Both of them looked like they had been cut from a bolt of linen rather than from a piece of ruined cotton clothing. When she stepped out of the tub, Mary dried her. She handed her an expensive-looking nightgown when she reached for her clothes. “These will be washed before morning, Miss,” she said. “Milord is expecting you in there.” Mary pointed at a door.Bessie opened the door. She’d never seen so many candles burning outside of a church. Lord Charles rose and put down his book.“You look even lovelier like that,” he said. Bessie blushed. The nightgown left the tops of her breasts uncovered and was thin enough to reveal the rest of her shape. “Come here.” When she did, he kissed her again. His hands roamed her back and buttocks. When he licked her lips, she opened them in surprise. His tongue entered her mouth. When her tongue met it, she felt a stirring in her loins. “Come.” He led her in front of the fire. He turned her to face it and stood behind her. He kissed the side of her. But Amelia wasn’t much for conversation. Or at least, she never seemed to have much interest in talking to me. She seemed to get along just fine with my wife, and they would usually share a cup of coffee together in the mornings, or sometimes even go out shopping together, despite their wildly different tastes in fashion. Unfortunately, Amelia didn’t seem to want to give me the time of day. Nonetheless, her ‘ice queen’ act didn’t do much to dampen my attraction towards her. In fact, if anything, it only made me lust after her all the more. Sometimes I would stay up late at night and surf the web, looking for pictures or videos that would feed my lust for hot little Goth chicks — you know, girls with dark style, dyed hair, lots of tattoos and body modifications, that sort of stuff. Sometimes I would just go to sites like ‘suicide girls’ and look for girls that reminded me of Amelia to jerk off to. After all, it was just a harmless fantasy of mine and wasn’t hurting anyone, right?.
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