Sliding into the booth, Martin looked around, surveying the room. It seemed oddly empty to him, there were hardly any customers – well, he had turned up early, but it was still a little strange to his eyes. He counted only three, other than himself, who looked to be guests – and presumably special guests as he was, since they seemed to be getting much the same treatment as he had. Though the two female guests didn't have escorts, it seemed, at least not yet.<br/><br/>This would be an odd evening, to be sure. Martin wondered again what was expected; there didn't seem to be any way for the club to make money off this kind of promotion, but then that was hardly his problem was it? He put it out of his mind and concentrated instead on Layla, who stood by the table, hands folded in front of her, the picture of meek propriety save for a mischievous smile. Seeing him look back to her, she spoke.<br/><br/>“Does Sir require a drink?” She asked, apparently eager to please. “The bar is well-stocked and the bartender skilled, Sir may make any request he desires and I will bring it to you.”<br/><br/>“Oh, really,” Martin arched an eyebrow at her, smiling in return. “And what you fail to bring what I asked for?”<br/><br/>Her eyelashes fluttered merrily. “Then Sir will have to punish me for failing, will he not?”<br/><br/>Martin's grin widened. Indeed he had picked well, the girl did seem perfect. He had noticed a waitress from the bar serving one of the other booths, the other male guest's, but Layla was keen to serve him and he delighted in the chance to send her to order him a bloody mary, and herself whatever she desired.<br/><br/>Aside from any other pleasure, it did let him watch her beautiful legs and swaying hips as she walked barwards, showing off to him as she ordered their drinks. Bringing them back to the table, she curtsied politely and placed his on the table before him. At his gesture, she sank to her knees beside him, and he smiled, resolving that he would enjoy his evening and not worry about who was paying for it and why. He lifted his glass and toasted her, sipping and then pausing with a frown at her giggle and the unfamiliar taste of the drink, quite unlike anything he'd ever tasted.<br/><br/>“And what is this, Laylah?” He tried it again, finding he liked the smooth cool bite of the drink. Her impish grin and second giggle put the lie to the contrite sounding “Oops” of her response.