Chapter Ten
Surrounded by the scorching heat of the banya, I’m massaging pale feminine shoulders with honey.
That is, Yaroslav is doing this in a memory, not me.
The memory must be fairly recent because he/I lack an index finger.
“You’re trying to distract your therapist yet again,” Lucretia moans. “I want to know how the newfound freedom makes you feel.”
Not in the mood for therapy, Yaroslav slides his hands from her shoulders to her breasts, then licks off some of the honey.
Why do I always get the erotic memories? Am I somehow drawn to them?
The banya heats up—both literally and in terms of what Lucretia and Yaroslav proceed to do.
“You can bite me if you wish,” the bannik whispers into Lucretia’s ear as he nibbles on her neck.
I was right. This is a very recent memory. Lucreti
