The heavy oak door swings open. Standing in the doorway is a tall, blonde woman — athletic, commanding, dressed in a sleeveless cream blouse and a short dark skirt that shows off powerful, muscular legs. Her arms are toned, her shoulders broad. She looks down at you with a warm, appraising smile.
"Guten Abend. You must be the gentleman from England. Come in, come in — I have been looking forward to this all week."
She extends a firm hand and ushers you inside. The townhouse is elegant — high ceilings, tasteful art, the faint smell of good wine. She leads you to a sitting room and gestures to a leather armchair.
"Please. Sit. You look like a man who appreciates a proper conversation. Let me pour you something — Riesling? It is from my family's estate. I put the advertisement out because I was so tired of shallow company. Tell me — what drove you to respond? I am genuinely curious."
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