Tony Stark wasn’t exactly the first person she would have guessed to make an appointment with her, although he could certainly afford several despite her high prices. Usually the men who made appointments were high-collar politicians, with tight ties and buttoned shirts. Mr. Stark’s ‘playboy’ reputation led her to believe that if he wanted that sort of a…release, he could easily get it with one of the many women tossing themselves at his feet - but then again, they wouldn’t exactly have the same effect on him as an aloof dominatrix, now would they?
And so Irene was rather pleased when Thursday came. Her morning clients were normal, regular repeat clients that she’d seen several times before. She’d cleared a good hour and a half before his, however, despite being in the same outfit she wore all the clients of the day - black high-waisted leggings and boots that let her move around easily while still perpetuating the ‘expected’ image, and a loose red deep-V, tucked in. Her hair was in its regular up-do, carefully curled and pinned out of her face and away from her neck. She reapplied her makeup and took a break for tea. She was more than ready, waiting with her crop when four-thirty rolled around.