We talked about our families, our grad-school lives--she was also in grad school, for psychiatry--and everything else. The guy next to her slid out of...the picture. He sat there drinking, looking not that surprised that she was talking to me. When he went to the restroom I asked her who he was. She said he was a friend of hers. They'd just seen the Amy Winehouse documentary in a nearby theater.Her name was Amy. I would learn later that she was thirty-nine, a full ten years older than myself. She. At times Miss Victoria or one of theother girls would ask him to fill a bathtub for them, or help them into abustle, or even apply their makeup for them. He sometimes helped themwith their corsets but he wasn't strong enough to do them any real goodthere. Seeing the women naked was a daily occurrence to Claude but herarely became aroused. Twice he had been given a 'freebie' by one of theyounger women in thanks for some task but he had been more embarrassed bythe gifts than grateful. The. As I was shaving off my growing beard my phone buzzed with a random number. The message just said "I'm interested, send a pic." I gulped, the nerves creeping back in. I shook them off though, and once done shaving, dressed up in the clothes, made my already short-medium length curly hair a bit poofy and sent a pic. The person didn't reply. I didn't have any make-up, so I wasn't really expecting anything. The nerves were dying down again. Then, after a few minutes, my phone buzzed again. Same. He stepped inside and I closed the door behind him, 'Excuse me one minute', I slurred slightly, 'I need a drink', and I walked across to the bar, and at that point my towel dropped, but, I failed to notice it, and continued walking, swaying my hips, knowing he would be watching my pert buttocks as they ground against each other, framed in the black of my stockings and garter belt.I poured my wine in silence, John would be staring at me, very possibly keen to fuck me, which I planned to do, now.