The hardest part was at night, alone in her bed. There she had much less control over her thoughts and even though she would bunch her hands into fist... at her sides and literally clench her teeth as she repeated, Get a grip, Diana, over and over, she was unable to stop the cascade of images. She resolutely refused to touch herself, no matter how great the temptation, but more than once she woke up in the morning with her t-shirt up around her hips and a large wet spot on the sheet, and her. When you crossed the threshold into K’s mansion, you gave up the outside world entirely and placed yourself into the hands of her staff. The third floor also had separate backstage area for the freelancers, whose arrival and departure was timed precisely to avoid meeting the clients. When we arrived the third floor was empty apart from a handsome barman. ‘Bonjour mesdames,’ he offered as we walked in. ‘Bon apres midi, Charles,’ K replied and introduced me. ‘A pleasure to meet you Madame,’ said. More

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