Lingerie - my power over men
This article is part of a series. To read the first part, click on the following link: Who am I really?
The Drawers - My Geography of Desire
I have three dedicated drawers in my dresser, and the way I’ve organized them says a great deal about how I’ve structured this profession over time.
The first drawer is the one I open most often. Fine lace, light seams, colors that move in muted registers - the burgundy I’ve loved since my first professional night, the deep matte black that never ages, ivory for the men who like something both understated and unsettling. These pieces share a common quality: they suggest more than they reveal. They ask to be looked at slowly, and the men who know how to look at them are usually the ones who know how to do many other things well.
The second drawer is for a different kind of evening and a different kind of man. Satin, visible seams, waist cinchers, straps that shape the body in a more theatrical way. For clients who appreciate a constructed aesthetic, who have a precise vision of femininity and find something intensely erotic in that vision. Those men - and they are more numerous than one might think - want a staging. Not vulgarity. Precision. Lingerie that says I thought about them, that I chose for them, that this evening was prepared with care.
The third drawer, I open rarely. For particular evenings, requests that were clearly expressed beforehand, men who know exactly what they want and had the intelligence to say it. What it contains, I won’t describe in detail - not out of modesty, but because some things lose their effectiveness when told out of context. Let’s simply say that this drawer exists, and when I open it, I know exactly why.
The Choice - An Intuition That Is Almost Never Wrong
I’m sometimes asked how I decide. The honest answer is that it’s a combination of what I know about the man and what I want to feel myself that evening. Those two parameters carry roughly equal weight, which can be surprising. But lingerie isn’t only for him - it’s also for me, for the state I want to enter, for the version of Sofia I want to be during those few hours.
When I wear something from the first drawer, I know the evening will be slow, nuanced, built on subtlety. When it’s the second, I anticipate something more direct, more assertive. The body adjusts to what it wears - that’s something I learned over time and that feels obvious once you understand it. The way you walk, the way you hold yourself, the way you settle into a chair changes depending on what’s under the dress. Not in a performed way. In an organic way.
I rarely get that choice wrong. When it happens - when I arrive somewhere and realize I misread the situation - it’s usually because the man doesn’t match what he had suggested beforehand. It’s not a lingerie problem. It’s a communication problem.
The Brands - What I Wear and Why
I won’t make an exhaustive list because that’s not the point. But I will say this: I own pieces from several different houses, and what I look for in each is precise.
For fine lace, I always return to French and Italian houses that work with light materials and finishes that last over time. Quality lingerie reveals itself in the way it ages - a good piece worn twenty times still has presence, which isn’t true of everything. I have sets I’ve owned for three years that are still in my regular rotation.
For more structured pieces, I’ve turned to more discreet designers - brands you won’t find in major retail chains, which I discovered through recommendations or long searches. There’s something about wearing something the man in front of you has probably never seen on anyone else. A singularity that becomes part of the experience.
At this level, price isn’t a luxury. It’s an investment in something that is, in the most direct sense, part of my professional toolkit. I don’t cut corners there, just as I don’t cut corners on body care or on a good pair of heels.
The Undressing - The Art of Making It Last
The moment of undressing is something I’ve worked on consciously, and I don’t hide it. Not in a choreographed way - nothing is more counterproductive than an over-prepared striptease that smells of repetition. But with an awareness of rhythm, of what to reveal and when, of how anticipation is built in stages.
The general rule: never undress completely all at once. Let each revelation have its effect before moving on to the next. The dress falls but the lingerie remains. The straps slide slightly but the bra still holds. It’s not manipulation - it’s storytelling. Desire loves stories that have rhythm, pauses, moments when you hold your breath.
What I observe in those moments is the way men look. Some look at the body - which is normal and expected. But the best ones look at the lingerie itself, as if they understand it’s there for a reason, that it was chosen, that there was intention behind it. Those men deserve time taken with them.
The Client Who Broke Before the End
There is one evening that illustrates better than any theory what I’m talking about.
It was a client I was seeing for the second time - mid-forties, in finance like many in Geneva, rather reserved, not demonstrative. The first time had gone well but without any particular spark. That evening, I had chosen a set from the second drawer - ivory satin, visible black seams, something more structured than my usual choice with him. An intuition.
We had dinner, we went upstairs. When I began to undo the buttons of my dress - slowly, back turned to him at first, then turning around - I heard something I hadn’t anticipated. A very short sound, almost involuntary, something between a breath and something else. I turned fully toward him.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands flat on his thighs, looking at me with an expression I had never seen on his face. Something open, almost unsettled. The dress had not yet fallen.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I wasn’t expecting that."
I asked him what he hadn’t been expecting. He took a few seconds before answering. "To want you this much."
That sentence, spoken by someone reserved who never says anything unnecessary, was worth every compliment I had received until then. And the evening that followed unfolded in a completely different register than the first time - as if something had unlocked, as if that ivory satin had found a key neither he nor I knew how to look for.
That’s what lingerie does when it’s right. It doesn’t only reveal a body. It reveals something in the other person.
What Men Don’t Know They’re Looking At
Most men would be unable to name precisely what they’re looking at when a woman undresses in front of them. They see the body, they see the fabric, they see the color. But what they feel - that difference between ordinary lingerie and a piece chosen with intention - they perceive it without being able to explain it.
That’s exactly what interests me. Not knowledge, but sensation. Not conscious recognition, but the physical effect of something well done. Lingerie operates beneath the level of language - it speaks directly to the other person’s body, short-circuits the intellect, and creates something immediate and irrational.
No other element of an evening does that as effectively.
That’s why I open that drawer with such care. Because what I take from it will be part of the evening just as surely as anything that will be said or done. And because the best evenings often begin there - in that silent choice, made alone, two hours before he arrives.
Sofia
Sofia, 27 — Based in Geneva, she fully embraces her life as a luxury escort and speaks about it openly.
Through her stories, she shares her beginnings, her experiences with an international clientele, the advantages of the job (luxury, freedom), but also the more complex realities. She writes in a simple, honest way about what truly happens behind the doors of Swiss hotels.
This text was originally written in French. It was then translated to be readable in your language.
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