At 170 cm Danielle takes up a room quietly rather than loudly. Her build is curvy and she dresses accordingly, in clean lines and single colours, usually with her long black hair left straight and loose. Her eyes are brown. Late twenties, and she carries the ease that tends to arrive with them: no fidgeting, no checking her reflection, no performance in the first five minutes or the last.

She speaks English and she is unusually good at the part of an evening most people find difficult, which is the beginning. Within ten minutes you will have forgotten you were nervous. She is curious about work, other people's especially, and she listens without interrupting. Away from bookings she swims, cooks properly, and spends more Sunday afternoons in the museums off Exhibition Road than she will admit to.

Kensington evenings with her usually start at Kitchen W8 on Abingdon Road, a small neighbourhood room with serious food and no theatre about it. She books early, eats well, and lets dinner run its length. She lives a short way south, in South Kensington, so she knows which of the hotels along the high street have a lobby worth sitting in and which are better skipped entirely. She also knows which kitchens on the high street stay open past ten, which matters more often than people expect.

She is back in London on 2 October and dates after that are being taken now. Background on W8 and the women who cover it is on the Kensington page. Tell the desk which night you want and the hotel, and you will be told plainly whether it is free.

Nothing has been written up under Danielle yet, which is usually what discretion looks like. A note goes on the board only when a client sends one in writing, she agrees to it, and the office has checked that it reads as a first name, a month and nothing private.