Freshly bathed, Andy's cheeks still bore the flush of warmth from the steaming water. With little to hide his form, Margaret could clearly see his slender waist and the long, taut thighs. His arms and torso lacked Damon's exaggerated muscularity, but still hinted at defined lines of muscle.
"Why is Miss White in my room?" Andy asked, then corrected himself, "How did you get in?"
Margaret couldn't explain.
And she was too mentally fatigued to weave a lie. Stumbling into Andy's bedroom by accident seemed a stroke of luck.
"Don't you welcome me?" She gestured for him to come closer, reaching out to encircle his warm waist with her arms, exhaling softly. "Andy, I'm so tired tonight."
Caught in her embrace, Andy was at a loss. He was indeed a considerate lover, instinctively running his hands over Margaret's back, kissing her cool earlobes.
"Do you need a massage?" he asked, "I've learned a few techniques... to help you relax."
