The small sign on the door said Personal Service Bureau. Why Bureau? James thought. He knocked twice, as instructed. The tall woman who opened the door was disappointingly dressed, in jeans and a t-shirt, but she led him through another door into a shadowy reception area manned by a slim blond, wearing a revealing black mini-dress. Smiling, she asked him to sign in and register his credit card, as the other woman took his coat. The blond woman's eyes danced mischievously up at him from below heavily mascaraed lashes. James could feel his pleasure at her ample cleavage stirring in his trousers. She asked him whether he wanted a tour first, before choosing his service. He agreed and allowed himself to be led down a dim corridor, where three special rooms were waiting.
The advert had said that Special Tastes were catered for. The first room held an assortment of toys, different sized whips and paddles and a couch covered in a velvet throw. There were large ornate mirrors on each wall, presumably so one could watch oneself being punished in style. A tall, leggy brunette, wearing a cat mask, rubber stockings and the tiniest of dresses perched high on a stool overlooking the scene. She said nothing, but her dark red lips pouted sullenly.
The next room was altogether more soothing. Mobiles hung from the ceiling, calming music played and there was an adult sized cot and a large padded changing mat on the floor. A shelf held bottles of talc, large dummies, babies bottles and clean toweling nappies, folded neatly. The keeper of this room was about forty with a full bust and was dressed in a full blue apron over a white nanny style dress.
