Her master was not a Frenchman.Apparently, he was one of those characters that had appeared on the streets of the romantic city of love as if by magic and without proper papers to justify his residence. In those days, everyone looked the other way with a “What will be, will be” attitude and commented on the weather.He was from somewhere in the northern regions of Russia and spoke French with a guttural accent that sounded suspiciously German or Prussian but the smile in his eyes and his charming attitude convinced those around him that he was totally harmless and easy to get along with, all things considered.Even now almost twenty years later, Annie smiled in the taxi on the way to the hotel as she remembered her eager submissiveness to give the master what he wanted and accepted his commands in the spirit of romance and the hidden lust she harbored deep inside her soul to be a willing doll for his sometimes kinky needs. The other females that strolled along the bridges gave her that. I was still working because it made me get out of the house. I had taken a couple of months off after I lost my hubby, but I went back to work for my sanity. I did reduce my working week to three days, and I am happy doing this as I had started writing in my spare time.I still had my laptop open on the kitchen table, at my latest story. Thinking I needed to clear a space, I decided I would move it after I had started making the cup of tea that I had offered Arian. Arian for his part happily walked around the downstairs section of my house checking it out.I excused myself to go to the loo and came back to find him scrolling through the last chapter. I laughed when he fixed a spelling error and kept reading, so I went back to making the tea. Finally, I sat down with him.He sat back, “Shit, girl, I’ve never been inclined to play for the other team, but that was pretty hot.”He had been reading a chapter where I had two blokes and a girl getting it on. I laughed, “Was it realistic.
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