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Prologue: Isabella and the Horsemen of Apocalyse.

So, please, feel right at home."

Eliza smiled and let her fingers run across the bed. It felt soft and inviting, very differently from the accommodations she had inhabited so far. "If you want, I'll leave you be for now, so you can get adjusted. I'll just come by one more time to leave you a manuscript, which I would need a fair copy of when it's convenient to you."

"Y-yes," Eliza answered insecurely. "Certainly, I'll get right to it."

A moment later Kathleen came back with a stack of handwritten paper, which she left on Eliza's desk. "Oh, and before I forget," she said on her way out. "It's understandable to have certain... feelings during the typing process. Just take a break, then, and take care of them, there are a few utilities in the desk drawer." Before Eliza could respond, the young woman had closed the door behind herself and had disappeared.

The translator began reluctantly to take off her coat, for the first time since she had arrived, as she noticed. She tested the chair at her desk and was surprised at how comfortable it was. It had just the right height to give her easy access to the keys. Next to the typewriter was a decanter of water and two glasses, all of it flawlessly clean and a little too ostentatious for her taste. The words of her boss still ringing in her ears, she curiously turned to the drawers and pulled out the top one.

In it were pens, paper, inkwells, blotting paper, carbon paper and a few sheets that said "Kathleen Sch__tz, Kaiserstra__e 60, Frankfurt am Main" in nice writing on the letterhead. Disappointed, she closed the drawer again and opened the next one. What was it that her strange employer had meant? Her breath halted when her eyes fell on the contents of the drawer. In it were, neatly arranged on a velvet cushion, several round, wood carved and shiny lacquered, smooth, penis-shaped rods.

Eliza ran her fingers across one of them carefully. The shape felt nice, but left her with the feeling of just having done something very taboo, and she quickly shut the drawer again.

She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. Should she have told her boss that she was still a virgin? Would that make her lose her employ again? Eliza shook her head. No, she decided, it shouldn't make any difference, and she wanted to do her best to hide her inexperience and learn the required skills quickly. This position was worth it.

With new enthusiasm she reached for the manuscript and began typing. It was a short story about how the narrator one night caught her secretary in the office, when she had just... Eliza stopped short and had to read the sentences twice to make sure they said what she thought they did. The secretary had just relieved herself into a coffee cup. Or "pissed in the cup," as Kathleen had written unambiguously. Just typing the words made Eliza feel a little dirty, but at the same time strangely aroused.

When the secretary in the story got her butt spanked as punishment, she already began to slide back and forth in her chair, and when this was followed by a description of how the narrator got licked between her legs, she almost couldn't control herself any more. Was this what Frau Sch__tz had meant earlier? Eliza paused and took a deep breath. Take a break, she had said, and that sounded wonderful right now.

Her fingers wandered to her crotch almost by themselves, just out of curiosity, she told herself, just to see if the story really had the effect she thought it did. When she began to stroke across her skirt, she felt a light tingle run through her body. Could she, should she, was she even allowed to touch herself like this? Could she resist?

Slowly she pulled up her skirt, just to reach for her bloomers, and almost by accident, her fingers slid into the slit which, held together by buttons, led to her bushy, curly pubic hair. She was incredibly wet and at first was alarmed at herself, until she found her way to her wet labia and began to rub them.

A small moan escaped her lips, and she lifted one of her l

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