Reva

I am Reva, 27, and if you book me in BKC I arrive like the meeting ran long. Black dress, hair half down by the time I reach your floor, heels I can kick off the second the door shuts. I do not start with a speech. I look at you, I take the drink if you poured one, and I let you watch the dress sit where it sits. Most men go quiet there. That is fine. I like the first few minutes slow, your hand on my waist, my mouth close enough that you can feel it before you get it.

Tell me what you want before I leave my flat. A short hour. Two. Me on your lap still dressed, then not. I follow that. I do not like a new list at the door. I do like being wanted plainly. BKC is where I come. Hotel in your name, room ready, not a lobby. I do not host, and I will not cross the city for one rushed hour. Evenings suit me. I stay for the time you booked, and I do not pretend it is a love story.

Escorts who perform from the first minute bore me. I would rather be the woman you are already hard for when I walk in. If that is the night, write the hotel and the time. I will tell you if I can come.