Mistress Fleur duMal

We meet, as we have done before, at a cafe in the late morning. I am dressed, as ever, all in black with glistening patent boots and red, red lips. I'm sipping a coffee and reading a book, and pay you absolutely no attention when you sit down across from me at the small table. You are middle-aged, overweight, excited and painfully aware that if it weren't for your perversion you would never be able to spend this kind of time with a beautiful young woman. Already other patrons are wondering why I...