A large candle chandelier drips hot wax onto the massive stone table, forming a ring of miniature red stalagmites around the centrepiece; a metalwork ...culpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure. The detail is exquisite. The naked figure is kneeling; her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth is opened in an eternally silent scream of ecstasy. One delicate hand caresses a silver breast while the other is pressed firmly against her mound. Two fingers disappear into the life-like metal. I sat down on the nearest settee to me so that I could look her over. Gill could not be called a beauty. At twenty three or so, her face was more than passable, but the slightness of frame and her timidity did nothing for her. It indicated a narrowness of mind, even shrewishness. That was probably unfair, but an accurate description of the persona she projected.Gill’s skin was almost flawless; a small brown mole on her left breast was the only apparent defect, spoiling an otherwise, totally. More

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