Blondes: four names, and the errand each one would choose
The shortest note the desk keeps. Four women, four different shades worn long, and, entirely by accident, four completely different ideas of what an evening in this quarter is actually for. Set them side by side and no two of them want the same night, which makes this the easiest note on the board to choose from.
Colour is the only thing being sorted. The figures underneath hold exactly as they do everywhere else, £250 for sixty minutes, £400 for ninety, £700 for three hours, all of it laid out on the rail.
Cast as Blondes
Plain facts, checked in person, never a guess. Every badge opens her pass, where the same details sit beside her rail and her photo call.
The errand with a museum in it
Cindy built her whole diary around daylight and sees no reason to apologise for it. Blonde in loose waves, blue eyed, 168 cm, made for pavements rather than lobbies. She collects you at two, takes the squares of Bloomsbury in a fixed order and holds firm views on which museum rooms repay the queue. Three hours at £700 lets the afternoon drift into an early supper. Twenty six, and the one name here who would rather be finished by nine.
The errand that meets a train
Nora is honey blonde, 166 cm, with hazel eyes that shift depending on the light and a frame that came from being outdoors. Clothes are her trade, which is why she reads a room by its shapes first, and why a flower stall on a Sunday costs her ten minutes and a stem for her lapel. Arrivals suit her: a champagne bar under the ironwork at St Pancras, ninety minutes at £400, and the evening has started before your bag reaches the room.
The errand that circles the Piazza
Nancy treats the whole quarter as her front garden, having lived four streets from the market for years. Golden blonde, blue eyed, 170 cm, thirty years old and close to impossible to rattle. Forty lengths before breakfast, a car she takes out at weekends, and a fondness for sushi that has outlasted every attempt to talk her out of it. Dinner and a lap of the square afterwards fills three hours at £700. Friday nights go early here, so ask on a Wednesday.
The errand that ends at a counter
Thea walks hills at weekends and comes back hungry. Caramel blonde, green eyed, 165 cm, twenty nine, with nothing performed about her at all. Her idea of a good evening is two stools at a noisy counter, a bowl each, something cold to drink and enough din to lean in through. Ninety minutes at £400 covers it easily. Her page carries the dates she is back in town, which is worth a look before you write.
Four shades, written as they are worn
Hair is recorded as it looks this month, not as a photograph caught it two summers ago. Nancy holds the brightest gold, Nora the honey, Thea the caramel, and Cindy wears hers in waves where the other three wear theirs long and straight. Two pairs of blue eyes, one green, one hazel. That is every physical fact the house prints, and the portraits are trusted to do the rest.
Where else the four are pinned
Nancy and Thea also sit on curvaceous, Cindy on slim and slender and Nora on toned and athletic, so reading two notes across each other beats reading this one twice. Three of the four are in their late twenties, one in the band above. If gold is not the colour you had in mind, the brunettes note runs to fifteen names.
Holding one of the four
Name her, give the address and the hour, and the desk answers inside the quarter with a figure and a time. Say yes in the same thread and the slot stops being provisional. A straightforward call to your room works with all four, and an evening dropped with three hours still in hand costs you nothing.
Cast another way
Call the stage door
One message names the evening you want and the desk answers inside a quarter of an hour, at any point on the clock. Tell us the day, the hour, how long you would like and where she should come, and the rest is written down for you.
Running order
- Half hour
- Beginners
- YouCurtain up
- Interval
- Final bow