On hot summer nights in Paris, I’d like to think Arno sleeps in the nude. I’d be a maid working at Cafe Theatre who gets to wake Monsieur Dorian up in the morning … probably with my face in between his thighs, his massive length going in between my lips … with barely a ‘good morning’ he’d flip me onto the bed and remove my skirts before pounding into me, and as soon as he finishes me off, he’d pull on his breeches and calmly help himself to the breakfast I brought in …