One magical midnight hour, though… Why, once as he was sleeping, the door to Miss Violetta’s rooms opened, and one of the slender redheads made her way through the gloom to bend over the boy’s bed. “Wake up, Master Edward,” the girl had whispered, shaking his bare shoulder with a cool, narrow white hand. “Wake up!”
Groggily he had wakened, blinking confusedly at the fair face of the chambermaid seeming to float in the darkness, hazy and indistinct and yet impishly lovely. As his vision resolved, his eyes tracked wonderingly down the wench’s pale throat, the soft mounds of her jiggly little bosoms hanging unrestrained and almost completely exposed within the loose neck of her shift as she bent low, and the utterly feminine curve that ran down the side of her torso, to the taper of her nar
