Debbie's Gift

Sandy followed Debbie into the club, hiding how impressed she was with the greeting and welcome from the doormen and hostess. They were led to a table and as they sat the hostess gestured towards some well built and smartly dressed men lined by the wall.

“Welcome Ladies,” said the hostess, “Would you like to pick which of our team will be servicing you tonight?”

“Oh, I’m having him,” said Debbie, pointing out a chisel jawed young man, “Who would you like Sandy?”

“Wait?” asked Sandy in confusion, “We get more than one person serving our table?”

Debbie held up a hand to let the hostess know not to reply, and explained herself, “The table? No, these lovely gentlemen will be servicing us individually.”

Sandy had thought she’d misheard the hostess but her friend had just repeated the crucial word. “Servicing?” she asked.

Debbie laughed. “Yes hon. Sure, he’ll bring you a drink too, but after that? He’ll do whatever you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” confirmed the hostess, “And before you ask, the answer is yes. When we promise ‘anything’ we mean it.”

Debbie smiled at Sandy’s shocked face. “Now,” she said, “Who would you like?”

Sandy thought for a moment, gave a wicked grin to her friend and pointed out a slightly older man stood at the end of the line. “That one.”

“Really?” asked Debbie, “He’s old enough to be your father. Heard he’s a bit short in the trouser department too. Why not try Brian, he’ll keep going for hours and I can promise you he’s got everything you need.”

“No, that one,” said Sandy, pointing at the same man she’d highlighted before.

Debbie sighed and shook her head. “Ok, your choice,” she said, then looked up at the hostess. “Thank you.”

The hostess smiled at them both and went over to the line of men. The two they’d picked out stepped forward and came over to their table.

Debbie beckoned the younger of the two, spread her knees wide apart and pointed at the floor between her feet. The man knelt there, sat back on his heels and looked up at her.

“Yes Ma’am?” he asked.

The elder man approached Sandy, who sat quietly looking up at him, a slight smile on her face. She ignored Debbie lifting her skirt and helping the man between her legs duck his head under it, and kept eye contact with the man nearing her.

He spoke first, “Whatever you wish. Perhaps a drink to start?”

“A drink would be nice,” said Sandy, “Warm milk, in a baby’s bottle. But first you’ll need a baby. Me. Do you have diapers the right size?”

The man smiled and nodded. “Disposable or cloth, and would my baby like infantile patterns or simple plain white?”

Sandy smiled back, relaxed against the seat and closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them again she looked up and gave her answer, “Daddy can decide.”

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