Page 19 of Ace

This one looks even more professional. She isn't wearing a name tag, telling me she's probably a member of management if places like this have such a hierarchy.

"Hello, Ms. Preston. I want to welcome you to the Daydreamer's Spa. Since this is your first time to visit us, I wanted to bring you a menu."

I take the leather-bound folder from her hand when she offers it to me, but keep my eyes locked on hers.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"No, ma'am," she says with an easy smile.

"Three people now, including yourself, have identified me by my name, yet you won't tell me yours? I should hope that my privacy here is as protected as you seem to want to protect yourself."

Her smile never falters. "The privacy of our spa clientele is of the utmost importance to us."

"I'm not going to be on a list anywhere?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good," I say, doing my best to act the part, but I'm sure this woman can tell I'm like a fish out of water here.

I drop my eyes to the leather folder in my hands, opening it and trying to hide my surprise at the extensive list of experiences available.

From left to right, the offerings grow in what I would consider deviance, but then, again, who am I to judge what people are into so long as it's two—or more from what they seem to be offering—consensual adults?

The list starts with such benign things like hair brushing and cuddling, that I have to wonder if they're code for something else and I'm just too inexperienced to know what they really mean. I'm scared I'm going to order something that will put me in a situation where I won't be able to say no. Why are there so many care options? Do people come here to actually be pampered? Who can't brush their own hair?

"Since this is your first time at such an establishment, I'm here to guide you through the process. We want you to have the best experience possible and hope you'll join us again when you're in town."

When I'm in town?How do they know I don't live here? Then again, I showed the guy my driver's license.

"The man before said there was an application process."

"Correct."

"I didn't fill out any paperwork."

"There's no need."

"You ran a background check on me?"

I can tell by her lack of reaction that I'm not the first one to attempt to get information by grilling her for answers.

"How did you know this is my first—you know what, never mind. It's not important. I think I'll like3a."

"Excellent choice, Ms. Preston. Now we just have to settle the matter of payment. Would you like to put it on your family account or would you like to make a separate payment?"

Family account?

Has William been here? I do my best to hide my disgust.

"Separate would be great."

"Very well," she says. "We can take payment at the end of the evening. Follow me."

I trail her from the room, using a different door than the one I entered through, and it opens up into a long hallway with rows of doors. Despite the width of the area, I still feel a little claustrophobic as we make our way toward the door she opens for me.

"Would you like any refreshments while you wait? We need about ten minutes for your menu item to be ready."

I can't help but wonder if refreshments are also code for something like drugs or more delinquent additions to my selection.

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