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As she walked in, she heard the shower turn on. "Ah well, I'm clean anyways," she thought as she perused through her closet. She pulled out a pink mini skirt and a jacket. She hastily undressed the tank top and shorts she was wearing and put on the skirt and a tight white blouse she also took out. Her breasts pressed tightly against the blouse, which was slightly undersized. She slipped a red belt through the loops in the skirt and tightened it. She then tossed her black leather jacket over her shoulder and looked in the mirror, pulling her blonde hair back. She gave herself a nod of approval and walked back out to the living room. In the shower, Samantha unusually felt aroused. The hot water dripping down her nipples and clit stimulated her. Thoughts about her sister raced through her head, erotic dreams of her and Hannah. She turned the water to its hottest and leaned back on the shower tile, away from the spray of water. Uncontrollably, her hand reached for her pussy. Her hand ran. ” She tilted her head to one side, her gaze slid down the length of his body. “Isn't it?” He became suddenly aware of his nakedness, and reached for the sheet to cover himself. But she was faster, pulling the fabric toward herself, and out of his reach. He grimaced and closed his eyes. He could feel her gaze on him, almost as tangible as her touch...like the sensation of her slim fingers on his chest... He gave himself a mental shake. The very thought of it should repulse him, he'd hated her since the day she arrived. She was the lowest of the low, a woman of the night, selling her dignity to any filthy sluggard with a clinking purse. He had always been a man of strict morals, and he despised her kind and all they stood for. At least, that was what his mind told him. His body had different ideas. He shifted his grip on the knife, and tried to focus on maintaining a steady hand. A life of rigorous and brutal training had instilled in him a strict discipline, and he prided himself on.
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