When I entered the room, the gentleman was already there, pacing the floor.

“This is a cozy little room,” I tried to remark, squinting to see the bed in the darkness. The fire seemed to be dying, and the curtains were drawn. No light came in from the street.

“Come here,” said the man, and he drew me to him, then began to kiss me and fairly tear at my hair.

It was strange behavior from a man who was neither young nor inexperienced, and I pulled away, wanting to savor the sin a bit more. “We are not in a hurry,” I chided him.

He shook his head. “My wife thinks I am out on a walk,” he said. “She will soon grow suspicious.”

It should have been enough to get me to leave the place, and yet it only served to encourage me. I grabbed the man this time, and now it was I who began the kisses. I loved to think of his little wife, wondering why he should be walking the streets alone at that hour, thinking that perhaps he was only restless. Instead, he was in my arms, and not a soul in the world seemed to know it except the tight-lipped landlady of the hotel.

In fact, it was less than a minute before I felt quite amenable to the man’s ideas. He put his hands over my rear, and even through all the layers of fabric I could feel his strong fingers. I began to approach the bed, thinking that I wished him to continue, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to a chair by the fire, where he sat, drawing me down on top of him.

The chair was a precarious one, and even when we were only sitting there, it began to creak. But apparently this was not the sort of inn where those noises would be remarked upon. In fact, from the room next to ours I could hear similar noises.

“What sort of inn is this,” I asked him.

“The sort where one’s desires can be fulfilled quickly, and discreetly,” he said.

I should have been insulted. Many of the men present were clearly paying for their pleasure. And yet the idea that I was in the presence of genuine harlots only served to excite me further. For the first time, I noticed what I had assumed was some sort of wind. It was, in fact, a man in the next room. His gasps were growing louder, and his voice sounded young. Perhaps he was an addict of pleasure, or perhaps this was the very first time that he had experienced it. Whatever the reason, I loved to hear him, and knew that his lust would only serve to increase my own.

I did not know how it might affect the feelings of the man currently underneath me, but apparently his lust was not at all in need of enhancement. Even before he began to frig me, I could feel quite plainly that the problems of softness which affected many men of advancing years did not in the least apply to him. As I lifted up my skirts, he shook his head. “Turn around,” he grunted, and I was forced to sit on top of him so that his face was buried between my shoulder blades.

It was like being a figurehead on a grand ship. Everything was to the back of me, and I felt as if I were being flung forward, hardly able to stay on the chair. I could see nothing of what was happening, but when the man got himself inside of me, apparently using some sort of French letter to form the thinnest possible barrier between our bodies, I knew what I needed to do.

At first, all I could hear of us was the chair squeaking, even though the woman through the wall had begun to shout “Oh!” in a dramatic manner best suited to a particularly ribald soprano.

“Louder,” he grunted, and at first I obliged only reluctantly. Like the chair, I squeaked, and even the man whose great organ I was pinned on top of could hardly have heard me.

I could hear him, though. For seconds, there would be silence, then he would growl. As I planted my feet firmly on the ground, his growls began to sound more like shouts, and I shouted out “Yes!” just once.

And then great moans rose within me. For the very first time in my life, I did not have to be afraid of what a nearby servant or family member might think. Since the inn was so clearly a place where such customs were not observed, I was now able to allow my voice to break loose.

And the more I thought of myself as a loose, wanton woman, the more I enjoyed the act. Leaning forward so far that the gentleman had to hold fast to my waist and chest, lest I fall off him, I giggled and shrieked, fairly jumping about on top of him. His moans sounded desolate, mine shrill and mad, and when I shivered and died on top of him, I very nearly lost my voice.

He, on the other hand, very nearly lost control. Still inside of me, he managed to stand, and then he withdrew. But he had no time to prepare, and so the result of his efforts went not into a handkerchief, but onto the dark beams of the ceiling as he yelled with agony.

We both sank to the floor, utterly exhausted. But there was no pretense of hand-holding or tenderness. Instead, I mopped my brow and attempted to pin my hair back into place, lowering my skirts and blinking with amazement. He rearranged his own clothes, and by the time we rose from the floor we would have passed for two indifferent acquaintances in fine clothes. The only person who would see otherwise would have to be someone who knew how to read my flushed neck, his glittering eyes, our conspiratorial silence.

He slapped at my rear end with such familiarity that I smiled, dazed by the strangeness of it.

“You will write to me, won’t you?” I asked, and it must have been a little bit too plaintive, because he frowned as he was straightening his coat.

I endeavored to make my plea sound like less of a burden. “I don’t need flowery words, mind. I just need to know when you wish to take this room again,” I explained, raising my eyebrows.

That made him smile, but he still seemed suspicious. “My money is all my wife’s,” he said. “I never write a word down.”

Since he did not offer an alternative, I should have left our conversation there. After all, if he would not help me obtain a divorce, he was no further use to me.

And yet I persisted. “Then what shall I do when I wish it?” I asked, putting a hand on the spot where I had just seen a large weapon go back under the fine fabric of the man’s breeches, lest he misunderstand me. For, I realized with a sinking heart, even if I could not use him to convince a judge, I certainly wished to use his body for other purposes.

This made him smile more openly. “Believe me, my lady,” he said. “I shall find you before you need worry about such a thing.”