Pleasure Incorporated

Stephanie and Stephen Part 1

"Good afternoon, Stephanie. Is it all right that I call you that? Thank you for coming."

"Stephanie is fine." I fidgeted in my chair and smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. Mrs. Murphy looked respectable in Dolce and Gabbana, dark-framed glasses and a tailored pant suit, her long brunette hair pulled back in a bun. Why on earth was I here?

"Try not to be nervous," she said.

"I'm sorry. I've just never done anything like this before."

She clasped her hands over the manila file folder with my name written on it. "We are a service of firsts." Her smile was warm.

The space resembled any other commercial building: lots of glass and greys. Mrs. Murphy's office looked out over the city, revealing people as specks of dust and trucks as dinky cars. I glanced at a door off to the left and behind her desk. Was that where everything happened?

"We have a private location for our encounters."

Her uncanny ability to read my mind caused sweat to drip between my breasts.

"I thought you'd like to know, I've assigned one of our finest personal attendants to oversee your experience with us."

"Oh." I couldn't manage more than that.

"Would you like to see his picture?"

That piqued my interest. I didn't know if I'd get to find out anything about him before our... well, our date. I grimaced. Date sounded innocent. This was anything but. I'd come to Pleasure Incorporated for very non innocent longings. It was a secret club of sorts. They didn't advertise, and only referrals from previous clientele earned you an interview with Mrs. Murphy. My girlfriend Amy was the one who told me about them. I couldn't believe she'd done something like this. Now, I couldn't believe I was considering doing something like this. Hell, I'd already committed to it, signed the confidentiality contract and everything. Paid the fees in full.

I leaned forward in the chair as she slid an 8x10 glossy my way. I turned it over and whistled. He was beautiful—strong jaw, dimples, shoulder-length dark brown hair, warm eyes, and the body of an Adonis. I swallowed and handed back the photo. I left clammy finger prints on the edges of the film.

She placed a standard white letter envelope on the desk. "Inside is the private location for your meeting tonight. You will need the card key to enter the building and your room. You are to meet Stephen in the lobby at 5:00pm. On your questionnaire, you mentioned wine would be a welcome addition. You will enjoy a quiet dinner together first, get to know one another a little bit. The conversation will help to put you at ease and open you up to the events of the evening. All the details are outlined in the enclosed letter."

I dropped my head in my hands.

"There is no need to be embarrassed. Stephen has been briefed and is more than qualified to meet your needs."

I groaned.

Her chair rolled back. I looked up to find her standing, hand outstretched. I followed suit.

Her handshake was firm. "It's our policy to ensure all aspects of your fantasy are met with the utmost respect and professionalism. But I can assure you. You will enjoy yourself tremendously. Stephen will take good care of you."

My grip on the envelope caused the paper to roll over the firm plastic card inside. I stared at the flashing numbers as the elevator descended. I couldn't believe I was about to do this. I should kill Amy for suggesting this. My biggest sexual woe was that I'd never had an orgasm with another person. It's not like it was the end of the world. I'm sure I would have had one eventually. Perhaps when I met the right guy and felt comfortable in his arms. Amy thought my 'problem' was sexual heresy and that I needed a 'good, hard' reckoning. This insane situation was her solution.