Meet the mistress.

"You will stop right there . . . now," calls a female voice.

You stop in your tracks, magically compelled to obey the voice.

From a side doorway on your right, a beautiful blonde woman in her mid-20s walks out. She is wearing black fishnet stockings, a black leather miniskirt with tanktop, and stiletto boots. Her eyes are as blue as the sapphire on your dainty little choker. Her lips seem to offer the promise of fantasy beyond your wildest dreams.

As the woman examines you, you are unable to move. She runs her hand through your hair and from your neckline down to your waist. She grasps your short blue French maid skirt and seems to revel in the feel of the ruffly petticoats.