• Brown eyes and a very level gaze
• Twenty three; economical English, quick to laugh
• Pimlico based, ten minutes from St James's
• One properly made drink, then the park in the dark

Arranging her evening

Roxi's diary is closed for the moment and Delphine is taking dates for her return rather than for this week. When it reopens, evenings from eight are her usual shape.

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 Roxi

The room is small enough that arriving is an event, and she handles it without appearing to notice. Roxi sits with her back to the panelling and watches the trolley being wheeled over, and she has firm views about the order in which things should be done. She says little for the first fifteen minutes and a great deal after them.

One drink, taken slowly, is the whole of that stage of the evening, and she is strict about it. Dinner comes afterwards, somewhere on St James's or Jermyn Street, and by then she is warm and funny and asking better questions than she was at the start. The park at the end is her idea. What happens after the park is entirely yours, and she has no expectation about it.