.. sensitive bits.Feigning more confidence than she felt, Emma pulled up a tuft of pubic hair and ran the razor across it. It did its job admirably an... a huge pile came off in her fingers. She tossed it onto the towel then glanced up at Brent. Brent was smiling down at her, fully trusting in her skills. That made one of them.Reassured by not having castrated Brent with a beard trimmer (was that possible? Emma felt the urge to shudder but suppressed it), she moved a bit quicker with the next. She wore a long black leather skirt and a white silk blouse. Her hair shone and caressed her shoulders. She carried a small bag and I asked her where her overnight things were. ‘In the car baby. You can get them later.’ Her soft American tone warmed me. She walked into my sitting room and looked around, inspecting, nodded as if satisfied and sat in a large armchair, mine normally. I smiled to myself – she owns the place. ‘May I get you some wine?’ ‘Thank you,’ - always polite. I poured us a. More

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