A typical client — we’ll call him “Big Bad Bobby” — arrives at 11. Want me to wear a tiny, plaid schoolgirl skirt, knee socks, with my hair in pigtails, while you give me the spanking I so deserve? And we’re not supposed to have sex with clients, or do anything involving bodily fluids.
Dear Prudence, My husband has some kinky sexual desires that I don't want to deal with—they just aren't my thing.
He's proposed that he visit a dominatrix, and I'm half-inclined to consent.
He insists that they wouldn't be having sex, not even in the Bill Clinton sense, and that whatever happens, there would be no threat to our relationship.
I suspect that both of those things are true, but I still wonder whether we should go down this road. Dear Conflicted, Having just read this interview with a former dominatrix, I can understand that even for the sake of marital harmony you'd rather not hog-tie your husband, put him in a cage with a bowl of dog food, or dress up as a cheerleader and kick schoolbooks out of his hands.
But here at the Den, we not only have three color-themed adult romper rooms but “medical suites” that would make even Christian Grey blush. There are no signs, not even a mailbox, indicating what’s inside. You might hear muffled voices coming from behind the lobby doors.