I entered the bedroom and found Lottie had wrapped herself in the velvet blanket, awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed, anxiously peering at me. The cold in the room made my own body shiver unpleasantly, some of it due to the freezing rain that persistently rapped on the window seal, some because of the pure exhaustion after my short bout of illness as well as previous wrestling and final conquest of Lottie.

“Peter took Sabine home,” I announced to the girl sitting on the bed and took hurried steps toward the window, closing it hastily, hoping that the slight warmth that was lazily flowing through the air downstairs wound find its way up to the bedroom.

“You shouldn’t have brought her out here in this weather.” Lottie said and I spun around, surprised that she muttered a sentence beyond a word or two. I grinned.

She shifted uncomfortably, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body, not returning my smile. After all that we’ve done together she still felt shame and embarrassment. That fact alone warmed me up inside and I slowly walked to the bed, plopping next to her, putting my arms around her shoulders. I pressed a kiss on the side of her head, her wild hair tickling my nose, filling it with the sour smell of lemon scent.

“Look, Lottie!” I exclaimed as if just remembering the book in my hand, a gift that I decided to present her with in hopes that it might relax her and make her see that what we were doing was done all the time by others and was no big deal, as she believed it had been. It was an erotic story with many sketches and little paintings to make the descriptions more visible to the reader.

“Can you read?” I asked and she nodded, not offended by the question at all. So many servants were illiterate; their employers believing that holding them in ignorance might make them better workers, trying hard to keep them away from the radical beliefs of fools who swore allegiance to equality and liberation. I never particularly cared for that movement one-way or the other. I didn’t see anything wrong with people believing in changes, however, my wife Sophia always made certain that none of that nonsense entered our household.

Lottie’s ability to read surprised me somewhat, but I was glad, as this would make it much easier on me. I decided not to bother her with reading at the moment, choosing to show her the pictures instead.

Awkwardly, with one free hand, I opened the book and browsed through the pages, searching for what I wished Lottie would be willing to do for me. I stole a side-glance at her and noticed that she was peering towards my lap, where the book rested as I speedily flipped through, trying to find the page that interested me.

All of a sudden she spasmed and shivered violently, throwing her head back and tightening her body as if expecting a blow. I let go of her shoulders and looked at her worriedly. Is she having a seizure? I didn’t ever remember Johann telling me she was epileptic, Herminna was notoriously terrified of any kind of illnesses and diseases; every servant of hers was healthy as a horse, or they weren’t in her service for much longer.

Lottie shook her head and smiled at me. “Just a goose.” She explained, her face blushing.

“A who?” Now I was really confused.

“A goose just walked over my grave.” She stated, satisfyingly nodding her head. The expression on my face must have been one of wonder and utter confusion, as this was the first time that I heard her laugh heartily. “My mother says that.” She noticed she had my full attention and went on: “She says that whenever the goose walks over the place where you will be laid to rest after you die, you get shivers like I just did.” She giggled like a little girl. “Sometimes I think that my last place of rest will be in the middle of some goose farm, you know. I get shivers like these often.”

I rolled my eyes. Old witches’ tales that servants always seemed to be so eager to believe in. A goose, indeed.

“No goose, Lottie, you’re simply cold.” I recovered, thankful for an opportunity to get her under the bed cover without struggle. “Come, let’s get comfortable.” I got up and only then did I notice that she was still wearing her boots. I knelt in front of her and with great care, started undoing the black laces. They were broken in few places, tied together awkwardly, numerous knots making it hard to make my task smooth and quick.

Lottie simply sat on the edge of the bed, still hugging herself with the velvet blanket, carefully observing me. I pulled off her boots one by one, taking each of her small feet in my hands, gently massaging them. Lottie pulled her feet away from me and giggled. “I’m ticklish.” She announced, careful not to kick me.

I pulled the heavy cover off the bed and pushed Lottie down, playfully tucking her in as if she was a little girl. She seemed to have calmed down some, accepting my presence and actions with nothing more than a curious observation. And a lot of blushing, of course.

I unbuttoned Johann’s shirt, which I hastily put on when Peter knocked on the door. I was careful not to rip it in pieces as I did the previous one. Despite the numerous shirts in Johann’s closet, it would have been just my luck to ruin his favorite one beyond repair. As I undid my pants and let them drop to my ankles, the shy Lottie took over and she looked away, her face hot with embarrassment.

I simply shook my head. This time I would not be deferred by her shyness. I realized that beneath all that lay a passion so hot and in need of exploring, Lottie had hard time coping with the fact herself. I would just ease her into it.

As I crawled in the bed, she turned on her side, her back towards me. If she was trying to tell me to leave her alone, I was not listening. Once under the cover, I tried to pry the velvet blanket off her body, but she clung onto it hard, making me jerk her back and forth with each attempt.

“Lottie!” I said warningly. “How are you going to explain the ripped blanket to Johann, should I accidentally tear it?” I asked and she froze for a moment. “Because of you!” I added and felt her grip on the velvet loosening. I had it off her body in no time, bunched up between us; I moved my torso, laying on top of it, making sure she could not get another hold of it in a moment of renewed embarrassment.

I whipped my arm over her side and placed the book in front of her face. We were laying close together, like two spoons in an overstuffed drawer, my body pressing against hers. Her skin was warm and soft, everything on her still smelling of herbal soap, a sweet scent, which had become so familiar to me.

My finger was stuck between the pages, marking the spot with the picture that I had chosen to show her first, and I nudged the book forward so that it opened up, displaying its contents to undoubtedly curious eyes of my little servant girl.

It was only a black and white sketch, but it was drawn beautifully. A woman with long hair flowing down her back knelt in front of a man, taking his cock deep in her mouth, her eyes closed, her face full of satisfaction. The sketch cut off at the man’s stomach, concentrating on his lower body and the woman in front of it.

Lottie jerked in my embrace, trying to push against me, away from the image I was showing her.

“See?” I ignored her obvious protest. “This is what feels really good, Lottie.” She shook her head, still pushing back, unaware that her ass was pressing hard against my crotch, slowly arousing me again.