None that he can remember.

Dear Sir Williard,

My trials on Rajah continue. Starting with this morning when I awoke to find my sheets soiled with a nocturnal emission. I do not know what is worse, Sir, to be kept awake all night long with improper erotic fantasies or to awaken to the evidence of these sexual dreams with no recollection of having them. Worst of all was the knowledge that there could be no way to conceal what had happened; my housemaid changing the bedding could not miss the dampness and the buxom scullery maid would be washing these sheets in less than a hour. Nonetheless, I faced the day with the stoic discipline and fortitude you would expect of a graduate of King's College (even that of the less prestigious Chinese affiliate of the London school.)

My first day has come and gone at Dr. Miller's medical clinic. In spite of my fears of being studded out like a prize bull, I spent my day learning how to treat the swollen burns and painful rash of the firevine, a particularly nasty native plant whose tiny thorns are coated with a toxic irritant. The patient, I must inform you with a fair amount of chagrin, was me. The lacerations I received yesterday freeing the humble rosemary plant in the herb garden had become painfully swollen with bleeding blisters and very painful to the touch. Dr. Miller discovered my condition when he saw me wince in pain as he shook my hand in greeting. He recognized the cause almost immediately when he saw the condition of my arm once my jacket and shirt had been removed in a nearby examination room.

The nurse who treated me was none other than Saminya. She did not seem disturbed by the fact I was standing before her wearing just a short sleeved cotton undershirt covering my chest and 'tisked' softly when she saw the swollen scrapes, but noted that they could have been much worse. When I told her that I had taken the time to thoroughly clean the lacerations with an antiseptic solution she nodded happily and assured me that that simple precaution had kept the condition from becoming serious. Saminya was as lovely as I remembered stretched out in my bed, her dark eyes as large and expressive as ever, and the soft touch of her hands on my arm made my knees buckle. However, I am pleased to report that while I had undeniable sexual response to Dr. Miller's lovely nurse, it was moderated in no small part by the pain and itching from the reaction to the firevine scrapes. This may be a avenue to pursue in a cure for the Blush, but not one that I would choose to repeat for myself.

Saminya spoke as she treated me with a cooling salve filling me in on what every man woman and child over the age of five already knew. The plant life here on Rajah-4 is more often poisonous than not, I listened to her with interest as she continued "The first few years my people came to Rajah-4 workers would lose whole limbs as they cleared the vines from the estates that your lords and ladies would later occupy." If there was anger in her tone I could not detect it, but she did have a grin on her face as she added, "Of course those same colonials soon ran into the firevine just as you did as soon as they left the pristine gardens and walkways of their homes."

With the cooling salve on my arm covered with a layer of light gauze she helped me button my crisp white shirt and expertly tied my narrow neck-cloth before holding my jacket for me as I slipped into it. I could not help but wonder, Sir Williard, how many other men she had helped dress after she skillfully treated them. Please do not mistake these ruminations for jealousy, I know now that there is no future for myself and this Hindi woman, so why would I care what services she may provide or whom she might be serving. All the same, feeling her breasts push against me as she brushed imaginary wrinkles from my shoulders made me hunger for her touch and I was relieved when she pronounced me fit and led me back to where Dr. Miller was finishing his breakfast.

I did not have to deal with the this lovely temptress again that day although both of Dr. Millers other nurses, although older than Saminya, were nearly as beautiful in their own exotic cinnamon-coloured way. During the course of the day I treated a half dozen or so cases (thankfully all male); well in truth, Dr. Miller's Hindu assistant, Gangesh, did nearly all of the work. He is remarkably skilled for a man of his race, although he never attended medical school and has no degree or title he understands both modern medical practice as well as a wealth of native cures and pharmaceutical recipes. We would both examine the patient, in private consultation he would explain to me his recommended treatment, I would meet with the patient and explain the diagnosis and then Gangesh would proceed with the treatment.

Only one time did I get a sense of what my other duties might entail. I was standing in the hallway near the end of the day when an immaculately dressed woman roughly my mother's age but in much better form stopped to introduce herself. She wore a walking dress of green brocade trimmed in bright yellow with a half-bustle and a hemline that was surprisingly high for a wealthy matron of her standing. I could see the yellow stockings encasing a lovely pair of slender ankles and shapely calves almost as high as the knees, and the British colonial lifted her dress even higher as she curtsied a greeting.

"So you're the handsome new Doctor." This gentlewoman purred softly as her eyes swept over me like I was a buffet dinner about to be devoured. Her hand rested on my forearm boldly (thankfully the one with only a few painful lacerations) and squeezed my arm gauging the musculature under the clothing. "I do hope I can be seen by you soon, I'm more and more sure that my condition will require a second opinion." I did not know what to say to that, your Lordship, I think I may have stumbled a polite phrase of nonsense, but I honestly do not remember what I said.

The woman laughed gaily and patted my cheek with her gloved hand and with another witty remark she released my arm and sashayed back to the Doctor's offices. I confess I watched her toned calves with interest as she stepped away, I can still picture those slender ankles in grey boots that were tightly laced yellow ribbons that perfectly matched the lace trim of her swaying skirts. It is clear that I was not entirely unmoved by her bold approach, she was a fine looking woman and even now I can feel the rise in my groin as I remember the encounter.

Dinner has been served and cleared by pretty little Akemi (I discovered this morning from Andrews that she is freshly arrived from the Nippon province) whose graceful movement more than made up for her shyness when it comes to speaking. I remember wondering if she would be that silent if I took her to my bed and crawled between her smooth thighs before suppressing that kind of base thought. Between the boldness of the women on this planet and the loveliness of the two maids her in my house I wonder how long I can resist the curse of this planet. I hope that you will not be offended by the scientific honesty with which I have recorded my observations in Rajah-4, I would greatly value any suggestions you might have for how to deal with these troubling desires.

I plan to bundle these letters together tomorrow morning as word has arrived from Kanda. The raid on the floating city has been repelled and although no one will say it aloud, general consensus is that the Americans getting bolder in their raids and something must be done.