The X-rated trade secrets of a Bay Street call girl. She meets her clients at Le Germain or the Hazelton and gives them what they want. Her slim figure encased in a silk blouse, silver-speckled Chanel leather skirt, net stockings and black silk Manolos, she left her apartment and strolled through the downtown core to her favourite boutique hotel, Le Germain on Mercer Street.
Dark-haired, pretty and creamy-skinned, she could be Italian, French or Greek. She has a knockout body: medium height, trim, toned and teacup-breasted. Her teeth, which she reveals often in easy, winning smiles, were recently straightened and bleached.
Her wide-open daisy eyes suggest a fondness for cosmetic filler. But more striking than any of this is her effervescence. She is witty, insightful and self-revealing by turns. In other words, good value for money. In the minimalist cocktail lounge at Le Germain, she meets her client.
Ed is a regular. Ed is in a good mood, as usual. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek and a compliment on her appearance, which she happily accepts, having spent many hours primping, shaving and hot-rollering her hair into submission in anticipation of their date.
/https://www.thestar.com/content/dam/thestar/news/crime/2009/10/24/end_of_the_jarvis_stroll_sex_workers_think_its_safer_inside/end_of_the_jarvisstroll.jpeg "Teen girls in Toronto Whores")
They have cocktails—a martini for her and scotch for him—then take a taxi to Zucca Trattoria on Yonge Street. Ed orders the four-course tasting menu for two and a bottle of her favourite pinot grigio.
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