A girl sits in front her computer, tapping the keys methodically. She types a line, a few words, a whole sentence— purses her lips and then backspaces, one letter at a time.
My name is Lana and I’m an independent escort.
I’m Lana- the girl of your dreams. You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?
Lana is my name, stealing hearts is my game.
She arches her back lazily and tosses her hair absentmindedly through her fingers. Today her hair is her natural length— medium, to her shoulders, styled chic and simple, slightly longer in the front. The ends curve slightly inward. Sometimes she wears extensions. On those days she is sexy, sultry Lana— she’ll wear her hair long, curl it, and tease the roots. To say she cleans up well would imply that she sometimes she is unkept— which is not the case. Put simply, she prides herself in being versatile— able to turn heads at any occasion, whether it be in jeans and a t-shirt or a little black dress and Jimmy Choos.
A girl shakes off tangential thoughts and makes her way back to the task at hand. She wants her reader to know that she is a visceral intellectual. She is a glutton for everything life as to offer. She appreciates it all— intimacy, experiences, food, good conversation— even if it is fleeting. After all, everything in life is. She is comfortable with herself: she is real. She has chosen the life of a hedonic apparition, a clandestine companion because she enjoys building physical and emotional connections. People often tell her that they feel like they can tell her anything, that they feel like they’ve known her for years, even if they’ve only just met. Lana is grateful for being able to share those private moments.
She furrows her eyebrows as she struggles to piece together the right words. Plumes of frustration escape her lips and she closes her MacBook.