INT. PENTHOUSE SUITE — NIGHT

The skyline of Toronto glows outside floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s raining faintly.

Naya Brooks (28) steps inside the penthouse. Elegant. Calm. The type of beauty that doesn’t try too hard—because it doesn’t have to.

She’s met many clients. But tonight’s booking feels… off-script.

On the table: a vinyl record playing low jazz. Two glasses of wine.
And a man facing the balcony with his back turned.

INT. SAME — CONTINUOUS

The man finally speaks, still without turning.

CLIENT
(softly)
Tell me something you’ve never told another client.

NAYA
(slight pause)
I used to be afraid of elevators. I’d take the stairs, even in heels.

He turns.

He’s not what she expected. Younger. Sad eyes. But trying to seem in control.

EXT. BALCONY — LATER

The two now stand outside under the misty skyline. No touching. Just presence.

CLIENT
I didn’t book you for sex. I booked you to forget someone.
(Not bitter. Just tired.)
I thought if I was with someone beautiful, the ghost wouldn’t follow me.

NAYA
(sincerely)
It’s never about replacing. It’s about remembering in a safer way.

They drink.

She doesn’t ask for more. Neither does he.

INT. PENTHOUSE SUITE — FINAL MOMENTS

He sits on the couch. She rests her head—not on his shoulder, but beside it. Close, but not clinging.

The city pulses in the window reflection.

CLIENT
Will I see you again?

NAYA
Not if you keep trying to forget her.
But if you ever want to remember yourself, maybe.

FADE TO BLACK

The door closes softly behind her.

Final Notes from the Director

Not every escort experience ends in passion or physicality. For Naya Brooks, this night became more about memory, presence, and quiet healing.

This is what makes her different—not what she offers, but what she withholds until it matters.