The Piano in Suite 903

By Zahra Elmi

I knew he was different the moment I heard Debussy playing behind the door.
Not a playlist.
A real piano.

People say I’m intuitive. Maybe I am.
But I think I’ve just met enough people who lie for a living.

I walked in, heels softened on velvet carpet.
He didn’t turn around—just kept playing.
No introductions. No question like “So, are you Zahra?”

Only music.
And silence.

There was no urgency in his movements, only longing.
Like the keys held everything he couldn’t say.

And I just stood there.
Watching him lose himself in every note.
No transaction yet.
No script.

I wondered why he booked me.

Was I supposed to be a reward after the performance?
A metaphor? A muse?

But then he stopped playing, mid-piece.
Looked at me, eyes heavy—not tired, but… exposed.

“Can you just sit near the piano?”
“I play better when someone listens without judgment.”

So I sat.
Close enough to feel the vibrations.
Far enough to be a stranger still.

He played for an hour.
Every piece like a chapter from a life he didn’t talk about.

I didn’t speak.
Didn’t flirt.
Didn’t lean in or play coy.

Just… listened.
And that night, it felt like the most intimate thing I’d ever done.

At the end, he turned the bench slightly and asked:

“Do you think broken people can make beautiful things?”

I answered:

“I think they’re the only ones who ever do.”

He walked me to the door.
No kiss. No cash exchanged in front of me—he had already taken care of it in advance.
Only a whispered thank you.

And as I waited for the elevator,
I realized:
Sometimes being an escort isn’t about presence.
It’s about witnessing.

Who Is Zahra Elmi?
Not just a Toronto escort.
A listener. A mirror. A companion for those who speak in music and silence, not words.

In this world of noise, she offers something rare:
Quiet understanding.