Myra, 27

I come up still in the blouse, trousers fitted over hips that fill your hands, chest heavy enough that the button strains when I breathe near you. Dark hair over one shoulder. I do not want a drink and a speech. I want your mouth on mine at the door, slow, until you feel how warm I already am.

Then you undo me. Button by button, your knuckles on my skin, until the blouse is open and you can see what the desk was hiding. I like being laid back half dressed, your mouth between my breasts, then lower, while I keep a hand in your hair. A call girl who spends her day in meetings goes quiet when that starts, then not quiet at all.

Nagpur call girls who mean it send the hotel and wait for the knock. Wardha Road or Ramdaspeth, one man, the hour you asked for. Tell me the room. I will tell you how soon I am in the lift, already thinking about your hands.