"Forgive me," a honied voice whispers in elegant Japanese. Gentle hands slip his glasses on over his nose and ears. Lips as soft as butterfly wings graze his cheek, and by then his eyes adjust to the light and he sees the woman leaning toward him. A lustrous mane of golden blonde frames Frederique’s face. She smiles tenderly, sitting on the edge of the bed, attired in a diaphanous rose-colored peignoir that makes her seem every bit the exotic dream-woman she is.