His dark eyes narrowed on her full breasts, supported by a threadbare corset under her best Sunday gown. "But what I meant to say was -- have I.. uh.. ever availed myself of your services before?"

"No, sir, you have not." Her chin hitched high. "Not until now."

The man, who had once turned her head with his undivided attention, wore an ordinary dark sack coat. He removed the garment and pulled up a chair, sinking into the red velvet cushioned seat and stretching out his striped trouser-encased legs.

He waved a hand, a flourish of fingers and arrogance. "Well then, do get on with it."

She began to disrobe, worn and humiliating article of clothing by worn and humiliating article of clothing, until she was entirely nude.

Their past conversation minimized her trepidation. And, though she had never prostituted herself before, she was no virgin, after all. Granted, she had misjudged his character, the same as she had misjudged the character of another man or two, but Mr. Donovan struck her as a gentleman wallowing in self-pity, a gentleman far too listless to go through all the extra bother of carving her up after getting it up.

Speaking of which -- could he? Or, was getting it up something she would need to coax? She had never had to encourage a man before...

But no. He seemed to have no problem there. Now that her pathetic stripping was over and done, he sat up straighter, if agitatedly, in the chair. His restiveness was a good sign: Mr. Donavan would not require further cajoling.

"Well... ahem..." He shifted upon the red velvet cushion. "You have a passable figure."

"My thanks," she said tightly.

"Full, lush breasts " He paused. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Molly."

"Well, Molly, be a good girl, would you, and show them to better advantage?"

The wretch! Who was he to patronize her in such a condescending manner!

She had not always been a servant. Nor a whore. She had not always gone hungry on Christmas Eve.

But pride would not pay the rent, so drawing back her previously rounded shoulders, she thrust her bosom up and out.

"Mmmm." He bent his elbows upon the arms of his chair and tapped the fingers of his hands together. "Nicely shaped breasts. Virtually no hang. The nipples are rather larger than I like -- I prefer small areola -- but they will do me well enough." He tilted his head. "Upon occasion, I enjoy ejaculating in the cleavage. Or about the throat. A pearl necklace, as it were. Does that suit you?"

"Whatever you say, sir. But are we talking about only tonight or a long-term arrangement?"

"We shall see. I can be persuaded "

"As can I. But first have you no mistress currently?"

"No."

"Then, we shall try to persuade each other."

His hands went to his lap, covering a specific bulge. "I like to watch."

"Watch what? Could you possibly be more specific?"

"I like to watch a woman pleasure herself. Masturbation. Are you familiar with the term?"

"Yes."

"Are you familiar with deviant sexual behavior?"

She sighed at his male fantasizing. When would this man pull his head out of his arse and get on with reality?

Mr. Donovan had lost a woman whom he at least thought he loved to his brother. But there were other fish in the sea. All he need do was open up his eyes and look. "Yes. I am familiar with perversions."

"Are you willing to engage in those behaviors, including bondage and discipline and ménage?"

What an extraordinarily bloodless interview! She had not coupled for a while, but the last time she had, there had been action, not questions. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Please to turn and face away."

She waited until she had completed the command before rolling her eyes.

"Buggery," he announced.

"Yes, anal intercourse. What of it?"

"I would like to engage in the perversion with you. You have... well... tempting hindquarters."

Laughter bubbled up within her at the absurdity of his carnal shopping list. This was a man who understood nothing of passion, about how messy and real true feelings could get. Whatever had happened to spontaneity? Dirty laughter. Heat.

But naked and penniless, she was hardly in a position to reason with him. "You wish buggery tonight?" she asked, as she would ask a child if he would prefer his penny candy now or later.

"Perhaps."

"Then perhaps the answer is yes."