Fitful dreams woke her several times. The next morning the phone rang early. “Yes” she barked into the receiver. “It’s your wake-up call madam... it’s 8 a.m.” She hung up the phone and laid there bewildered at what to do now. Order room service, get washed up, start getting ready – damn it- getting ready for him – giving him what he wants –damn it. How did he get my diaries? How did he get in, find the safe, open it – damn it! All night she tried to think of a way to deny what was there. All the. My head was rolling from side to side, my mouth was open and I was intermittently opening and shutting my eyes. I didn't want to catch his gaze, I didn't want eye contact, that was far too personal and, for sure I didn't want him kissing me or using his mouth on my body, that would be too intimate. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop myself from looking at his body in the short, tight singlet and jock strap. Why? Was it attractive? Was it appealing? I don't think so, but it exemplified what I was. More

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