The knock on his door was so soft, he almost didn’t hear it. The girl standing outside his door matched the knock. She stood there shyly, staring at her shoes, her long, thick strawberry-blonde hair obscuring her face. She finally got the nerve to look up at him with brilliant green eyes, her large breasts heaving beneath her soft v-neck sweater with each nervous breath.
“Are you the guy who, you know, the one who…” She trailed off, looking lost. He wasn’t surprised. When they came alone, without their boyfriends or husbands, they were always a bit tentative. Some were intimidated, others scared. Most just didn’t know what exactly to expect. He decided to put her out of her misery.
“Yes – I’m ‘the guy.’ Come in.”
She stepped into the foyer and glanced around at the ornate mirrors on the walls, the candles in sconces lining the hall.
“Your room is upstairs – first door on the right,” he told her. You can put your things there. Your uniform is on the bed.”