It’s the bloody waitress. You couldn’t make it up, could you? Younger than my woman’s oldest. Nearly my height. A bit gothic with long black hai... and spandex mini skirt and those clumpy boots the goths like. So nervous she’s almost unable to speak. So I say hello, ask if anything is the matter. She says she thinks we might have forgotten something, and holds out her hand.I don’t take it straight away. Instead, I step more into the corridor. I’m properly wrapped - this is someone’s daughter. ‘Come on,’ you say. ‘There’s more yet to be seen,’ and with that you take my hand once more and all but drag me up the carved stair case to the upper landing. You take me and put me in front of you and we turn to the right at the top of the stairs. The doorway open up into a small sitting area and I enter into the room and look again at the gorgeous view outside before turning to my right and entering the bedroom. This time you’re close behind me and can’t help but hear my gasp at the room. You. More

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