Dover Street escorts, W1S: members' clubs and the later hours off Piccadilly

The name belongs to Henry Jermyn, Baron Dover, one of the syndicate that built the street in the 1680s on land carved from the Clarendon House estate. Its houses were grand from the first, and several survive behind later fronts. The Arts Club, which counted Dickens among its early members, has kept its rooms at number 40 for well over a hundred years.

Today the street mixes galleries, a few serious restaurants and members' rooms, most of them without a sign. At the top, Hay Hill slopes away towards Berkeley Square. At the foot lie Piccadilly and the park. The whole length takes four minutes on foot, and late in the evening most of that walk is lit only by doorways.

Four hotels lie within five minutes, and our companions know each entrance. None has been asked for anything and none is connected to this house. They are simply where guests sleep.

The hotel at W1S 4BP is a minute away on Albemarle Street and keeps the calm of a private house after eleven. Round the corner, W1J 8LT has the busiest bar of the four and stays awake longest. On Half Moon Street, W1J 7BH is a run of joined Georgian houses, small and hushed once the day is done. The arcaded house at W1J 9BR is two minutes west along Piccadilly, the obvious choice when the night deserves a little ceremony.

From the foot of the street, Green Park station is 1 minute away, with Victoria, Jubilee and Piccadilly trains all three, which makes Dover Street the simplest address in the quarter for anyone arriving by Tube. Walk 7 minutes east for Piccadilly Circus and the Bakerloo line, or 9 minutes north for Bond Street, where the Elizabeth, Central and Jubilee lines call.

After the last train, none of this matters. Companions travel by car at any hour, and anywhere within Zones 1 and 2 the ride over is already inside the fee.

A late evening runs best when its detail is fixed before it starts. Tell Octavia whether you will be at a club, a hotel bar or already upstairs, and at what time you expect to be free. If the plan is to meet inside a club, check its rules on guests beforehand: some admit them freely, some only before a certain hour, and a few not at all. Where there is any doubt, your companion waits in a hotel bar close by, never at a door.

Confirmation is the same at two in the morning as at seven in the evening: your first name, then the hotel and room, or for a private address the street and door, given once. After midnight the roads may thin, but Octavia still quotes about an hour and lets the thread carry the true minute once your companion leaves. Her fee passes to her personally the moment she walks in, and is never mentioned again.

Members of the clubs, or their guests, who would like company for the hour after. Collectors leaving a gallery dinner who want somewhere quieter to go over what they saw. People living in the flats above the shops, which are more numerous than they look from the pavement. What they ask for is simple: someone who reads a room correctly, stays for exactly the time agreed, and does not need the evening explained to her.

Half past ten. A guest leaving dinner at his club writes from the pavement: two hours, somewhere quiet, a companion who likes a properly made cocktail. Octavia suggests Molly, who takes her bitters seriously and her evenings lightly. Confirmation follows at twenty to eleven.

Half past eleven. She meets him in the bar on Stratton Street, in red, with a leather jacket over her arm. One drink becomes two, and the conversation turns to old roadsters, on which she is an authority. At half past one they walk down to Piccadilly, still bright under the arcade at W1J 9BR, and say goodnight at the corner. Two hours, £1,100, and nothing to remember but the conversation.

Three of our companions live in Mayfair, the district this street belongs to. Luna is the natural choice for a late evening: indecision bores her, and she usually has somewhere in mind. Angelika is quick, dry and happiest in a small room with live jazz. Samanta brings a stillness that suits a club library at midnight.

Liana and Rosa come from Marylebone, and Molly, Jasmin and Tiffany from Soho. Living close earns none of them a shorter promise: from confirmation it is about an hour, longer when Regent Street locks up late.

Albemarle Street, the house's own street, runs parallel one block east. Green Park opens a minute away across Piccadilly, and the avenue itself carries on in both directions. Hay Hill climbs to Berkeley Square and the rest of Mayfair, while the clubs along Pall Mall are a five minute walk south. Each is served at the same rates.