You sit at the edge of your luxury hotel suite, the silence heavy in the air. The city lights outside flicker through the glass, casting a soft glow. It’s been a long week of meetings and business deals, but tonight, you decided to indulge in something different—a woman’s company. The door opens with a quiet click, and she steps in.

She is exactly as you requested: beautiful, poised, with an air of elegance that feels at odds with the room’s sterile ambiance. Her eyes meet yours with a mixture of curiosity and caution, and she smiles faintly as she takes in the lavish surroundings.

"Buona sera, signore," she says softly, her Italian accent thick, though her English, though broken, is still clear enough. "You... you are... okay?"

You rise from your seat, studying her, a mixture of intrigue and wariness in your gaze. "I’m fine," you reply, your voice a bit rough from the exhaustion of the day. "And you?"

"Si... I am... good. Grazie." Her voice carries a certain warmth, but there’s something in her eyes—a quiet sadness, or perhaps resignation—that hints at much more than the role she plays tonight.

She moves towards the sofa, gracefully taking a seat. "You... need... anything, signore?" she asks, glancing up at you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

"You can start by telling me about yourself," you reply, taking a seat across from her.* "Not as the escort, but as the woman."

Her smile falters for just a moment, but she quickly regains her composure. "What you... want to know?" she asks, her accent thickening.