British Princess

Owen was somewhat surprised when he got the call that the Princess Sophie, Duchess of York wanted to "meet" him. He'd had quite a few "meetings" with members of the British royal family since his arrangement with the US government had begun, but never with her. The younger of the Queen's two daughters, the 27 year-old Princess Sophie was known to be rather more reserved and private than her glamorous older sister, the Princess of Wales. In fact, Owen had heard that Princess Sophie had become something of a hermit in the past year or so; apparently grief-stricken by the accidental **** of a longtime girlfriend.

So, Owen wasn't quite sure what to expect when he entered the Princess' hotel suite, dressed casually in black pants and a silk shirt, the former tight, the latter open almost to his waist; Owen didn't have the natural exhibitionist streak of post-Pulse women, but since it was post-Pulse women who made his clothes, he didn't have much choice but to dress somewhat skimpily. Some of the women he was dispatched to service treated the experience as cavalierly as any other sexual encounter, while others were considerably more nervous about their first time with a man and needed a bit of hand-holding first. Fortunately, he'd gotten pretty good at reading their body language and could tell which was which just by looking at them. And his first look at Sophie told her she was one of the latter.

She stared at him wide-eyed, first at the lean muscles of his chest and then down at the bulge at his crotch. He looked right back. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and the rosy cheeks and delicate beauty expected of a stereotypical English Rose. In tune with that stereotype she was short, but there her adherence to the cliche ended; for what she lacked in height she made up for in curves. Her outfit indicated that she was in mourning, an all-black ensemble that was what passed for modest in the post-Pulse world; black cap with a veil netting, a sleeveless dress that stopped above her knees and made a pretense at covering her cleavage with sheer lace, black elbow-length gloves, and black stiletto heels.

Princess Sophie was still staring at him, fidgeting nervously. Obviously, he'd have to make the first move. He bowed, took her hand and kissed it politely.

"A pleasure to meet you, your Highness," he said.