Annette leaned back in her leather chair and slipped off her expensive heels, digging her naked toes into the plush carpet. The boy sitting in front of her twitched nervously, barely out of his teens, gangly, tall, yet strangely attractive. She let her eyes drag over him, assessing him and his worth. His clothes were well-fitting and attractive, but he seemed awkward in them. She instinctively knew that when he finally spoke he would stammer, the plush surroundings of her private office making him more nervous that the establishment he was sitting in.
"As you can see, Mr Taylor we have an ... impressive range of women, one of whom I am sure would delight you, depending on your particular fantasy. We do ask that you exercise caution, but we can assure you that all of our girls are ... infection free as it were."
Annette smoothed her suit jacket over her chest, pulling it down slightly to reveal the merest hint of cleavage and smiled as the young mans eyes dropped. His nervousness increased as he moved his eyes across the brochure laid out in front of him, the variety of girls in various states of undress arousing him all the more. He pointed to one half dressed in a cheerleading outfit, reminding him of the girl so unavailable in high school, her short red skirt pushed above the line of her lacy French knickers, her ample chest busting out of the tight white sweater, her eyes seducing him through the lens of the camera. He felt his erection swell beneath his suit trousers and he glanced up at the older woman sitting across the desk.
"Ah Tiffany, not her real name of course, a fellow American like yourself. Most excellent, Mr Taylor. If you'll just excuse me, I will make the necessary arrangements."
Annette slipped her feet once more into the painful heels, her mind wondering to the massage she would inflict upon one of her girls later, and proceeded through into a side room, swinging her hips as she did so. She picked up the phone call, hearing the honey tones of Kerry, otherwise known as Tiffany to her clients, on the other end. She waltzed back into the office containing the nervous James Taylor and directed him to the room where Tiffany was ready and waiting.
~*~*~*~
Kerry sighed as she lay back on the bed waiting for her latest client. Being the cheerleader fantasy meant she normally serviced older men looking for a younger girl, and as she lay waiting, she pulled aside her French knickers and flicked a finger over her clitoris, to give the impression that she was turned on. She was paid to make men feel desired, and she pictured her madam's naked body gyrating on top of hers and she slowly slid one finger into herself.
The tentative knock on the door flung her from her fantasy, and she quickly rearranged herself on the bed, and called out huskily for the client to open the door.
The person who entered was barely more than a boy, probably 19 to her 20. He was tall, gangly, and she imagined he would speak with a stutter and when he muttered out his hello she was barely surprised to discover he was American. They always chose her, especially the geeky types, the ones for whom she was their ultimate fantasy, a flashback to their childhoods in a fairly freaky way. He was younger than her usual clientele, but fairly cute. Maybe she wouldn't have a fake her desire for him this time, something she was used to with he *much* older clientele.
He was nervous, his hands and voice shook and she drawled out a question
