Her white blouse with a starched collar was pristine and her makeup and hair was the product of many minutes, sitting at her dressing table, in prepar...tion of being the face of the hotel.She looked critically at the oak panelling that formed the reception walls, with its oil paintings of some dubious looking characters, from decades past. She could smell the aroma of polish that had been liberally sprayed and wiped over the wooden surfaces. The flowers, in a huge fan-shaped vase, were fresh,. It was good. I went and knocked on the bathroom door. No reply. I listened, and heard a light whimper. I didn’t know what to do; I had nothing prepared to say for this situation. I went back to my room. Two hours later. She walked into my room, long legs reflecting moonlight and the belt of her robe trailing behind. Without a word, she knelt beside my chair and reached into my lap. What she found only encouraged her. A short rub and we were thinking the same thoughts. I touched her lightly on. More

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