I remember smoothing out my dress that evening – that little black dress that hugged my body gently. I looked in the mirror one last time: the soft fabric, the quiet elegance, the skin glowing warmly beneath. I had been preparing for this date for days. And although professionalism was part of it, there was something else, a secret excitement that I couldn’t quite shake off.
The client
He is younger. Significantly younger than most. And he became rich with a currency that is controlled by neither a bank nor a state. His messages had something playful and immediate about them. Something that got under your skin. The anticipation is joined by another, genuine excitement: this is my debut in Zurich – a city I have a connection to and know well, but which I am rediscovering as a former Berliner by choice. I feel the desire to experience the city, combined with the desire for the adventure of my date – for him and for our sensuality, which is to find its home in this city.
Rituals
Before leaving the house, I start a quiet ritual that puts me in the right mood – physically, mentally, sensually. In the lingering warmth of the shower, I apply invisible body cream, which will later blend with my perfume, but remains there like a promise of the intimacy we seek. I sit on the edge of the bed, stretch out one leg and slowly roll the stocking up. This moment is not for the client. It is for me. For the feeling of elegance, of control, of the wafer-thin fabric that lies cool against my skin. Stockings are not an item of clothing — they are a state of being. When the fabric fits, something changes in my posture: my legs become longer, my gait softer, my self-confidence a few degrees warmer. I choose a dress that feels like a flowing glance. Tight enough to outline the lines of my body — light enough to breathe with me.
Place to be
I knew which restaurant he wanted. This one restaurant, the perfect place. A place for international and national celebrities, long-established Zurich residents and nostalgics. Historic, but lively. Bourgeois, but elegant. This place claims to be socially diverse – and yet it repeatedly fails to make the cut for escort dates: the risk of social overlap is simply too great. Zurich is small, its circles are tight, and discretion is the first requirement of my work. The position of a restaurant on the socio-economic map is always crucial: who meets there? What codes are spoken there? Will the clientele recognise my client – and me? A place that is too exclusive signals distance – but can also destroy the necessary discretion and space for intimacy. A place that is too ordinary carries the risk of overlapping with acquaintances or social networks. But today I’m taking the risk. For him. And for me. My adventure in my new, old city.
Near Bellevueplatz, I get out of the taxi and open the heavy wooden door of the Kronenhalle. The air is filled with the smell of roast gravy and floor polish. The lighting is pleasant and subtle, the room filled with discreet whispers, the tablecloths white and starched, and pictures on the walls (Giacometti, Chagall), old and well-behaved like regular guests.
Then, I see him.
The encounter
He is already standing at the table, his shoulders straight, his gaze searching. When he sees me, something changes in his face – his pupils dilate ever so slightly, he takes an involuntary breath. This is how intimacy begins. Not with touch. But with precisely this moment.
We sit down at a small table in the middle of the room. Too visible, too exposed – but at the same time all to ourselves. The light is warm, his knee brushes mine, and I feel the energy between us like a thin thread of electricity connecting us.
But then it happens. He leans forward, about to say something, when his gaze suddenly freezes. His body tenses as if someone had pulled a string too tight.
‘Oh no,’ he murmurs. ‘I know someone here.’
I follow his gaze. Two tables away sits a middle-aged man with a woman drinking champagne. The man waves. My client smiles back painfully, the smile too quick, too bright. In moments like these, you feel the power that spaces can have. Suddenly, the restaurant is no longer a backdrop – it’s a player. And a dangerous one at that.
He is already standing at the table, his shoulders straight, his gaze searching. When he sees me, something changes in his face – his pupils dilate ever so slightly, he takes an involuntary breath. This is how intimacy begins. Not with touch. But with precisely this moment.
We sit down at a small table in the middle of the room. Too visible, too exposed – but at the same time all to ourselves. The light is warm, his knee brushes mine, and I feel the energy between us like a thin thread of electricity connecting us.
But then it happens. He leans forward, about to say something, when his gaze suddenly freezes. His body tenses as if someone had pulled a string too tight.
‘Oh no,’ he murmurs. ‘I know someone here.’
I place my hand – calmly, unobtrusively – on his forearm. His skin is warm, and the tension vibrates beneath it. ‘Breathe,’ I whisper. He does. Slowly. His gaze meets mine, and there is a trust there that is much more intimate than any touch. The situation forces us to be extremely discreet – and that is precisely what makes every little contact electric. Our knees touch under the table, as if it were an accidental coincidence that neither of us wants to undo. This brief, deep hold – this promise: we will stay with each other. Despite of it all.
Séparée
The next time the waitress walks by, I ask her in a calm voice, ‘Could we perhaps have a table that’s a little more secluded? It’s… a business conversation.’ Business – a magic word in Zurich.
She nods immediately, almost relieved, and leads us to a corner behind a pillar, half hidden by a heavy screen. The perfect blend of intimacy and plausibility.
His hand relaxes. His shoulders drop. And the spark between us takes on a different quality in this new, more private setting; it becomes more intense, warmer, more relaxed. We have mastered the social hurdles in Zurich’s finest restaurant with flying colours, and this was only the beginning of a wonderful evening.