[M4F] An American at a French Brothel

I've never been here before. It's my first time visiting this ciyt, but in all my planning it never once have I thought to stop by a place like this. Why would I need it? What could I get from it that I couldn't get elsewhere?

Today, though, I think I get it. A rotten day, shit weather, angry locals, traffic jams, puddles to wet my socks, coffee orders gone wrong. It's the kind of day that soft hand could fix, the embrace of a beautiful woman. One hell of a birthday.

Ok, fine, maybe now I get why someone would come here. As the moon rises and the night cools, I step up to the unassuming doorway off the beaten track. I look both ways before coming in, the little bell at the door jingling. An older woman with soft eyes and straight gray hair welcomes me in. Says I'm just in time, that the evening is just getting started.

She claps her hands twice, switfly, authroitatively. A dozen girls stream out of doorways, hallways, line up on the stairs. Girls with long hair, girls with short hair, short girls, tall girls, girls in leather, girls in lace, each one of them as beautiful as the last.

"Take your pick," The matron says to me. I swallow. The paralysis of choice stopping my throat as I look into each and every girls eyes. A feast for a king.

But even before I know who I'm chosing, I know. It was obvious, lust at first sight.

I walk up the stairs.

I walk to you.

So who are you? Which girl did I chose? Are you a party girl who likes to have fun? A more dominant woman to take my control away? Someone older and more experienced? Why are you here? What can I offer you?