The pencil sketch beneath was beginning to disappear.Grieg, Symphony in C Minor. The room began to take shape. It was not what I expected. I thought i... would be a dark medieval castle. Torches would cast deep shadows. But instead I found a Parisian lady’s boudoir, pre-World War II. The men were off preparing for conflict—negligent of the women they would leave behind. The ladies entertained themselves in the rooms of Mademoiselle Katarina—a decadent 1930s slumber party. A fire burned in the. The floor was cold and so was the wall as I sat down, my legs on either side of Isabelles. Her feet being so close to my balls and penis made me kind of nervous because of years of terrible nut shots, but I trusted her. So how much time do we have? she asked, rubbing her feet along my thighs. Probably like two hours, I said, reaching above me and turning the shower down to not waste water. Isabelle smiled, starting to giggle from seemingly nowhere. What? I asked, starting to laugh a little. More

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