The Lady's House (callahan srp) (open)

Mistress Cynthia knew she was employed in the best brothel in town, perhaps even the best in the entire country. It boasted theme rooms, a communal gathering/visiting area, sectioned places for those who required discretion or had no desire to see anything but what they were looking for.

The House was three stories tall, the main floor was devoted to casual gatherings, it held the male and female only rooms as well as a well stocked bar. the second floor held the working rooms, which included the theme rooms (her dungeon she shared with two others, a fully furnished office, a locker room and a department store changing room to name a few)

The focal point of the second floor was the bower though. that was a room designed with a jacuzzi and frothy green plants, kind of an oasis where people could come to enjoy various carnal pleasures in the company of others. The Bower had a few very specific rules, no meant no, anything that happened in the bower was not discussed outside the bower and if an argument broke out between two participants, they were both required to leave until they sorted the problem out.

The third floor was housing. no clients were allowed up there, this was the artists own domain and it was inviolet.

Mistress Cynthia catered to a very special group of clients, she was skilled in the art of erotic torture and anything was acceptable as long as the client was willing and asked for it....nicely of course.

Standing 5'8 in bare feet (which was rare) she presented a stunning picture to any who gazed at her. Platinum blonde hair that ran straight to the tiny dimple right at the cleft of her ass, crystal blue eyes, patrican features and 36 C breasts made her a favorite among the clients.

The Lady's House (and yes, you could tell it was capitalized when someone called it by name) held weekly classes to educate its artists in the art of pleasure, and that was one of Mistress Cynthias favorite things too. It was amazing how two artists could come together and leave more satisfied than perhaps imaginable.

Standing in front of the mirror preparing for her shift downstairs, Mistress Cynthia perused her appearance while she pondered what sort of clients she might have that night.

Her appearance was immpecable, long legs encased in thigh high stilleto heels (black of course) and a skin tight leather number that rode about mid thighand showed off her clevage to perfection.

Deciding that she looked as good as possible, Mistress Cynthia went downstairs and took a seat in the common room.



OOC
well, at long last, here it is. after all the work i put into it, i cant figure out how to put the floor plan in, so i hope my descriptive powers suffice to give the general idea (i will eventually figure it out and will edit this post and put another ooc to that effect, we have just waited so long i dont want to hold it up any more due to a technical difficalty)

this is an open thread, when you post, please give a description and an idea of what you want your character to be doing so we can accomodate you. prospective artists, please PM me prior to posting

I'd checked this place out ... or tried ...

All my contacts in the police department, the mayor's office, the local city council -- all of them -- either knew nothing of the Lady's existence or weren't telling. One policewoman I'd known for some time just smiled enigmatically and said "There couldn't be a place we don't know of, could there?"

I'd stopped in this strange bar on the Island to use the phone because of a car problem and Mike, the proprietor ("bartender" just didn't seem to fit that man) suggested I visit the Lady and learn about myself. Sandy, my talking dog had also had a conversation with Ralph von Wau Wau (a talking Alsatian at the bar) who had suggested we visit the Lady's. [I'm going to have to watch out the next time Sandy comes in heat based on my observations of Ralph!]

As I sat in my car across the street, I wasn't even sure that I had the right place. In the warehouse district, not a clue as to its existence, but Mike had sworn the address was legit.

Sandy said "Ok, if you sit here all night, you're never going to do a thing, Syl, so ... let's go! Besides, Ralph said he might even show up so ... I want to go in, too!"

As I went up to the door, it opened on its own accord. There stood ... a leather-clad dream.

Misstress Cynthia

I heard a noise at the front desk, that of a door opening and the sound of hesitant footsteps. Cursing the fact the receptionist hadnt decided to show up for her shift that day i went to the door.

Standing looking as if she was ready to flee was a statueque beauty and a little dog. Knowing that she wouldn't have been able to gain entrance to the establishment without having the desire to explore at least a few of its delights, I stepped forward with a smile.

"Welcome to the Lady's House, my name is Mistess Cynthia and I am here to make sure you find what you are looking for."

"I will hang your coat if you would like, would you care for a drink?"

Taking a closer look at the dog by her side, i smile a little more broadly...close to becoming a smirk in fact.

"Sandy, I see you have finally brought your friend by. i hope you can amuse yourself during her stay, i heard Ralph is supposed to stop by later, perhaps you can do some catching up?"

Gently feeling my way around as I went, I took the lady's hand and led her to the common room. indicating a plush couch I invited her to take a seat while i went and prepared a drink, waiting to see if she wanted one as well.

One of the first rules the Lady taught was to not force yourself on a client (no matter how much you wanted to) so I forced myself to sound uninterested as I asked, "do you know what it is you are looking for from the Lady's House this evening?"

Scarlett

I luxuriated in the long hot shower in the time before my second shift of the day. Singing merrily as I shaved; underarm, pussy and legs, stepping from the shower to massage a sensual blend of essential oils over every inch of skin. Combing my flame-red hair down my back to dry naturally I eyebrow plucked and applied a little make-up - water proof mascara and a smear of red lipstick. Working in the steamy bower room afforded little lei-way for more elaborate face painting, unless of course the client wished for the ‘used-abused-makeup running down cheeks’ look.

I pulled on a red sequined thong and stepped into my 5 inch, also red, stiletto sandals and paraded around the room smoking a cigarette and sipping my Chardonnay. Admiring my limber frame in the mirror I flashed myself a smile as I pulled on a strappy backless silver evening dress. Pulling the door shut behind me I made my way downstairs to the common room.

Mistress Victoria

Stretching my long body, allowing each muscle to pull and then relax, I get ready for the rest of the day. A hot shower follows, and unlike many I had taken that week I was alone. I enjoy the feel of my soapy hands running over my smooth creamy skin. In the shower I stand 5'8, but after showering and getting dressed my height would likely be 6'0 even with the heels. I pose naked in front of the mirror and finish stretching.

I debate over what to wear, for I have no idea who might stop by today. But I decide on a favourite outfit of a black garter, stockings, corset, and tight lacey dress. 4-inch black heeled boots complete the outfit that stands out against my shimmery skin. My blues eye are already flashing, dancing with promise of fun and exploration.

I run a brush through my straight auburn hair, with its natural brown, copper and blond highlights appearing as my hair dries. As I walk out it sweeps across my shoulders reaching down to my lower back. I usually leave it down, unless a client had a teacher/librarian interest then it went up.

My mind wanders as to what my clients will come in consciously and unconsciously search of. There had been many who had walked in the door thinking they came for one reason, but upon playing discover and confess the true reason that had been unknown even to them. They were the most fun to play with, for I come away with the knowledge that I opened doors into their very being through which they were able to learn about themselves. Conversations usually begin each encounter, and after self-discoveries I often have nice long talks about what it all meant for them. Talking or playing, both were satisfying & pleasurable in their own way, both allowed clients to learn about themselves and what they enjoyed. And it is this learning that interests me the most.

I begin to wander downstairs, my mind open to new clients, but also still planning the next step for previous ones in case they visited tonight.

Michael (Client)

The sinking sun cast its fading glows over the city. It was reaching that time of day where this natural light was waning but the streetlights were just starting their nocturnal duty.

Cloaked in this twilight glow, a young college student by the name of Michael found himself standing in front of a non-descript warehouse. His lanky 5’11 frame fidgeted nervously, as he checked and re-checked the address. Sure enough, this is the right place; in the failing light he notices a stylized “LH” over the door in the same pattern as the monogram on the gift certificate. Now that he’s here, does he want to enter?

As he vacillates in front of the plain door, Michael reflects upon the journey that led him here. Unwilling to take a taxi (too shy to deal with any knowing glances from a cabbie regarding his destination), he had to take two subways, a long bus ride and a twenty minute walk just to bring him. But he knows that his presence here started a long time ago…

In high school, Michael was just as nervous and shy as now, if not more so. He wasn’t shunned by any means, but he always found himself on the fringe of any group, neither in nor out. His only two good friends in high school were female; he went out with one of them starting in grade 11. They were seeing each other steadily until something odd happened a scant month before graduation.

In a dream, Michael and her were lying together in bed, relaxing after a strenuous make-out session. As he held her bare skin against his, enjoying the feel of her warmth, he was suddenly startled to see his arms passing through her. Her body lost its cohesion, becoming like a vapour, thinning out in the air of the room. Before he could utter a cry, her rapidly dissolving face told him “I have to leave now my love, and I don’t know when or even if I’ll be back. Please don’t worry about me.” With that, her body turned completely to mist, and escaped out of the open window.

Waking up in a cold sweat, ignoring the lateness of the hour he quickly dialled her number, only to find that it was out of service. Rushing downstairs in the darkness, he quickly sidestepped the black form of his cat on the stairs, only to stumble and land in a heap at the bottom. Adrenalin forced him back up, and he dashed to his car and (almost forgetting to open the garage door) tore down his driveway and onto the street in the direction of his girlfriend’s house. When he arrived there, an amazing sight greeted his eyes … or rather lack of sight. The house was completely gone, replaced with a barren lot and a small weather-beaten fence. That morning, nobody knew anything about her anymore – it was if she never existed. All of Michael’s letters from her, photographs, gifts – everything gone.

He would have surely thought he was crazy had it not been for his other friend, Shauna. She was the only other person he knew that remember his girlfriend. It was good to know that he wasn’t the only one, though Shauna was not the most reassuring ally. You see, Michael always found her a bit odd. Like him, she was always on the fringe of the school society. But whereas Michael was relatively normal (if extremely reserved), Shauna seemed to go out of her way to be weird. Her clothes would appear normal except for one glaring inconsistency, such as large splat of paint on any otherwise good blouse (that was her favourite). She was also heavily into spirituality, occultism, voodoo and making friendship bracelets for convenience store clerks. Despite her oddities (or maybe because of them), they became friends easily.

The relationship between them stayed platonic, as Shauna had (or at least claimed to had) a long-distance boyfriend. Michael never heard his voice, or saw any pictures or letters; in fact, he couldn’t find a single piece of evidence to prove that he did exist aside from Shauna’s insistence that he did. Regardless of the boyfriend’s state of existence or non-existence, she remained faithful, even when her and Michael decided to share an apartment after graduation. Rumours swirled about the two of them, until Michael took the initiative to announce that they had broken up but remained friends and roommates, just to shut everyone up.

A few years later, Michael had survived his first three years of college and was starting his fourth. He had no idea what Shauna did during the day while he was at class. If someone told him that she was a drug dealer at 5th and Broadway, he would have given that statement equal weight with one claiming that that she visited seniors and took them shopping for prune juice. He was tempted to spring for a private detective to follow her during the day, but she always had money for rent, utilities and food, so he honestly didn’t care that much (plus he was too cheap to hire one). Although she didn’t reveal much about herself, Michael would find himself telling her his struggles and worries, intuitively finding solace in his talks with her.

Like previous years, Michael’s 21st birthday was celebrated with only Shauna as company (as usual, his parents were following a tribe of gorillas in Kenya, though they did send a postcard). With past gifts ranging from dreamcatchers five feet in diameter to odd musical instruments from cultures he never heard of, Michael was quite surprised when she handed him a simple envelope. Somewhat suspicious, he opened it to find a sheet adorned with a monogram “LH” with the words “Good for one night of Pleasure” printed below, followed with a Brooklyn address.

Answering his questioning look, Shauna explained “Ever since Andrea, you haven’t been with anyone, though I know that there you are interested in some girls at college. I think you need to regain your confidence, not to mention get laid – and I think this place could help. I would go with you, but it would remind me too much of that one night I had with P’Tang [her boyfriend] in Buenos Aires …”.

Michael was tempted to throw it away, but Shauna was quite insistent. Without knowing how, one Friday night he ended up making the journey to The Lady’s House. Truth be told, he was curious as to what may happen, but he was also as nervous as hell.

He may have remained standing outside all night, were it not for the sudden wail of a police siren a few blocks away. Suddenly startled into action, much like a flock of birds sent into flight by the blast of a gun, Michael leapt through the door. In contrast with the building’s exterior, the inside looked like the lobby of a posh hotel with a front desk (currently unattended), and a number of plush chairs and sofas scattered around. To his left he saw a beautiful blonde in leather chatting with a tall woman who looked vaguely familiar. The skin-hugging leather and the impressive cleavage on the latter made his cock stir as he heart started coming down from jackhammer level.

Movement to the right caught his attention, and as he swung his head around his cock shot up to full attention. Walking towards him were two stunning visions of female beauty. Both were wearing tasteful evening dresses that showed off the swaying of their hips as they advanced toward him. Michael found his mouth dry as he froze like a deer in the oncoming approach of the ladies.

Syl [client]

"Do you know what it is you are looking for from the Lady's House this evening?"

Whoa. Step back a minute. How do you put into words something that you've been hiding inside, fantasizing about, but never acting on for most of your life?

I didn't know what to say. I really don't know if I could have said anything at all when Sandy bailed me out.

"You need to know something. Syl only talks to people about things she doesn't really care that much about. I've been trying to get her to open up for quite some time, but ... she's just not there yet. She wants to learn what love can be like with someone who wants to, and knows how to, please HER. The jerk we live with is not that kind of guy, and I don't think [Right, Syl?] she's going to want to even try to find that kind of pleasure in a man. At least not yet."

Sandy was right. About everything. I looked at the leatherclad dream and nodded my head. And burst into tears. Not just tears, not even sobbing quietly, but out and out floods of tears.

Sandy, bless her heart, was right, but it didn't soften the blow of hearing your life of frustration summed up so quickly.

For the first time in a while, Mistress Cynthia was at a bit of a loss. knowing what was expected of her and doing it were sometimes two different things. She looked at the sobbing woman for a moment and then slowly reached out a hand.

She laid it on the womans knee and started rubbing it in slow soft tiny circles. "Syl, may i call you that? There is nothing to be worried about here, there is no shame. you are in the best possible place for self discovery, and no one will ever judge you here. You dont have to do anything or be anything you dont want. Hell you dont even have to do anything at all if that is your choice. you could just stay here and enjoy pleasant company. the big thing to remember is this is your time, not anyone elses."


Looking at the woman before her, Mistress Cynthia wanted desperatly to be the one chosen to take her upstairs, but knew that she couldnt be the one to make the move, no matter how shy she was, Syl had to at least indicate either verbally or not that she was interested.

MIstress Cynthia was also aware that this wasnt exactly her forte, although she was more than capable of the task. Technically this field would be more suited for...anyone else, but she could hope.

she paused then and looked to see if any of her words were taking effect

Syl [client]

I took a deep breath. A deeper one.

"I want to be made love to by a woman -- in the old-fashioned sense. Talked to, listened to ... courted. I don't know if I even want the physical part, just the possibility of it being there, you know?"

Mistress Cynthia knew just how much effort it took her to admit that and she mentally applauded. Outloud, all she said was "We have a first class kitchen with the best chef on earth employed there, may I invite you to dinner and a relaxing conversation without pressure?"


She knew that the answer to this question would tell her if she was considered acceptable to the task. she was also well aware that she might be considered to be moving too fast, but didnt know how to be more subtle. All she knew was that something about this woman struck a chord within herself that made her want to make everything perfect.

Syl [client]

Sandy looked up at me as if to say "Ok, ball's in your court now. DO IT."

I breathed "You don't know how much I appreciate your offer. I'd love to have dinner with you. And I think ... for maybe the first time in a long, long time ... I'd like to talk to someone ... to you."

As we left the room, presumably to go to a dining room, my thoughts were racing. I resolved to let my tough shell fall off completely (I'd done a pretty good job of that already with my crying jag, but I hadn't revealed to anyone yet the person I was underneath).

Just being in this house must had held some sort of magic, too, because for the first time in a long, long time I realized how stupid my resentment of my husband and his inadequacies was. I could see how much energy I had wasted in hating, resenting, in wishing for something that wasn't rather than going on and building something of my own.

I realized I had accomplished much in the eyes of others but hadn't really found any happiness in those years, just ... distraction.

However Mike knew to suggest this place to me, I knew now that he was right. I needed to go to a place like this and find ...

Me.

Mistress Victoria - Lobby

"Oh Scarlett, I've been meaning to talk to you. I found a nice store not far from here with the best selection of....

A blur of moment & the sound of almost running feet caught my attention. At the door stood a guy looking somewhat frightened an very nervous. There was a innocence about him that made me feel portective and curious. His eyes were wide as they surveyed the room, and stopped to look at Mistress Cynthia.

I begin to walk towards him, wanting to welcome him and inquire his interest. With the receptionist gone, there was only us to greet him. Even Mistress Cynthia had personally greeted a guest.

It wasn't just duty that guided my steps towards him, but curiosity, and the intuition that even he knows doesn't know why he is here.

I can sense Scarlett walking with me towards him, as he turns to stare at us. His wide eyes hold excitement, desire and a need. His posture shows he is still very nervous, but rather turned on as well. The combination makes me desire the opportunity to teach him pleasure and about himself.

Since I do not know why he has come, I can only hope that his interest lies in exploration and on the more submissive side of play. If not then someone more suited might be a better match.

Scarlett

"Hello, good evening" I smiled broadly as I extended my hand to the tall slender man. "My name is Scarlett and this is Mistress Victoria." I detected a tremor in his grip as he took my hand and watched as Victoria held up her hand for him to kiss. Whatever this gentleman needed he needed to relax first.

"May we offer you a drink?" I asked, gesturing to the bar.

"Please, take a seat and I'll arrange it." I moved elegantly to the bar as Victoria showed him to a black leather corner sofa with table.

Mistress Victoria

"Come have a seat. Relax after your journey." I said sitting down and patting the leather beside me.

"Did it a long time to get here?" I ask, speaking softly to this obviously nervous fellow.

Michael

"Red hair ... it just has to be red hair, doesn't it ..." went the thought in Michael's brain as the two sexy women approached. His eyes jumped from the flaming red and the more subdued yet enticing auburn, the light reflecting a spread of highlights in her hair. He nervously ran fingers through his short brown hair and over his smooth chin as they approached.

He barely register that the one with the bright red hair was talking to him. He somehow caught that her name was Scarlett and the other's name was Mistress Victoria (Mistress??!). Scarlett offered her hand; from years of male conditioning, he shook it without thought, feeling her smooth warm fingers envelope his. When Mistress Victoria offered her hand, he suddenly realized that it might be more appropriate it to kiss it tenderly. Although in his nervous state, it was more like mashing his lips against her knuckles than delicately kissing.

"May we offer you a drink?" Scarlett inquired in a low sultry voice.

"Orange juice and champagne please" Michael replied. He had no idea why this drink popped up in his mind first, especially since he usually didn't drink and when he did he rarely progressed beyond beer (though he did try Shauna's homemade yam vodka once - never again though) Giving that he thought he saw the dog with the other group talk, he figured he needed the alcohol.

With a parting word Scarlett swept away to the bar as Mistress Victoria drew him to a small leather couch in the corner. He sat down next to her, leaving enough room in between them to fit another two or three people. He clumsily took off his jacket, leaving him in a dark sweater and jeans.

Now that he was sitting and didn't have to worry about his knees giving way, he took the time to take a closer look at the lady in front of him. On first glance, she didn't look like the stereotypical Mistress - no leather as far as he could see (though maybe underneath - his cock throbbed at the thought), no crops or whips or anything. And when she spoke, instead of the harsh "bitch-voice" he'd been expecting his ears were caressed with a soft, floating almost musical tone.

"Relax after your journey. Did it take a long time to get here?"

"I ... I... Yeah, you could say that." Michael's brain mentally slapped him. Did he just say something so adolescent, so sophomore to her? Thankfully, she didn't look disapprovingly, or verbally berate him for not calling her “Mistress” or anything. Seeing her continue to look at him in a way that was questioning yet without demands or expectations, he took a deep breath.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing here. My roommate gave me this as a birthday present” he handed over the piece of paper, “and I honestly don’t know what this place is about. Oh, thank you” he said to Scarlett as she brought his drink and sat next to Mistress Victoria on the L-shaped sofa.

“I mean … I … I’m not the type to go for … this type of service” He blushed furiously as the words stumbled out of him. He wanted to run, but knew that outside was only the cold world. Also, despite Shauna’s eccentricities (and there were many of them), she was a good friend and wouldn’t let him down or lead him to something that he wouldn’t like. He could only hope that he could start feeling comfortable here before he had a nervous breakdown, though the alcohol that he was gulping down seemed to help.

Mistress Victoria

Listening to his words, and reading further between the lines, I could tell he was really nervous almost ready to bolt. I can be tough and strict when it suited the situation, but I knew what he needed first was a friend.

At his comment about this being a birthday present, made me wonder if he realises where he is.

But with "this type of service" a little bit of irritation darted into my mind before being brushed away by the realization that he likely doesn't realize what L.H. stands for on the paper.

"I guess that you have not heard of Lady's House" I say softly, "that is what the L and H mean." pointing to the letters on the paper. "Most people do not know of us, untill someone points them in the right direction. Someone such as your friend."

I breathed "You don't know how much I appreciate your offer. I'd love to have dinner with you. And I think ... for maybe the first time in a long, long time ... I'd like to talk to someone ... to you."

Mistress Cynthia's lips curved in a half smile when she heard this. Holding out her hand, she helped Syl to her feet and led her to the stairs leading down.

"The kitchen is usually reserved for the artists, though we welcome guests during buisness hours, and Andre, our chef would take great delight in teasing your pallete."

Knowing that security monitered everything that went on in the House, Mistress Cynthia knew that everything would be prepared by the time they arrived at the base of the stairs. And it was. All the overhead lights were dimmed which highlighted a table set for two with good crystal and two elegant candlesticks creating a soft closed in atmosphere. Soft music played in the background.

When they arrived at the table, Mistress Cynthia made sure she held Syls' chair for her before seating herself. The almost instant appearance of a waiter seemed magical and then they were alone again.

Mistress Cynthia wondered where to start the conversation, worrying about stepping places she shouldnt. she finally decided to let Syl take the lead with whatever She wished to discuss.

"What a beautiful room! You know, I don't think anyone has held a chair for me in ... well, a long time. Thank you."

Then I realized that Sandy had left me and I was truly ... alone ... Alone with my promise to myself. As I sat down, I screwed my courage up to the sticking point, took a deep breath, and let it tumble out.

"Do you recognize me? If you've seen me on the news for some reason or other ... I'm not like that. Not really. You know that old song 'Tears of a clown?' My 'clown face' is that public brash, loud, brassy face. That face that speaks of my competence. Being over 6 feet helps -- a competent woman scares men, and it's easy for them to just consider me an Amazon, a freak, and let me go."

"I've been running scared with that face pasted on for more than 20 years now. Scared that someone will see through it and see the really ... empty person inside."

The tears were welling again, but I wanted to go on.

"I don't know who I am anymore. I know who I'm not, but ... "

"Do you know Mike Callahan? He said that he knew Lady Sally quite well. It was he who suggested I visit here. I walked into his bar with Sandy one night when I had car trouble, and somehow ... between meeting Ralph von Wau Wau and some other really odd people, Mike just looked through me and said "Ma'am, you go to this address. You're going to find a brothel that is as close to being a brothel as Moby Dick is a fish story. You're going to go there and find ... yourself."

"A brothel, I said? Do I look that much like a man to you?"

"'No, ma'am. You're a beautiful woman, and a beautiful woman like you needs to know how beautiful she is ... and find pleasure in her beauty ... and Lady Sally's is where you're going to find yourself.'"

"I haven't been called beautiful by a man in years. Not by anyone, for that matter. Bitchy, yes. Bold. Brash. Brassy. Lots of B-words, but ... Beautiful? No. I liked it. I liked the feeling."

"I felt magical for a moment. Magical in a place full of odd people and a dog like mine who could speak."

"That's why I'm here. That, and the fact that Sandy did everything but drag me here."

Deep breath. Deep cleansing breath my old Lamaze instructor would have called it.

"That's my story. And I'm sticking to it."

Scarlett with Miss Victoria and Michael

I returned with champagne on ice and a jug of freshly squeezed orange. Placing 3 flutes on the table I smiled at Victoria and the gentleman. Noticing the way he was mentally undressing Victoria I guessed he was looking for something special and felt momentarily amused when I imagined him crawling around to her command in probably 2 hours from now. I’d seen it before, men looking for vanilla were usually slightly more comfortable in the presence of beautiful ladies. Of course anyone coming here ‘blind’ would be a touch on the apprehensive side.

He thanked me as I poured him a bucks-fizz. Glancing at the paper in Victoria’s hand to catch his name I replied “you’re very welcome… Michael”.

“I mean… I’m not the type to go for… this type of service” he stammered, the blush rising to flush his face turning it as red as my shoes.

I smiled gently to him “There are no requirements or expectations here Michael. If all you want to do is have a drink with us, that is absolutely fine”, touching his arm I could see the relief on his face.

“Of course it would be a shame if you missed out on your gift…” and I winked at him. He was beginning to relax somewhat as he sipped his drink.

“Champagne Victoria?” I poured us both a drink then on second thoughts added a splash of orange, so that he felt validated in his choice of beverage. Sipping my drink I continued.

“Just so you are aware Michael, there is nothing that can shock us; there is no hidden desire, sexual fantasy or kink unknown to us. There will be no judgement or disapproval… unless of course you ask for it” and I winked again.

That seemed to do the trick and we all laughed gently.

“Now why don’t you tell us what it is you are looking for, start small if it helps you feel more comfortable, but think big. We have everything you could possibly want here, and the finest artists, male and female” I noticed his drink almost gone and poured him another.

Mistress Cynthia almost let her mouth fall open in surprise and then caught herself. The sheer amount of impassioned speach that was rolling out was almost overwhelmng.

She began to try to answer starting from the top. "Yes, I did recognise you, but that is one of the ground rules in this House, any of our guests are to be treated at face value when they come through our doors. Your actions and behavior after you are in here dictate how you are treated and thought of. My personal opinion, long held is that you created a mask that you were hiding behind. I didn't think it was possible to be that anal all the time."

"As for being empty," She continued "I dont believe that for a second. I think you are a warm funny person, repressed yes, hiding from yourself deffinitly, but never an empty shell. If you will let me, I will show you that as time goes by."

"Never think that it was pure chance that you arrived at Mikes place...he has an odd way of being just where he is needed when he is needed to be there. I know Mike personally and I would say he was the second best thing that could happen to you. The first is that you found your way here."

Mistress Cynthia reached across the small expanse of the table separating them and took Syl's hand. "the first thing you need to learn is to believe in yourself. The rest follows."

As she touched my hand, I felt that I could trust this woman like I had never trusted anyone, even myself.

"I'll make the time. And I'll let you show me. No, I'd be honored if you would."

"Please ... " I breathed.

Mistress Cynthia smiled. "First," she said "You will have to tell me what you like, what you dont and what you want ultimately. Know that i will never hold you in judgement, but I do need that basic information to make sure i do not cross your personal boundaries. I know you wish to be courted, and although i am not the best at that, i promise to make you feel cherished. What happens is ultimately up to you."

Michael

Scarlett's comments, along with the laughter they engendered helped put Michael relatively more at ease. He was quite sure the alcohol was helping things along, though he figured that this was a good thing. Dealing with women, especially those as stunning as the two in front of him, was never his strong suit, but their soft voices and patience with his nervousness was helping to overcome that.

Scarlett's last comment about there being both female and male artists caught his attention. Taking a sip of his drink as a way to stall the inevitable and gather his courage, he nearly choked as he saw the dog from before, now trotting upstairs next to a large German shepperd and having an animated conversation with him about boat tours on the Rhine. Deciding that "out of sight is out of mind", Michael quickly looked away and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"Mistress Victoria, you're right when you say that the friend who gave me this certificate is pointing me in the right direction - I have a feeling that she has been doing that all these years. She's got a heart of gold, even though I'm pretty sure that the rest of her must be from another planet" Chuckling to himself as he said that, he noticed what looked like a knowing smile on both ladies.

Taking a deep breath and quelling his mind of his fear, Michael continued by giving a brief synopsis of his life so far; his shyness, his one and only relation, Andrea's mysterious disappearance, and his close friendship with Shauna. Both Scarlett and Mistress Victoria listened attentively, with Mistress Victoria finding his hand and squeezing it as he struggled to talk about his love's disappearance.

When he finished his tale, Michael paused for a second, then brought his head up to face them both full on. The quote "Screw your courage to the sticking point" ran through his mind (and yes, he realized the irony of the words).

"As you can guess, I feel pretty close to Shauna, since she's been with me through all these ups and downs. But what I'm about to tell you, not even she knows."

His stomach was churning, but his voice rang clear.

"First, and this may be obvious, but I'm in love with Shauna. I'll never tell her or do anything about it because of her boyfriend. Sorta ironic, that both of the women I've been interested are ultimately out of reach" Michael hoped that they wouldn't see the tear at the corner of his eye.

"The second ... God, I don't know how I can say this ..." Michael froze, unable to articulate his secret.

Mistress Victoria

Watching Micheal talk about his life and seeing the load being lifted off his mind and shoulders as the words tumbled out. Added to the care I felt for him.

Somehow I knew that given the chance his confidence can be restored.

As he stumbled with the second secret, I reach out holding his hand softly, givign it a light squeeze as I continue to smile gently and try to figure out the best way to help him. I want him to find himself, to know who he is, and in order to do this I know I must be silent and patiently wait.

"Kendall" (Male Artist)

What time is it?
I'd been working late last night and partying even later... as if the job doesn't take enough out of me. But I'm new still, so whenever the guys or ladies ask if I want to grab a drink I feel like I have to jump at it.

I climbed out of bed and caught a look of myself in the mirror, I was still getting used to the black dye job and spiky cut I'd given my hair... I didn't want anyone to recognize me, just in case, I was even going by a fake name "Kendall." I thought it was sexier than my real name anyway.

I'm a little over six feet tall, with average looks, I'd always done all right with the ladies and the guys... but the little bit I'd learned here already had my clients pleased.

I fished around the room for my black leather pants and pulled them on. They felt cool and snug against me... especially against my balls, which one of the ladies here had convinced me to shave last night.

Finding a nice tshirt, jacket and boots, I threw on some cologne and mussed my hair... ready for the night.

I swaggered down the stairs. Yeah, in normal life I was clean cut, normal, but here I was trying to make something of a rockstar of my new self...