Excerpt from Fille de Joie, Grove Press, 1965:
Fille de joie, courtesan, sporting girl, call girl, lady of the night, girl friday - delightful euphemisms…To some, the fille de joie is mysterious, remote, and incredibly sinful; desirable and corrupt, magnetic and repellent.
In a side street sigil away from happy hour strollers, a suitor had the cheek to insist ce cinnamon swirl calypso could “catch pneumonia in her left titty if she didn’t put her coat back on”. Accurate, he was. Alas, it was this same teller of fortunes who lost his wits shortly after catching sight of her lacy calzón chino…
/ Moral of the story? Book for a good time and then consider a visit to your therapist. /
I have a grin all too devilish to forget, love. I’m decent-looking and oh-so-humble. A newly polished graduate who has practised the subtle art of the cheeky miniskirt tease. “Worldly,” as per some of my fonder Tinder compliments.
What lives have I lived? Let’s save that for proper introductions. For my long-time admirers, my answer may still rub you the right way…not counting thumbs, I think I have 8 lives left.
My time with you will be real. A memorable upscale treat, no less, and zest with mutual affection and respect. I know my way around a funny bone or two. I’m a pun-lovin’, long-limbed lynx with warm buns and delightful perks at surface level. Yourself?
Xo,
Léa Rose
/layˈa ruse/.
Scotch*. (How does one emphasise the period yet not let it be her end-all?)
[*] Burning peat is one of my main fuel sources.
All. I only stress that I like seasoning in my food.
Dinner. Let us, as they say, slurp on them ‘dumb thicc’ dumpling juices.
Musicals/Theatre/Concerts/Raves. If you know, you know.
Spa date. Underrated date activity, in my opinion. My range in moans is rather impressive.
Netflix and chilling homemade ice-cream. Typically followed by a Dutch Baby powdered in sugar. I’ll leave you free rein over naming our love-child.
The farmer’s market this Saturday. I’ve apparently hit peak pretentious snack lord reputation. Identify me in Pusha T’s ‘Sociopath’. Let’s pick up fresh Camembert and that sweet honeycomb drip in preparation of this charcuterie board I’ve been day-drooling over.
Game of badminton. If you didn’t bring your racket, fear not — I’m packing for the two of us.
Airport getaway. When I’m not skinny dipping in your mind, I like to douse the passport in stamps and visas. Consider this my request for a little seawater, untethered from the dexscreener.
Sprinting to the end of the hotel hall with you.
On the record?
Gift giving is my métier. My wishlist is here if you need her.
Dress Size: 2, XS
Top Size: 0-2, XS
Cup Size: 32A
Bottom Size: 2, XS.
Shoe Size: 10 US, 41 EU
Digital gift cards can be emailed to learosejoie@protonmail.ch — think Kiki de Montparnasse, Saks Fifth Ave, or Uber. More enjoyable experiences can be animated and exchanged in person.
Critical to avoiding unnecessary back-and-forth.
I require your name, email address, and either 1) two recent, independent references from providers who I may directly contact; 2) both your LinkedIn profile and a scanned, unaltered photo of your government- or work-issued ID; or 3) an email with subject line “Contact Info” from your official and personal work email to an unpublished Gmail address with a male alias, which can be requested when booking.
Non-disclosure agreements (NDAs), where reasonable, must be sent with at least twenty-four hours notice prior to our date for me to read through and review the document. See more under my bookings section.
Offered at 4- or 5-star hotels as their do-not-disturb signs are both adorably flimsy and yet serve their function well. Depending on your location, a travel fee will apply.
Go ahead and hate the player, not the game. We out here getting published (lest we perish). In the interim though, it’s only apropos you should get to enjoy all AMA-type banter through Curious Cat.
