Anissa looked at her hands to discover she held a tunic much like the one David was wearing and a similar pair of thick, wooly stockings. The style was hideous but the material was as soft as it looked and heavy enough to be warm. How funny that he wished to cover her up, when he was one of the first masters she would have willingly stripped naked for. Still, she was intrigued enough to follow his lead. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull on the stockings. He had not been jesting. The heels came halfway up her calves but her toes curled gratefully into the soft, fluffy warmth. The tunic was black with red letters emblazoned on the front and when she stood, it reached mid-thigh. It bore a faint trace of male scent under the fragrance of soap and she snuggled into its warmth for a second,
