The strong scents of lavender and sandalwood woke him.

That and the chatter and giggle of young women.

Startled he opened his eyes, almost vomiting as the harsh array of neon pinks and crimsons of the four poster bed and its coverings hit his eyes.

With something akin to primeval horror he slapped his hands against the down filled mattress beneath him, as if by sheer terror he could transport himself elsewhere. How in God’s name did he end up in a whore’s boudoir when he’d been looking for a Fizz?

“Ah, you’re awake,” a silky voice purred. “I’ve got something for you.”

The garish veils around the bed parted to his left revealing his hostess and the thing she had for him.

He screamed.