Mrs Olivia Williams, twenty seven years old, married to Roderick Williams, forty one years old and highly successful, wealthy banker, pulled her car up outside the address she had written on the back of a rolled up railway ticket.
She sat for a moment and stared at the anonymous building that contained the address she was about to enter. She considered not going in but she did. She rang the bell and quickly a friendly, female voice asked her name and she was admitted into a routine looking reception area with seats around the walls; she might have been attending a job interview or going for a dentist's appointment.
The young woman, with the name 'Julie' attached to her lapel, was friendly and inviting. She looked down at her appointment book.
"Ah yes, Mrs Williams, three o'clock. Do take a seat, Mr James will be with you very soon. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Oh no, thank you," Olivia replied, quite disarmed by the ordinariness of the place.
Another woman, possibly in her thirties, was also waiting, browsing through a magazine. She glanced quickly up at Olivia who met her gaze but could not quite decide what to say and the other woman quickly returned to her browsing.
There followed a series of telephone calls that Julie took, everyone obviously seeking to make appointments and in each case Julie had to disappoint them, which she did earnestly, because there were "few slots available for at least a week" and when there was, the person at the other end could not make it. Julie was "so sorry", knew "how frustrating it is," and offered the possibility of a "late cancellation if you call early each morning."
During a rare interlude in the calls a middle aged woman emerged through a door carrying a card which she handed to Julie. She was obviously a regular. Along with the card she produced what was clearly a credit card, which Julie swiftly processed and returned to the woman. Julie checked the appointments book again.
"We have you down for a week today, is that still all right Mrs Stevens?"
"Yes, that's fine."
"Would you like me to write it on a card for you, just in case you forget?"
"No, that wont be necessary, I wont forget."
The woman left and the telephone rang again. This time the call was very brief after which Julie called to Olivia, "Mr James will see you now, Mrs Williams. I'll take you along."
Olivia experienced some shock at the suddenness of this and replied, "Oh, thank you," as if to say, 'oh not yet surely, there must be someone else in front of me?'
She looked at the other woman but she did not look up from her magazine and so Olivia tentatively stood up, with a slight weight in her stomach and followed Julie.
She was shown into a small room where a very well dressed man in his forties, with slightly grey hair gathered in a ponytail, stood up and politely introduced himself to Olivia. She heard the door close as Julie left. Olivia turned around, rather anxiously, as though it were the first day at school and her mother had just left her for the first time.
"Please sit down, Mrs Williams, and do please try to feel relaxed, you are in good hands here." He smiled, reassuringly.
"Now," he began, continuing to smile comfortingly at Olivia, "I always make a point of meeting our new clients before they begin. We hope, of course, that you will want to return many times and, of course, it will not be necessary for us to meet in the normal course of events. Although, if you wish to se me about anything, please don't hesitate to arrange an appointment."
"Thank you."
"Now," at this point he sat back in his chair and began to unfold the real business of his organisation, "we provide, what we believe, is an unusual service for woman, exclusively for woman, we have no male clients, although we have both men and women who work for us but only female clients, men we feel are adequately catered for elsewhere in this respect."
Olivia allowed herself, nervous as she was, a few appreciative and knowing nods.
He continued.
"Our service is highly polished and very discreet and that is because we take the trouble to establish exactly what our clients' needs are and attend to even the smallest details. It is, perhaps, on that latter point, that we lay the greatest emphasis and is the reason, I believe, why the numbers of regular clients has increased continually since we started eighteen months ago."
Olivia smiled again. She was suffering a kind of emotional displacement. Being the wife of a very wealthy man she routinely spent time in offices like this one talking to sycophantic lawyers, accountants, property agents so she had to keep reminding herself that Mr James and his organisation was not one of them.
Mr James recognised a certain unease in his new client that he was accustomed to on these first meetings.
"Are you all right, Mrs Williams?"
"Yes, Yes I'm fine, it's just that this....all looks so...normal, I suppose."
He smiled another one of his urbane, reassuring smiles.
"I know, I know but that is our aim you see. We wish to take the mystique out of what we do. All we do is provide a service, after all. We live in a time of service industries. Out there, there are people providing services for just about anything you can think of, we are just one of them."
Olivia felt better.
"I know you are right. Thank you for being so understanding."
"So," he resumed, " shall we get down to business?"
"Yes, please."
He picked up a folder and took out its few contents.
"So, to start right at the beginning, to, as it were, state the obvious, you have come here to be spanked. Yes?"
Olivia steeled herself but replied confidently.
"Yes."
"Excellent!"
Mr James was always pleased when this part of the interview was over. It was one of his recurring nightmares that the woman sitting in front of him had got the wrong address and was actually looking for landscape gardening or a new bathroom only to ask her if she wanted to be spanked.
"Now we provide a very professional and, of course, a very discreet, service. The key part of what we do is to match you up with one of our 'facilitators', as we call them. Your relationship with them is the key to success and in a moment I will introduce you to the person we have arranged for you. Just before I do I just need to verify a few of the details you have provided for us, very basic details, the rest will be between you and your 'facilitator'."
Mr James consulted one of the files. The ease he had instilled in Olivia was now eroding as she speculated about the nature of the 'facilitator'.
"Now," he resumed, "we asked you what kind of person you would like to administer the spanking and you replied a woman, preferably some years older than yourself, if possible at least ten years older. Is that right?"
"Well, yes, the age difference is not actually vital but...."
"Oh that's no problem, Mrs Williams, we have exactly the person you require, someone very experienced and very sympathetic to clients' needs, so I am told. Her name is Mrs Hayward."
"Thank you," Olivia replied timidly, wondering what kind of gorgon Mrs Hayward might be.
"One question you did not answer, Mrs Williams, it's easy to overlook these things, er, it's a hand spank you want, is that right?"
Olivia had not remembered the question.
"Well, yes, I suppose so," she replied vaguely.
Mrs James' expert voice continued.
"Traditionally, spanking meant by hand but these days it has come to include other implements."
At this point he picked up a leaflet.
"There are full details in this leaflet, Mrs Williams, of the various implements we have available."
"No, that's not necessary," Olivia replied, becoming rather flustered at the technological direction things were now taking.
