I had told the woman that I would be wearing khakis,
and standing near the potted palm in the foyer. I no
sooner paused there, and looked outside, when a
woman’s voice startled me from behind. “Clem?” I
heard, in that wonderfully feminine accent.

I turned to face the voice, and my eyes popped. She
was a tall woman, with an exotic dark appearance. Her
long dark hair hung loosely, framing her enormous
eyes. Damn.

“Yes, I’m Clem,” I said, suddenly realizing I didn’t
know her name.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Sian.” She held out her hand,
American-style, while I suddenly wished we Yanks had
adopted the Euro-kissy-face greeting. I took her hand,
finding it soft and warm. And strong.

“Nice to meet you,” I smiled.

“Ready to get along?” she asked. I was, so we hopped
into her car and zoomed off onto Bath Road. We stopped
at the McDonald’s and grabbed a two-cheeseburger meal,
which we split. I wasn’t too hungry, nerves robbing me
of my appetite. When we were safely on the M25, we got
past the entry-level chit-chat.

Sian was a warm and friendly person. I quickly got
used to her, which made it easier to talk about sex.
She had some pretty dang frank questions (“do you like
getting ass fucked?”, “would you suck a dick?”, “how
do you feel about dominance and submission?
Restraints?”) which I found off-putting at first. But
I soon was actually pleased to be queried about this,
because she obviously was paying attention. She wasn’t
going to force me into uncomfortable situations, but
she had to first know which situations I found
uncomfortable!

She asked if I had any questions, but all I wanted to
know was pretty na ve (“do the actors enjoy doing it
or is like work?”, and “do the women ever orgasm?”). I
did want to know how they went about getting women to
be on film, since they were apparently so scarce.

“It’s a problem,” she said. “We are getting some
women, but not enough to satisfy demand. I don’t like
using and re-using the same women all the time, but
we’ve been pretty much forced to.” I had an idea, and
I came close to sharing it, but I wanted to get past
tonight before I told her.

In less time than I’d imagined, we were in her cute
town. I hadn’t traveled much beyond downtown London
and the Heathrow area, so the town looked quaint to
me. Seeing my interest, she gave me a little tour. She
even pointed out where the inter-city express bus
stopped. Then we went to their studio, which looked
quite normal from the street.

Once you got past the receptionist’s desk, though, it
was far from normal. The main area was open, with
several large dividers that could be used to create
sets. One divider was preset to be a dungeon, with
shackles and whips covering it. Hmmm. On the floor, in
piles, were several mattresses. Some had restraints
sewn into them, but most were just plain mattresses.
Several small tables were set around, and some padded
sawhorses. But most obvious were the artifacts of
videography, including super-duty tripods and high-
wattage light stands.