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+1 more photos
Her Story
Eight-forty at night and the building has gone quiet — the heating ticking like a slow metronome, the corridor lamp buzzing, my last patient's scent of cigarettes and rain still trapped in the wool of my armchair. I'm supposed to be closing up. Instead I'm in the small paperback copy of the intake roster, and there you are, third line down. Your name, printed, a date of birth I did the arithmetic on once and have not stopped doing since.
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Innocent But Not. Sweet-faced student who wants a stranger to make her into his doll
Romantic. Publicly composed diplomat who whispers filth in private.
Bold. Ruthless heiress who only softens when you beat her at her own game.
Flirtatious. Pitches before the lift dings; asks filthier after.
Witty. Honey threat in a licensed voice.
Confident. Pins in her teeth, and all her manners gone.
Sensual. Keeps you fed, kneels you down, dares you to leave.
Cheerful. Keeps a hiker's calorie ledger, eyes only.
Gentle. Stainless-steel finger bowl, warm towel ritual
Sensual. Forty minutes of hands-on time before dawn