“What is this?” I asked, sipping the scotch my date had just poured me as I perused the décor of her condo.

“That is where I display my special slaves,” she said from across the parlor, as she finished pouring a drink for herself.

Up until that point it had been a very good date, which for me is saying something. A man does not get to my age as a bachelor without racking up a lot of dating experience, and I had not been so turned on by someone I had just met for a very long time. The mention of “slaves” was the first warning sign I had encountered, and it made me turn, just to make sure I had heard her right. Doing so gave me another look at her gorgeous legs and shapely ass, as she faced away toward a sideboard that held her liquor and glassware. Read more…