Your hotel, your hour: a companion at the door after the close

Most requests come from a short list of buildings. Canary Riverside Plaza sits on the Thames at Westferry Circus. The Marriott stands at the end of West India Quay, beside the old sugar warehouses. On Marsh Wall, the Hilton and the Novotel look at each other across South Quay, and on the Isle of Dogs the Britannia International faces Millwall Dock. The desk has no tie to any of them. They are simply lobbies she has walked through before, which means she knows where the lifts are and which entrance stays open after midnight.

Plenty of these visits happen in residential towers rather than hotels: the apartment blocks along Marsh Wall, the new buildings at Wood Wharf, the serviced flats near Crossrail Place. Most have a staffed desk and a lift that needs a fob. Tell Philippa how visitors are handled in your building. If the concierge rings up, she gives her first name and waits. If you would rather collect her from the lobby, say so, and she messages from the entrance instead of approaching the desk at all.

Her clothes are chosen for the building, not for attention. On the estate that means a tailored coat over something simple, shoes that manage the walk from the DLR, and nothing that turns heads in a lobby full of people coming back from late meetings. If you would like to eat downstairs first, mention it in your message and she dresses for the restaurant as well. At the door she introduces herself by her first name, and the first minutes pass the way they would with any welcome guest: a coat taken, a drink offered, the view from the window admired.

An hour at £250 suits the end of a heavy day: a drink poured from the minibar, the blinds half open on the lit towers, talk that never once touches the markets. Ninety minutes at £400 leaves room for supper sent up to the room. Two hours at £500 is where many regulars settle, because it allows a walk down to the water for a nightcap and back without anyone checking a watch. Every length counts from her arrival, and the rates page lists each rung.

Angelika starts at seven and needs about a quarter of an hour on the Elizabeth line from Mayfair; she is 172 cm and athletic, with long straight black hair. Michelle, 173 cm with dark brown hair worn long, answers within minutes on most evenings. Milena, 175 cm with glossy black hair, gives a fast yes or no and appreciates the same from you. Jasmin, petite at 160 cm, prefers a start after nine, and Stacy, the tallest of the five at 176 cm, is the easiest to book on the night itself. Four of the five also appear under statuesque.

Meetings overrun and flights slip. To move the start, message the same chat; with three hours of notice or more, nothing is owed. If the hotel moves you to another room, send the new number and she hears it before she goes up. Her grace period is 15 minutes; beyond it, the visit moves to a fresh slot instead of being squeezed into whatever time remains. The booking page has the script to copy.