More than half of her outer garment had been peeled off, loosely hanging on her arm. Only a white inner garment remained intact, through which her undergarments could faintly be seen.
Arnold Simmons was taken aback, realizing that traditional attire came in a set.
He awkwardly redirected his gaze, but Hannah was clinging to him in fear of falling again.
She seemed genuinely frightened, her voice trembling, "Mr. Simmons, I was wrong, I like you, I like it when you're kind to me. No one else will do."
Hannah's small face was flushed and the porcelain white skin bore a faint pink tint. Her lightly bitten red lips were full and tempting.
Arnold's breathing quickened. He intended to teach the young girl a lesson but, unexpectedly, he found himself suffering instead.
He closed the window, "There's won't be a next time."
Hannah cuddled him tightly and sounded weak, "Arnold, I'm thirsty."
The man looked down at the woman in his arms, "What did you call me?"
