You've heard that there is a job vacancy as a live-in cleaner in my apartment. You've turned up to the interview dressed smartly, desperate for work, but you soon get the sense that there is more to this job than at first appears. Slowly, I start to tell you little details about the dress code, the 'extracurricular activities' and the 'precautions' that I have to take as a single woman employing a man; namely a chastity cage. But yet you're smiling. And you haven't run away yet. Could it be that you actually enjoy this kind of thing?