She felt his eyes upon her, but knew they wouldn't linger long with his work calling to him . . . but then she noticed something that made it imperative that his eyes continue to linger.

“Do you have any more specific instructions, father?” Shelly asked meekly. She made a show of rubbing at an errant spot upon her naked bosom as she did so.

She felt the intensity of his eyes upon her increase, so she continued to rub to further focus his gaze. Under such scrutiny, Shelly could feel her heart pounding in her chest such that she feared that he would notice and become suspicious.

Several agonizing moments passed before a slow smile creased his features. “Now that you mention it, yes. Yes, I do,” he said at last. “Leave that for now,” he said with a imperious gesture toward the body that didn't require he remove his attention from her. “You can attend to it later.”

“Yes, father.”

For the first time in her life, Shelly felt the need to rush something no matter how much her father would disapprove, but she didn't, knowing that doing otherwise would be certain to make him suspicious. Only after he was happily drifting off into sleep and had dismissed her did she rush. Even so, she waited until after she had shut the door to his room and was comfortably down the hall.

Then as quietly as she could, she ran back to the parlor.

She was in luck. Her father's guest was still alive even after the delay. His head wound was nasty looking, but apparently superficial, and some handy smelling salts from her father's medicine cabinet brought him around nicely.

Unfortunately, his first words upon regaining consciousness were less than inspiring. “He hit me,” he murmured. “He actually hit me!”

“Yes,” Shelly agreed in a quiet voice.

It was the first word she had ever spoken to another being aside from her father.

Page 5

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