She was probably in her mid thirties, blonde in a washed out kind of way and neither particularly pretty nor exceptionally ugly. In fact you wouldn’... even have noticed her, quiet as she moved, if it weren’t for one little quirk. She hated clothing. I had tried on a couple of occasions to get her to wear at least panties and an apron, but no dice. She would stand patiently while I put them on her and then remove them equally as calmly. There was no indication of distress or dislike beyond the. She knew that my feelings for her wouldn't interfere with our business interactions, nor would I allow my feelings to cause any problems in her personal life. Yes, it felt good to her to be hugging the limp, satisfied body of a man and she smiled as she reminded herself of the respect, passion, and pure sexual lust that she felt from me. There was no doubt in her mind that I had just made love with her. Yes, with her, not to her, as she silently accepted the fact the she loved me too, as a dear. More

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