She steps forth, her hands reaching to the towel about my waist, the only covering separating me from nakedness. She grasps. For some reason I do not resist... cannot resist. She slips her fingers under the tight fold which holds it in place, loosening but gripping to retain.
“You’ll need to shave your back, Lee... Lionel. And below.”
A second verbal slip heightens my trepidation. The sangfroid is notable. She is young, gorgeous, at five foot four and some 120 pounds easily overpowered physically, yet standing quite coolly in the bathroom/bedroom of a nearly naked man. There is no concern.
Her look is not one of attempted seduction. It is one of authority, beyond that supposed in being the daughter of my employer.
“Miss Teasdale eventually found that tag someone sent her... Leroy, iden
