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Often I wondered if my moans could be heard in the next bedroom but if they were then Alex gave no indication and I made no effort to stifle them. Just the idea that he might have been listening to me as I climaxed seemed to heighten the sensations that coursed through me but as I let myself go and his name fell from my lips, it emerged as no more than a whisper in between ragged breaths. This was my second season at the Hotel, I had spent the previous year as a kitchen porter, eager and naïve, learning all I could about cooking for service while keeping on top of the mountain of pots the demonic head chef kept piling up at the sinks. By the time October came and the season came to a close I was able to cover the second chef’s nights off, much to the annoyance of the head chef who thought that women had no place in working kitchens. Luckily, Mr Adamson had taken a shine to me and the chef realised half way through the season that there was no easy way to get rid of me. That winter I. I have no memory of the first month, just flashes.’ She grunted as, with one leg bent at the knee and lifted forward slightly, the girl worked the inner muscles on the leg underneath with subtle careful motions, fingers brushing and smoothing the oil, making the skin shine. ‘I don’t know why, but I think it was here it must have happened.’ ‘If you will turn, so you face me, I can work the other side and smooth oil into your abdomen and belly, to ease the stretching.’ Then as Sophia turned at her request, she asked casually while she refreshed the oil on her hands. ‘You have a memory of here?’ ‘When we climbed up the hill and the fortress came into sight I felt fear. I seemed to remember a door opening and loud voices and being pushed by threatening hands into a brightly lit room crowded with people, drums and cymbals pounding through my head, my body jerking in time with them, knowing the whips would strike if my movements were not in time with the rhythms they beat. I wish…I wish I.
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