It was summer. I had also showered after an afternoon of working in their yard and was sitting in a chair in my shorts and t-shirt. She sat across fro... me on the couch and pulled her legs up to her chest. It was obvious she wasn't wearing panties because I could she the outline of her cameltoe against the tight pj bottoms. She asked me if I remembered when we had installed the dryer vent and I had touched her pussy (she actually said pussy). I said I did. She said she couldn't say it at the. The young servant paced the room, touching the things she saw, touching without cleaning. It was still a new experience: her modesty prevented her from interfering with what she did not own. But since that day - the day she would never forget - she had become more than a servant. She had not slept in the bed in her adjoining personal chamber in over a week, and she came to think of Iosoan's larger chambers, in a small way, as hers. She looked and saw her old bed: one day another servant girl. I reached over and put my hands over them and moved down to the nipples and ran a finger over them as they hardened. She purred and leaned her head back. I watched the road, but my hand stayed on her breast, rubbing back and forth. A car passed us, honking and waving, she looked over and waved. The idiots almost took off the front fender! We laughed as I removed my hand and put them both back on the wheel. We almost missed the turn-off, but made it. Betty pulled up her top and sat up, looking. She felt like a slut, but not in a shameful way. She could sense a waves rushing in between her legs."May I join you?" a tall man with dark hair asked Barbara as he came to the table? He was about six feet tall, dark black hair with grays in them, not fat. He was wearing a blue shirt, and yellow khaki pants. His looked younger than John. Possibly twenty five."Why, of course, I was actually looking for some company. Have a seat!" Barbara replied as nicely as she could. Maybe I shouldn't be so.