Do you understand? The tiny room contains a shower, basin and toilet. There isn't much space to move about, but I should consider myself lucky to even have these basic facilities, because I feel undoubtedly grubby, though not in the literal sense.
No, this is more like a nagging feeling of being tainted. And it's hardly surprising considering I've been used for the sole purpose of Loki's own sexual gratification. Although, under different circumstances, it could be argued that he's a tentative lover.
He goes to painstaking lengths to ensure that he pleasures his partner, though I'm inclined to suspect his eagerness to make a woman orgasm is also purely for his own pleasure. Still, he's a skilled lover, there's no denying it. No doubt well practised, as they say that practise makes perfect.
And the sex was perfect, in a raw, frenzied, explosive, rough sort of way. But I don't want to dwell on it now, or who he's been practising with. I spend the longest time under the shower, washing my hair and scrubbing myself clean with the various soaps and shampoo that has thoughtfully been provided.
He's nothing if not thorough, I'll give him that. I even find a slinky, black silk nightgown hung over the towel rail with the towels. But again, he's obviously picked this item out for his own pleasure. I inspect the garment closely before slipping it on. It's pristine and new. The labels and tags still attached.
