Before We
Begin
Nothing here is meant to intimidate you. It's just how I keep this worth having — for both of us. Read it once, take it seriously, and we'll be fine.
Everyone gets verified. Yes, you too.
I need your real name, how you found me, and something that confirms who you are — a professional reference, a P411 handle, or employer verification. This isn't negotiable and it isn't personal. It's how I've stayed selective on my own terms for this long. The more straightforward you are in this step, the faster things move.
Write to me like a person, not a search engine.
Tell me a little about yourself. When you're thinking. What you're looking for in an evening together. Short, honest, and clean lands better than long, vague, and flattering every single time. I read everything, and I can usually tell within a paragraph whether this is going to work. Give me something real to work with.
I hold your appointment and don't fill it twice.
When you book with me, I block that time and turn everyone else away. If something changes, I ask for at least 24 hours notice. Life happens — I'm not rigid about it. But same-day cancellations without a word are remembered. Repeated last-minute cancellations mean we're done, warmly but conclusively.
Show up clean. This one shouldn't need to be said.
Shower. Brush your teeth. Wear something you feel good in. I put real care into how I show up for you — the scent, the detail, the effort — and I notice when that's returned. It always is with the right people, and the right people are the only ones I see.
Cash. Counted. Before anything else.
Not afterward. Not split up. Not through an app. Cash, in full, at the start. I count it in front of you with no ceremony about it — it takes thirty seconds and makes everything that follows cleaner. If this part bothers you, we're probably not the right match.
Don't ask me what I "do."
I'm a companion. What I offer is presence, time, and an evening worth having. I don't discuss specifics in writing — not over text, not over email, not anywhere. If you feel like you need a menu before you can decide, this probably isn't the right arrangement. The right people already understand what they're booking.
Arrive present. Not impaired.
A drink or two before you get here is perfectly human. Arriving drunk, high, or otherwise altered is not. If that's how you show up, I'll send you home — kindly, but right away. We won't reschedule. This isn't about being strict; it's about the kind of evening I'm actually interested in having.
Nothing gets documented. Full stop.
No photos. No video. No audio. Not my face, not my space, not anything that happens between us. My location is private — don't share it, don't reference it, don't mention it to anyone. This rule has no exceptions and no gray area. I take it as seriously as I take my own privacy, which is very.
Small things that matter more than they seem.
Ring once. Come alone. Be quiet in common areas — hallways, elevators, lobbies. Don't linger outside my door before or after. These aren't big asks, and they protect both of us. People who take discretion seriously do these things automatically. I notice when someone does, and I notice when they don't.
What happens between us stays between us.
Everything you share with me is mine to keep. I ask the same. Don't mention me online. Don't share my contact information. Don't connect my name to your real life in any way that could be found. I hold this seriously because I know what it costs when someone doesn't — and the people I see are worth protecting. You are too.
If you've read this far and it all sits right with you,
the next step is straightforward.