Imogen almost breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped into the room - in contrast to this, the rest of the Tearoom seemed stuffed to the rafters with bits of nonsense and frippery – all of the highest fashion, she understood, but not to her taste.<br/><br/>But this was<em>much</em>better. Clean lines and definite edges, the angular feel of the furniture giving the room a slightly hard edge while remaining feminine. And the colours were bold, standing out on their own – none of the watered down shades that everyone seemed to favour these days.<br/><br/><em>‘Maybe we do share some tastes – I wonder if she’s wearing that dress on someone else’s say so?’</em><br/><br/>She let some of her pleasure at the room show in her eyes as she set her hat on the edge of the desk, and casually, slowly, started unbuttoning her jacket.<br/><br/>“I’d like you,” she started, her voice cool, wondering what word to use – ‘bedroom toys’ seemed somehow childish. “To lay out a selection of your…accoutrements, and arrange for there to be a glass of ice included among them.”<br/><br/>She sat on the desk stool, lounging back against the desk itself, radiating confidence while her hunger still shone in her eyes.<br/><br/>She looked the woman up and down again, considering which tack would amuse her most today.<br/><br/><em>’Frustration, I think,’</em>she decided – she was going to drive them both mad with desire before actually letting her get anywhere; that particular trick always turned her on.<br/><br/>“And then I want you to strip,” she continued. “Slowly.”<br/>