Getting settled

You step into a room that looks like it belongs in another century. The walls are panelled oak, punctuated with arched windows and decorated with comfortable upholstered chairs, most of them occupied by women who look at you with undisguised curiosity.

"Mr. Watts and Mr. Carter," Ms. Naylor says. "Thank you for joining us. We're waiting on a few more people. Take any seat." You think that her glance lingers on you a second more than necessary, and smile at the thought of her impaled on your cock a short time ago.

You take a seat, looking around as you wait, aware of the curious looks from the others present. They are mostly older women, in their forties or older, although one or two are about your own age. Some of them chat to each other as they wait, casting occasional glances at you. Others pointedly look anywhere in the room except at you, as if that will make you disappear.

You had little idea what to expect, but you certainly didn't expect to feel this uncomfortable.