No, the situation gets even more complicated.

Dear Sir Williard,

Well it is morning, and I am writing this entry note in an attempt to organize my thoughts and calm the anger and sense of disappointment with my African manservant, Andrews. The morning started very well, Andrews woke me at the appointed hour and laying out my waistcoat, shirt and trousers all freshly washed and pressed as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I remember feeling satisfied with the fine quality of the rest I had the night before, with none of the erotic dreams that had been troubling my sleep and although I was sporting a morning erection, my bedding was free of the wet spots left by nocturnal emissions. Andrews too was in a good mood, in fact I remember hearing him humming an old English ballad as he disappeared through the hidden panel into my privy to draw my bath.

I took advantage of the moment of privacy to climb out of bed and tie my housecoat tightly around my waist to help disguise my condition. I found Andrews still humming as he stropped my razor and I sent him on his way before shucking my pajamas and climbing into the deep cast-iron bath lowering myself into the gloriously hot sudsy water. This extravagant bath tub might be my very favorite feature of my new home and I spent several minutes basking in the comfort of a morning bath before submerging my head and lathering my hair with a sandlewood scented shampoo that Andrews had produced the day before. It was in this state that I heard the door to my private room open, and before I could protest I felt a stream of clean warm water rinsing the suds from my hair and face. Unlike many of my peers I am unaccustomed to having a manservant to help with my bathing, but this is more a function of my woeful financial straights than any moral objection to the idea and I found it most convenient to have the shampoo rinsed from my head in this manner.

It was not until I noticed the softness of the smooth skin and the small size of the gentle hands massaging my scalp that I realized that it was not my dark-skinned gentleman assisting in my bath; I turned awkwardly to see none other than Akemi behind me. To make matters even worse, the petite Japanese maidservant was not wearing the proper grey uniform dress I was accustomed to, but a loose-sleeved silk robe fastened only loosely at her slender waist and judging by the deep V of her neckline and the exposed skin of her thigh not much else under the amber coloured robe.

"What in the damned Hell-nation are you doing?!" I demanded in shock and anger. I hope you can forgive my foul language, especially addressed to one of the fairer sex, but is a man to be awarded no privacy at all?! Not even in the private closet of the bed chambers of his own house? Akemi did not as I expected flee the room, but instead continued to skillfully groom my hair, massaging my temples and rubbing a warm scented oil into my scalp.

"Master Andrews say to help Doctor-San with bathing." I felt both a sudden annoyance with the liberty taken by my manservant and a urgent stiffening of my erection that had only just started to subside as I relaxed in the peaceful solitude of my bath. The exotic beauty of the scantily clad young maid combined with the intimate familiarity of her hands as they caressed my head made it nearly impossible to think clearly. Before I could send the girl from my room she stepped to my side and with a quick tug of the tie at her waist and a graceful shrug of her shoulders the revealing wrap slid from her body and she stood before me in her glorious golden-skinned nudity. "Master Andrews say I take care of Master Doctor-San in morning." With a boldness that would be impossible for any English maiden, the Eastern lotus-blossom climbed into the tub and lowered herself into the water straddling me with her slender body. Akemi was so different from Hilda in both personality and form that I wondered if Andrews had deliberately chosen the pair specifically for the contrast they created.

The quiet Japanese teen seemed particularly demur when compared to the flirtatious scullery maid. Even when she gracefully stepped into the bath to join me, she moved with such smooth confidence that I could not protest. My mind instead continued to compare and contrast the two beautiful servants that had entered my service. Akemi's golden skin was much darker than the blonde Dane; her breasts - though fully rounded and beautifully formed - were tiny compared to Hilda's massive jugs and her hips and thighs were boyish in their slender shape. I just had time to register that Akemi's pubic hair had been completely shaved from her pubes before her sex was submerged in the water and pressed against the raging member of my manhood. The warmth of her skin against mine finally reminded me of how improper this was and I shifted under the young woman sending waves of water splashing from the tub onto the floor. Akemi placed her hand on my shoulder and stilled me with a determined authority.

"Doctor-San must relax." She told me in her charming accented voice "Akemi will give him pleasure." For some unfathomable reason Sir Williard, all I could think about when her other hand found and held my erection and she lifted herself in preparation was to wonder where she had learned to speak English so well and why she had said no more than three words in the all our previous interactions. Then she sank onto me, engulfing me within her tight womanly body and I could no longer think of anything other than how good it felt to be joined to her. She rode me with precision and skill that could only come from years of practice and the experience was different from any I had ever known. Despite my best attempts your Lordship, I find that I cannot explain the sensation of her inner muscles rippling against my shaft as she rocked against me, I can only offer my sincere hope that at least once in your life you get to experience the wonder of sexual union with a trained geisha.

I did not of course know at the time that she was a geisha, or even what that meant. However after my second explosive climax in less than ten minutes I managed to pull free from Akemi's grasp long enough to ask her where she had learned to please men like that. Akemi explained with quiet pride that from the age of seven, she had attended a traditional school in her native land that trained her to become a geisha. While Akemi dried me thoroughly with a towel she detailed the life of a girl schooled from early age to be pleasing to men; her education made my medical studies seem almost routine in comparison. The students in her school studied a half dozen different languages, both Western and Japanese dance, several musical instruments, poetry, the great philosophers as well as what men liked and disliked in female companionship. Later, as she shaved the stubble from my neck and chin she related how when she was old enough she began years of training in the sexual arts as well. She did not mention that she had been trained in the grooming of men, but that morning's shave was one of the best I've ever had, so I can only assume that that too was covered in the curriculum at some point.

I sent her away so I could think as I dressed. I am still very put out that Andrews would send the girl to me like he did, but I find I look forward to experiencing at least some of the sexual secrets that Akemi hinted at without the slightest sign of shame. The geisha assures me she is well versed in the secret sexual teachings of the Hindi, Chinese and Japanese cultures; I would not, of course, entertain these perverse practices with a white woman, certainly not with my wife once I marry, but I think I will endevour to investigate these Eastern delights while I am still unattached. If for no other reason, Sir Williard, than to broaden my knowledge of the practices of the peoples in these exotic provinces that are now part of our great British Empire.