Her skin smelled faintly of lavender as she stepped from the shower. She toweled her hair dry. As she bent to wind the towel into a turban on her head... her face flushed at the memory of his strong hands blindfolding her in this very room. It was a night she still remembered fondly. His touch had been so tender, the kiss of the rose so perfect on her skin. She wrapped a towel around her body and walked to her bedroom. The flush of her skin was as much from that memory as the warm steam in the. He was of medium height, but solidly built with broad shoulders. He wore a gray suit, and had taken his hat off, as all gentlemen do when they enter a building, to show a remarkable head of black hair only just beginning to show silver at the temples. His eyes were dark and flashing, and somehow when he looked at me I trembled. He looked at me as though he knew what I looked like underneath my chemise. Once the introductions were made and the purpose of their visit relayed to me, he left the. More

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