Angelika, first class company out of Amsterdam Centrum

Nine in the evening, a corner table at a jazz club off the Reguliersdwarsstraat, and Angelika is turning her glass slowly while the trio settles into a second set. She does not talk over the music. When the band breaks she leans in, asks what you made of the piano player, and the conversation goes somewhere neither of you had planned when you booked the table.

That is the shape of a night with her. At 24 she carries an unusual amount of composure, the kind that lets a room arrange itself around her without any visible effort. She stands 172 centimetres tall, with long straight black hair, brown eyes and an athletic build she keeps through tennis rather than through counting anything. Her own phrase for how she dresses is relaxed Mediterranean glamour, which in practice means linen, gold, good shoes and nothing that shouts across a lobby.

She departs from Amsterdam Centrum, so a canal ring hotel is a short walk for her and a short wait for you. Travellers are often caught off guard by how playful she becomes once the first drink is finished, teasing gently, entirely confident, and honestly curious about where your last flight came from and where the next one is taking you.

Contemporary art is the subject that keeps her going past midnight. Give her a free afternoon in your itinerary and she will steer you toward the Stedelijk, then argue with you about half of it over dinner. Margo has the same appetite for galleries, which is useful to know if you are filling two evenings rather than one.

Angelika reads best when a booking is allowed to breathe, so choose the long dinner over the quick hour and let the night find its own arrival time. She starts from €180 per hour, and the fare card sets out how the longer engagements work.

Start in the lobby of your own hotel, because Angelika would rather walk in and find you than meet somewhere neutral. Out of Amsterdam Centrum that is usually a bridge or two and nothing more. Dinner comes first and it wants to be long, somewhere with linen and low light and a waiter who has no interest in turning the table, because she is at her most interesting once the plates have gone and the talk has found its own direction.

Then music. A jazz club off one of the small streets, a corner table, a second set that runs well past midnight. She listens properly, does not talk over the band, and in the break asks whether the piano player was showing off. If there is a free afternoon left anywhere in your itinerary, she will spend it walking you round the Stedelijk and disagreeing with you about half of it.