She stood in the doorway, her hair as black as coal, cascading over her electric blue dress. Something about her made James’s heart skip a beat. For a moment he was in love. In that moment all the words in the world were sucked out of his brain and just her essence remained.

James had driven all afternoon through the driving rain. He had been meaning to have a break in the country for ages, but work just kept piling up. Being self-employed he didn’t need to get permission to shoot off at the drop of a hat, but his clients expected him to be at their beck and call.

In the end, he packed an overnight bag, put his answerphone on and made a booking, online at the last minute. James liked the old fashioned, rambling old hotels in the country. The ones with the over-polished bannisters and squeaky, cracked leather sofas in the lobby. The one he had booked was right on the edge of a village and was a stone’s throw from the national park footpath. That’s if it ever stopped raining. He didn’t fancy walking in the rain; the alternative, spending a day at a museum, didn't exactly appeal to him either.

As James descended the steep road, which led to the little settlement the rain eased and patches of icy blue began to appear between the various shades of grey. Pulling up in the car park behind his hotel, the sun made a brief appearance, before disappearing behind the hillside, producing an eerie orange glow. The dry interlude was short-lived though and he soon felt spots of rain on his face again.

James stood in the little garden, which had a forlorn-looking child’s swing and a neglected barbecue, which had been allowed to rust in the months since the summer. The hotel itself was austere and foreboding, being made of a dark stone, which looked darker still from the recent downpour. The ivy that clad the front, was a mixture of brown and green and looked as old as the building, so thick and extensive was its growth, in places.

Closing his trunk, James slung his overnight bag over one shoulder and made his way through the front door. There was a slightly unusual, though not unpleasant smell in the lobby – a mixture of old books and leather. The impression of a well-loved, lived in building was immediately enforced by the chimes of an old Grandfather clock, which stood in a recess by the door. James checked his phone. The six gentle ‘bongs’ of the old clock confirmed the time as he approached the desk.

There was a leather writing pad and a brass bell, which gave a satisfying ring as he struck the top with his palm.

“Yes, Sir?” said the man, who was respectably dressed without being smart. His off-white shirt told of a single man, who had omitted to press his collar the night before.

“Alexander,” said James. “I have a booking for tonight.”

“Room 10,” said the clerk, handing James a heavy key with an even heavier wooden fob attached.

“If I want to go out…”

“The desk is manned 24 hours, Sir,” the man interrupted, anticipating James’s question.

“Oh fine. And breakfast?”

“Is at eight. Through there. There’s a tavern down the road. The Bull. Recommend the lobster.”

James frowned. He nodded and held his key up in acknowledgement. The desk clerk had a demeanour that made James think he was weary of his position and lacked both motivation and ambition, judging by the mechanical way that he trotted out his advice.

The boards creaked in places as James ascended the staircase. His room was on the second floor, but he took his time, admiring the oil paintings on the walls and the selection of leather bound first editions on the landing. Everything about the hotel was just as James had imagined, after reading the description on their website. His room was cosy, with the extra little touches that made him feel like he was in somewhere a bit special. The rose-scented soap in the bathroom; the original brass plumbing and the fresh daffodils on the linen chest.

James had driven for nearly three hours and as the dusk began to cloak the hillside outside his window, he lay on his bed with the intention of a cat nap before dinner. As is so often the case, forty winks turned into a proper snooze.

He awoke sometime later, uncertain of the time. He fumbled through his jacket pocket for his mobile phone. James was a little baffled to find that it was out of charge, even though he had made a point of charging it, the night before.

“Bloody Technology!” he exclaimed to himself, in exasperation.

James made his way down stairs and checked with the old clock. He was surprised to find it was just past eight. The two hours had passed in a heartbeat but at least he felt completely refreshed. He contemplated a walk down to the tavern, of which the clerk spoke. However, not feeling especially hungry, and dissuaded by the rain, he instead had a nibble of some brownies, which he had stuffed in the outer pocket of his overnight bag.

Brushing the sticky crumbs from his mouth, James had an overwhelming desire for a cup of coffee and picked up the receiver of the chrome and Bakelite telephone and pressed zero. In spite of its clunky operation, James loved the anachronistic splendour of the old phone.

“Hello, could you possibly bring a coffee up to room ten, please?”

“Milk, Sir?”

“No, black, please.”

“It will be up presently, Sir,” said the male voice on the other end.

A very young-looking porter arrived with the drink a few minutes later. Unlike the clerk, he was dressed in a traditional black porter’s uniform, with silver buttons on his jacket. He placed the white metal tray on the dresser and bowed slightly before he left.

James picked up a lump of sugar with the silver tongues, which accompanied his cup. He loved the little authentic touches and examined them minutely, looking for the hall mark. The hotel had been very thorough in creating an olde worlde atmosphere, he thought. Even the tea tray was the real deal with an intricately machined design embossed in the centre.

As he stirred his coffee, his mind wandered and he began to imagine all the adventures and curious incidents that might have carried on inside the hotel over the two and a half centuries since it was built. An old hotel must hold so many secrets within its walls. All those people, coming and going; sleeping and loving and fornicating. A hotel like this was a capsule of the ineffable. A multitude of memories lost in the passage of time. He looked at his bed, with its big brass knobs and the heavy maroon valance. He wondered at the forgotten souls who had once lain there.

James’s train of thought was rudely interrupted by a gentle knock on his door. There was a strangely hollow quality to the knock and caught up in his imagination, he was slightly alarmed by the sound. He assumed it was the porter, perhaps returning for the tray or something.

He opened the door and rather than the anonymous young man there was the most arresting woman he had ever laid eyes on. She had a beauty, which was almost indefinable. Her eyes were brown, like polished stones. Her hair was jet black and her face was a ray of sunshine. Her hair flowed past her shoulders and appeared to disappear into tiny ringlets of air around her waist. As shocking as her own appearance, was her dress, which was a vivid blue. It was some sort of silk and had white lace stitched into the bodice, catching the eye and yet giving small relief to the vibrancy of the dress itself.

She could not have been much more than 21 years of age and was as out of place in that dour hotel as a zebra would have been, had it galloped down the landing.

“Can I help you?” asked James.

“I’m sorry to trouble you. I am in room twelve but there is a leak from the roof. It is so silly. All the rain. You would imagine it might drain away but it is not so.”

She spoke with a soft accent, which to James’s ears was neither French nor Spanish. Her English was not faltering and yet she spoke in that way that foreigners do.

“Oh. Well, what did the man say, at reception?”

“It is full. They ask me to sleep away from the drip, drip of the water, but the bed is not made to be moved.”

James was surprised to hear that the hotel was full, as he had not even seen another human being apart from the porter and the clerk. Yet as he spoke to the girl, a couple passed on the landing, arm in arm. Something about their dress struck James as exceedingly old-fashioned. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in an Edwardian drama and it occurred to him that there was a fancy dress party going on somewhere. However, his attention was so preoccupied with the beautiful girl and her own bright blue garb, that the matter passed as unimportant.

“Well, I suppose if they are full, I could take some blankets and you can have the bed.”

“You sleep on the floor! No, you must not do this on my account.”

“It’s okay,” said James, waving away the imposition, nonchalantly. “Please come in.”

“’Okay?’ You sound like an American. But it is not all right. You do not trust me?”

“It’s a question of propriety.”

“I am twenty years old and I can take care of myself. But you are a gentleman, I think.”

“I like to think so. I am James by the way.”

James offered her his hand, which she accepted. He was delighted by the lightness and softness of her touch.

“Hello, James by the way, I am Renata. My family are from Lisbon. I am staying here, while my father does a little business."

James smirked at what he took to be her mild mockery of his speech and it only made her more appealing.

“Renata, I am very pleased to meet you. “

“And I you,” she returned.

James looked at her and she smiled a broad smile. His gaze lowered, slowly surveying her without making it too obvious that he was looking at her in that way men do. Her breasts were clearly remarkable and had a pointed appearance. James could not decide if that was due to their natural shape or a factor of her underwear. She was slim, yet her hips meant that her dress hugged her body and followed her feminine contours wherever it touched. During his surreptitious perusal, he was filled with wonder and some sadness.

James had split up from his girlfriend of two years after a stupid row. An argument over a works party had become ill-tempered and James had lashed out verbally. Neither had been prepared to swallow their pride and their rift became too wide to mend. Six months later, James’s emotional wounds were healing but he was left with lonely nights alone, which during the long winter, had been hard to bear. His enforced celibacy was a natural bi-product of the break-up and with work dominating his life, there had been a romantic hole left unfilled. Renata in her beauty and elegance reminded him how much he missed having a woman around.

Renata’s perfume was like a summer rose and seemed to blend in with her own aroma, resulting in a heady mixture. Her dark eyes and sultry complexion caught James off guard and he found himself having thoughts, which he quickly reprimanded himself for. He had always dated girls his age, or within a year or two. While not wholly improper, Renata was 15 years his junior and he considered that a significant gap. His reminiscence of his ex and his lustful gaze couldn’t have occupied more than a few seconds, but in that moment, a torrent of emotion caused a lump in his throat.

“Are you all right, you are not happy?”

“I’m good, it’s just that I’ve been over working lately.”

“You should relax. Have you eaten?”

“I had some brownie, it’s surprisingly filing.”

“What is brownie?” asked Renata, shaking her head slowly.

“Brownie? It’s a sticky chocolate cake. Brownie!”

“I never heard of it. Maybe in my country…”

“Oh, perhaps you call it something else. Look!”

James went to his bag and pulled out the packet with the remaining squares of gooey confectionery.

“Try some!” offered James.

“Oh, no. Thank you.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Well maybe a tiny piece!” said Reneta, breaking off one corner.

“Hmmm… it is like cocoa. It is good.”

“What were your plans for the weekend?” asked James.

“Oh, I have no plans. Father may ask for me to do some errands.”

“I see. Oh look, I’m forgetting my manners, please take a seat,” said James, pulling up an old wicker-backed chair.

“I will perch on the end of the bed,” said Renata.

“Whatever you like.”

Renata looked up at James, smoothing her dress over her thighs.

“Thank you. And what do you intend to make with your weekend?” she asked.

“The peak footpath. I want to explore for the day.”

“Ah, it is pouring again,” observed Renata , indicating the rain, which was rattling against the window.

James rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.

“I am not stopping you from going out?! You must not delay on my account,” said Renata.

“No, not at all. Anyway, why would I want to miss your delightful company?”

“Oh, that is nice to say.” Renata looked down bashfully, giving James an opportunity to admire her again.

Her hair had a remarkable lustre even in the artificial light of the room. Renata looked up at James, her deep brown eyes like the bottom of some secret pools at midnight. Her mouth seemed to pout slightly, her upper lip the shape of an elongated letter ‘M.’

“You have no ring,” remarked Renata. “There is no special lady left behind?”

“No, free and single at the moment,” said James, somewhat disconsolately.

“Oh, that is a shame. But maybe fate has put us together, this night?”

James blinked, shocked by Renata’s implication.

“Fate can do strange things,” said James. “But I wouldn’t presume to expect…”

“Oh the presumption is entirely mine, I assure you,” said Renata.

“Okay, ummm.”

“You think I am forward?”

“It’s just a little unexpected,” said James, uncertainly.

“I detect that you are a little tense, James. Perhaps we should relax. I can give you a massage. You will feel better.”

“A massage?”

“Yes, you know what this is?”

“Yes, of course. I just…”

“…Think it might lead somewhere,” said Renata, finishing his sentence.

“Well... I’m not saying…”

“And if it does, is that so bad? You are unattached. I am unattached.”

James ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, almost not daring to contemplate the earthly pleasures that he might experience at her hands.

“I think you should remove your shirt and lie on the bed. I will make you relaxed and we shall see what may become of the night.”

Renata knelt on the bed, hitching her dress a little, so as not to crease the skirt. For the first time, James had a glimpse of her legs and was surprised to see that she was wearing white silk stockings. They had an unusual pearlescent sheen, unlike any hosiery he had seen. The unexpected flash of her legs, caused his heart to beat more quickly and simultaneously produced his arousal. Had she been flirtatious, it would have been different. In some ways, a precocious young woman would have been easier to handle. It was her exotic appearance and the seductive tone in which she spoke that elicited a whole different set of emotions.

James lay on the bed and made himself comfortable. He felt her legs rest against his hips as her feather-light touch sent shivers of approval through his body. Her hands were beyond gentle. It was as if a butterfly’s wings were fluttering over his skin. James took a deep breath and yielded to her heavenly massage.

“Can I ask you a question?" Said James, as her fingers dabbled across his shoulder blades.

“Of course.”

“Your dress. It’s kind of unusual. I wondered if it is normal where you are from.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by normal. I liked it so I put it on.”

“It’s so blue,” James observed.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“It’s remarkable. It suits you. It complements you.”

“Thank you, James. Does this feel good?”

“Oh yes, first class.”

“Ah! I am like a post card.”

James laughed.

“No, but I might have to write one - about you,” said James, playfully.

“Indeed. Touching you makes me feel good, James. Is that acceptable to you?”

James began to turn, lifting himself on one arm.

“No! Don’t move. Relax. Enjoy.”

James was aware that only one hand was attending to his torso at that moment. There was a rustling noise and a sound like press studs being undone.

Renata’s hand traced a path between James’s vertebrae, pausing to knead the muscle at the base of his lumbar spine. He sighed with the intense satisfaction and release of tension, which he hardly knew he had. Then Renata ceased her manipulation of his back and James heard the rustling again and a gentle ‘swoosh’ sound, which he knew could have been caused by only one thing. Even before he turned, he had begun to form an impression of what he would behold.

James rolled over. Renata stood by the end of the bed, her slim legs clad in her white silk stockings, which were so sheer, her light tawny flesh was discernible. Only the top inch was thicker; a band of elastic, which held them in place. Her bra and panties were almost iridescent, like mother of pearl. The brassiere itself, was a half-cup, fastened from the front with a double criss-cross of laces. Her nipples peeked tantalizingly over the top and her breasts were clearly up-tilted in a particularly wonderful way. Best of all, in James’s opinion, were her silk panties, which like her bra were laced up the front, fastened at the top with a neat bow.

Renata held her head to one side, as if seeking his opinion and also created an air of innocence, which was enforced by her hands, which were clasped in front of her legs. Her demeanour was guarded but oozed sexual charisma and an irresistible charm, which made James’s heart pound.

“Do you want me, James?”

“Renata, you’re so beautiful.”

James noticed her dress, which she had placed carefully over the back of a chair by the dresser. He looked at her, drinking in her beauty, studying the curves of her hips and the elegant, feminine lines of her arms and waist. She was the embodiment of womanhood, imbued with the wonder of youth.

He knelt on the bed and ran the back of his hand over her hair. She gazed into his eyes and almost seemed to purr, without a sound emitting from her lips. James had some scruples, contemplating a night of pleasure with this enchanting girl, but his body wanted to have a say in the matter. As imagination and reality began to converge, little James grew in his cords. The texture of her hair on his hand, gave way to the porcelain smooth skin of her shoulder. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but it happened naturally. Anticipating his withdrawal, Renata caught his hand and encouraged him to touch her. Her breasts barely nestled inside her bra, for they were so divorced from gravity. James looked at her, for the first time not attempting to disguise the absolute lust, which he felt. His resulting erection grew rapidly, forcing him to wriggle uncomfortably, slightly embarrassed by the visual display that Renata could not fail to notice.

Renata’s response to James’s arousal was to giggle. Then, she pulled at the shorter end of white chord on her bra and James watched, mesmerised as the zig zag of lace gave way, releasing her breasts. She discarded her bra in a somewhat theatrical way dropping it on the floor, at arm’s length.

James gazed at her breasts, open mouthed. They were up-tilted with the most succulent nipples and puffy areolae that he had ever seen.

“You like them?” she asked, demurely.

“They’re fabulous. And those knickers are amazing,” said James.

“Knickers? Oh my calcinhas!”

James lowered a hand to his zipper and pulled it down, releasing the pressure on his erection as Renata slowly unlaced the front of her panties. Their eyes met, burning into each other’s soul.

James stepped towards her and held her wrist. His other hand met hers and together they slipped her panties down as their lips met. Renata slid her palm over James’s bulge as their kiss increased in intensity. James’s lips moved to her face and neck as he traced his fingers over her back and down to her bottom. Her buttocks were small but plump and pert like two just-ripe peaches. They seemed to merge with her hips with Goddess-like perfection. Her skin was so smooth.

Renata successfully unfastened James’s trousers during their embrace and had almost removed his trunks. He finished the job himself, raising a leg and kicking them off, until they each stood naked together. He cupped her breasts one at a time, gliding his fingers around the underside of her mouth-watering globes. Renata pushed him towards the bed firmly, making him sit, so that his mouth was almost level with her breasts.

Renata ran her hands over his shoulders, gripping his skin, before following the ridge of his triceps. James stared at her breasts, savouring the moment before he sucked on her succulent nipples.

Renata mewed with pleasure, stroking his neck and head with her hand. There was a mutual enjoyment and connection as he kissed and suckled her breasts. James’s arousal was becoming uncontrollable and his lips were sending sparks of pleasure through Renata’s young body. His lips and tongue caressed her swollen nipples, while his hands explored her body. One hand was moving in a circular motion around her bum cheek, while the other stroked the inside of her thighs, moving ever closer to her secret treasure.

James stood up and pulled Renata towards him, turning her around at the same time. She felt so delicate in his arms as he fondled her breasts and stroked her belly. In this position his cock rested naturally between her legs, parallel with her labia. He moved gently back and forth ploughing a furrow between her sticky pussy lips. The hand on her belly began a slow journey south, first trailing across her hirsute mound until he found the warmth of her pussy. His fingers made searching movements. He felt for her little button, gently and respectfully, eliciting murmurs of pleasure and a trembling approval from Renata.

James kissed her neck as he fingered her. Renata held his other hand against her chest and for a while they embraced in this position. At last they turned and kissed. James was fascinated by her hair and he couldn't help but gather fistfulls of her luxurious locks as they kissed. Renata teased his penis with her hand, deftly rubbing his foreskin with the tips of her fingers as James played with her sexy bottom.

Suddenly in an unexpected display of energy, Renata spun round surprising James, pushing him firmly onto the bed.

She put one knee on the coverlet and pushed James back onto the quilt. She climbed onto the bed and moved towards him. She paused, swaying her body from side to side, in order to tickle his throbbing erection with her gorgeous black hair. She was like a sex kitten, patently enjoying the effects of her actions on his engorged penis.

At last she padded towards him, on all fours until her face was level with his and the bed around him was bathed in a sea of ebony. She planted a soft kiss on his lips and James responded with urgency, biting her bottom lip as her breathing became deep and impassioned. As they kissed she moved her body against his. Her pussy was rubbing against his cock, her matt of pubic hair stroking his manhood. As she became more aroused herself, her movements became more animated, her breasts pressed into his chest and her lips exploring his, their breath hot and fevered.

Renata rose up slightly, her body now almost thrusting with a steady rhythm as her moist pussy lips began to enshroud the thick shaft of his cock. Each stroke was a little nearer the tip, working her body forwards in tiny steps. Her progress was sensual, bringing their union to a sensual inevitability. His cock was pounding as his lips touched her neck and he felt the moisture of her pudenda on his erection. James’s held her, firmly but gently, urging her to let him enter as her opening was almost, but not quite within his possession.

In a shrill cry of pleasure Renata gave herself to him. James’s cock slipped between the petals of her vulva and plunged into her sex. He groaned with a mixture of effort and elation. He matched her movements with his thrusts, allowing her to take the initiative. She whimpered as he went deeper, her hips moving in swift, steady thrusts, her behind pert and proud. James held her, supporting her as his fingers made imprints in the soft flesh of her bum.

She rode him, her body in the classic cowgirl position, their sensations incredible, building gradually. James kneaded her breasts with one hand as his other stroked her hips. He watched her, as they fucked, her eyes closed and the rich Mediterranean lineaments evident in her angelic face.

She began to move quicker and as she did, their hands met and their fingers intertwined, their bodies moving as one and their hands completing the circle of love. She changed her position and James kissed her body hungrily, catching her nipples between his lips, drawing on the little rosebuds passionately, as the scintillating crescendo of their love-making overwhelmed them.

James blew in her ear, then asked her to move slowly, to prolong their pleasure. His arousal was complete and his orgasm when it came would be volcanic. Easing off, she simply ground her pussy into his cock, arching her back and resting her hands onto his muscular legs. James licked her breasts, nuzzling his face between them as his fingers stroked her ribs and her taught, velvety stomach.

The slow, smoochy sex brought them to a new plateau of pleasure, and unable to resist the deep, penetrating sensations, Renata pressed James into the bed and rocked her hips backwards and forwards. James held her tightly, lifting her at the same time and thrust into her as he felt her body begin to tremor. In a final lurch of their bodies, James’s cock erupted, releasing a torrent of foam. She squealed in ecstasy as they came together in one toe-tingling, earth moving orgasm.

Renata collapsed on top of him, her heart racing and his cock still throbbing inside her.

Their night of sex was punctuated on occasion by a nibble of his cocoa-flavoured cake and a call to the reception for coffee. At that time, Renata huddled under the sheets, protecting her modesty, creating a picture of the innocent young woman, seeking solace with her good Samaritan.

In the privacy of the room, they made love again and again. Renata enjoyed the doggy position, or posição cachorrinho, as she called it. James was gentle when he needed to be gentle and fucked her with animal lust when it was called for by the raw carnal desires of the young woman.

In Renata, James found the perfect lover. Different in so many ways, yet fulfilling his desires with her endless appetite and thirst for sexual adventure.

As the rain finally abated and the moon peered through their window, they lay together. Their sex induced slumber whispered a lullaby as they prepared for sleep.

“I’ll see you at breakfast then,” he said.

“Hmmm… sounds good,” she answered.

------000OOO000------

The morning dawned with a cockerel crowing nearby and the sunshine illuminating his room with a lemon glow. James rolled over, expecting to give Renata a loving kiss on the cheek. Instead, he found the bed empty, just the impression of where she had been. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, but she wasn’t there.

“I see, gone to breakfast without me, have you!”

James dressed hurriedly and went down stairs and into the breakfast room where a few people were already eating. There was still no sign of her. Perplexed, James went to the reception desk and rang the bell. A woman of thirty something with spectacles was on duty.

“Excuse me, I wonder if you can help me. It’s slightly awkward. Have you seen the girl in room 12?”

“Room 12?”

“Yes. It had the leak.”

“Leak? I think you’re mistaken,” said the woman.

“No, I’m certain. She’s about 20, dark hair. She was in room 12.”

“Sir, we don’t have a room 12. There used to be, but it was combined with room 11 to make the honeymoon suite.”

James shook his head.

“No, she said room 12!”

James bounded up to the third floor of the hotel. There was a large landing with a tall plant in the corner and one room. Number 11. He knocked on the door a couple of times, but it was clearly unoccupied. A fact confirmed by his inspecting the room, which was indeed a large one with king-sized bed and capacious bathroom.

Utterly confused James returned to the reception.

“Sorry, me again. When was room 12 converted?”

The woman appeared displeased with James pursuance of his apparent obsession.

“I don’t know, years and years ago, Sir.”

“Okay, thank you.”

James turned and rubbed his face. He was beginning to wonder if there had been something in the coffee. Then he looked up and noticed a portrait on the wall about half way between the desk and the dining room. He walked towards it and a shiver of fear and alarm ran through his body as he saw a picture of Renata. It was plainly her, as close a facsimile of her own sweet features as if she had been there in person.

James hurried back to the desk.

“Excuse me!”

“Yes Sir!”

“Sorry to be a pain. Who is the girl in that painting?”

“She was the daughter of a former owner of the hotel. He was Spanish, I think.”

“Portuguese!” James corrected.

“Okay, maybe. There is something about her in this little guide to the hotel. Is there anything else, Sir?”

“No, no. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

James walked back to the portrait and read the pamphlet. There on the second page it read.

‘On the wall by the dining room can be seen the portrait of Renata Almeida 1891 - 1912. She resided in the hotel between 1909 and 1912. Her father Alfonsa, who owned the establishment until 1921 placed the portrait here in her honour after she died tragically, aged 20. The exact circumstances are unclear, but it seems Renata was out walking when she became stuck and drowned in the mire, below Withstone Tor. She was found the next morning, wearing her favourite blue dress.’

Tears ran down James’s cheeks, falling as droplets on the pamphlet where he had been reading.

He looked up, fighting back his emotions, as his heart hurt with a crushing sense of grief.

He left after taking a meagre breakfast, his appetite not big enough for anything substantial.

James never sought to explain the circumstances that brought Renata to him on that evening. He accepted that there are some things that you never get to find out. He would forever cherish the memories of the gorgeous young woman with whom he had the honour to share a night. In a few hours his life had changed, touched by her magical and exotic beauty.