From the author: The butler in this story is loosely based on Béla Lugosi's character, Peters, in The Gorilla and his character, Merkil, in One Body Too Many. Have you seen those? I have. He's delicious in them, so I thought they deserved a little - expansion - we'll call it. And did I mention that this story will be naughty? Oh yes. So very naughty. Extremely - might cause you to blush and squirm in your chair - naughty. So, if you like that sort of thing, enjoy the updates. If you don't, just hit your back button to be taken away from the sordidness that will ensue.

From the moment she laid eyes on the butler – dressed proper in his black tuxedo – Sabine wanted him. He was tall and handsome with black hair that was combed back and the brightest blue eyes that she'd ever seen. When he spoke, her knees felt weak; he had an accent that intrigued her though she didn't know where he was from.

It was not the first time that she'd seen the older man. Last year, she'd visited her great uncle for a couple weeks over the summer – she hadn't been to the house in years – and she'd seen the distinguished servant for the first time then. Unfortunately, she'd not been able to work up the nerve to speak to him that trip, but she never forgot him. Images of him had played out all sorts of various fantasies in her mind, and she couldn't wait to return. She would definitely be visiting her great uncle much more in the future.

During the formal dinner at her great uncle's house where she currently sat with her white cloth napkin across her lap, Sabine watched him in between random conversation with her uncle and his two business associates. The butler's mannerisms were impeccable as he served their food and poured champagne, as a butler's should be, and his hands were elegant with long fingers and perfectly trimmed nails, and while she sipped her champagne, she wondered how they'd feel on her body…maybe trailing up her inner thigh…or perhaps raking down her back. Mmm. Damn.

When he happened to look at her, Sabine's gaze intensified, and she purposely licked her lips. It was a brazen act on her part, and not her normal behavior, but he brought out that side of her it seemed. She could tell that it caught him off guard at first, but a couple minutes later, he looked at her again, and she did the same thing. There was a twitch of his mouth into the slightest smile, and his eyebrow lifted in silent question. Sabine barely dipped her head, indicating a silent and subtle answer, and she licked her lips again.

Sabine was certain that he'd gotten the message, and truth be known, she was only a little embarrassed at her method of delivery.

When everyone was finished, Sabine made sure that she was the last one out, allowing her great uncle to escort his associates into the library for cigars and cognac ahead of her.

"When your duties are complete for the night," she said quietly as he began to clear dishes. "I should like you to bring tea to my room."

The dishes were forgotten as he looked at her thoroughly, his gaze unabashedly traveling down her body and back up again, making her shiver where she stood; his eyes were intense.

"You don't want tea in the tea room?" he asked curiously, knowing that's where tea was usually served.

"No, I'd like to have it in my room."

His gaze was heavy upon her, and the heat burning in his blue eyes was unmistakable; she could almost feel it through her dress. Apparently more than just his accent could make her knees weak.

"Should there be actual tea in the teapot, Miss Lesley?" he asked boldly but quietly, his accent thick.

Sabine daringly met his eyes which seemed to be challenging her nerve; she wasn't expecting a response like that from him, though she hadn't really known what to expect from him at all. Much had been asked in that one question, and it had nothing to do with tea. She stood a little taller, as she felt quite short standing next to him, and answered, "No, actual tea is not necessary."

Allowing a small but guarded smile, he quickly glanced around the room to make sure that they hadn't been overheard and replied, "Very well, Miss Lesley; as you wish."

Sabine said goodnight to her great uncle and his friends around nine, retiring early for the evening to prepare for her 'tea'. Most would have been appalled at her behavior, but she just couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him – his looks, his movements, his voice, just everything – and she was relieved that he was apparently pleased with her, as well; she would have felt quite ashamed if he'd told her that a meeting would be inappropriate. But he had not.

Sabine's heart was racing. Something told her that 'having tea' would never be the same.

Mmmm...Let the games begin...