An hour is €180, two hours €360, three hours €540, and the eight-hour night is €1,250; two women together are €360 an hour. Those figures hold at four in the afternoon and at four in the morning, which is most of what needs saying about how we price the dark.
| 1 hour | €180 |
| 2 hours | €360 |
| 3 hours | €540 |
| Overnight (8h) | €1250 |
Inside each figure sits everything the hour needs: her journey to any address within the ring, the oils and towels she carries, the sheet if the gel work wants one, and her attention without a meter running on it. No line is added afterwards for the day of the week, the depth of the night, or the distance between her district and your door. A tariff that flinches at 3 a.m. is not a 24-hour tariff, and we would rather publish one that keeps its nerve.
Read down the column and you will find the arithmetic refuses to get clever. Two hours cost exactly twice one; three cost exactly three times. The single bend in the line is the overnight, where eight hours come to €1,250, less than eight separate hours, because a night booked whole is a different animal from a stack of hours, and it is priced as the animal it is. Hours past the third, short of a full night, are added at the same €180 apiece.
The pair column doubles cleanly: €360 for the hour, €720 for two, €1,080 for three. Two women are booked for four-hand work, for a couple wanting a therapist each, or for an evening that deserves an audience of two; a full night with a pair is quoted when you ask, since those nights vary too much for a printed number to be honest about them.
Money appears exactly once in the story, at the door, when she does. Cash is taken in any of the major currencies at that day's exchange, cards are taken, and so is crypto, say which when you book so she arrives ready. Nothing is paid in advance, nothing is held on a card, and no message thread of ours will ever ask you to transfer a cent before a woman is standing in front of you.