Robert Burnett was having a holiday from himself - his boring, conventional, unadventurous, uptight, buttoned-up self. That was what booking into the Majestic Hotel in Knightsbridge for the next three weeks was all about. It didn''t matter that he lived in London anyway, with a very nice house in Richmond-upon[E1] -Thames. It got him right away from the day-to-day familiar: that was the point. As far as he knew he shared no background or history with anyone staying here at this five-star hotel. The Majestic wasn''t as huge as somewhere like the Ritz, say, or the Savoy, but was still more than large enough a hotel in which to disappear. Robert was anonymous here to all intents and purposes. He was off the radar.

And his holiday from himself had just begun. Normally Robert didn''t do anything without thinking it through first, that was his way. Not this time, though. Completely out of character for him and merely on a whim, he''d decided to pay for a little afternoon delight. And so far he wasn''t regretting that impulsive decision in the slightest. Robert could hardly keep his eyes off Tessa, the young woman the so called high-end "escort agency" had sent to his hotel suite. When the woman on the other end of the phone had asked him the sort of service he was looking for, Robert had told her. He wanted sex, he''d said, but not penetrative sex, simply release.

And he wanted the girl to be strict, Robert had added, blurting the words out while he''d still had the courage to voice them. After that the woman had quoted him a price, which he''d hastily accepted. And Tessa certainly fitted the bill, in her strict appearance and stern demeanour: that disdainful look on her flawless face, those cold dark eyes, that sneer she''d painted on her full, red lips. Even her shiny raven-black hair was right. It was chin-length and cut in a severe geometric style with a straight fringe that fell down to just above her sculptured eyebrows. Tessa accepted the payment Robert discreetly proffered and put it into the oversized red leather handbag she had over her shoulder. She engaged in a little small talk with him, to break the ice, he assumed. Where was he from, she asked.

How long was he planning to stay at the Majestic? And such like chitchat, although her own manner remained as frosty as when he''d first opened the door to her. It was all an act, this froidure she was affecting, he assumed. But it was a very good one, almost worthy of an Oscar. He offered her a drink - alcoholic, non-alcoholic, whatever she wanted - but she declined. ''I''m good to go,'' she said briskly, planting the oversized red bag down by her feet. ''You seem ideal,'' Robert announced. This was perhaps the wrong thing to have said at that point. Why? Because he''d suddenly ceased to feel the least bit horny due to an alarming onrush of nerves.

He could hardly tell her that though. ''Yes, ideal,'' he burbled, feeling another wave of panic wash over him. ''Ideal for what?'' Robert took a deep breath. ''For what I need,'' he replied in a falsely cheerful voice, trying to keep his composure. She fixed him with an impatient look. ''That''s not an answer, is it?'' she declared icily. ''What exactly do you want from me?'' Nothing right now, Robert felt like saying. What he actually said, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible when he said it, was, ''I don''t want penetrative sex.

'' Tessa''s eyes were scornful. ''I knew that already. I''m well aware of what you don''t want. How about telling me what you do want.''.