You're flustered by the question and ask the receptionist to clarify.

You look up from the forms to glance at the reciptionist, who is busily writing something at her desk. You clear your throat.

"Excuse me, miss? I have a question about this form."

She leaves her desk and comes over to you, perching on the arm of your chair. "Well, what is it? I'll be more than happy to answer."

You gesture at the question about your physical form. "What -- what does that mean, exactly?"

She laughs. "I can't believe you engaged our services without knowing about these. They make us a particular favorite, you know. As you may have heard, we have certain capabilities that are exceedingly rare -- our artificers can give you nearly any physical form you like, at least for the night."

You swallow thickly. "Any form?" you ask.

She nods. "I myself make use of their services as often as I can. They can do wonderful things, Mr. Doe. Simply wonderful."

You reconsider the question, your latent arousal growing as you imagine what you could be.