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“I survived.”
“Now would you be so kind as to bend over the bed?”
“Why?”
“It will make lubricating your vagina easier.”
Another small sound came out of Lia’s throat, like air escaping a balloon.
“Or you could lie on your back,” he suggested.
He was trying to be helpful.
“I’ll just...um...do the first one,” she said.
With as much grace and dignity as she could muster under the circumstances—weird bed, weird bedroom, weird yet incredibly attractive naked male prostitute standing behind her with an erection—Lia bent over the bed.
“I’m not going to spank your arse,” he said as he lifted the back of her slip.
“Thank you.”
“Unless you want me to.”
“Let’s table that for now.”
He didn’t say anything. That troubled her. Deeply.
“You’re looking at my vagina, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“It’s very pretty.” He touched the seam of her vulva and lightly stroked it with his fingertip. It parted at his touch and Lia’s fingers curled into the bedspread. “Beautiful cunt.”
Lia grimaced. “Do you really have to call it that?”
“Yes. You should, too. It’s sexy.”
“It’s rude.”
“Sexy.”
“Crude.”
“Prissiest madam ever, I swear to the gods.”
Lia heard him opening a drawer and felt the first touch of warm liquid on her body.
“I thought it would be cold,” she said.
“I have a lube-warmer.”
“Of course you do.”
She tensed as he spread her labia open wider. He made a sound like “Hmm...”—the sound of an art critic judging a painting.
“What?” she demanded.
