Marina

Marina swims the Zuiderbad before the city wakes, and the water runs through her technique: long strokes, no edges. Twenty-eight, of the museum quarter.

Ask what her sessions feel like and guests reach for water metaphors unprompted: currents, tides, being carried. The swimmer's discipline shows in her shoulders and in her strokes, which run longer and smoother than anyone else's on the roster, one movement dissolving into the next with no detectable joint between them. An hour under her hands has no corners at all. She is twenty-eight, dark-haired, quartered in Oud-Zuid near the pool she treats as church. Sensual and nuru sessions suit her fluency literally and figuratively. English is her single language, calm and low. Book the second hour if you can; continuity, her speciality, compounds.

Marina decides which bookings she takes and may decline any of them; she sets the limits for what a session includes, says what they are, and may end a visit at any point, as the terms set out.