Her eyes seemed to grow even darker as she swirled the washcloth over my chest until my nipples grew hard, standing up like small marbles. I bit my bo...tom lip in an effort not to moan as her fingers slid over them.I could see that she was enjoying, rubbing my nipples, and she was repeatedly licking her lips as if they were dry or chapped. She picked up the washcloth and dipped it back into the bowl, rinsing it. Then she grasped my arm and placed it on her shoulder. Leaning towards me she slowly. Overtures she turned down without exception. She had her eyes on other targets, targets that weren’t drummers, farmers, or tradesmen.In return for her work, she received a salary, a small salary to be sure, room, board, and most importantly, one day off a week. One day every week where she could go into Boston, learn the lay of the land, learn the good places, the bad places, who was good, who wasn’t, where the better jobs were.She bided her time, learning as much as she could, stealing better. More

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