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round.
    ‘Who’s there?’ she demanded.
    ‘There’s no need to be afraid, Janet Angel. You will not come to any harm.’ The voice seemed less forbidding now, but Janet was in no way reassured.
    ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my home?’ There was a momentary silence, then a switch clicked and a small table-lamp was turned on. Janet looked in the direction of the light. The man sat nonchalantly in the corner of the room. He was dark, in his late thirties and extremely handsome. He was smartly dressed in an expensive suit and his eyes were shielded by gold-rimmed sunglasses. His appearance gave Janet the impression that she was in the presence of a gangster.
    She took a deep breath and moved forward a step, ‘I asked you who you were,’ she said, courageously. She tried to feign anger but her voice trembled as she spoke. Her eyes darted around the room. The telephone was on the far side; she would have to walk past him to get to it. She looked at the door to the hallway. She might make it, but she knew that she couldn’t leave Lisa alone with this menacing stranger. She was about to cry out to waken her friend when the man leant forward in his seat and removed his sunglasses.
    He looked directly into her eyes and she felt that her knees would give way. The expression on his face was benign but the look in his eyes seemed to be penetrating into her very soul, as though reading her thoughts. ‘I told you,’ he said patiently. ‘There is no need to be afraid. We have a mutual friend.’
    Try as she might, Janet found that she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. She moved slowly and sat opposite him, her hands tucked between her thighs like a schoolgirl who had been caught misbehaving. The stranger’s smile broadened, but his dark, piercing eyes remained cold. ‘You and your friend Lisa are known in some very high places,’ he said. ‘Even the President of Europe himself speaks highly of you.’
    ‘You know the President?’
    ‘He is a friend. From what he has told me, you are just the type of girls I am looking for to assist in my new enterprise.’
    ‘What do you mean, enterprise?’ Janet was beginning to feel a little more relaxed and sat back in her chair.
    ‘I run a kind of college and therapy centre in the heart of Sussex, attending to the needs of the very wealthy and their precocious offspring. Your friend Lisa and you will make excellent therapists and tutors.’
    ‘I don’t understand. We haven’t any training or qualifications.’
    ‘You have much experience in matters of the flesh which will prove invaluable, and you will be given suitable instruction.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ said Janet, becoming increasingly confused. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Grantham Manor offers sexual therapy to men and women who suspect that they are going through all manner of personal and intimate crises. Your knowledge and your complete lack of inhibitions will suit you both well to the task. Additionally, the Manor serves as a kind of finishing school for the daughters of the very rich, where they may receive instruction as to the more hedonistic of adult pursuits.’
    Janet sat quietly for a moment as she pondered on her strange visitor’s words. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, presently. ‘Let me wake my friend.’ She made to stand up, but the stranger leant forward and stared hard into her eyes. Janet shrank back into the seat. For some reason she felt unable to move.
    ‘There is no need to disturb your friend,’ he said, slowly. ‘You will make the decision.’
    There was a long silence. The stranger’s gaze remained fixed on Janet’s, unblinking and totally absorbing. She began to sense that her will was deserting her but, more than that, she was starting to feel incredibly aroused. She crossed her legs, but that made the feeling worse. She uncrossed them again and shifted uncomfortably in her seat without, for one moment, taking her eyes off his. An incongruous heat was building up within