Chapter 3

"Would you like a little tour of my house of sin?" she whispered. "I'm sure you must be curious to see how a high-class escort plies her trade."

George was, actually.

"Why not," he smiled.

Nicole looked at her wine glass. It was still full.

"It would be a shame to let this go to waste. Here," she said, passing him the glass.

Well, it would be a shame, George thought. Before he knew it, he'd tipped the glass back and poured the whole contents down his throat.

"Heh, seems like you really like it," Nicole said. "Why don't you bring the bottle with you?"

Whoa, George thought as bubbles of light-headedness trickled up through his brain. He was probably going to regret this come tomorrow morning. Against his better judgment he picked up the bottle anyway. Damn stuff was so moreish.

Nicole led him through the back of her house. It seemed a lot larger than it had looked from the outside. And deeper. She led him down some steps and into a maze-like basement area. The first door Nicole opened led to a very odd room. It looked like a cross between a medieval dungeon and a fitness suite. There were stocks and full-sized crosses covered in black padding. A cage big enough to hold a man if he was on his hands and knees stood in the far corner. A variety of whips and floggers were mounted on the walls.

"Is this your... ?" George asked.

"Yes, it's my dungeon," Nicole answered. "I bring naughty boys here and teach them some discipline."

She looked at George and smiled. The bright red colour of her lips contrasted with her pale complexion.

"Have you been a naughty boy?" she asked.

"No no no!" George said, backing away with his hands up. He was thankful Nicole was still wearing her large shades. He suspected he'd be quite unnerved by the look she was giving him right now.

Nicole doubled up with laughter.

"That room was scary," George said once they were back in the corridor. "Do people really pay you to tie them up and beat them?"

Nicole nodded. "People in power often have their day-to-day lives filled with hard choices. I think sometimes they enjoy ceding that power to someone else."

George looked at her as if she was speaking Swahili. He shook his head.

"Diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks," he said.

They continued on through Nicole's lower floor. She skipped the next door, but opened the one after it. Now this room was more like how George expected a tart's boudoir to be. The lighting was low and soft. The walls were hung with heavy black velvet drapes. A huge circular bed took up most of the centre of the room. It was covered in glossy black silk sheets and plush black pillows. An apothecary's dream of bottles and vials stood on the back shelves.

"This is my relaxation room," Nicole said.

"Is that a waterbed?" George asked.

"Yes," Nicole answered.

He pushed down on the edge of the bed and watched the surface sway with wet sloshing sounds.

"Can I?" he asked.