"Would you walk me home?" the woman asked after introducing herself as Mrs. Abercrombie, reinstalling her earring and looking about for her slave."Of ...ourse," I said, picking up the basket and offering her my arm. "Have you had trouble before?" Never," she said, still breathing rapidly, pressing my elbow to her body."Anyone as pretty as you shouldn't be out alone," I said in a fatherly tone, her basket in my hand.She looked up at me and wrinkled her brow. "I wasn't," she said. "Annabelle just. The water glistening on her skin, drew rivulets between her breasts and gently matted her pubic hair to her womanhood. She leaned her head back and felt the warm water coat her hair and, taking some shower gel in her hands, she began to slowly work up a lather on her washboard stomach. Her sexual tension was immediate now, probably a result of the long stressful week with little emotional outlet and her hands danced quickly and confidently over her breasts, nipples and toward her belly. Shivers. More

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