The slight chill in the air only masks my excitement. There's not a single person on the street, yet I feel as if every eye in town is on me right now...No cars in either direction, I cross in the middle of the street and walk through the gate of the park. It's almost like stepping through the TARDIS door into a time long gone, the hustle and bustle of modern life left purposely on the opposite side of the hedgerow.I stroll along the path, the tiny gravel crunching under the soles of my sandals.. The Portuguese man was old, ugly, fat, and crude. But in the end, I suppose, there wasn’t really a difference. One cock was much the same as the next one. I was already learning that.I was wishing it would be that sexy matador, Miguel Coelho, though.I soaked for an hour in the tub of my en suite bedroom at Senhor Nuncio’s palace that night. I’d been given a luxurious room with a sitting area, an alcove with a four-poster canopy bed, and a huge tiled bath with a large soaking tub in it. I was. More

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