第2部分 (第2/7頁)
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ing。 She turned around to hold up a
pile of leafy herbs?was this dill? cilantro? crab…fucking…grass??when she was met with a
frightening sight。
Ms。 Morgan?s pale; skinny; dimpled ass。 Oh。 My。 God。 Vanessa quickly swiveled around again。
Even with the refrigerated air hitting her in the face; she could feel her cheeks burning。 Loudly
clearing her throat?had Ms。 Morgan just forgotten she was there or what??she turned back;
holding the herbs directly in front of her face。
She peeked out from behind the greens only to see her employer; arms akimbo; standing in only
her wooden huarache sandals; a sheer applered thong; and a lacy black bra。
?Something wrong?? she asked。
?Um; no; of course not。? Vanessa began a sudden; uncharacteristic cuticle examination。 Her
hands sure were rough! But she couldn?t help sneaking a sidelong glance as Ms。 Morgan;
liberated woman of the twenty…first century; tugged off her bra and let it fall; oh…so…casually; onto
the arm of a kitchen chair。
Vanessa willed herself to look her boss in the face。 ?Um; could you excuse me for a second? I?d
like to put my things in my room。? Shehad to get out of there。
?Top of the third staircase。? Ms。 Morgan started rooting around in her monogrammed canvas
boat bag; presumably for something to wear。
Let?s hope so!
Vanessa threw her army…navy…store duffel over her shoulder and took the wide wooden staircase
two steps at a time。 She tried to shake the image of Ms。 Morgan?s thong from her mind。 Who even
wore thongs; besides overeager thirteen…year…olds who liked them peeking out above their low…rise
jeans?
Tres pass?。
And whatever happened to boundaries?