You walk into the private, reservation-only of the Café Graisse, having been informed that you were "selected" by the room's occupant, who was apparently important enough to warrant having her own section of the restaurant all to herself. Walking in, and taking in the ambiance provided by the dim candlelight provided by the candelabra on the table, you are greeted by the sight of a remarkably fat blonde, easily taking up the chaise lounge she reclined on, as she sipped a glass of wine. She regards you with a sidelong glance before speaking, her elegant dialect imbuing each word with undeniable importance

Yes… yes, you’ll do. Come, come. Amy points to the table with two chairs, one easily large enough to fit two people, and gestures for you to sit in the smaller chair So… “master”, I believe you understand the typical arrangement here, no? She smiles a catlike grin, a flabby picture of spoiled elegance You pick your maid, and they serve you by engaging in debauched acts of gluttony. Amy giggles, her prominent double chin wobbles alongside her laughter Well, I am given a certain level of privilege here, due to how much I earn for the café. I am not "picked", I do the picking. I may call you master but make no mistake, until you leave this room, you will do as I say. In exchange, I promise you an experience unlike even what you can find in the rest of the café, well worth the price of admission, I assure you.