As far as I was aware nobody had learned of her little peccadilloes, although if they’d stood outside the door of the Cleaning Manager’s office at...the right time, they wouldn’t have had to guess very hard.The ass-fucking with Irina Lafkis was sensational. A couple of times I tried pressing for some sort of relationship with her outside work, but both times she rebuffed me. I even wondered whether she was a closet lesbian, using me in secret to satisfy urges that her partner couldn’t.For a few. ’ ‘Over there – throw another log on the fire. My room is pretty small and cold.’ ‘But my room is warm – and has a wonderful view.’ ‘Are… Did you..?’ ‘I couldn’t imagine staying anywhere else.’ I hung my head. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready.’ ‘I understand. My only goal is to talk to you.’ He stood up and put some wood into the small fireplace. It soon burst into flames giving more light and heat to the room. We moved to the mat in front of the fire and sat facing each other. ‘Are you feeling all. He put my shot down on the coffee table in front of me.I knew we needed to establish some rules. I touched his arm and he looked at me.“We shouldn’t call each other by name when we’re doing this. That would be a bad habit to develop,” I said. “I’ll call you ‘sir’ and you can call me anything you like as part of our fantasy.”I needed to tell him one more thing, but it was difficult.“And . . . I really mean you can call me ANYTHING. I kind of . . . get off . . . on verbal humiliation.” I could. Every slow breath he took filled his head with memories. Not real memories. Just luke-warm breezes of artificially remembered happiness. They were long gone feelings of being well... well... being... Then there was the voice.It was a throaty female voice. It seemed to use words, even sentences. But they were like a foreign language to him. Like when you can't know where one word ends and a new one begins.Yet, he knew their meaning. As he knew the meaning of what he saw. The words and the.