I stand, and Brendan rises with me. My hair is tied back today, its style a world away from Old Marlowe. Gone are the messy, easy buns and in their place is a glossy ponytail. I secured the ponytail before carefully curling my hair in sections and back-combing it a little so it’s all bouncy and elegant.

He starts to undo the zip that runs down the back of the dress. I’m facing Ethan, who can’t see anything interesting just yet. Still, he’s spread his legs wide and is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers interlaced and facial expression, if not quite avid, then laser-focused. His pale blue shirt is as crisp and crease-free as if he’s just put it on, the folds in his navy suit trousers razor-sharp, and his effortless polish throws into sharper focus the fact that these two plan to destroy me.

‘I got her to wear her best lingerie for you, mate,’ Brendan says conversationally. ‘And I warmed her up in the car, so you can thank me later.’

The zip is fully open, and he slides the feminine black dress I’m wearing off my shoulders so the slinky fabric falls down my arms, the front of the dress dropping to my waist.

Oh my God. My boss is undressing me, and my boobs are now on display for this random guy in lingerie that screams high-class hooker. I’m well aware that my nipples are still taut from Brendan’s ministrations to my pussy in the car, and that Ethan can likely see them through the lace.

‘Believe me, I will,’ he mutters. ‘Now, take it off. Take it all off.’

Brendan pushes my dress down over my hips and the expensive fabric falls heavily to the ground with a swoosh. I stand, frozen, for a second in only my heels and my lingerie, the dress pooled around my ankles and the air conditioning cool on my skin.

‘Very good,’ Ethan says, his eyes glued to the spot where the black lace of my panties gives way to a scalloped edge and then the bare flesh of my pussy.

Brendan kneads my bottom with his hands. ‘Get rid of the dress, love,’ he reminds me gently.

I start. ‘Oh—of course.’ I step out of it and push it to one side with my stiletto.

‘We’re going to tell you exactly what to do, and you’re going to do it,’ Brendan says. ‘So you just clear your mind and let us take charge. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ That does actually sound like a plan. I can let them use me, but if they wanted me to choreograph something, they’d be sorely disappointed. I may be a trained performer, but I have never performed like this.

‘Good girl.’ He sits down heavily behind me, which surprises me. ‘Open your legs.’