(How that happened I couldn’t imagine, oh yeah… ah…never mind.) While my coffee brewed, I went in search of cleaning supplies. Still lying where...I’d dumped it near the door was my duffle bag. I remembered the box hidden inside and decided that I could do a bit of laundry while I cleaned the kitchen. I found both her cleaning supplies and the washer cleverly tucked inside the same snug closet. Setting the washer on gentle, I loaded in the shirt, socks, and skirt, and headed back to the kitchen. . The camera focused on the lasciviously watching eyes again, and the small-boned but voluptuously proportioned girl collapsed in a heap on the floor of her jail-cell dressing room. She heaved and panted audibly, her small olive hands reaching up to push her hair out of her perspiration- glistening face. Slowly she stood up again, and miraculously, the shiny, black-fringed skirt had gone, lying at her feet in a harmless dark pool of fabric and fringe. Underneath, the slave-dancer wore only the. More

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