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The next day I was back on the ward doing a double shift, dealing with the usual Friday night detritus of the world. It was depressing to be surrounded by so many injured drunks, so many people suffering from alcohol poisoning and the many victims of alcohol fuelled violence. It was a world apart from the one I inhabited and I pitied the individuals who knew no better or who had suffered through no fault of their own. The Hertfordshire girls and guys who had wanted nothing but a sexy night out and who ended up spending six hours in casualty.

I had begun to become addicted to my alternative lifestyle as my room-mate Jodie, a Hertfordshire escort for hire who had gone away for a month of seclusion in some Buddhist temple or other, or so I thought, there had been little or no contact from the hot Hertfordshire girl for a week or so now. One part of me hoped she would stay away for six months, giving me time to enjoy my new found sexual freedom in a bohemian and carnal world. Her wardrobe was full of the sexiest clothes and scintillating sex toys and I had had my fill and more of its contents. I began to think constantly about sex, night and day and needed regular satisfaction or my head would spin.

One thing I had not done is look at Jodie’s personal website. As an independent escort Hertfordshire girl she plied her trade electronically and she had an smtp email account, meaning it was unlikely that she was collecting her mail from wherever she was in the world. She also had a web mail account but that was kept separate from her working persona. I had sent her various emails but they remained unread or at least unanswered.

I powered up my net book during a ten minute tea break and sat in a corner of the nurse’s lounge cradling a cup of coffee with both hands as I waited for the site to load. I had never looked at the site before and didn’t know what to expect. Unfortunately the home page gave little away, there was a title – ‘Model Escorts Hertfordshire’, a ‘log on’ button and a ‘contact me for a log on password’ button. I cursed under my breath. Could I guess Jodie’s log on?

I scoured my brain for inspiration trying all sorts of password combinations, Jodie’s date of birth, home town, favourite colour, food, first boyfriend’s name, even favourite sexy clothes, ‘silk stockings’ and sexual positions – she had told me in a drunken state once that she liked to be dominated so I tried ‘domination’ and ‘bondage’ and ‘submission’ but none of them worked. Then I remembered something that I used to call her when she was being particularly verbose about her sexual experiences – ‘Naughty Girl’. I tried this but to no avail. Then I realised, ‘naughtygirl’ with no spaces and all in lower case. The page blinked and a new message appeared, I was in...