A false booking is one never meant to be real: an invented name, borrowed details, a prank, or a door nobody intended to open. Each is recorded and reported.
Much of the city is asleep when these bookings travel. A woman steps out of a taxi at three in the morning, walks into a hotel she has never seen, and rides a lift to a stranger's floor. Everything about that journey depends on the booking being genuine. A false booking is the one that was not.
A reservation placed under a false name. Contact details that belong to somebody else, or to nobody. A prank sent for a laugh from a stag weekend. A confirmed address where whoever booked never meant to answer the knock. None of these is treated as a cancellation, and none is filed away as a misunderstanding.
The house keeps the record. Where it is appropriate, the matter is reported to the relevant authorities. The names, numbers and other identifiers used are shared with other reputable houses in Amsterdam, so their therapists recognise them before anyone sets out on their behalf. The same details stay on file here, and any later request carrying them is read with that history attached.
Nothing whatsoever. Book under your own name, be at the address you gave, open the door, and this entry never touches you. A client who simply changed plans has made a cancellation, not a false booking, and that is handled under cancellation and refunds instead.
Forty-five women go alone, late, into rooms they do not know, on the strength of a message. A house that let invented names pass without consequence would be asking them to carry that risk on its behalf. Stating the rule plainly costs genuine clients nothing and makes the people it is aimed at think twice. The cancellation policy sets it out alongside the rest of the terms.