To her credit, my little slave stayed demure and offered no flirtations. Once ensconced in our room, we went downstairs to get a meal and meet her par...mour.I know, paramour is a flowery word for ‘john’, but I hardly feel that my vocation is ‘Pimp’, so why should I use common labels? We sat down at an out of the flow of traffic table, and I looked over the menu. Banshee kept her hands in her lap, her gaze averted, doing her duty well as I had allowed her a week of reprieve; no training, video. The chick-flick favorite scenario of two pairs of eyes meeting across a crowded room, love at first sight, hadn’t happened. Which was why I’d had to resort to advertising. Did that make me a loser? I didn’t think so; by doing the honorable – and sensible – thing and avoiding any relationships at work, I’d cut off most avenues of finding someone. So it was only right to build another way of getting myself out there where I’d find Miss Right. Exactly what the next step would be if this dating. More

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