What’s your name?” The woman had slicked back blonde hair, thin lips and heavy eyebrows that gave her a rather sinister appearance.“Meakin, Ma�...am,” I responded.“God, you’re plain though! And grubby!” She reached forward and pushed me back against the wall. Shocked, I dropped the coal scuttle with a clatter and tried to break away from her grip. “And these,” she reached for the padding that filled the bra cups of my corselette, “are very unconvincing.” Undeterred by my struggles, she leant in. “A great many, I hope,” came her response with a piece of salmon tucked in her cheek. “Dinner is early so we have plenty of time, may I suggest that we take it real slow?” I said with and air of formality. She said she likes slow. I pointed out, judging from the animalist urges displayed only moments earlier, that slow might not be possible unless she allowed me total control. “Could you be trusted with such control?” she wondered. “To create pleasure… implicitly,” I said. She vowed to not. More

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