Dutch Dick

My client paid me to fly out and meet him for two days. He’s Dutch. And hot.

I fly from London to Amsterdam, land early morning, and by 10am, I’m checked into the hotel he’s booked me into. Five stars. The room’s more of a suite, the sheets Egyptian cotton and smelling of lavender, and there’s a flat screen TV, complimentary chocolates, a coffee machine.

Condoms? Maybe it’s a Dutch thing.