I went on reading eagerly, stirred by the central idea and practically squirming around on the bed as the tale unfolded – all about a pleasure resort for women only, all lesbians, wealthy old guests served by lovely young girls. Or the other way around sometimes, whenever some beautiful waitress or bellhop got cocky and demanded service herself, sex-service from some worshipful old biddy who eventually wound up on her knees like a slave. Oh, it was weird! And even though I had all afternoon to finish it, the time rushed by so fast that Bernadette's clock seemed to be leaping from hour to hour. I had to zip through the last few chapters in a hurry, leaving a lot of blanks here and there – too great a hurry to get the full meaning and enjoyment out of those juicy end-scenes. And when the time finally came to play safe and tuck the book away, I was already impatient for my next chance to sneak back again, even more so than I'd been for the big one with all the naughty pictures.

Until then, though, I had plenty to think about – just as naughty and twice as shocking, it seemed like. A lot more educational, too, since most of the words had become pretty clear to me. I knew what a cuntlapper was. And I had a pretty good notion about sadists and masochists and that sort of thing. Like the rich bitch who couldn't be happy unless she was walloping some beautiful young girl's ass. Or the maid who turned around and began to dominate her mistress, getting her toenails polished and her feet licked just for an extra thrill. And more, so many more, all in this pleasure resort for women only, a luxury hotel that catered not just to lesbians but to perverted lesbians…